Page 82 of The Viscount's Promise
With a woman Emily could never hope to compete against.
“You must think me simple indeed. You cannot know that I have recently seen that your heart belongs elsewhere, my lord. Please do not attempt to fool me with your half-truths and deceits. This evening you proved that every word you spoke to me at Willowhaven was a lie, that you have never stopped wanting Lady Morley.”
In a moment he was kneeling before her. He took her arms in his hands, forcing her startled gaze to his. “Listen to me, and listen well. Yes, I once loved Lydia. But that was long ago. Once she betrayed me with my own brother, she lost my heart and any claim to it.”
“Is that why you told her the story I confided in you of Jonathan?” She laughed harshly, the sound ripping from her chest. “The poor pathetic girl, so infatuated with you, telling you stories of chickens, of all things. How you must have laughed over that.”
“I never told her, I swear it. She listened in on us, admitted as much to me tonight.”
“But I saw you,” Emily whispered. “You and her, at Willowhaven. And again tonight at Lady Beezleton’s ball. I saw you lean over her, saw you go off together...” Her voice trailed off, the pain in the memory snagging on the words like a burr.
He shook his head. “What you saw was Lydia attempting to renew what we once had. And me turning her down. On both occasions.”
She stared at him. “You expect me to believe you would turn down the overtures of such a woman, a woman you admit you once loved?”
“Yes.” The word came out without hesitation.
“Why?”
“Because,” he murmured, pulling her closer, his eyes achingly warm even in the cold moonlight, “my heart belongs, completely and forevermore, to another.”
Emily’s mouth went dry as she stared up at him. Surely he didn’t mean her. He couldn’t possibly love her.
His next words proved her wrong.
“I love you, Emily.” He smiled faintly, his gaze scouring her upturned face.
Emily shook her head, the dim image of his face blurring as her eyes filled with tears.
“I have no reason to hope you can ever forgive me. I took things into my own hands, made decisions for you I thought were best but that in the end drove us apart. I stayed away from you in the hopes that it would protect you from Lydia but only managed to keep you in the dark, leaving you vulnerable to her cruelties. And I thought your faith in me faltered, when in reality it was my own faith that did so. I love you, Emily,” he repeated. “So very much, and so much more than I ever thought it possible to love another. You have given my heart reason to beat again.”
Certainly she was in bed dreaming this whole thing. She had fallen asleep after Imogen had left her and was even now curled up in bed, fast asleep.
“Pinch me,” she whispered.
The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement before his face transformed to something infinitely tender. “I will do better than that to convince you,” he murmured before his head bent to hers.
Chapter 28
The first touch of Malcolm’s lips to hers was unlike anything she had ever experienced. In all the times they had kissed, never had there been this deep-seated knowledge that he loved her. It wrapped around her heart and, as unbelievable as it seemed, she recognized it immediately for the truth it was. A calling of one heart to another, as if they had been predestined for one another since the beginning of time.
She opened to him without reservation. Her arms came about him, dragging him close, her mouth opening beneath the onslaught of his kiss. He tasted like champagne and spice, sweet and sultry and thoroughly male. His tongue twined with hers, its bold strokes sending heat to the most private core of her. He dragged her closer, pushing between the cradle of her thighs, and the heat turned to moist need. She wanted him there, she knew. Pressing against her, inside her, until she could not tell where one of them ended and the other began.
He broke the kiss, his lips moving over her scarred cheek, caressing it tenderly, before moving to her ear. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. “The most beautiful creature in the world. What you do to me, Emily. I have never felt this in my life.”
Tears stung her eyes. These were not mere words, she knew. She felt their source, the deep place in him they had come from, and wanted to weep for the joy they brought her. That this man could think her beautiful—but, more than that, could make herfeelbeautiful—touched her deeply.
He paid homage to the column of her throat, his mouth lathing kisses lower and lower. With nimble fingers he undid the tie of her cloak, pulled the fabric aside.
And froze.
By instinct Emily froze as well, her eyes flying open. Had he seen something to disgust him? Mariah’s gown was more revealing than anything she had worn before. It would show, without a doubt, that she was not buxom in the least, was not curvaceous or voluptuous. Perhaps he would find her wanting.
When she looked at his face, it told a different story entirely. It was as if he were devouring her, the hunger in his expression was so great.
“This is not your gown,” he remarked hoarsely.
“No,” she whispered. She licked suddenly dry lips. “It’s Mariah’s. Imogen let me borrow it. For the ball.” She plucked at the shimmering silk. “We had to take it in. I don’t fill it out well. I know I am not built in the way most men prefer—”
