Page 108 of The Forbidden Lord
Her first impulse was absolute joy. He loved her! Jordan loved her! He’d actually spoken the words!
Then a second mischievous impulse possessed her. After all his claims he was impervious to love and the terrible pain he’d put her through, she couldn’t resist tormenting him, if only a little. “Are you sure it’s love, Jordan? What you’re describing sounds more like an ague.” She laid the back of her hand against his forehead. “Perhaps you’re ill. After all, the Earl of Blackmore falling in love?—”
“Enough, you teasing wench,” he said in a warning tone, then caught her hand. “All right then. You want me to behave like a sentimental idiot, do you?” His voice actually shook when he continued. “I need you to make me whole, Emily Fairchild. I want you. And yes, I love you. I will always love you.”
He pressed her hand against his heart. “The first time you quoted scripture at me, you chipped away a piece of my granite heart, and you kept chipping away until nothing was left butdust. Thanks to you, there’s a real heart in its place. And it will always belong to you.”
He kissed her hand, then flashed her a wry smile. “Now then, my darling, is that enough emotional excess for you? Will you please agree to marry me?”
She kissed him then, with as much joy and love as she could manage.
When she drew back, he looked dazed. “I hope that’s a ‘yes.’”
She smiled broadly, her heart so full she thought it might burst. At last her forbidden lord was no longer forbidden. “It is indeed, my love. A very emotional and very sentimental ‘yes.’ ”
Epilogue
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing.
— PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY,PROMETHEUS UNBOUND
The Christmas ball at his stepsister’s estate was more crowded than Jordan would have liked, given Emily’s still-delicate condition. She shouldn’t be exposed to so much chaos when she was recovering from having their son a month ago, but she’d insisted that they accept the invitation, since the Worthing estate was close to Jordan’s own. What could he do but indulge his wife, since indulging her few requests was his greatest enjoyment?
He was returning to her with a glass of punch when he noticed her in deep conversation with his stepsister. As he neared them, he heard his name spoken. A mischievous impulse made him duck behind the pillar next to them and strain to overhear their words.
“He’s not the same person since he met you, Emily,” Sara was saying. “Jordan used to hate parties, and I’ve never heard him quote poetry as he did at dinner. He seems so relaxed and happy. What kind of potion are you feeding my brother? You must give me some.”
“Surely you don’t need any such thing foryourhusband.”
“No. To be truthful, there are certain situations in which I prefer that Gideonnotbe relaxed, if you know what I mean.”
“I do indeed. And in similar situations, you can be sure that Jordan isn’t the least relaxed himself.”
The two women laughed themselves silly over that one, and Jordan decided he might as well interrupt. “My ears are burning, ladies,” he said archly as he rounded the pillar and handed the punch to his wife.
That sent them into another peal of laughter. Though he raised an eyebrow, he was secretly pleased his wife so enjoyed the pleasures of the bedchamber. Too bad they couldn’t indulge themselves for another week, or so the doctor had said.
It might as well be a year. He cast his wife a long, lascivious glance, fervently wishing she hadn’t chosen her scarlet velvet gown for this occasion. True, it was appropriate for Christmas and though he still thought it scandalous, he had to admit his sister’s gown wasn’t any more modest.
Yet every time he saw Emily in hers, her skin glowing like delicate china and her breasts pushed up high, fuller now that she was nursing their son, he went hard as a rock. That gown always reminded him of their first time, when she’d offered herself to him with such ill-concealed innocence.
He took a large swallow of punch. Good God, if he made it through the next seven days without ravishing her, it would be a miracle. He could kill her for wearing that gown tonight.
No, what he wanted to do to her was much more pleasurable.
“Jordan, are you all right?” Emily asked, her pale brow creased in concern.
“I’m fine.”Merely randy as hell, darling.Trying to take his mind off his urge to rip her gown in half and feast on those lush breasts and sweet curves, he scanned the room. “I see that Sophie and Lawrence are here.”
Across the room, Lawrence whispered something in his wife’s ear, and her eyes lit up. Their faces were aglow, proving that everyone had been wrong to try to prevent their marriage. Jordan added, “I’m glad a few members of London society have accepted them.”
“Mostly the ones who want to irritate Lord Nesfield,” Sara responded. She shot Jordan a curious glance. “Not that it would take much to irritate him these days. I understand he’s had a series of personal and financial setbacks. His club refused to honor his membership, he’s lost thousands of pounds in a shipping venture, and there’s some sort of legal battle concerning a substantial piece of his property. What a terrible lot of bad luck he’s had this year.”
“Yes, very bad luck,” Jordan repeated dryly, exchanging a glance with his wife. The man would have much more bad luck before Jordan was through with him. Noting the speculation in his sister’s eyes, Jordan changed the subject. “I wonder how Ian is taking the marriage between Lawrence and Sophie.”
