Page 62 of The Forbidden Lord
He seemed so insulted she took pity on him. “Apparently not,” she said, softening her tone. “At least you’re going to keep my secret.”
“Yes. But I still want to know why you feel compelled to masquerade like this. You can trust me. I swear it. Just because I tried to seduce you this afternoon?—“
“I don’t want to talk about this afternoon.” Dear heavens, she couldn’t bear it if he talked aboutthat. She was mortified enough by remembrances of her shameful behavior.
Setting her reticule on the seat beside her, she rose and hurried to the back of the box near the door. “Perhaps you should go now.”
He followed her. “Emily, I was merely trying to assure you that it won’t happen again.”
“I realize that. Now that you know who I am, you’re not likely to touch me, are you? It was Lady Emma you wanted, not me.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
Dear heavens, she’d said far too much. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He grabbed her arm. “Obviously it isn’t ‘nothing’ or you wouldn’t have said it. Surely you don’t think I kissed you this afternoon only because I thought you were Lady Emma.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She fought to keep her tone even, unruffled, though inside she was aching. “I … I understand. Truly, I do. You’re used to more sophisticated women. You thought I was a wanton, so you tried to seduce me. But now that my lack of experience is … painfully apparent, I needn’t worry about that, need I?”
“Good God, if only that were true.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “There’s only one problem with your theory, Emily. I knew who you were this afternoon, and I still wanted you.”
She shook her head. “You thought I was Lady Emma, that wild girl from Scotland.”
“I told myself you were Lady Emma, because then I could allow myself what I really wanted—to make love to you. I have no desire to take any woman’s virginity, and I thought that Lady Emma wasn’t a virgin, so it would be all right.”
When she flinched, he drew her behind the velvet curtain that shielded the unused seats in the back of the box and now hid them. Then he lowered his voice. “But it was Emily Fairchild I really wanted, I promise you. It’s Emily Fairchild Istillwant. I’ve watched the men ogle you all night and wanted to challenge each one to a duel just for looking at you in that excuse for a gown.”
“Stop it! Stop saying these things just to make me feel better.” She turned her face away, tears welling in her eyes. “I hate it when you pity me.”
“Pity you?” He forced her against the wall, then lifted her chin to make her look at him. “Pity you, for God’s sake! Have you no idea what you do to me? If this weren’t a public place, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. I would already have rid you of this deuced piece of seduction you’re wearing. I’d be feasting my eyes on every inch of your beautiful body. We’d be on the floor, and I’d be kissing you in every place you can imagine and some you can’t. You wouldn’t leave here a virgin, I swear.”
She couldn’t doubt his words now. They were echoed in his hungry look, his husky voice, his quickening breath. His body felt hot against hers compared to the cool wall against her bare back. Lush harp notes trickled into her consciousness, tripping almost as quickly as her pulse. But not quite.
Then his hand slid down her neck in a lingering caress that branded her skin with his need, and her pulse went mad. He dragged one large finger slowly down her throat and chest until it rested between her breasts, which rose and fell in her vain attempt to breath normally.
He hooked his finger behind the edge of her bodice. “Good God, if we were anywhere else but here … if we were really alone …”
He didn’t have to say any more. If they were alone, he’d be tugging her bodice down and sucking her breasts, fondling them as he had this afternoon. Shameful woman that she was, she wanted him to. Badly.
Instead, he dropped his hand to grab hers and flatten it against the thickness in his breeches. “Do you feel that? That’s how much I desire you. I can’t even see you without feelingthat.It doesn’t matter if you pretend to be Emma or the damned Queen of England. You’re still Emily, the woman I lust after so much that I don’t get any sleep. I’ve lusted after you ever since the night we were alone in the carriage?—”
Now he was telling falsehoods. She jerked her hand away. “That night in the carriage, you pushed me away—you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
He leaned forward until his mouth was at her ear. “Then why did I kiss you?” He pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear, then the lobe, then the sensitive patch of skin beneath it. He smelled of soap and tobacco. And desire. Most assuredly desire. Tiny shivers of anticipation danced along her spine.
He continued in a hard voice. “Trust me, I do not kiss women I don’t desire. And I knew that I shouldn’t,couldn’tdesire you.”
“Because I’m a rector’s daughter and too far beneath you.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Because you’re sweet and innocent and a virgin.”
She turned her head toward him. Their mouths were inches apart, so close she could practically taste his wine-scented breath. “What’s wrong with wanting a virgin?” She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “Most men prize virginity.”
“Virgins are dangerous creatures. They believe in love and ‘romantic feeling’ and all the nonsense I gave up on long ago. Avirgin expects a man to sell her his soul, and I can’t do that. It’s not in my nature.”
Nothing like hearing the truth to ruin a good seduction. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from crying. “Oh, yes, I forgot. You’re the man with the granite heart, aren’t you? You only feel … desire.”
His gaze locked with hers, and for the first time, she thought he looked uncertain. Then his face cleared. “Exactly. I see you finally understand me.”
