Page 31 of The Earl's Hired Bride
She did, her heart pounding. And he set something big, solid and heavy in her hands.
A book. “Ivanhoe,” she whispered, her eyes filling.
“So you can start your own collection again,” he said softly.
A tear leaked out and she closed her eyes against the rest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
His thumb traced the tear, then his hand cupped her jaw and he was kissing her. The book impeded them, but she clutched it tight and refused to let go, leaning in and opening her mouth to his as a different path to intimacy.
For that’s what they were creating with each sigh and every pleasurable stroke of their tongues. Heavens yes, they desired each other, but this was deeper than a kiss, beyond mere desire. They were spiraling into sensual, heady depths of knowing. Of certainty. Of the promise of everything more.
“Hart,” she breathed at last. “This is a mistake.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Very likely. But still, we are going to make it.”
“Are we?” she asked.
“Together.”
“How?” She grew near tears again, from frustration and longing. “It’s impossible. We’ve made it so.”
“We’ll find a way.” He said it fiercely. A vow.
She only nodded, letting in a first, small tendril of hope.
“I can’t stay. I have a late committee meeting. But I couldn’t keep away, not entirely.” He kissed her again, quickly, and set her away.
“Thank you for the gift.”
“And thank you for yours.”
She hadn’t given him a gift. But she knew what he meant. And it filled her heart.
He bowed over her hand and left.
And she sat, holding her book and dreaming . . . for who knows how long.
* * *
It wasfootsteps that roused her. Soft, but steady. Emily arose from the plush chair where she’d been drifting. She didn’t want to get caught in here. She didn’t really wish to talk to anyone at all, but she supposed she would go and put the book with her wrap and go back to the readings—once whoever was in the passage had passed.
Except the footsteps slowed. Were they coming in here? Feeling slightly panicked and a little silly, she slipped behind the door.
The creak of another door led her to peek through the crack into the passageway. A green baize servant’s door, just beyond her room and on the other side, cracked open. A maid slid through—and met up with Miss Paxton.
“Did anyone see you leave?” the young lady demanded.
“No, Miss.”
Emily was suddenly and incredibly glad they could not see her.
“Do you still have the vial?”
“Yes, Miss.” She didn’t sound happy about it.
“Keep it safely tucked away. Lord Hartford has already come and gone. We’ve missed our chance tonight—but we will catch him at his aunt’s ball. He’ll be obligated to stay the night through.”
The maid ducked her head. “Yes, Miss,” she whispered.
