Page 36 of Wicked Designs
He kissed her hands and released them then pointed to the bed. A stack of books had toppled over in a small literary heap. There had to be at least eight. Curiosity got the best of her. She climbed onto the bed to peruse the titles. It was an unexpected pleasure to find that he’d brought her more than she’d asked for. Emily dared not look at him, her eyes still red from the weight of tears. Instead she turned her attention to the gift he’d brought and what it might mean.
When she climbedup onto the bed, Godric wanted to catch hold of her from behind. She looked irresistible with the loose curls of hair on her neck andthe sway of her bottom. She moved with the grace of a wood nymph. He knew she would be a playful bed partner, eager and delightful in her moments of rapture.What the blazes is wrong with me?
He fought off the heady rush of desire and focused on her. Emily’s hands caressed the covers of each book, her eyes roving over the selection, oblivious to him. Godric feared he would ruin the moment if he joined her, but decided to take the chance. He eased himself on the edge of the bed nearest her while she sorted the books into piles.
“I brought a little of everything. I was unsure as to your preference.”
Emily tucked up her skirts around her knees as she folded her legs to sit more comfortably.
“Philosophy, art, gothic romances, sciences.” She scanned the piles with such delight that Godric expected snow to fall outside, for her eyes lit up like a child’s during Christmas. He wished in that moment he was a poet or an artist, so desperate was he to capture the beauty of Emily’s soul. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a blush coloring her face. In the afternoon light he could make out the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Most women would have hidden them with powder. Not Emily, she bore them without a thought. He adored that about her, she did not dwell on what other women would have seen as flaws.
“I’m intrigued by your choices. What makes you think I would be interested in science or philosophy?”
“You struck me as an intellectual reader, not oneprone to frivolous reading such as books on sewing or manners.”
“Manners?” Emily scoffed. “A rather bold claim coming from you. But these are all excellent choices. However, you’ve brought me too many.” She pushed them all away save one,The Iliad and The Odyssey.
Godric leaned over and with the sweep of his arm brought the books back. “Consider the rest a prelude to my apology.” He caught her chin in one hand, his thumb sweeping over her chin and up to outline the bottom of her lower lip.
“You are apologizing?”
“Yes, and not just for what I said earlier, but for everything—the abduction, the lake and the laudanum. All of it.” He meant it too. Hurting her seemed akin to stabbing his own heart and he couldn’t bear it. She was weakening him, and he should send her away before she destroyed his solitary life. But the thought of not seeing her was equally incomprehensible. She leaned into his caress, like a cat seeking affection. That simple action seared him with a heated pleasure.
“Don’t apologize for everything.” Her lashes fluttered as she looked at him, a secretive smile on her lips.
“I’ve not wronged you by all my actions then?” He laughed.
“Notallyour actions.” She studied the book she held, then opened the pages and sighed.
“My mistake: I forgot you could not read Greek.” Godric reached for the novel she held. While the title was typeset in English, the text itself was entirely in Greek.
“This is one of my favorite stories. My father never cared for novels, but he loved the classics and would read this one to me often.” She held it out to him. “Would you read it to me?”
“But you won’t be able to understand it. I suppose I could translate it for you.” He took the book from her curiously.
“I know the story by heart in English, and if you just read it aloud to me in Greek, I can imagine it myself and follow along. Consider it another part of your apology.”
Godric stretched out on the bed and Emily joined him, curling her body up against him, her head on his shoulder. He let the book fall open to the first page, took a deep breath, and began to read.
The next hour passed in soft sunlight and the murmur of a foreign tongue. He was a child again, reveling in the pleasure of a well-told tale and the comfort of Emily’s presence. He cherished the innocent fall of her head on his shoulder and tucked her against him by wrapping one arm around her waist.
When he reached a good stopping point, he marked his place with the purple satin bookmark and set it aside, turning his attention to Emily. How long had it been since he’d spent time with a woman on a bed, sharing an intimate moment that didn’t end in the shedding of clothes? Too long. This moment contained a fullness, a ripeness, that gave him a bottomless sense of peace. But something this grand and enchantingly perfect could never last.
He didn’t deserve her.
He wasn’t worthy of love, especially not Emily’s.
She’d return to her uncle and be married to that horrible Blankenship fellow just to settle a debt. Surely there had to be a way to save her from such a fate, but he couldn’t think of one. It was impossible to make her his mistress. She’d find him unworthy and her disappointment would kill him. Could he marry her? Offer her a life uncertain of love? Godric forced himself to stop thinking of something so wretched and tried to turn his mind elsewhere.
“Shall we go to dinner?” His breath stirred her hair.
She tilted her face up, lips brushing his so lightly it was more a memory of a kiss. “Yes.”
Emily moved away and in that moment Godric’s heart leapt to follow her. What if she was his, not just now, but always?
A potent yearning gnawed deep in him for such a life. The despair that followed required Godric to quiet the unfamiliar urge to rage and cry all at once, and master himself again.
He still needed to make sure she would not fall for him. It shouldn’t be too hard—he just had to be himself.
