Page 52 of Wicked Designs
He held it out to Emily, who took it as though she held a precious artifact from ages gone. “Yes,” he said.
She sensed by the strained look on Charles’s face that there was something more they were not sharing with her. “Did Hugo Waverly ever exact his revenge?”
Charles dropped the bottle of wine he’d been examining. It hit the floor with a sickening crash and a spray of crimson ruined his clothes. He dove to pick up the pieces.
“Charles, are you all right?”
Lucien knelt to assist him.
“So what did happen to Hugo Waverly?” There was something about his name, or perhaps his memory, that had caused Charles to react. It was clear there was far more to this story than just a brawl and the acquisition of a cane. There had been reasons, and there had been consequences.
“It is as you said. He vowed revenge.” Cedric’s answer evaded her inquiry but she knew she would hear no more about the mysterious villain.
She gave the cane back, a shy wistful sigh escaping her lips. “I should have loved to have had adventures like that.”
Every mouth was agape, as though her announcement had been a shock.
“What on earth do you call this, Emily? Abducted,fending off the advances of shameless rakehells… Nothing about that is for the faint of heart,” Cedric said with mild amusement.
“I know…but it isn’t really dangerous, though, is it?” She ran a fingertip over the surface of the white tablecloth then stifled a shudder. “Aside from Blankenship’s visit here.”
“Between riding like an Amazon and jumping walls you’ve put our lives in danger, and that should count for something,” Lucien said.
Emily’s lips changed to a disappointed frown. It was no use to explain to these men that she hungered for travel to foreign lands, for sights unseen, and art not yet made by painter’s hands. There was so much she was missing.
If her uncle married her to Blankenship, her life would be over.
Stifling a yawn, Emily wondered when Godric would return. The conversation at dinner had distracted her for a short while.
“It is late. Perhaps you ought to retire for the night, Emily,” Cedric said.
“I suppose you are right. I am fatigued.” She bent down to retrieve Penelope, who rustled against her skirts. The little dog licked her chin and wriggled in excitement, and Emily couldn’t help but take comfort from such innocent affection. Cedric escorted her upstairs, a shadowy reminder of her status as prisoner.
“You have your books and Penelope. Will you be all right the rest of the evening?”
“Yes.”
“All right then, kitten. I’ll have Simkins send up bowls of food and water for Penelope.”
“And a basket? Wouldn’t she need one to sleep in?”
“I’ll see that she has everything her little heart desires.”
“Thank you, Cedric.”
“You are most welcome. We will be downstairs, should you need anything.”
Once alone she settled down on her bed with Penelope in her lap and pulled one of the novels off the side table.Lady Viola and the Dashing Duke. She wanted a good story.
As she read on about the plucky heroine and her first encounter with the dashing hero, she saw Godric, and her heart ached. Was he thinking of her now, or even at all? What if she fell asleep before he returned? Would he still come to collect his kiss goodnight?
She should not have wanted him to but, Lord help her, she did. She wanted him to sweep into her room and kiss her senseless. Godric’s kiss was a wildfire on a dry meadow, and she craved that inferno like nothing else. It was madness to want him so much. Logically she knew the danger he presented to her heart, yet she couldn’t seem to resist him.
Emily eased onto her bed and daydreamed of Godric. Penelope curled up against her chest, the dog’s brown eyes drowsy as she fell asleep. Emily remained in that delightful state of partial wakefulness, picturing Godric’s hands on her, his mouth on hers, soft words of love tickling her ear. But they were dreams and nothing more.
CHAPTER 10
Godric had never been so anxious to return home.
