Chapter 5-1
2048 Words
5
Only a tiny beam of light cut through the keyhole of the heavy wood armoire.
Emily tried to remain absolutely still, focusing on the noises of the manor. Several minutes later, the door opened and Godric entered, followed by Blankenship and the magistrate. Emily bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her uncle’s business partner moved through the room, studying it. She held her breath, terrified he would hear her panicked gasps for air. Finally the inspection of the room was over and the men departed. She sagged against Lucien in relief.
“Christ, that was close,” Lucien muttered. “But they might be back. Keep still.”
After a quarter of an hour, Godric and Ashton’s voices grew louder out in the hall. Lucien loosened his grip on Emily as the armoire door swung open. Ashton and Godric stared at the pair for a second before Godric snatched her out of Lucien’s lap and tossed her over his shoulder. Sadly, she was getting used to the treatment. It was easier for him to carry her about whenever she couldn’t be trusted to walk. She wasn’t a valise that needed to be carted about by a servant.
“Good thinking on the armoire, Lucien. That one fellow was insistent on seeing the rooms.” Godric shifted Emily and she grunted in discomfort.
“You could put me down, now,” she stated, but it went ignored.
“Thank you,” Lucien said. “I have been known to have the occasional stroke of genius. Now who was that other fellow? That wasn’t Parr, was it?”
“He introduced himself to me as Mr. Thomas Blankenship. Supposedly, he and Parr are friends.”
Blankenship. Why was he here? Why hadn’t her uncle come looking for her? She froze, too terrified to move. He’d probably convinced her uncle to let him marry her…a thought so abhorrent she was sick to her stomach. Emily huffed.
“Blankenship?” Lucien growled. “That devil owes me three thousand pounds, he belongs to a group of investors who purchased a bit of property from me.”
“Do you know anything about what happened to Lord Pitherington?” Godric asked. “I read about the accident of course, but Blankenship suggested there was more to it.”
Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Yes. The man was broken by debt earlier this year. Some of my interests were tied in with his, and I took a small hit as well. There were whispers about Blankenship’s role in the matter. Pitherington…well…he put a pistol to his mouth when he couldn’t pay, I’m afraid. It was reported as an accident for the sake of the family.”
“Well he sounds like an absolutely fantastic fellow, we ought to invite him to our club,” Godric drawled sarcastically.
The news that someone hated Blankenship as much as she did gladdened Emily’s heart. The enemy of my enemy is my friend…I hope, she thought grimly.
Despite the fact that Godric still had her slung over his shoulder, the men talked on as if she didn’t exist. With an irritated grunt, she kicked out to remind them. Godric moved over and dropped her onto Lucien’s bed.
“What would Blankenship be doing here?” Ashton asked. “Why didn’t Parr come?”
Godric shrugged.
“You wish to know why Blankenship came?” she asked sharply. “Perhaps you should consider asking the one person here actually involved?” They watched her now in surprise.
“You know that man?” Lucien asked.
“Oh, yes, I know him. He’s despicable. He’s been haunting my uncle’s doorway ever since I moved in with him. He’s even—” She choked on her words she was so angry.
“He’s even what?” Godric’s eyes were sharp as jade daggers.
“He’s even taken liberties with my person, liberties I have not given him, nor ever will. He’s been courting me with the intention to marry me. My uncle thinks I don’t know that, but I do. I’m not daft.”
All three of the men looked justifiably horrified. At that moment Charles and Cedric joined them. Charles took one look at their faces and his eyes widened.
“What’s happened? Did someone die?”
“Someone just might…” Godric muttered under his breath.
Lucien grimaced. “We’re fine,” he said. “We’ve just received some unpleasant news.”
“Oh?” Cedric held his cane like a sword, his hand resting firmly on the silver lion’s head.
“Apparently, Mr. Blankenship believes he has some claim to my Emily,” Godric said with disgust.
Emily blushed at Godric’s possessive tone, though it still offended her.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, stop speaking of me as if I’m an ornament for your shelf.” Still, to belong to Godric, it was a thought that gave her pause.
“What? That old toad? Why he’d—” Charles began, but Cedric tapped him on the shoulder with the tip of his cane. Charles decided to not finish.
“He is a vile toad and I hate him,” Emily spat with such loathing that her captors exchanged looks of concern.
“But you don’t hate us?” Lucien asked, noting her omission.
“What reason would I have possibly have to hate any of you? Aside from being kidnapped, that is.” She allowed a small reluctant smile. “I suppose I like you all well enough.” It made little sense that she trusted them as much as she did; she could barely explain it to herself, let alone to them. Of course the alternative, which had come within a foot of her while she hid in the armoire, was so much worse.
“Well, despite how you may take our actions, keeping you here has been a most amusing challenge.” Godric laughed.
Emily narrowed her eyes to slits. “I’m glad my value is based on how much I amuse you.”
“Well,” Ashton sighed. “At least we escaped a potential disaster. I suppose it’s safe enough to resume our day.” The others agreed.
“I have some work to do. Emily you will accompany me.”
The command in his tone made her bristle but she didn’t protest. She wouldn’t have won that argument.
Godric escorted Emily down the stairs and gestured for her to sit on a red velvet settee while the others vanished. She took the opportunity to examine the study, richly decorated with bookshelves and odd trinkets. He must have traveled the world. Watercolor paintings of distant locales hung above the chairs, and unusual things—like elephant tusks, no doubt from Africa—had been pinned alongside them.
Godric sat at the large rosewood desk, perusing papers and letters.
She envied him the freedom to get up and leave, not just from the settee, but to go on adventures. If she was forced to marry Blankenship, there would be no chance of adventure ever again.
She scanned the walls again, noticing a small portrait of a raven-haired woman seated on a swing. The cut of her gown was old enough that Emily knew the portrait must have been commissioned years ago. Bewitching eyes glinted at her from the layers of paint. Godric’s eyes, save for the color.
“Godric…” she began. He glanced at her warily. “Yes?”
“Who is the lady in that portrait?” Emily leaned against the armrest nearest his desk. “Is it your mother?”
Godric’s gaze darkened. “Yes.”
“She’s very beautiful.” Emily saw how much the late Duchess of Essex’s son took after her. Godric had the harsh beauty of a Greek sculpture, but each feature held traces of his mother’s softened beauty. No wonder he captivated her. Ashton had been right. Godric had his father’s power, but his mother’s gentleness and compassion.
Godric rose from his chair and walked over to the portrait. “She was a great woman. She never spoke a harsh word to anyone, nor raised a hand against me. I…” Emotion roughened his voice. “I used to climb onto her lap each evening after supper and she would read to me. She always smelled of lilacs. Even now her room still carries the scent.”
Emily’s chest squeezed around her heart. He was lost in memories; she saw it in the distant focus of his eyes.
“And your father?” She was afraid to break the spell, but she wanted to understand him.
“He loved her in a way he never loved me. I remember the way they danced together. When my mother held her annual ball here, I’d sneak out of the nursery and watch from between the spindles of the stairs. My mother would float across the floor, laughter shining in her eyes. And Father? He would hold her close, smiling like the clouds had opened to reveal the sun. They could waltz for hours, spinning in delicate circles, and I’d watch, enraptured by the sight.”
“I am sorry she died,” Emily said. Thoughts of her own parents crashed against the walls of her heart and fought to break free. She drew in a deep breath, strengthening herself against the battering.
Godric laughed, but it held no mirth. “We’re both orphans, aren’t we?”
“I suppose we are.” A slight shiver trespassed over her skin. She hadn’t realized before now that they had something in common. A long moment of silence passed. Finally, Godric sighed and returned to his desk. His weary expression pained her. She hadn’t meant to hurt him by inquiring about his mother. Emily stood up and walked towards his bookshelves.
“Is this the world’s slowest escape attempt? If so shall I order tea before pursuing you this time?”
His sarcasm prickled her pride. “I simply wish to find a book to read. It would help to pass the time.”
His eyes stayed on hers. She let her honest intentions shine from her eyes. She truly did just want to read.
Her mother had taught her the pleasure of books. As a child she’d been a wild hoyden. Her father had indulged her in every boyish entertainment from riding to climbing trees and fishing. But as much as she loved to catch a perch and haul it into the boat with her father, something magical overcame her while reading with her mother. They’d curl up on the worn couch, find one of the larger illustrated tomes about the natural sciences, and study the renderings of each exotic creature. For a moment, Emily lost herself in that memory, and with piercing agony was pulled back to the present.
Godric went over to the shelf on the right side of his desk and selected a book for her. All her senses sharpened when he sat next to her on the edge of the settee. Godric placed the book in her lap, then took her hands in his.
Her eyes shut for the briefest moment as she enjoyed his touch. Godric stroked her wrists, gazing down at her.
“Emily, I demand a p*****t for this. Should you refuse, I’ll take the book back.” He reached out and tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on the sensitive spot below her ear. A sharp tingle shot down her spine at the touch.
Emily bit her lower lip. What p*****t he would demand for so small a pleasure? She was afraid that his price would be something she’d pay without hesitation. When his gaze fixed on her, like emeralds pulled from blazing fires, she felt his hands already upon her body. “What is your price?”
His eyes fell straight to her lips, and she did the same. The soft lines bracketing his mouth often turned hard when she frustrated him. It was one of his flaws, that hardness that could turn his sensual features so cold.
“I want you to kiss me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
But his phrasing didn’t make sense. She was to kiss him?
“I have kissed you, but you’ve never kissed me back. I want your full participation.”
“But I don’t know the first thing about kissing.” Until now, she’d just enjoyed the rush of sensations he thrust upon her, contributing nothing, only taking. But it was improper to talk so openly of physical intimacy.
Godric just smiled, a gentle twist at the corners of his mouth. “With enough practice you’ll learn. A few minutes with me as a tutor and you will be a master.” His grip tightened, as though their talk had excited him.
“One kiss? You won’t demand anything more of me?”
“One kiss, but you won’t get away with a saintly peck on the cheek, Emily. I demand a real kiss.”
“Demand?”
“Request,” he amended.
“Request or you’ll deny me my book? Still sounds like a demand.”
“God’s blood, woman, you are trying my patience.” He seemed to be suppressing a smile.
Could she accept a devil’s bargain? Godric’s kisses robbed her of rationality. But if she didn’t prove she could best him, even at a kiss, then he would win. But this question transcended a game. Kissing him was a dare she wanted to accept. Part of her yearned to show him she was a woman who desired him and that she could kiss as good as any woman he’d been with before.
Heart waltzing in her chest, she spoke: “I agree then. One kiss.” She felt compelled to offer her hand to shake on the deal but she knew he’d only laugh, so she refrained.
Emily took the book and set it aside. Godric rested his palms on the tops of his muscular thighs. He ceded control to her, allowed her to take action. For some reason this both comforted and aroused her, and she found the courage to reach up and take his face in her hands.
- Writer
