Nick smiled wryly. “Yes. Being the sister of a viscount would suit Charlotte, even if a coronet doesn’t suit me.”
“Stop!” She seized his shoulders. “Itdoessuit you, Nicholas Dashwood,” she declared in a low, fierce voice. “You’re a better man than virtually everyone in the House of Lords. If titles were granted based on decency and kindness, you would be made a prince.”
He laughed. “I’ve corrupted you completely, if you can say something so daft!”
She growled in outrage, and he laughed again, and she pulled him to her and kissed him, hard, insistently, with the full force of the love she felt for him.
“Now you know,” he said a few minutes later, breathing hard. “My father was a monster, and I’m not much better.” She opened her mouth to argue, and he touched his fingers to her lips to stay her. “But you’re a lady and an heiress, granddaughter of an earl,” he went on, his tone gentling. “In six months, you’ll be a wealthy woman with no more need of being a governess. You’ll be respectable and independent, and I don’t want to be the shameful stain on your conscience.”
She knocked his hand away. “Stain. You think this is a stain on my conscience?”
He gazed back somberly. “Even if you don’t think so now, will you in a year? Five? Ten?”
Never, she thought. Lady Watney, who had reached the advanced age of seventy-four, had told her more than once that at the end of life, one’s regrets were far more likely to involve the chances not taken, the opportunities not seized, the adventures not enjoyed.What’s a scandal or two?she’d scoffed.Make some memories that will keep you smug in your dotage.
Emilia, at the less-advanced age of twenty-seven, had already missed many of the experiences she had anticipated as a girl. For her there had been no presentation at court; no giddy evenings at balls, no flirting with young men in the park, no stolen kisses in shadowed gardens. She had learned that, to her remaining family, she was little more than an asset to be traded away for their benefit. She had had to rely on herself, at the cost of more than girlish dreams. She’d worked hard for her keep, and could never forget that she was dependent on the grace of others for her living.
But when Nick had asked her to become Charlotte’s governess, he had described it as a partnership. He had agreed to her terms, outrageous as they were from a governess. They hadn’t always agreed, but he had always treated her as an equal, competent and respected.
If she was going to ruin herself over a man, she couldn’t have chosen better than Nicholas Dashwood.
And she loved him.
“In five years,” she said, “I will look back on this happily. My great gamble paid off beyond all expectations—I located the heir to the Sydenham viscounty, when even he had no idea who he was! I persuaded him to come to Lucy’s aid, rather generously, and even cozened him into paying me a ridiculously high salary for governessing. And then I resigned the post, and he didn’t rail at me or complain, he showed me paradise. No, Mr. Dashwood, I will not regret this, not in five years, nor in fifty.”
His expression had been still as she spoke. At the end, something flitted over his face, too rapidly for her to identify, before he took her jaw in his hands and kissed her. Emilia’s heart felt as if it would burst. She held him close and kissed him back.I love you,she told him inside her head.
“I stayed away last night,” he said between kisses. “On the chance you might have changed your mind.”
She laughed, suddenly giddy. She realized what this strange new lightness was, that she had felt for the past two days. Not the thrill of becoming lovers, nor the elation of being in love. She had someone to trust. Someone who cared, who was on her side. Something had shifted when she unburdened herself of the true and complete story of her family and Lord Fitchley, as ugly and venal as it was. It had feltgoodto tell him those shameful secrets. They had been splinters wedged deep in her soul, ones she hadn’t dared touch for years—but now she’d pulled them out, only to realize how great an effort it had been to keep them buried.
“I will not change my mind,” she replied breathlessly. “Don’t send me away tonight.”
Even in the darkness, she saw the flash of his teeth in a dangerous smile. “No,” he said in a dark, velvety voice, and then he turned over, pulling her atop him. “Never.”
Emilia sat up, straddling his hips on her knees. “Nor tomorrow.”
“Never,” he said again, his voice lower. His hands were on her legs. “Don’t leave.”
She smiled, running her hands through her hair to remove the last of the pins. She had noticed that he was fascinated by her hair down. “Never.”
His hands disappeared under her skirts and she felt his palms glide up her thighs, firm and purposeful. She shivered, not because his hands were cool from the night air, but because she was desperate for his touch. Tonight she didn’t need to be seduced; tonight she was impatient, and she could feel him hard and thick beneath her, separated only by a few layers of clothing.
He knew it as soon as he touched her. She moaned, her head falling back and her hands spasming on his clothing. “You’re as ready as I am,” he breathed, and she managed to nod, moving in time with the strokes of his hand between her legs.
Without ceasing, he reached down and yanked loose the buttons on his trousers, shoving fabric out of the way until her bare skin met his. He groped for her hand and brought it to his straining erection, arching his spine to press against her palm. Emilia shivered again, marveling at how hot and hard he was.
“Take me,” he whispered, nudging her, and Emilia wobbled on her knees for a moment as she tried to follow his lead. She hesitated a moment, with him poised at her entrance, then sank down.
Nick’s fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs. “Mother of God,” he said in a thin, rough voice.
“It feels bigger,” she gasped.
“Yes.” His voice sounded strained.“Move...”
She shifted, sitting upright, exquisitely aware of him deep inside her, and he ran his thumb over the spot that made her twitch and tense. His smile flashed pale and fierce in the moonlight, and Emilia moved again. She leaned forward and rocked her hips, and Nick responded with another swirl. Wanting more of that, she leaned back, and he began to stroke her in time with the roll and thrust of his own hips.
She let him guide her until she forgot to breathe and the stars above her seemed to shine bigger and brighter, blinding her as she came, and then Nick pulled her to his chest and held her tightly as he shuddered and gasped incoherently as his own climax took him.
