By the time they reached his sitting room, he fully acknowledged the stupidity in suggesting they come here. To distract himself from the need threatening from within, he strode straight to the liquor service to pour her a glass of sherry.
“Goodness, what a night.” She sighed from behind him.
“Did you accomplish what you set out to do?” he asked.
She laughed softly, and her reply held a hint of amazement. “I did. And then some, if I calculated correctly.”
“I am sure you did,” Roderick replied as he turned around.
The breath was violently sucked from his lungs.
She stood in front of the fireplace, where a low-banked fire warmed the room. Her hands were lifted to her hair as she worked to free the ties of the mask from her coiffure. Roderick was ensnared by the picture she made in the stunning turquoise-colored gown. The satin draped in tantalizing folds over her hips and smoothed up over her rib cage to her breasts, which swelled delightfully over the edge of her low bodice as she lifted her arms to her task.
She glanced aside at him and smiled when she noticed him staring.
He hardened in response.
“Would you mind lending me a hand with this? I seem to have gotten the ties tangled.”
It was a terrible idea. He should refuse emphatically. To put his hands on her now, with lust riding so high in his blood, was a sure step toward disaster.
But the look in her eyes—innocently beseeching—twisted his best intentions into a mass of knots. He leveled his uneven breath and lied to himself.
He could handle this.
Twenty-six
He hesitated so long, Emma started to believe he would refuse.
“Of course,” he finally replied. The husky note in his voice warmed the air between them.
He approached her slowly, keeping his gaze focused on her face until he handed her the glass of sherry and stepped around behind her.
Raising the glass to her lips, she tried to calm the rioting sensations that would not release her from their grip. She felt stirred up and unsettled and empty. As though there was something vital she was leaving undone.
The night could not have gone any better. She had won more than enough to pay off Mr. Hale and intended to make sure he had the money in his hands first thing in the morning. The Chadwicks would finally be free of the ominous debt.
Emma prayed there would never be cause for her to gamble like that ever again.
There had been stretches of time during the evening when she forgot what she was playing for. The bright euphoria of winning crowded out all other considerations. Each win had increased the seductive nature of the game, and every loss only made her strive to restore her good fortune. There were several frightening moments when she felt herself wanting to risk it all, throw everything on the table. Even when she knew she had won enough to pay off Hale, she had been nearly desperate to keep going.
The entire experience had been intense and had taught her something vital about herself: she was not immune to the lure that had led her father so far from his responsibilities.
As Roderick gently tugged at the strips of black silk twisted through her hair, she acknowledged that his presence at her side tonight had been the one thing tethering her to reality. Not thoughts of her sisters or recollections of her father’s descent. It had been Roderick’s steady, protective, and familiar presence that had held her back from completely losing herself in the game play. Sometimes it would be a faint hint of his scent or the sound of his warm laughter that kept her ever aware of his position at her side. Other times, it was the brush of his hand against her back or a brief intimate glance.
Even now, in the relative silence of his private quarters, her senses sought him out as they stood before the low-burning fire. The whispering sound of his movements singed her nerves as he worked the mask free with only the slightest tugs on her scalp. His familiar scent caused a tightening in her belly and increased the jittering discontent in her soul.
She closed her eyes.
Just as when she had stood with him behind the curtain so long ago, something about being with him allowed all else to fade away. The worry, the responsibility, the need to control slid off into the ether, and all that was left was what resided at Emma’s core.
For every second she remained passive and unmoving, as her outward tension slid away, her internal disquiet increased exponentially. Without the other distractions, it was like an emptiness that grew from her very center outward.
No. Not an emptiness.
It was longing.
For him.
Along with the realization of what she was feeling came a wave of physical craving. At the same moment the mask slid from around her face and her hair tumbled down from its coiffure, she was suddenly overcome with the desire to express what she felt inside. She set her wineglass on the table beside her before turning in place to face Roderick.