“No,” she said. “I think it’s better if I go back to my own room tonight.”
He paused, looking as if he wanted to argue. “If you insist. But only because I know you need rest and I might not be able to resist waking you up later.”
She ought to have been relieved. Instead, the crushing weight of her decision came upon her, along with the looming misery of their parting. “Nick,” she murmured.
“Yes?”
“Kiss me,” she said with a rush of desperation. “Just one more time before you go.”
“I’ll only be just down the hall.” He smiled. “And you’re welcome to change your mind about our sleeping arrangements, you know.”
But she couldn’t. She did not dare.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, blinking again to hold back the tears that threatened to betray her.
With a tender smile, he pulled her tight and pressed his mouth to hers. She kissed him back deeply, ravenously, knowing it would be for the very last time.
When it was over, something inside her seemed to die. Sobbing inside, despite her outwardly dry eyes, she let him lead her upstairs.
Chapter 13
A bird was trilling a tune on a branch outside Nick’s bedchamber window the next morning, cheerful October sunlight filtering through the panes.
A broad grin spread over his face but not because of the bird or the sunshine.
It was because he was happy.
Happier than he could remember being in a very long while.
Not even the always-lingering shadow of Peter’s death could mar his good humor.
Not today.
Not after last night.
He reached his arms above his head and gave a twisting all-over stretch against the sheets. A vital, pulsating heat stole through his veins as memories flashed inside his mind, his body growing instantly hard and aroused.
He wished Emma were here with him now, lying beside him in his bed. But not just for the sex—which had admittedly been fantastic and no doubt would be again—but also for the closeness and the pure, indescribable pleasure of her company.
He wanted her again, right now.
Even more, he wanted her for his wife.
He didn’t know the exact moment when he’d arrived at that decision, but at some point after she’d come into the library last night he’d simply known that she would be his bride.
At first he’d tried to resist, pretending to be interested strictly in books, while instead he could scarcely keep his eyes off her. She’d presented a mouthwatering morsel, standing there in her plain robe with her soft, coin-bright hair streaming down her back almost to her waist.
He’d wanted to sink his hands into it, coil the long, lush strands around his wrists so he could bind her to him. Take her and make her his—forever.
And he supposed in the end that’s precisely what he’d done. He’d taken her innocence and she’d repaid him tenfold with her trust, the giving delight of her body, and the joyous intelligence and rich warmth of her personality.
Does she love me? he wondered, recalling the earnest intensity in her luminous blue gaze as they’d made love.
Suddenly he hoped very much that she did.
Do I love her?
He lay still, ruminating over the question.
If he didn’t love her now, he guessed he would soon enough. He already liked her more than any woman he’d ever known. She fascinated him, inspired him, made him laugh. And she sure as Hades attracted him; all he had to do was look at the sheet poking up like a tent over his loins for confirmation of that!
He had little doubt that once his ring was on her finger it would be a simple thing to tumble all the way under her bewitching spell.
Assuming he wasn’t there already, he realized ruefully. Just listen to me, mooning over her like some lovesick schoolboy.
But he didn’t care. He was in too good a mood, more exuberant and enthusiastic about the future than he’d been since before he’d been compelled to resign his commission and give up his ship. With Emma at his side though, maybe a landlocked life would not be as dreadful as he had once imagined. Already he could think of a number of beneficial compensations.
If he were still a naval officer, he would be required to leave her for long spans of time while he was off to sea. But as a peer of the realm, they could be together every day—and even better—every night. And when they had a family, he would have the pleasure of watching his children grow day by day rather than hearing about them in letters and being surprised every time he came home to find them inches taller and far older-looking than he had remembered them to be.
Yes, marrying Emma would most definitely have benefits.
Of course, some of the Ton might look askance at her lack of a dowry. But he’d never given a fig for Society’s opinion, good or ill, so what did he care now? She was clearly of good family and would make him an exceedingly fine countess.