The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga)(50)

No words came to Emma. All she could do was peer at his shoulder while he cradled her hands lovingly against his cheek. She should pull them away. This whole scenario was improper. They were alone and holding hands. However, her body and brain could not agree to stop it.

“I forgive you.” Then she made the mistake and looked into his eyes. The yearning in them shot straight to her heart.

“I must go now.” She tugged her hands away with little force…so little force they never moved but remained intertwined with his.

“Emma, I know Sebastian loves you, and he would make a good husband for you.” He rose to his feet, pulling her with him, his hands still entwined with hers. “He would be faithful, kind, and gentle and is most deserving of your love.”

Was he here to tell me this, that I should marry Sebastian?

Her ears pounded from the blood pumping through her veins. And she had to fight her instinct to reach out and pull this man she loved into her arms.

“Emma, I’m asking you: Do you love him? Do you want to marry him? I want the choice to be yours.”

‘No’ her brain screamed out. Sebastian was a wonderful man, but she wanted to marry the man in front of her, although it was obvious from his question that would never happen. If he loved her he would not ask if she loved another. She was certain then that Thomas, the duke, would never consider marrying her.

After inhaling deeply she bravely met his eyes again. The air stalled in her lungs. Thomas’s eyes mirrored his soul. Sadness, desperation, and loneliness radiated from his deep blue eyes. And something else. A small glimmer of…could it be…hope?

She swallowed, closed her eyes, leaned into him and whispered, “I cannot marry him. I do not love him. At least not the way he wants, and it would not be right. He deserves a woman who will love him . . . completely.”

***

Thomas groaned his approval, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his head in her hair. He inhaled the jasmine scent that he associated only with her. Every muscle in his body liquefied. He had not realized how fearful and tense he’d been.

“Emma, I,” he whispered as he placed his index finger under her chin, tilting her head up so he could capture her luscious lips with his. Dear God, forgive me, but this is like coming home.

Everything about her tasted familiar. Thomas moved his head for better access, forcing her lips open with his tongue, sweeping the inside of her mouth. When Emma joined her tongue with his he swallowed a moan. Her arms circled his neck, and she leaned her breasts against his chest.

God help him, he wanted her. The urge to take her and finally make her his overpowered every sensible thought in his mind.

Tearing his lips from hers, he nuzzled her neck, his hands skimming her sides to cup her breasts through her layers of clothing. She shivered in response. Not good enough.

Thomas needed to feel warm soft flesh. With deft fingers he unbuttoned the back of Emma’s dress until he could free her full, pale breasts to his eyes. At the sight of her, Thomas’s breath hitched and his member, already hard, filled to uncomfortable proportions inside his breeches. Gently he cupped both glorious orbs in his hands and groaned again.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered with reverence as he touched her.

“Thomas, we mustn’t . . .” The rest of the words escaped her as he lowered his head and suckled her nipple. He felt her knees buckle.

Her hands reached out and grabbed his waist to steady herself.

***

Thomas bit her playfully, and a flood of moisture pooled between her thighs. While his mouth continued the tender torture of her breasts, she arched her back and fisted her hands into his hair to pull him closer.

Again, the nagging voice in the back of her mind told her this was wrong, that this was scandalous and improper. But her body would not listen as sensation after sensation flooded her with a need for something more. There was something she could not grasp, no matter how hard she sought to. But she wanted to learn all of it with this man.

“Thomas, I . . . feel . . .”

“Yes, let yourself feel. Let yourself go.” His voice vibrated against her exposed breasts, and she shivered. Then one of his hands reached for her skirt and pulled it up while his other lightly feathered up her thigh until he cupped her there. A place she barely touched herself.

A moan escaped Emma. She moved her hips against his hand, shamelessly, as his lips captured hers once again. His tongue plundered her mouth, and she gasped when his fingers found the slit in her pantaloons and he slid one finger deep within her. Tongue and finger mimicked one another. At the back of her mind she knew she should protest, but her body wiggled closer, into his hand.