Page 19 of The Accidental Countess (Accidentally in Love #1)

“W hat have you learned?“ the voice asked.

“They are leaving for Falkirk. I will follow them and locate the ledgers. The earl will lead us to them.”

“The earl is supposed to be dead.” The voice grew frustrated, a note of anger rising higher.

“I will not fail you again, my lord. The ledgers will be destroyed.”

“See to it. Or you will not like the consequences.” The voice paused a moment, then continued. “Use every means necessary.”

Victoria Barrow was a traitor of the worst sort. Instead of sobbing for hours on end as she had done on the trip to London, the infant had spent most of the journey happily curled up in Stephen’s arms, her face nestled against his waistcoat. He’d given her a pocket watch to play with, and she had entertained herself by chewing upon it.

Emily’s teeth were about to rattle their way out of her head from the roads. She prayed they would not have to travel for much longer. Stephen had suggested the train, but her stomach lurched at the thought. She had no desire to inhale soot while traveling at such an unnatural speed.

In time, the children fell asleep. Victoria’s body had grown slack against Stephen, her fist curled beneath her chin as she drooled upon his shoulder. The nursemaid had offered to take the baby, but Stephen had refused. Emily’s heart softened to see him holding the baby as if the child were his own. For a moment, they seemed like a true family.

“Reach into that valise, won’t you?” he directed Emily. “There’s something inside that I’ve been meaning to give you.”

She located the leather valise and unfastened it. “What am I looking for?” She rummaged around and at last her fingers closed upon a book. “This?”

He nodded. “Open it.”

The small volume was filled with a woman’s handwriting. At first Emily thought it was a diary, but when she read the first entry, delight blossomed inside of her.

“I can’t believe it.” It was a book filled with cooking receipts, everything from currant buns to porridge. “It’s wonderful.” She couldn’t help her smile, didn’t care if he saw how happy the gift had made her.

“It belonged to my grandmother. I had my mother send it to me.”

Emily skimmed through the pages eagerly, laughing when she found a receipt for Apple Jonathan. There were no fresh apples to be had yet, but perhaps she could use dried apples and achieve the same effect. While she read through the book, she noticed Stephen’s leg resting beside hers. The warm heat of him seemed to penetrate her skin like a caress.

The hours passed, and night descended until Emily could no longer read his grandmother’s handwriting. Anna had taken the baby, and in time, both fell asleep with the rocking of the coach. Royce stretched out with his head upon Anna’s lap, his eyes closed while he firmly gripped a tin soldier in one hand.

With everyone else asleep, the interior of the coach grew intimate. Emily was more aware of her husband, of his strong face, his eyes meeting hers with unspoken promises.

Stephen reached out to take her hand. His fingers touched her skin, moving up to cradle her wrist. Though he did nothing more than brush his thumb against the pulse at the base of her hand, the sensation made her breath catch.

“We’ll be stopping at an inn soon,” he whispered in her ear.

Heaven help her, but his suggestion tempted her with the proximity of such close quarters. She imagined pulling his mouth against hers until she felt the secret thrill of his kiss. “I know.”

“There is no need to be afraid. I won’t touch you unless you want me to.” His voice captivated her, seducing her with a dizzying need.

His fingers slid up her arm, and she shivered. “The children,” she reminded him. He acceded to her wishes, drawing back.

Emily’s breathing was unsteady, and she pinched herself without letting him see. She needed to distance herself. But more than anything, she wanted him.

She forced her gaze away, staring outside at the blackness of the night. The coach continued onward, and as time passed, she grew more anxious.

Why was she even considering sharing his bed? Too much had changed. He’d left her and had all but disappeared from her life.

She couldn’t let him hurt her that way again. And yet, she could not deny that he tempted her. Could she let him be her husband in body, as well as in name?

The longings rose up inside of her, so deeply. As she watched Stephen lift the sleeping children from the carriage, she was very much afraid of loving him again.

He arranged two rooms for them at the inn: one for Anna and the children; the other for Emily and himself. The innkeeper’s wife fed them a delicious stew of chicken seasoned with thyme and garlic. The crusty bread tasted like heaven when Emily dipped it in the stew. While she chatted with the woman about spices and seasonings, Stephen went upstairs to prepare the rooms.

Once Royce and Victoria were asleep, Emily returned to the room she would share with Stephen. She stared at the small bed, suddenly wary of sleeping in the same room with her husband. Anna helped her undress, and when she was clothed in a cotton nightgown, she slipped beneath the covers to await the earl.

It was like her wedding night, all over again. If she let him make love to her, she risked losing her heart again. And she didn’t want the emptiness of a one-sided marriage.

The door opened, and Stephen entered, fastening the bolt behind him. He removed his frockcoat and waistcoat, lifting his shirt away. Emily buried her face in the sheets, though not before she caught a glimpse of a lean muscular chest and the black tattoo edging his neck.

“Emily?” he whispered, sliding in beside her. His warm body nestled against hers, and she realized in a panic that he wore nothing. His mouth rested against her ear. He reached around to cup her breast through the cotton, his thumb idly stroking the tip.

“You shouldn’t,” she managed, her whisper breaking. A storm of sensations ignited her body’s hunger. His thighs brushed against hers, his rigid length against her spine.

“Shhh—” His hand slid beneath the fabric, caressing the heavy fullness of her breast. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” she lied. Not afraid of his touch, only of her crumbling willpower.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you all day.” He cut off any further arguments by lifting her chin to kiss him. As his tongue met hers, his skilled hands moved over the fabric of her nightgown, tantalizing her. He touched her stomach, caressing her down to her hips. Emily stiffened, keeping her legs shut.

Tell him to stop , her mind pleaded.

But his warm mouth was melting away her uncertainty, making her want him. If she offered herself up, it would be wonderful, like before. Could she separate her body from her conscience and accept him? Could she take comfort from his touch without it meaning anything?

No. It would hurt too much when he left her. She broke away. “Stephen, I—”

“I’m only going to give you pleasure,” he whispered, and her cheeks heated at the things he promised.

Beneath the covers, his hand eased up the hem of her nightgown until he touched her bare thigh. His hand moved up to the slit between her legs. A moan escaped her as his wicked fingers slid past her curls and inside her. Flames of desire licked her skin, making her burn for him.

Sweet Lord above, he knew just how to dissolve her resistance. Her skin rose up beneath his touch, her nipples puckering.

“I want to make you my wife,” he whispered roughly, stroking her until she arched her back. She hungered for him, her hands moving across his firm skin. “I want to move deep inside you, feeling your warmth around me.”

His words aroused her, while a shuddering sensation built up, a rising tide of need. Though his intimate touch embarrassed her, she was beyond thinking clearly. Every one of her senses was alive.

She had to stop him, to keep this from happening. But she couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts together. He increased the tempo, his thumb exerting a gentle pressure against her tight bud.

His mouth covered her nipple, his hands arousing her. Another finger thrust inside her, mimicking the rhythm of lovemaking. Deeper he plunged, his thumb riding her, until she strained, her back arching. A violent release ripped through her as wave after wave of ecstasy flooded her skin. She couldn’t move, couldn’t form a single word.

“It was like this before,” she whispered. She hadn’t forgotten a single moment of their wedding night or the way he’d made her feel beautiful.

What if he left her again? She couldn’t stop the tears spilling onto her cheeks. He doesn’t love you.

When he saw her tears, he stopped immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep from sobbing. No, he hadn’t hurt her. Not physically. But she should have known better than to share a bed with him.

“This was a mistake,” she whispered.

For a long moment, he stared at the ceiling, not speaking a single word. Then, at last, he rolled over and turned his back to her.

Emily curled her hands into a fist, wishing she’d never let him back into her heart.