Page 47 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)

For a long moment, they were both locked in silence, the thudding of the hooves on the muddy road the only sound. Then she sighed. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. There was pity in her face, a pity that roused his anger.

“I’m not telling you this to sadden you or make you feel sorry for me.

I merely think you should know the truth.

Even if I wanted to love you, I couldn’t.

I taught myself to resist such unstable emotions long ago.

” When she blanched, he added, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a comfortable, contented marriage.

Indeed, if it’s not clouded by emotion, it will likely be better than most.”

“You think so, do you?” She lifted her chin, her green eyes soft with regret and hurt … and some other deep emotion. “And what if I’m in love with you?”

To his disgust, his first reaction to the simple statement was sheer joy. Emily, his Emily, in love with him?

Then his practical side reasserted itself, and he forced himself to say, “You aren’t. You’re confusing desire with something else, which is understandable under the circumstances.”

“Don’t patronize me, Jordan,” she snapped. “I may be na?ve and young and all those things you despise, but I’m not stupid. I know what I feel.”

Uneasily, he realized he had no desire to argue with her on this particular point. How selfish could one man be, to be pleased that she loved him even though he didn’t feel the same?

Yet he couldn’t stop being pleased. He chose his words carefully. “If that’s true, I see no reason it should hurt our marriage. As long as you understand that I don’t … have the capacity to love.”

“Did your father understand that your mother didn’t ‘have the capacity to love’?” she retorted. “Is that what made their marriage such a success?”

She couldn’t have chosen a better weapon. He stiffened. “It’s not the same. My parents weren’t well-suited. You and I are.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, certainly. You’re an earl; I’m a common rector’s daughter.

You take for granted your box at the opera; I count myself blessed to have attended once.

You’re on speaking terms with the Prince of Wales; I’d never even seen his portrait until my farce of a coming out.

I wouldn’t know the faintest idea how to seat people at a dinner party and—”

“None of that matters to me,” he said fiercely.

“Not today, perhaps. But it will. One day you’ll wake up and find yourself ashamed of me.

” She glanced out the window at the dark forest they were passing through now.

“If you loved me, you might overlook my lack of sophistication and my ignorance of society, but as it is, those things can only be an embarrassment to you.”

“You’re forgetting your other admirable abilities—your gift for physic, your quick wit, your sweet nature …”

“What does an earl need with any of that? For physic, you have the best doctors money can buy. For wit, you have the greatest minds at your command. And I doubt that a sweet-natured woman is of any use to you at all.”

She was wrong. Her sweet nature was the first thing that had attracted him. But she would never believe that, as self-effacing as she was.

There was one thing she would believe, however. “You’re forgetting a certain, very significant ability.” He caught her chin and tipped it up until she was gazing into his face, her eyes uncertain, almost wary. “The ability to please me in bed.”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “That’s the easiest thing to purchase, as you should well know, having paid for your share of tarts and merry widows, my lord.”

He frowned at her deliberate use of his title.

“Not as easy as you think. ” He threaded his fingers through her hastily dressed hair and dislodged the few pins, letting her hair cascade around her shoulders like a golden robe.

His voice grew husky as he caressed her flushed cheeks, the vibration of the carriage making his movements ragged.

“I’ve never had a night as enjoyable as last night.

For that alone, I’m willing to give you my name. ”

He brought his mouth to within inches of hers. If he couldn’t convince her to marry him with words, then he would use any other means possible. But he would convince her. He might not be in love, but he’d decided that a wife could be a very handy thing. Especially when the wife was Emily.

Desire flared in her features, though she tried to hide it. “And what happens when you tire of bedding me?”

The very absurdity of the statement made him smile. “I shall never tire of that.” And before she could summon up any other arguments, he covered her mouth with his.

Good God, she was soft, so soft. She had lips made for kissing, their delicate contours and natural color more tempting than the painted mouth of any whore.

Deeply, repeatedly, he drove his tongue inside her mouth, mimicking what he really wanted to do to her.

The scent of lavender crowded his senses, lending a sweetness to a kiss that was already sweeter than he could bear.

He had a rabid urge to touch her, all of her, to brand her as his.

But he wanted to do it slowly, to make sure that he built her own need to feverish heights first. He stroked the smooth skin of her neck, then down the slope of her chest to where the lacy edge of her bodice ran high along the tops of two perfect swells of luscious, female flesh.

Though she allowed him to kiss her, he could feel the tension in her … the uncertainty. He would banish it thoroughly, he vowed. If it took him all day, he would make her want him as badly as he did her.

His hands slid deftly along the bodice to where a placket hid rows of hooks and eyes. Thankfully, her pelisse-robe opened in the front, so it was an easy matter to unfasten the hooks and bare her chemise.

She jerked back, her fingers flying to hold closed the half-opened bodice. “Jordan, you mustn’t … you can’t … .”

“Why not?” He bent to slip his hands beneath her skirts, then skimmed them up her calves, his fingers gliding over the silken stockings until they reached her ribbon garters and tugged them loose with one quick motion.

She flattened her hands over her skirts. “We’re not married yet!”

“That didn’t bother you last night.” He stripped one stocking off, then the other.

“Yes … but … but … here? Now? In broad daylight?”

“The broad daylight I can take care of.” Without even looking, he yanked the curtain shut over the only exposed window.

With the day already overcast, the carriage was lit with only the faintest gray light, enough to show her wary expression.

“Come now, my darling. We nearly made love that first night we met in my carriage. This isn’t so different from that, is it? ”

She scooted back from him on the seat. “It’s very different. You stopped it then. You didn’t want me.”

“I have always wanted you.”

Though she dragged in a shaky breath, she shook her head. “Not me. My body. You want my body, but you don’t want me, the innocent with foolish hopes of love.”

“You forget you’re not so innocent anymore,” he rasped. He removed his coat, then his waistcoat. “And I do want you. All of you.”

Edging closer, he reached for her bodice again. She caught his hand. “I don’t think we should do this.”

He gazed at her, at the parted lips and torn expression. “I see. You can seduce me when you want, but I’m not allowed to do the same. That hardly seems fair.”

“It wasn’t fair for you to kidnap me and force me to marry you.”

“True. I didn’t want to be seduced, and you didn’t want to be kidnapped.” He lowered his voice. “But both of us want this.”

“I … I don’t …” she said weakly when he slid his hand beneath her skirts again. “Please, Jordan, you shouldn’t …”

“You say that only out of anger at me for thwarting your plans. But you don’t mean it. What possible reason could you have for denying us both what we want? Especially when you know we’re going to be married anyway.”

“Because … because …” She faltered as he glided his hand up past her loose stockings to her upper thighs. He found the patch of hair and tangled his fingers in it, caressing her lightly, easily.

She sucked in a ragged breath. “Goodness gracious … oh, dear …”

He delved into her, his blood quickening to find her wet and warm and ready for him. Stroking her in time to the rocking of the carriage, he whispered, “Listen to your body. It never lies.”

He found her little nub and rubbed it until her eyes slid shut and a flush of pleasure lit her face. “You are … a very wicked man,” she choked out.

“Wicked is as wicked does.” He caught her head in his free hand, holding it still as he lowered his mouth to hers. “And I am going to do so very many wicked things to you, my darling …”

She sighed, a small sigh of acquiescence, and he swallowed it with his kiss. He took great pains not to frighten her with the intensity of his need, but it was all he could do to keep the kiss tender when what he truly wanted was to ravish her like a marauding Viking.

At first she responded timidly, hesitantly. But as their tongues mated and twined, she arched toward him, grasping his waist to pull him closer. Before he knew it, she was clutching handfuls of his shirt and tugging it loose from his trousers.

He unfastened the buttons of his trousers, then his drawers, eager to help her. Her hands slid down his sides and around to his back. But when she slipped them inside his loosened trousers to cup his buttocks, he nearly lost all control.

“Good God,” he muttered as he tore his mouth from hers, “you never cease to amaze me.”

Her eyes were glazed with desire, and a sultry smile touched her lips. “If you can do wicked things to me … then I can do wicked things to you …”