Page 36 of The Hellion and the Captain (Scandals and Scores #2)

Chapter Thirty-One

E mmaline and Rhys wasted no time.

Not only did they have their parents’ considerations, but the two of them had no greater wish than to be wed as quickly as possible.

After their conversation with Rhys, Emmaline had privately told her mother the true depth of her feelings toward him. Her mother had taken one look at her and said they would contact the church about reading the banns that upcoming week.

“If you are anything like me,” her mother had said wryly, “it is likely already too late, but we shall do our best.”

Emmaline had to contain her laugh as she had agreed, although three weeks seemed too long to be away from Rhys.

He had made sure to call upon her whenever he could, and they had still kept to their weekly training sessions with the women’s football club.

There was plenty of talk about the woman who had played with Manchester Central.

As far as Emmaline or Rhys had heard, no one besides the Manchester Central players were aware that Emmaline was the woman in question, although there were more than a few questioning glances sent Emmaline’s way by the women at the training sessions.

When one young lady had been brave enough to ask her, Emmaline had coyly deflected the question, asking her if she had been inspired.

Emmaline would have loved to have taken credit amongst all of society, but women playing football had not exactly been well received by anyone, high or low society alike. A woman playing among men? That was another story altogether. She cringed at the words thrown at women football players.

“It’s not fair,” she had told Rhys after one practice, which had been held as secretively as ever. “If a woman is good at the sport, she is called masculine, unwomanly. However, if she plays poorly, then the detractors say she is proving their point. We cannot win.”

“No, you’ll never win the argument against those who are stuck in their ways, as unfair as it is,” Rhys agreed. “But you can win the long game, if we stick to it.”

And so they did. Their first match was set up against another team, comprised of working-class Manchester women. Emmaline could hardly wait, even if her players seemed slightly more trepidatious about it.

“I’m not sure if you are more looking forward to our wedding or to this football match,” Rhys said one evening, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he did.

Emmaline had been quick to reassure him.

“I am not enthused about the small details of the wedding — the flowers, the dress, the minute details I didn’t even know I’d have to think about,” she said, lacing their fingers together. “I am, however, looking forward to celebrating our love with our closest friends and family.”

The entire football club had been invited, of course.

“And I am more than excited to be married to you,” she continued with a smile that held a hint of suggestion that had to be quickly quelled as they were sitting in her parents’ drawing room.

Rhys’s parents had decided to stay in Manchester until after the wedding. They even agreed to dinner one night at the Whitmore residence, and while they were concerned at first, Emmaline and her mother had quickly put them at ease.

All had come together so well, in fact, that the wedding day seemed to be a mere formality, although Emmaline had never attended any wedding with quite as lively celebrations.

But between winning the Cup just weeks before, followed by the captain’s wedding, Manchester Central was ready to celebrate.

Emmaline had been certain to pair Minnie and Tommy together, hoping that the spark she had unintentionally quelled when Emmett had pretended to be courting Minnie could reignite.

Tommy had been sure to comment on it.

“So, all that time you kept me from Miss Draper, it was all a ruse?” he asked Emmaline at the wedding breakfast as he stared at Minnie across the room.

“I didn’t cause it purposefully, Tommy,” she said. “We were only trying to protect my identity further. How was I to know that you would fall for her?”

Tommy stood straighter. “I wouldn’t word it like that. I would say that we showed interest in one another.”

“Perhaps,” Emmaline said with a shrug and a smile as she went off to find her husband.

Rhys greeted her with a chaste kiss on the forehead as he looked at the room around them. While her parents had invited some friends as well, most people here knew and loved them for who they truly were.

“Will you miss Emmett?” Emmaline asked, looking up at him with a grin.

Rhys’s expression was serious as he studied her .

“There are so many different sides to you,” he said. “I will miss who you are on that football field, but I feel that it won’t be gone forever — you’ll find new ways to bring it out. Perhaps when you can play in your own right.”

“I hope so,” she murmured. “I don’t think I will ever be able to give up football entirely.”

“Nor should you,” he said. “I don’t think I ever could either.”

As much fun as she had with her guests, Emmaline was happy for the end of the celebrations, which had lasted far longer than the usual wedding breakfast.

“Well, wife?” Rhys said with a grin. “Are you ready to go home?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Rhys’s parents were still staying in his old apartment, which he was due to let up at the end of the month, while Rhys and Emmaline, with a bit of help from her father as a wedding gift, had found a townhouse of their own in a respectable area of Manchester, between the two neighborhoods they had each called home.

Emmaline had seen the house once or twice since it was purchased, but it hadn’t truly felt like home until now, as she stood on the front walk and stared up at it.

She was taken aback, her breath leaving her in a whoosh, when Rhys knelt down and scooped her up into his arms without warning, carrying her across the threshold.

“Rhys!” she laughed, holding onto her hat, “what are you doing?”

“Carrying my lady into the house,” he said, but he didn’t immediately release her. No, instead, he bypassed the entire ground floor, heading up the stairs to the first story.

“I am not the lightest of women,” she protested.

“Then it is a good thing that I am the strongest of men,” was his reply, before finally depositing her down upon the bed, which she bounced up and down upon a couple of times as she looked around her.

The high ceilings were adorned with decorative plaster moldings, and large windows were draped in heavy, luxurious curtains.

The sturdy four-poster bed she was currently lying on was dressed with fine linens that her mother had had a hand in selecting, a heavy quilt overtop.

Every item, from the ornate lamps to the chaise lounge, had been carefully chosen, matching the soft, warm tones of the room with the floral wallpaper and the vase of fresh roses, sweet peas, and violets.

“Did you finish this room?” she asked Rhys, who looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time that day. He took everything else with such ease.

“I wanted you to feel at home,” he said, shrugging.

“Oh, Rhys,” she said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I feel at home as long as I’m with you.”

She tipped her head up, their lips meeting.

The kiss deepened, passion igniting between them. Emmaline’s hands slid into Rhys’s hair, pulling him closer as she lay back on the bed. Rhys followed her down, his solid weight pressing her into the soft mattress.

Their clothes fell away piece by many piece in Emmaline’s case, as they explored each other reverently. Rhys trailed heated kisses down Emmaline’s neck and across her collarbone, his rough hands caressing her newly bared skin. She arched into his touch, craving more.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much.”

“I love you too.” She gasped as his mouth closed over her breast. “More than anything.”

Rhys lavished attention on her sensitive skin, teasing her until she was writhing beneath him, lost in sensation. His hand skated lower, finding the slick heat at the apex of her thighs. Emmaline’s hips bucked as he stroked her intimately, stoking the fire within her.

She reached for him, her hand curling around his hard length.

Rhys groaned, his hips flexing into her touch.

Unable to wait any longer, needing to feel him inside of her, Emmaline guided him to her entrance.

With a flex of his hips, Rhys joined their bodies, both of them crying out at the rightness of their joining.

They moved together, finding a perfect rhythm born of familiarity and longing for one another that had only been growing over the past few weeks.

Rhys drove into her with deep, purposeful strokes that had her seeing stars.

Emmaline met him thrust for thrust, relishing the delicious drag of his body against hers, within hers.

“Rhys,” she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. “I’m close...”

“Let go, love,” he urged, his hand slipping between their straining bodies to stroke her just where she needed it most. “I’ve got you.”

Emmaline shattered with a cry, her release crashing over her in intense waves. Rhys followed her over the edge, spilling himself deep inside her with a shout of completion.

They clung to each other as they came down from the high, trading soft kisses and tender caresses. Rhys gathered Emmaline close, tucking her against his side. She laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“I almost can’t believe this is real,” she murmured. “That I am now your wife, able to build a life with you, after all we went through together.”

Rhys tipped her chin up to meet his intense blue gaze. “Believe it. This is just the beginning for us, Emmaline. We’re going to have such an adventure together.”

She smiled, her heart full to bursting. “I can’t wait. As long as we’re together, we can handle anything that comes our way.”

“I should think we’ve proven that one too many times already,” he said with a laugh. “I am happy about one thing.”

“Only one?”

“Among many,” he conceded. “I finally fulfilled my promise to take you in a real bed.”

“Somehow, it was not nearly as boring as I thought it would be.”

“I don’t think anything with you will ever be boring.”

“What if it is?” she couldn’t help but ask, as that small fear flickered to life once more, although Rhys was quick to subdue it.

“When we are together, we will always find that spark of life,” he said. “I promise you that. If it is boring, then so be it. I love you regardless, Emmaline. Nothing can change that.”

“I feel the same,” she said. “I never thought I could feel this way about another person.”

“Only about football?”

“Actually, yes,” she said with a laugh. “But here I am, with both in my life.”

“As it should be.”

“That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

“It’s not just a goal, Emmaline,” he said. “It’s an overall win.”