Page 38 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

thirty-five

After dinner, Marcus arranged the papers, documents, and articles he’d used for his research and stacked them into the folders in his bedroom.

His job was done. He’d proved that Sir Horace was a fraud, and Mr. Carr would make sure there would be an inquest. His permanence in Hart House was coming to an end. In fact, Trevor had already paid him.

Once he finished tidying his desk, he took a good look at it. Everything was in order. The pencils and pens were stashed in their boxes, the books he’d used were back on the shelves, and the documents were ordered by date. He couldn’t have been more meticulous than that.

Dusk covered the city with a black cloak. He would miss the view of the large diamond-paned windows of the houses limned with golden light. In the rookery, darkness fell quickly, and light occasionally lit the windows at night. Oil and wax were expensive.

He ran a hand over the polished wood of the desk. He would miss this study, the warmth of the stove, and Mrs. Daubney’s sandwiches. Above all, he would miss Emma.

He wasn’t giving up on them, but objectively, he didn’t have a reason to stay, and his presence in Hart House posed a problem for her.

As if summoned by his thoughts, she entered the study, beautiful in a light green gown and the natural radiance only rainbows had.

He’d always thought he couldn’t have her.

But the hope of them being together made his need for success personal.

He wanted to be an engineer again, to make her proud and give her the life she was used to.

“Are you packing your things already?” A note of alarm crept into her voice.

“Yes. My job here is finished.”

She laced her fingers through his. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“No. Just tidying everything.”

“You’re sad.”

He caressed her cheek. “There’s nothing I want more than being with you.”

“I hope you mean it.”

“I do. Completely.” He frowned. “Do you doubt me?”

She tugged at his hand. “Follow me.”

The corridor was quiet. Not even the voices of the maids cleaning up the dining room could be heard. Jesse was asleep, exhausted again after Button and Trevor’s gifts, for once completely happy and satisfied.

Nostalgia for the house and that moment with Emma caught him. How was it possible to miss the very instant he was living?

The semidarkness of the house, the silence, and the smell of wood polish would forever remain in his memory, along with Emma’s soft touch, her smiles, and her stubborn hope.

Emma opening the door to her bedroom brought him back to reality.

“What are you doing?” he asked when she locked the door behind them.

She released his hand, smiling shyly. “I dismissed Gibson early, and Trevor is out to his gentlemen’s club. No one will disturb us.” She walked backwards to the bed.

His first instinct was to roar yes. Energy already pumped through his body, and his fingers itched to remove her clothes and replace them with his naked body. But he forced himself to be rational and didn’t rush to her.

He focused on the consequences of his choices on her reputation. “Do you realise what will happen if we’re together tonight?”

“Yes.” She started to unbutton her tight shirt. “I’ll be thoroughly happy, and I’ll do my best to make you happy, too, once we get married.”

His sight sharpened. “You know your reputation might be ruined forever.”

“I’ll be careful then, and I believe my future husband doesn’t care.” She removed her shirt and dropped it on the bed. “What other objections do you have?”

He was sure there were many. “Well…”

She unhooked her corset, and with each hook yielding to her elegant fingers, his thoughts became more muddled. He was saying something about…

“Yes?” She put the corset aside.

Only her flimsy chemise covered her lovely breasts. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, attracting his attention.

“You might regret it,” he finally said although he was focused on Emma untying her skirt.

“I’m sure I won’t.” She removed her shoes and slid the skirt down her legs.

As she bent over, she gave him a spectacular view of her breasts, and he didn’t remember what she’d said. She stood up and unfastened her petticoats. He rubbed his chest as a powerful tingle started on his skin.

He shouldn’t do that. Touching her was one thing. But compromising her irreversibly was another.

“Emma.” He sounded weak to his own ears.

“Are you still protesting? Let me help you make a decision then.” She tossed her garter away and rolled down her stockings, revealing inch upon inch of creamy skin.

His pulse drummed so loudly he couldn’t hear his thoughts.

Her drawers were next, and her chemise followed. And somehow he was standing less than a foot from her, having no idea how or when he’d crossed the room. Her scent teased his senses, driving him mad with desire.

“I haven’t finished.” She undid her chignon and let her long blonde curls fall to her waist. “What do you have to say?”

“You’re a goddess.” He took a curl and rubbed it between his fingers. He’d never touched anything so glorious and silky.

He held her by the waist with one hand and with the other he traced the curve of her jaw, neck, and shoulder to cup her breast.

She inhaled deeply as he rolled her nipple gently. Her hushed moan destroyed the last shred of determination not to bed her. He kissed her, but not as gently as he would have wanted. He thrust his tongue in her mouth and took possession of it as he fondled her breast.

She unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt with impatient hands, but he barely paid attention to that, busy tasting her deeply and touching her softness.

“Remove it,” she whispered among pants.

He obeyed without thinking. Between her hands and his, he was naked in a second.

He allowed her only a moment to caress his naked chest before laying her on the bed.

She was a vision with her hair spread around her head and shoulders against the blue bed cover.

The soft light turned her skin the colour of pearls.

He kissed her again, savagely, and when she was wheezing and writhing, he trailed his mouth down her neck. Her back arched when he sucked her nipple.

Many women had been with him, more than he would care to admit, but Emma obliterated all the memories of those encounters. The powerful emotions she stirred within him cleansed him from the shame and humiliation he’d endured. He was a new man, free from his past.

She wrapped her legs around him and urged him closer. He did as she ordered but paused before it was too late.

They stared at each other in an intimate conversation that didn’t require words.

She caressed his cheek gently and lifted her hips to meet him.

A groan reverberated deep in his throat because the small contact with her set a fire in his body.

She rolled her hips, and he couldn’t remain still any longer.

A gasp tore out of her when he inched forth.

“Hurt?” he said among pants.

“No.” She tightened her grip around him, effectively trapping him.

He barely started moving back and forth before she quivered underneath him. She was stunning with her cheeks flushed and her eyes half closed. He kissed her parted lips before moving again.

Her nails scratched his back. Her legs hugged him, and her scent was on his skin. But above all, she spoke to his soul. She was the radiance he’d searched for in his life.

They shared the moment of giving themselves to each other as something sacred. There wouldn’t be anyone else after her.

They found a rhythm together, and together they reached their releases. But he had to pull away before it was too late.

One day maybe they would build their family.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes lit with thousands of stars. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

She pulled him down until he lay stretched over her. He hugged her, and she closed her legs around him as well. They lay entwined like English ivy as if they needed the contact to live. Maybe it was true.