Twenty-four

Emma ate her supper off a tray in her room by herself. She was not sure what was happening between her and Dare, if anything. Were they…flirting? No, he was not the sort. But perhaps, if she was honest, she was. But what did he mean by seeing her later tonight?

She opened the door to her room and tiptoed out into the darkened, empty hall. She felt like a guilty child sneaking out of her room to do mischief. But what mischief did she want to do with Lord Darington?

Unfortunately for her peace of mind, the question brought the image of Dare in his glorious state of undress. He had chiseled features, with the tanned face of a man who had spent much of his life out of doors. He was not handsome in the same way as Lord Wynbrook, but his strong features and utter sincerity drew her to him with a force stronger than anything she had ever experienced.

She reached the landing and wondered where she should go. Should she even be doing this? It was growing dark, and there was no chaperone. Still, she continued to tread softly toward the drawing room. Maybe she could ask to check his stitches again, just once more…

“Miss St. James.”

Emma turned to find Dare walking slowly down the stairs. Her heart tripped over itself at the sight of him and she had to remind herself that he could not possibly have known what she was thinking. “I…er… Lord Darington.”

“I have taken the liberty of collecting your wrap.” He held out her scarlet, fur-lined pelisse.

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked, putting on her coat.

“Yes. As you requested.” He pulled on his own greatcoat. “This way, please.”

She followed his direction toward the front door, utterly baffled. When had she requested to leave the house? “I fear you have me at a disadvantage,” she said as he opened the door. “Where are we going?”

“This way,” said Dare and walked away from the house toward the edge of the cliff. It was a barren landscape, dotted with occasional scraggly trees, gnarled from the almost constant wind.

He produced a walking stick and leaned heavily on it. Though he walked relatively slowly due to his injury, his long legs kept him at a good pace. Unlike most men, he did not offer his arm or wait to see if she followed. Still, she suspected he was not being rude, just oblivious, and took pity on him, following him along a narrow dirt path.

“Where are we going?” asked Emma.

Dare turned to look back at her, his head tilted ever so slightly as if confused by the question. “You said you wanted to learn to use the sextant.”

“A sextant?”

“To navigate.”

“Yes, I suppose I did say that.” Emma wrapped her red pelisse tighter around her against the bitter wind.

“You need to see the horizon.”

“Oh. I did not know that.” Emma stepped closer and reached out a hand. He took the strong hint and offered his arm. They continued to walk toward the cliff, and Emma instinctively drew close. Most likely for warmth. Or maybe something else. Either way, Dare made no protest and they walked forward toward the sound of the crashing waves.

Dare stopped them a few feet from the edge of the cliff, and Emma marveled at the view. In the pale moonlight, the waves crashed foamy and white below. The dark, churning sea stretched out to a distant line, where it met with the sky and a bounty of twinkling, silver stars.

Dare removed a metal object from his greatcoat pocket. The instrument was made mostly of brass and had a rounded ruler on the bottom, a movable arm, two small mirrors, and a small telescope. Emma’s curiosity got the best of her and she leaned closer to see how he would use it.

“You take a sight by measuring the angle between the horizon and the sun or a star.” Dare held the telescope to his eye and made some adjustments.

“Which star? There must be millions.”

“The North Star. There.” Dare pointed, but there were so many points of light in the night sky, she could not tell one from the other.

“Where?”

Dare leaned closer until his face was next to hers. Emma’s heart began to stutter. He was so close she could smell his own unique scent, something of a mix between leather, sailcloth, and freedom. She breathed deeply.

He pointed at a bright pinprick of light. “You see it?”

She nodded, paying more attention to him than whatever was happening in the night sky.

“Good, now take a sight. First, you focus on the object and turn this knob to divide the image into two. Next, move the arm of the sextant so the second image rests on the horizon.” He made small adjustments, talking knowledgably about angles and arcs and the best way to fine-tune the instrument.

Emma, however, was much too distracted to pay attention to her sextant lesson. Her heart fluttered again such that she pressed her hand to her chest to try to stop it. She had never felt this way before and was not sure what to name the strange sensation. The Earl of Darington made her feel slightly ill, but there was no one she would rather be near.

“Here, now you try.” Dare shifted back and handed her the instrument. It was heavier than she had expected from the easy way he held it. She hoped he would explain it again, since she had not been attending to anything he said. Something about using the contraption to navigate across vast oceans with nothing more than the stars as a guide?

“I…er…” said Emma, taking the brass instrument awkwardly. It had a lot of moving parts and looked complicated.

“Here, look through here and find the horizon,” said Dare patiently, standing so close it made her catch her breath. “Do you have it lined up with the horizon?” he asked, his breath on her cheek.

Forcing herself to attend to her lesson, she looked through the glass and saw two images. He took her hand and moved it to the arm, helping her make the adjustment. Her heart pounded at his nearness. His hands were rough, but his touch was gentle. At his urging she adjusted the arm of the sextant until the image of the North Star rested on the horizon.

“I think I have it,” she said excitedly.

“Very good,” he praised, his words warm in her ear.

She turned and realized they were close, very close. She stared at his lips and felt a strange draw. He must have felt it too, for he leaned in slowly before he caught himself and cleared his throat, pulling back.

She swallowed, glad he was in control of himself, for she could not be trusted. Although…perhaps he could have been a little less than strictly honorable. All things in moderation.

He cleared his throat again and took the sextant from her hand. He focused on the object, not making eye contact. “Then you take the reading here and note the time very precisely.” He pulled out his watch and began to describe some complicated calculations that she could not begin to follow. Instead, she was more interested in the way he looked in profile in the moonlight. His features were strong with high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. In the cold, silver light, she saw true nobility.

“Do you understand?” he asked, finally giving her a furtive glance.

“Not in the least,” she confessed.

He looked at the sextant and watch in his hands. “Takes a bit to get accustomed to it. Sometimes takes the young gentlemen a whole cruise before they can come up to scratch.”

“Young gentlemen?”

“The ship’s boys. Start around twelve. Sometimes they’re with us; sometimes they just put their names on the roster to count as experience so they can enter service at a higher grade.”

“That does not sound fair.”

Dare shrugged. “Common enough.”

“Did you do that?”

Dare shook his head. “First sailed at twelve, joined right after I escaped Fleet. Not much else I could do. First tour saw action at the Nile with Nelson.”

“You were with Nelson at such a young age? Why, you are quite the hero.”

“I ran powder. Tried not to get shot.”

“An admirable goal. I fully support it!”

Dare turned back to her with warm eyes. “Considering my recent experience, I quite agree.” His dark features gleamed a roguish enchantment in the moonlight.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Dare shrugged out of his greatcoat and, ignoring her murmurs of protest, put it around her shoulders. The heavy wool coat was warm from his own heat and stoked a fire within her. His scent lingered and she breathed deeply, feeling a little giddy at being draped in his coat as if wrapped in his arms.

“You should keep your coat. It is cold and you are still recovering,” Emma protested.

Dare gave her another of his shrugs and stepped close to her, reaching into the pocket of his coat that was wrapped around her. “This is for you.” He held out his hand, revealing a small, white shell.

Surprised, Emma took the small shell from his hand. It had a light gray, curved outside shell and a glossy, smooth, pink surface within. She looked up at him, wondering its significance. He continued to stare at her with an expectant air, and she wished she understood the meaning of the gesture.

“Thank you.”

“It is for you,” he explained. “A gift. There are no flowers in January and your guardian is not present so…”

“Oh! A gift for me?” Emma realized this was his attempt at wooing her and her heart cracked open. “But how did you…? Please do not tell me you walked all the way to the beach to find me a shell.” She looked down from the edge of the cliff to the beach below.

“I confess Jonathan assisted me.”

“But you should not attempt such a thing. You are still recovering.”

“You said the purpose of the gift was not the object but the effort involved in the giving.”

“Oh, Dare!”

“Did I do it right?” The earnestness in his eyes made her heart ache.

“Yes, yes, you did it very well. Thank you. I will cherish it always.”

“Good.” Dare opened his mouth to say something but turned away instead, staring out over the ocean. She could not begin to guess his thoughts. Without his greatcoat, he appeared thin and lonely in the pale light, leaning on his walking stick.

Clearly, he had not given up his attempt to convince her to marry him. She would never take advantage of the situation to accept an offer made only out of obligation, but what if his heart had been truly touched? He certainly had gone to great effort. Would he act the same way out of a sense of honor? Given what Emma knew of the enigmatic man before him, he probably would.

Though she was already standing next to him, she stepped closer. “I must insist you take back your coat. I do not wish you to catch cold in your condition. And truly, you should rest.”

“No, no, my condition is very well, thanks to you.”

“But that does not mean you should freeze. Here, take back your coat. I am very warm, I assure you.” She stepped forward and attempted to place the coat back around his shoulders.

“No, I insist you keep it,” he protested, trying to keep the coat around her. Somehow, they ended up with one shoulder of the coat on him and one on her, standing so close their bodies brushed against one another.

Emma froze at the contact, looking up at the dark eyes of the Earl of Darington. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, his lips parted. His dark look was similar to when he had defended her from the highwaymen. This was the true Darington. He kept a calm, distant facade, but raging beneath the surface was something wild and dangerous. Her heart pounded, but instead of pulling away, she pressed closer.

He slowly wrapped his arms around her, inside of the greatcoat, pulling her closer to him. Her hands flew to his chest, but she did not push him away. Without a word, he slowly lowered his head. He stopped just inches away from her lips. She waited, the air between them crackling with anticipation. Was he going to kiss her? Was he going to come so close and not kiss her? Waiting was agony.

Swiftly, he put an end to the debate and claimed her mouth with his. His lips pressed against hers and he pulled her closer, parting her lips with his tongue and deepening the kiss. Emma reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, holding on tightly as her heart soared. She had never experienced anything like the sensation of kissing Darington. It was like flying, though her feet never left the ground.

When they finally parted, they both took deep breaths. His greatcoat slid to the ground, forgotten. She was certainly more than warm now. When his hand slid away from her waist, she noticed that it trembled.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, turning to face the crashing waves once more, holding his hands rigidly behind his back.

Emma took several more breaths before attempting speech. “That was…” She had not the words to describe it.

“An imposition on your person,” finished Dare without turning to her.

“No, no, that was not what I was going to say.”

“It was not?” He turned slightly to her, a note of hope in his voice.

“No,” she replied firmly. “That was…quite remarkable.” Surely this must mean his offer was not just out of obligation. He actually had feelings for her. If his emotions were anything like what she was beginning to feel for him, then it was a powerful attraction.

“Wynbrook suggested I steal a kiss,” Dare admitted. “Trying to get you to change your mind about your betrothed. Not sure the action recommends my person to you, but there you have it.”

“Oh.” So his kiss did not stem from his own desires. He was merely following the suggestion of his friend. Emma stepped farther away, embarrassed at her own assumptions. His kiss had seemed demanding and passionate, but she had never kissed anyone before, so perhaps she had read more into it than there was.

“Emma,” he spoke her name like a whisper on the wind. “Only one task remains. I must share with you my…my feelings regarding you.” He cleared his throat and directed his attention to the rising moon. “I can say unequivocally that I greatly admire you. I cannot speak more on matters of the heart, for I fear I am not practiced and can hardly speak to things beyond my ken.”

He turned back to her, his eyes black against the night sky. “My offer remains unchanged. If you should decide to accept my suit, I am entirely at your service.” He bowed, picking up the coat and his walking stick. “Please allow me to escort you back to the house.”

Emma nodded mutely, unsure what to say. She took his arm and walked slowly back to the house. Her mind swirled with questions she had no idea how to ask.

It was her first kiss. Her first kiss! It had rocked her to her core—her legs were still like jelly—but Dare did not appear to be similarly affected. No, he seemed more aloof than ever. He had even admitted he had only done it on Wynbrook’s suggestion. Did this mean his feelings were indifferent?

Yet his words of praise, though not a declaration of love, seemed genuine. She believed he truly appreciated her care for him, but that did not mean he genuinely wished her to be his bride.

If he continued to offer out of obligation, then her answer to his proposal remained unchanged, no matter how much she longed for another kiss—and another and another. She would not trap anyone into marriage. No, that was something she would never do.

But what if his emotions were touched? If that was the case, things would be different entirely. If he truly liked her, wanted to marry her for her own merits, would she accept his proposal?

She glanced up at the tall, solemn man who walked stiffly back to the house as if in a funeral procession. He certainly was not the most cheerful of men, but she could not imagine wanting to embrace anyone else. Wanting to kiss anyone else.

Of course, she had gone to great lengths to arrange a marriage for herself, and it would certainly cause a dustup with the Earl of Langley and his American grandson, whichever one it was, but it would be worth it if she could marry Dare.

The man she loved.

She took a deep breath and shivered at the recognition.

But could he ever love her in return?

Without a word, Dare removed his coat and once more draped it over her shoulders as they walked back to the house.

Emma held the simple shell in her hand. It was a small thing, a little rough, with a few grains of sand still attached. It might be of no real value, but to her it was precious.

They entered the house and he bowed, a slight grimace betraying the pain it caused him to do so. “Until tomorrow, my lady.”

“Good night, my lord.”

She watched for a moment as he proceeded stiffly toward his bedchamber. She walked slowly back to her own as she turned the shell around in her fingers. Considering how much Dare was hurting, it must have cost him a great deal to be helped down to the beach to find the shell and struggle back up again. The gift was not the object, but the time and effort it took to give it. Would he have done so much purely out of obligation?

Perhaps his cold manner was merely his natural reserve. Wynbrook might have suggested the kiss, but it did not mean Dare was uninterested. Maybe his proposal was more genuine than she realized.

Emma flung herself on her bed, wishing she better understood the true motivations of the Earl of Darington. And yet…maybe she was thinking of this the wrong way. She had developed feelings for him, her response to his kiss proved that. Perhaps it was enough to be true to her own feelings.

She had wanted a love match, was willing to settle for a marriage of convenience to avoid an asylum, but now she was offered the chance for both. She could find a convenient marriage with a man she loved who might be beginning to feel something for her in return.

The decision was a big one. She prayed for guidance. Earlier in the day, she had felt rejecting his proposal to be the right thing to do. But now…now her heart was leaning in quite the opposite direction.

That kiss might have been only her first, but surely it demonstrated at least a spark of interest. She would have a lifetime to fan than spark into a flame. She squeezed the small shell in her hand. Tomorrow, she would accept his proposal. Tomorrow, everything in her life would change.

She fell asleep with the shell still in her hand.