Chapter 8
Gideon—she liked that name as it suited the rather austere but sometimes funny viscount—did not take her to wander through the parterre gardens in front of the house as she had imagined he would. Instead, he led her down a path towards a lake and some trees. He held an umbrella over her but he did not shelter under it himself. Instead, his hat and greatcoat were his defences against the unending drizzle.
She supposed the aspect would have been lovely any other year but nothing was growing and the grass was waterlogged. Some patches had now turned yellow because it had seen so little sun this year. It really was a very sorry sight. Emily knew most of England was in a similar state. She had heard from her brother and apparently Cumbria, Northumbria and Scotland were faring a little better. It was still colder and wetter than usual but partly because they grew hardier crops and partly because their weather had not been quite so miserable, they were looking forward to a harvest of some description.
“I received a letter this morning.”
“A letter?”
“From your uncle. Lord Hargreaves.”
“My mother’s brother.”
“Yes. He is good friends with the Earl of Bachcomb whom he is visiting. He wants to come and visit. The letter came from the Bachcomb estate. It appears he wants to slap a glove in my face for debauching his niece.”
Emily suddenly felt very cold and very dizzy.
“No!”
“No? No, what?”
“He cannot. You did not.”
“That matters not to hot-headed men defending the honour of their nieces, Emily. He says he will come next week on his way back to London. Beattie Hall is on the way.”
“Next week? He is waiting a full week to defend my honour?”
Gideon huffed out a breath. “I’m rather pleased that he is waiting a week to defend your honour. It gives me another week without having my brains shot out.”
“How horrible.”
“The week or the brains.”
“The brains.”
“Hmm. You are rather hard to fathom at times, Emily.”
“I do apologise.”
“Please do not. I like it.”
“We must do something.”
“Yes, we must. Your uncle. Is he sane?”
“I believe so.”
“Good.”
“How far from the Scottish border is your brother’s estate.”
“Only a few miles.”
“Fine. Pack your things tonight when you go to bed. Before dawn, I shall come and wake you. We shall elope to Scotland.
“Elope?”
“Yes, Emily. Elope. We shall marry in Scotland without the need of a licence. If you wish, we can collect your brother on the way to be our witness. Assuming he agrees to our marriage.”
“I have not even agreed to marry you.”
“For pity’s sake woman. Your uncle thinks I defiled you. You have no choice. Half the ton will think you are a fallen woman by now.”
“But…”
“But what?”
Emily could think of no arguments. Not any that would hold sway against this brute of a man who was glowering down at her.
“This was not how it was meant to be.” Her voice sounded like a whine, even to her ears. Tears burned behind her eyes and her throat ached with the effort not to let them fall. She would not cry in front of Lord Beattie. He scowled at her for a moment then picked up her hand and laid it upon his sleeve.
“Come.”
He was very brusque, she concluded, as he marched her around the trees and down a small path towards a summer house.
When they arrived at the large round glass house, he opened the door and ushered her inside. Some plants were dotted around the outside of the circular room but none had flowers. There were also wicker love seats, chairs set around the outside and a couple of tables. On a nice day, this would be a delightful place to have tea.
“This is a favourite haunt of the ladies during our annual garden party for the villagers. Alas, I fear there will be no garden party this year.”
“Because of the weather?”
“Mostly. Also, because I have been unwell now for four weeks. Now we must make our way North to marry and find grain. I plan to ask your brother to help on that score. I could marry you here, Emily. It would make no real difference but the servants bring me tales of growing unrest every day. There is rioting in Wales. Do you know how close we are to the Welsh border?”
“I know Herefordshire is on the Welsh border but…”
“We are but three miles from the border. Offa’s Dyke is on my land. That was the original border between the Welsh kingdom of Powys and the Anglian kingdom of Mercia. Emily, we are a day’s ride from Hereford and if we are to go North to try to procure some grain, we do have to leave as soon as possible. Much though nothing would give me greater pleasure than to wait three weeks until the banns are read or to at least get a common licence from the bishop, I fear time is not on our side.”
Emily looked down at her hands, trying to unravel the threads of Gideon’s explanation. She was beginning to understand his haste.
“So, let me understand this. The people in Wales are rioting and since we are so near the border, you are concerned that unrest will leach over the border and affect your people.”
“Yes. I fear it is beginning to already.”
“And going to Hereford to see the bishop to get a common licence so you can marry me here will take time out of your journey North to get grain to hopefully resolve the situation here.”
“It shall but…”
She held up a hand to stop him.
“But you must marry me soon because of the gossip and you do not need a licence in Scotland.”
“We must save your reputation, Emily.”
“And your skin, Gideon.”
“I do not fear your uncle. I am told he is a poor shot.”
“I fear you will grow to hate me because you were forced to marry someone to whom you are not even attracted, Gideon.”
He took off his hat and dropped it on a table. Then he shucked out of his greatcoat and dropped it on a chair. He advanced on her and Emily was reminded of paintings she had seen in an art gallery in London of large cats stalking their prey. He tugged on the ribbon of her bonnet and tossed it onto another chair. Then he lifted her chin to hers. His green eyes were dark like the colour of pine trees. He smelled of Sandalwood when he was so close. A lovely woodsy smell that made her almost lightheaded.
He cupped her cheek and tilted her chin so that she had to look him directly in the eye.
“Why would you think I do not find you attractive, Emily?”
“I… you…” She shrugged. She had not particularly thought on it. She had merely assumed. She was not well regarded by gentlemen of the ton, and her company was not sought after for dances or waltzes during the Season. She was just Emily. She was no great beauty. “I am just me.”
“I like ‘just you.’ ‘Just you’ are charming and beautiful and unique.”
“I am clumsy and awkward and not at all ladylike.”
His gaze flicked down to where her décolletage would show, but for her pelisse covering it, and back up to her eyes. She was sure his breath hitched. “You are very much a lady, Emily. I think you underestimate your appeal.”
Her mouth was suddenly very dry and she licked her bottom lip. A rumble, which sounded very much like a groan, came from the viscount’s chest.
“My lord? Are you well?”
He closed his eyes as if reaching for his patience then opened them. Emily was all rather confused, but a little excited too. This was all far beyond her ken but Lord Beattie enthralled her like no other man ever had. Of course, she had seen very handsome gentlemen at Almack’s, in the ballrooms of Mayfair and at the theatre but while she could appreciate their good looks and charm, she had never felt drawn to them as she did with Gideon. She had felt drawn to him even before he had awoken.
“I am well. Emily, have you ever been kissed?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I am not sure.”
“You are not sure. Emily, it is a simple question. One usually knows if someone has planted their lips on one’s own lips.”
“Does kissing you in your bedchamber count?”
He frowned. “For argument’s sake, let us say no.”
“Then I have not.”
“That kiss was your first kiss?”
“That would be correct.”
“Then it is time for your second kiss.”
“Oh!”
He smiled as he lowered his head and captured her lips gently with his. He encouraged her to open her lips and everything that she had started to learn in the bedchamber came flooding back. She lifted her hands onto his shoulders and pressed her body wantonly against his.
He angled his head, his tongue moving deeper into her mouth, exploring leisurely. He used one hand to undo the buttons of her pelisse and once the garment gaped, he moved his hand inside. It was then she realised he still had his gloves on. Emily pulled at his hair as sweet sensations travelled through her. Her nipples tightened and an ache settled between her legs. The viscount trailed little kisses along her jaw and down her neck as his cupped her breast with his hand. Suddenly Emily felt very vulnerable and pulled away.
“Please, my lord. Please stop.”
Gideon froze and watched as she took two steps back from him and pulled her pelisse tight around him.
“What is the matter, Emily? Did you not like it? Was I too... rough?”
“I… yes. I liked it well enough.” She did not want to sound wanton. In truth, she had liked it very much and she craved more. It was part of the reason she pulled away.
“Then I moved too quickly. I apologise. I should never have undone your pelisse and touched your breast.”
Oh, how scandalous of him to mention her breast. She bit her lip and turned her head to look out of the summer house windows but they were all misted up.
“No. I liked it and I suppose I will have to get used to it if we are to wed.”
“I would hope you would do more than get used to it, Emily. It should bring you pleasure.”
The way his voice rasped out the word ‘pleasure’ sent a shiver through Emily.
“It does. It did, I mean. I am just unused to it. That is all. I am also concerned that I do not know what to do.”
“To do?”
She gathered her courage and looked him in the eye.
“My mother died when I was twelve. I cannot possibly ask Aunt Gertrude to explain and I fear asking Sophia. I know she would explain but…”
“You do not want to appear silly in front of your friend?”
Emily shook her head.
“Well, there are two answers. Firstly, Sophia will not think you silly. My mother died in childbirth with Sophia so I do not know whom she asked about her wedding night. Perhaps she was as confused and apprehensive as you are, but worry not. I know what I am doing and I will guide you through it slowly. I understand that the first time may be painful for ladies but I shall do my best to be gentle.”
“I have seen animals on the estate mating. Is it like that?” she asked.
His eyes crinkled with laughter and he chuckled.
“Not quite though the general idea is the same. The position is usually different. That said, once we are more practised, if you want to try that position, I would be more than willing.”
“Positions?” She frowned at him and pursed her lips. Oh dear, it sounded very complicated indeed.
“I have confused you, have I not. It really is very simple, my dear. Worry not. Women have been doing this for thousands of years. It’s easier than falling off a horse.”
“Oh, I am an expert at that.”
“Well then, I look forward to helping you become an expert in bed sports.”
Emily was sure her cheeks must be aflame.
“Lord Beattie!”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Really Lady Emily, while perhaps I should moderate what I say, I see no reason when I am going to wed you in but one week. Take off your pelisse and gloves and come and sit with me.”
He moved to a settee which looked rather narrow for Emily’s liking. Emily was never one to shrink from a challenge. She removed her outdoor clothing. It was not as cold as she had imagined it would be. She walked over to him and sat beside him. His hands were also now bare, again she admired his strong hands and perfectly manicured nails.
“Do you mean to ravish me, Lord Beattie?” The words were out before she had a chance to stop them.
Gideon barked out a laugh.
“Ravish you? In a summer house. Good Lord, no!” He lifted one of her hands and pressed it to his lips. Emily sighed. The kiss sent tingles all down her arm.
“Is it very wanton to say I enjoyed your kiss?”
He smiled, a warm smile that reached his eyes. “It is not wanton at all, my lady as long as you only kiss me.”
A smile tugged at her own lips and despite the slight chill, she felt warm inside. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. This time the kiss was sweet and his arms moved around her waist. She cupped his cheek with one hand and moved her other up his coat, enjoying the feel of the wool over his rippling chest muscles.
She opened her lips and his tongue began to explore. Her own tongue made tentative little forays into his mouth and he moaned appreciatively. Eventually, he pulled his lips from hers and placed his forehead on hers.
“Oh, my beautiful Emily. Seven days in a carriage with you will send me to Bedlam.” Her hand was still on his cheek, he moved his head and captured her thumb in his mouth. Her finger was caught between his teeth but it did not hurt. Then he swirled his tongue around the pad and Emily’s eyes widened. The ache between her legs turned to a throb. A little gasp escaped her and Gideon let her thumb go.
Neither said anything but Gideon gave her a knowing look. Did he know what effect his action had just had on her? But, of course, he did. He was a rake. He had admitted it himself to her aunt. Now she was his. He didn’t seem so tame now he was no longer sleeping.