Chapter Eighteen
James walked into the billiard room and straight to the sideboard, where he poured himself a full tumbler of scotch. He took a long sip, feeling the burn down his throat as he fought to find breath.
He was engaged. It was finished. Tonight it would be solidified completely when the planned ball was turned into an engagement celebration after some hasty arrangements from his sister.
He was engaged.
“Drink all that this early and you will be no good at the ball tonight.”
James turned to find Graham, Simon, Sheffield, Brighthollow and Roseford entering the room. Simon reached behind him to shut the door and all five men simply stared at James with equally intense expressions on their face. The emotions were different, though. Graham and Simon both looked concerned, Brighthollow and Roseford looked horrified, and Sheffield was pale as paper.
“Well, don’t all congratulate me at once,” James muttered, setting aside the liquor.
“Do you wish to be congratulated?” Brighthollow asked, eyebrow arching.
James sighed. Hugh had never been a believer in love. He could be hard. And Roseford was little better. He believed in passion and nothing else. The two of them would be horrified that he’d been caught in a web by a lady, of course.
“I am marrying,” he said, the words surprising him even though he’d been the one to ensure they were true. “It is tradition.”
“Congratulations,” Roseford said softly, but it didn’t exactly sound sincere.
“I still don’t fully understand how it happened,” Simon said, stepping up to clap a hand on James’s arm. “Meg was talking so fast when she found me, it took her the entire ride back to the estate just to make it clear.”
Graham jerked his face toward Simon. “Meg?”
Simon didn’t look at their friend, but kept his gaze trained on James. “Yes. Late this morning she found me riding around the estate to tell me the news.”
Graham didn’t look pleased at that, but he said nothing else about the matter except, “I’m not sure what there is to explain, Crestwood. James is marrying Miss Liston in order to save her from the unfortunate match her father made. What else is to be said?”
“I have to say, I never pegged you as the man to save a woman through marriage,” Roseford chuckled. “That’s more Simon’s speed.”
Simon ignored the playful jab, keeping his attention on his search of James’s face. “Saving someone is well and good and noble. But the question to be asked is if you want to marry her. Do you?”
James felt like there was a fist in his stomach and it was opening, filling him up, stretching him uncomfortably. A great part of him considered marriage and wanted to bolt into the night and never return. Another part considered marriage with Emma and wanted to curl into her in a way that felt just as dangerous.
He wasn’t certain which reaction was more terrifying.
“It is happening, and as quickly as I can arrange it,” he said. “Want no longer comes into the equation.”
“He is right,” Sheffield said softly, and there was a wistful tone to his voice and to the expression on his face. “Even men like us, men with power, sometimes have little choice in our future. Society and situation dictate us all. It is the way of our world whether or not we wish to accept it.”
“Jesus, Sheffield,” Brighthollow said with a shake of his head. “Be a little more maudlin.”
Sheffield glared at him, but then he smiled weakly at James. “I’m not trying to sound dire. The fact is, Miss Liston doesn’t seem the worst sort you could marry. No one can pretend you don’t seem to like her.”
James bent his head. Like her. What a benign term for what boiled inside of him whenever he was within ten feet of Emma. It was need and want and passion, yes, and all those things he could have accepted and even reveled in.
But there was more than that physical attraction when he was with Emma. He did like her, but it was more complicated than that rather simple and childish feeling. He felt nervous around her. He felt…restless. He wanted to stand closer to her, he wanted to know more about her, he wanted to protect her, he wanted to show her things and places.
He sighed. “I do like her,” he admitted.
“Well, that is better than many men of rank find in a bride,” Graham said. “So we will celebrate with you.”
Simon nodded and slipped to the sideboard to pour more of the scotch James had been guzzling upon their arrival. He handed glasses all around and then inclined his head toward Graham for the toast.
“To James,” Graham said, holding James’s stare evenly. “Our fearless leader, who will now fearlessly lead us all into this next phase of our lives. And to Emma, the only woman clever enough to catch him.”
James smiled and the rest laughed before they raised their glasses in unison. “To James and Emma,” they all repeated.
James drank again, this time slower in order to savor this moment a little longer. It was likely one of the last he would have as a bachelor.
Soon everything would change.
Emma stepped into the ballroom and felt every eye in the room swing to her. She took a long breath and tried to ignore their whispers and glances. She would have to become accustomed to it, it seemed. Certainly the Duchess of Abernathe would inspire such a response more often than plain Emma Liston ever had.
Especially since she was becoming Duchess of Abernathe under such trying circumstances.
“Some people get what they do not deserve,” one woman sniffed loudly as Emma passed.
She stiffened at the slur as she continued walking through the room. Walking toward what, she did not know. She hadn’t yet found James in the crowd and the girls along the wall would not meet her stare anymore.
Suddenly she felt an arm slide through hers and found Meg at her side, beaming with friendship and love for her, and Emma nearly buckled at it. Marrying Abernathe would make Meg her sister. She was very much looking forward to that.
“Smile,” Meg said. “I have you now.”
“It seems your family makes a habit of saving me,” Emma said through a smile that hurt her cheeks.
Meg shrugged. “You saved us, too, I have not forgotten it. Perhaps that is what family does, save each other. It all evens out in the end, I think.”
“I hope James believes the same,” Emma sighed. “Though I cannot imagine my helping you once equals the sacrifice he is making on my behalf, no matter how kindly he makes it.”
Meg turned toward her. “Don’t make him a savior, Emma. His whole life he’s been put up on a high shelf, the heir, the duke, the man who could do no wrong. That makes him a doll, not a man. And he is a man with flaws and faults and pains like any other. Bring him down to be a human with you, be patient with him as he figures this out. Whatever you do, don’t stifle that you love him, even if you think that’s what he wants.”
Emma jolted. “L-love him?”
Meg arched a brow. “Will you deny that you love him?”
Emma sighed. “I suppose I could, but you are tenacious. I assume you would only browbeat the truth out of me.”
Meg laughed. “I certainly would. Good, I’m glad I’m not seeing things. And I’m glad you love him. He’s had little of that in his life, little of it he could depend upon. I want that for him.” She gazed into the distance. “He’s coming now, coming for you.”
Emma’s heart leapt and she smoothed her skirts reflexively. “What if I can’t do this?” she whispered.
“You are stronger than you want to believe,” Meg said softly, then turned her toward James as he took the last few steps toward her. “Now get what you deserve, Emma. Take it.”
James smiled as he reached them. “Hello, Emma. Meg.” Meg waved as she moved away and James blinked at her hasty exit. “Goodbye, Meg.”
Emma looked up into his face, thinking of what Meg had just said to her. That he was a man, not anything less or more. Certainly, she was well aware of his maleness in this moment, but Meg meant something different.
“Should we dance?” she blurted out.
He grinned. “Aren’t I meant to ask you that?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve broken with all other tradition in the past twenty-four hours—why not destroy it all?”
He bowed slightly. “I would very much like to dance with you, Miss Liston.”
He reached out and she stared as she placed her smaller hand in his. She was wearing gloves, though he was not, but she felt the warmth of his touch regardless. She felt the strength of his hand as he guided her onto the dancefloor. To her surprise, everyone else fell away, leaving them a space as the music began and he spun her into the steps.
“Why are they backing up?” she whispered.
“It is our first dance as an engaged couple,” he murmured in return, his gaze never leaving her. “I suppose they are sizing up the match.”
She shivered slightly. “Then should we give them a show?”
His smile fell and there was something intense and serious in his gaze. “There are many things that are a show, Emma. But not this moment. Don’t worry about them, just look at me and enjoy this.”
“It’s hard to enjoy it when I know the cost,” she insisted.
He shook his head. “I have not made myself clear. There is no cost. Tonight, in this moment, I am right where I want to be.”
She felt her lips part as joy and hope filled her. She had spent so very long telling herself that a man like this wouldn’t want her, couldn’t truly like her, but now she felt the warmth of him. And it was just for her.
“So am I,” she said, eliciting another grin from him as he held her hand tighter and whirled her around again and again, until all she could focus on was that she was his. Somehow, against all odds, she would be his.
James stood in the shadow of a door in the quiet hallway, staring at Emma’s chamber across the way. She was inside, and despite the late hour, she was not alone. He could occasionally hear an eruption of giggles from the room, both Emma’s and Meg’s.
He smiled at the sound. He was not only bringing a bride into his home, but a sister for Meg. After a lifetime surrounded by him and his friends, he could well imagine she was looking forward to female company in the house for as long as she would remain there before her own wedding to Graham.
The chamber door opened and Meg stepped out. “Goodnight, Emma,” she whispered.
“Goodnight,” he heard in the distance, and his heart throbbed with the sound.
Meg was smiling as she closed Emma’s door behind herself and strolled off down the hall, away from the guest quarters, back toward the family rooms. When he heard her door open and shut, he drew in a long breath and walked to Emma’s door.
There was a moment when he stood there, staring at the barrier that stood between him and what he wanted. He could turn away from it, from her and go back to his room. Self-pleasure was good. He could relieve his desire that way, certainly.
But he didn’t want to. What he wanted was behind this door.
He lifted his hand and knocked gently. There was a moment when he heard rustling and then footsteps across the floor.
“Meg, did you forget—” she began as she yanked the door open. When she saw him standing there, she gasped. “—something?”
He looked at her. She was already clad in a night rail and a robe. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders, a mass of shining brown curls with little streaks of blond hidden within them.
And there would be no turning away tonight.
“I am not Meg,” he whispered as he reached for her. “But I did forget something. This.”
He leaned in and kissed her. For a moment she seemed surprised, but then she lifted up, her arms coming around his neck as she made a soft sound of needy pleasure in the back of her throat. He pushed her into the chamber and shut the door behind them, reaching back to turn the key before he fully focused on tasting her.
“How can you be so sweet?” he murmured, drawing back just a fraction and feeling the heat of her breath on his lips. “I never even liked sweets until you.”
She shivered and he tightened his embrace around her. She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Why did you come here, James?”
“To your room?” he asked. She nodded slowly, and he smiled. “Why do you think?”
She swallowed hard, the action making her throat work. Making him want to trace the path of that action with his tongue until she lifted and moaned against him.
“Did you come here to…to…I don’t know what to call it,” she said with a dark blush that started in her cheeks and cascaded down her flesh until it disappeared beneath the neckline of her robe, creating yet another trail for his tongue.
“I came here,” he said, reaching down to begin to loosen the knot of her dressing gown. “Because until now I had to be prudent. I had to resist what I wanted. But now we’re engaged. In a very short time, you will be mine in the eyes of God. The eyes of the law. The eyes of everyone we know and love. Because of that I have nothing else stopping me from making love to you, Emma.”
Her eyes went wide, and he could see her struggling with that idea.
“Nothing stopping me unless you don’t want me to do this,” he clarified.
“I have a few qu-questions,” she stammered.
“Of course you do,” he said with a laugh. “Anything.”
“I know very little about this. My mother says you must bear it, but when you touched me before it was wonderful. Will it be like that?”
He bit back a curse at her utter innocence. It was both alluring and terrifying. He would have to keep it at the top of his mind at all times now, so that he wouldn’t frighten or hurt her.
“It will be like that,” he promised. “And even better. But there will be a little pain when I first…penetrate you.”
She nodded. “That must be the bearing part she discussed. The pain.”
He smiled. “The pain only happens the first time, Emma. And if I’m doing my job right, there won’t be any bearing. There will only be wanting and pleasure for both of us.”
She seemed to ponder that a moment, then she dropped her hands to where his were, still tangled in the loops of her robe. She gently pushed them aside and unknotted the fabric before she shrugged out of it and let it fall to the floor.