Chapter Three
I glare at him, but he lowers his mouth to mine causing my fury to falter. His breath tickles my lips and despite his rude behavior, I find myself drawn to him. It infuriates me, especially when my eyes flutter closed as his lips close in on mine.
The softest of lips graze across mine and a ragged sigh rushes through me. This man confuses me with his possessive touches, yet he acts like he hates me.
“I shall take great joy in taking your virginity on our wedding night. You seem the type,” he whispers harshly against my lips, “that would scream like a whore.”
My eyes pop open and I glower at him. Before I can stop myself, I slap him across his cheek. He releases me and stumbles back a few steps, shock morphing his angry features into a handsome surprised stare.
“You talk to me that way again and I’ll choose Cholera over you. My father will back up my decision and we’ll return to Rutherglen where I’ll spend the next several decades as a spinster,” I spit at him. “A happy spinster that doesn’t have to live her life with a miserable, arse of a man!”
The corners of his lips twitch up in amusement and confusion. Only my father knows my Cholera joke and it pleases me to think Emmett must assume I’m crazy. Perhaps he’ll go find some mindless woman to harass and leave me be.
I will not, under any circumstances, accept harassment from this man.
“I’m sorry, Cora,” he says in a soft tone. “It may be that I misunderstood you. Please accompany me to our manor where I can see to it that you rest out of the heat.”
He offers me his gloved hand and a genuine smile graces his lips. He’s quite handsome when he’s not being so awful. I grit my teeth and give him a curt nod. Father would be incredibly disappointed if I couldn’t find a way to get along with this man. Emmett doesn’t need to know that my threats are empty ones, though. I’ll have him believe that if he treats me badly again, I’ll leave without a backwards glance.
I extend my hand and he snatches it, pressing a kiss to the top.
His eyes search mine, but I cast my gaze down the road. He’ll have to work to get in my good graces again. With a frustrated sigh, he hooks his arm with mine and we continue our walk in silence.
“I assumed you were out for our money,” he mutters after some time.
I flick my eyes to see him watching me, the anger long gone. “We have plenty of money, sir. I’m only looking for a decent, respectable husband. I know I’ll be a good wife to someone but I won’t be treated badly.”
He nods and clenches his jaw. “I’m beginning to see that. Please forgive my behavior. I’m used to a more cunning crowd.”
The sweltering heat once again dizzies me and I hunch over. This dress is suffocating me.
“Cora,” he growls out in a concerned voice. “What is it with you woman? You’re so fragile and I’m afraid you’ll collapse onto the dirty street and ruin your stunning dress.”
His distress over my state warms me and I rise again. My knees wobble and I sway under the sun’s hotness. When the world spins again, I reach out and grip his lapels to keep from falling. This time, I rest my cheek against his chest and slam my eyes closed, hoping to shove away the ill feelings.
He hugs me to him and a sense of familiarity warms me. Despite his earlier bad attitude, I find that I enjoy touching him and hearing the deep rumble of his voice. It sends thrills down my spine the way he grips me in a way that has me believing he won’t let go.
“Enough of this nonsense,” he says gruffly. “I’ll tote you back to the manor.”
Before I can ask for clarification of what exactly he means, he crouches down and pushes me over one shoulder. The breath is knocked from me and my feet lose purchase on the ground as he stands back upright.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a breathless huff.
He ignores my question and makes a spectacle of carrying me down the road. I’ve long since given up my arguments and thrashing after some time. My eyes fixate on his muscular arse through his black trousers that tighten with each step. A part of me wonders if he truly does want me to be his wife and if I would see his delectable arse bare one day.
A flush creeps over my chest and I’m suddenly aware of everywhere he touches me. His arms are hooked over the backs of my thighs just under my own arse. The tingling that surges through me has nothing to do with the heat.
His steps slow and when he stops, he crouches once again to set me right on my feet. My hand remains on his shoulder and his arms slide to my waist. For a moment, we drink in each other’s features, uncaring of the world around us. He may not be the man I pictured in my head, but he’s handsome and when he’s being nice, I actually like him.
If he does become my husband, I don’t think I should be disappointed one bit.
“Well then,” he clears his throat and brushes some loose, dark tendrils away from my cheek. “Let us relax in the sitting room. I’ll have Lucinda bring us some refreshments.”
His eyes drop to my lips and then he skims them over my heaving breasts on the exposed skin there. Images of his lips there one day cause my skin to blaze with embarrassment at having even considered such things. When his eyes find mine again, they’re dark and angry.
“You…” he trails off. “Never mind. Come along.”
I clutch onto his hand and allow him to drag me up the steps and into the manor. Apparently, he prefers dragging women along. And like the daft woman I am, I let him.
Upon entry into the thankfully much cooler space, I admire the cathedral ceiling in the entryway. Large framed portraits line the walls and ornate pieces of furniture are scattered about. I’m impressed, simply from one room, and am not ready to discontinue my visual sampling of it when I’m jerked along through a series of more beautifully decorated rooms. Eventually, he stops in a quaint windowless room. A small sofa is on one wall and a few sitting chairs surround a low table. I like the room and the chill it puts off having no windows to allow sunlight in. A small gaslight flickers on an end table, but the room is otherwise dark aside from it.
“Please, sit,” he says and points to the sofa before disappearing.
I stroll over to it and sit down gingerly. This dress limits my movement and is quite uncomfortable, despite how beautiful it is. Finally though, I discover a position to sit in that allows me some breathing room.
I’m surprised to see Emmett carrying a tray in, rather than a servant, filled with drinks and treats. The door closes behind him and he strides over to me with it. He then sets it down on the table and hands me a glass with a yellow liquid in it.
“Lemon water with a sprig of mint. It should cool you down,” he says after I take it, and sits down close beside me. His proximity unnerves me. Without Father’s accompaniment, I feel as though we’re participating in inappropriate behavior.
“Um, thank you,” I mutter and sip the drink. The mint freshens my throat and I’m thankful for the cool reprieve.
“Cora, I do apologize from earlier. There is a lot of stress in running forty-seven coal factories, sixteen textile mills, and three shipyards. Taking a leave from that to tend to social matters, such as finding a wife, is distracting and frustrating. I assumed the worst and I don’t want you to think ill of me. In fact, I’m surprisingly smitten with you and would love to entertain you some more this coming out week. It would please me if you’ll allow me to call on you to accompany me to these social events and not accept those advances of others.”
I take another sip of my lemon water. “I’ll make a good wife, I can assure you. And, if it’s anything to you, I’d rather not be fawned over by floods of eager gentleman. Our families clearly show an interest in each other, as do we. It seems futile to play the games of The Season when we so obviously agree on what will be the end result.”
My statement is bold, but truthful. This was my father’s wishes, and now that Emmett isn’t being insufferable, I know that I can work with the situation. And who knows, perhaps I could love him one day as Mother does Father.
He flashes me a grin so wide and vibrant that I’m at a loss for words. Or breath, for that matter.
“Cora, darling,” he growls and takes my free hand. “You’re quite the savvy businesswoman yourself.”
I smile at him and squeeze his hand back. “I do hope, though, your words from earlier were meant to get a rise from me. Having affairs with other women won’t sit well with me. People do end their marriages these days with divorce and despite the ugly, tarnished image it puts upon a woman, I’m not afraid of such things. If you treat me with disrespect, I won’t spend my years tolerating it.”
His eyes widen, but he clenches his jaw and nods. “I’m sure you’ll please me, darling, and the need for loose women will become nonexistent.”
My neck heats at his words. “I’m not sure, Emmett, if I will please you but I will commit myself to trying to do so.”
He takes my drink and sets it on the table, before slipping his palm around the back of my neck and drawing me forward. “May I taste your sweet lips, Cora? Something tells me we’ll both enjoy it.”
I swallow and my eyes widen. Mother used to go on and on about what sort of respectable boundaries a woman keeps before marriage. Running off, unescorted by your father, with a man you hardly know is one of those boundaries that has long since been breached. Additionally, touching a man you aren’t married to so casually is also frowned heavily upon.
But kissing?
That is absolutely scandalous.
Or is it?
As his face nears mine, I find myself parting my lips, welcoming a kiss. If he plans to become my husband, what matter should it be if we begin early? It will only strengthen our bond and marriage later. Perhaps Mother and Father broke certain rules and is why they are so madly in love.
“Yes,” I mutter, seconds before his mouth smashes against mine.
I suppose I was expecting a soft, short kiss. But Emmett—he doesn’t just kiss me—he consumes me. Both of his strong hands are in my hair, holding me in place, as his tongue dives into my mouth and dances with my own. Undercurrents of need ripple through my veins and I find myself craving something more from this man.
Marriage, children, love.
He draws out this desire to belong and create a family of my own. His fierce possessiveness tells me he’ll make for a wonderful husband and father.
A tiny moan escapes me and he growls upon hearing it. His hands drag down my throat and I gasp when his palms skitter over my breasts. It’s forbidden for him to be touching me there before marriage, and worse yet for me to like his confident caresses.
“You’re a witch of a woman,” he murmurs between kisses, pinching my nipple through the material.
I gasp at the touch, but am stung by his words. “Your words have snuffed out any heat I was feeling a mere moments ago.”
It’s mostly a lie, but I am hurt by what he’s said. He draws his lips from mine and glares down at me.
“Cora, you misunderstand me. I’m clearly stating that you have me under your spell. I don’t remember rules or etiquette when in your presence. All I see is you.”
I melt at his explanation and allow him to seize my lips again. My mind flits to fantasies that involve much less clothing than what’s between us. As if clued into my thoughts, he once again explores my breasts through my dress. When his lips tear from mine and he trails kisses down my throat, toward my chest, I give in to touching his gorgeous hair. My fingers thread into his thick, soft locks and I cry out when his tongue tastes the lingering salty sweat upon the flesh below my collarbone.
Awful fantasies of him ridding me of my clothes dance in my head.
“Emmett,” I whimper.
I look down to see his mouth parted open, his lips moist from suckling my skin, and him staring up at me. My pelvis aches and I yearn for more from him. More of what? I don’t know.
“Dearest Cora, marry me.” Not a question, but a very bold, shocking demand.
His eyes have darkened and are very serious. I found myself latching on to them.
Could I simply marry him so easily?
I gape at him, but the way his full lips draw up into an adorable smile, I find myself chewing on my lip and nodding. “This seems insane. Are we mad to rush to such a quick conclusion?”
He chuckles, sprinkling kisses up my neck and back to my mouth. “Absolutely mad. It’s the most insane thing I’ve ever suggested. This is unheard of, dear. I’m supposed to court you. Learn about you. Impress you. But sweetheart,” he grumbles as he takes both my cheeks in his hands, “you fill me with a delicious craving. All I want to do is spend every second of my day touching you. Kissing you. Pleasuring you.”
My eyes widen at his words, but he steals another deep kiss that leaves me breathless.
“Please, marry me. We’ll arrange for something by nightfall tomorrow. Our fathers will be pleased. We shall skip the long, boring process and set straight to being with one another.”
His eagerness to be spontaneous and jump both feet into something exciting is infectious, and I find myself agreeing to his words.
“It will be scandalous,” I breathe against his lips. “They’ll assume I’m pregnant.”
He laughs and nuzzles his nose against mine. “In due time you will be, beautiful. And I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself while we try to get you that way.”