Alex rose up above her and Emmeline leaned back, her elbows on the next bench.
“You were wearing much less clothing that day,” he said. “I imagined parting your thighs and settling between them.”
He slid one hand up her calf, then along her inner thigh. Her breath came in gasps at the exquisite sensations he left in the wake of his touch. She willingly spread her legs, wanting his touch there, at the private center of her desperate yearning.
But just before he lowered his body onto hers, a frog leapt from the muddy riverbank and landed on Emmeline’s chest. With a shriek, she tried to sit up, rocking the boat. Alex lost his balance and tumbled over the side.
The frog, too, jumped overboard and swam leisurely toward shore. Alex came up on his hands and knees in two feet of muddy water, coughing and spitting. Aghast, she gaped at him until he lifted his gaze to hers. His face was spotted with mud, and his hair dripped with it.
She covered her mouth, but couldn’t quite smother a giggle. With a growl he rose up menacingly and she cried out, but he only dove into the clear water on the other side of the boat. Laughter overwhelmed her as she sagged back against the bench. He emerged a moment later, wet but clean, stood up in the shallow water, and stepped into the boat. She clutched the sides until he sat opposite her and the rocking ceased.
They eyed one another.
Alex sighed. “I don’t suppose we can begin again.”
Though she still trembled, she had her reckless emotions back under control. “I think we should leave such fanciful thoughts to your imagination, where they belong.”
“They need to be acted out by the light of day,” he grumbled, gripping the oars, “or by moonlight in your bedchamber.”
“But then something much more dangerous than a frog might interrupt us.”
“And what dreaded creature should I fear? A house cat?”
“My father,” she murmured, her amusement dying. What would Alex’s reaction be if they were discovered in a compromising position?
As they both ducked beneath the willow branches, she felt a need to lighten the mood.
“How did you know there would be a perfect tree nearby today?”
He pushed the wet hair back off his face. “Because I’ve been searching for it, hoping for the right opportunity. One day I’ll have to tell you about my fantasy of the two of us naked in a garden.”
“Really?” she murmured, shocked yet secretly thrilled.
Alex appeared again the next day, during a wet, foggy afternoon. When the steward came to her chamber to announce him, Emmeline sternly quelled her pleasure and anticipation.
She had to resist his charm and remember her future. She could not let him jeopardize it.
But oh, she’d never imagined how wonderful it would feel to know he truly came to see her, not her sister. He was the unknown—yet he was Alex.
She hurried to meet him, almost tripping down the stairs in her haste. He was there in the hall, his dark hair wet and unruly, his smile so wicked it made her weak with memories.
“Lady Emmeline, I’ve taken the liberty of having your horse saddled. Do come for a ride with me.”
She remained on the last marble step, not daring to come closer for fear she’d show how eager she was.
“Alex, the weather is not cooperating, and it is close to supper. Can we not speak here?”
He looked about them as if dozens of people lingered to eavesdrop. “No. Come outside with me, my lady. The day shall yet turn lovely. And I promise you a meal worthy of kings.”
She told herself not to, even as the steward brought her cloak. She fastened it about her neck, her speculative gaze on Alex. What did he want?
Outside, the groom helped her mount. When she wheeled her horse about, Alex was already in his saddle, and he nodded toward the gate and London beyond.
What did he want with her, and why was she making it so easy for him?
They approached the double gates riding side by side, while the fog wet her hair despite her hood. Everything about them was hidden, as if only she and Alex existed in the world. She relaxed and began to enjoy the odd intimacy.
On the Strand, Emmeline’s horse suddenly reared up. With a cry, she caught the pommel before sliding off. Hands reached out of the fog, dragging Alex from his saddle. When a club bashed him over the head, she screamed, then felt herself being pulled down into the mist.
Alex awoke to soft hands touching his head and face, even as he felt his body vibrate with the motion of a moving coach. A smell that was all Emmeline, a refined hint of roses and some other mysterious fragrance, wafted about him. He felt pressure on his chest, heard the rustle of silk skirts, and opened his eyes.
Ah, she was close, her face inches above him in the gloom, her hands holding a cloth to his temple. Her changeable eyes were wide and moist and so concerned.
“Alex?”
He gave her a lazy smile, then grimaced. “So is this your attempt to get me alone?”
“This is serious!” she whispered, looking toward the closed door of the coach. “We’ve been captured!”
“So I see.” He almost straightened up from his slumped position, but thought better of it when he realized Emmeline was practically lying across his lap as she dabbed at his head. “I take it that I’m bleeding.”
She bit her lip and held up the cloth that she had obviously torn from her own underskirts. There wasn’t much blood, though his head was pounding enough to ring a church bell. He deliberately winced, then watched in satisfaction as she leaned even closer.
“Does it hurt much, Alex?”
“Not if you’ll continue your tender ministrations,” he murmured, heaving a sigh and leaning into her hand.
“Oh, you!” she suddenly cried, throwing the cloth at his chest and sitting back into the corner of the bench. A dim lantern hung just above her head, barely piercing the darkness.
He laughed as he sat up and waited for the dizziness to pass. “How long have I been unconscious?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, but her glare was already fading. “Close to an hour, I imagine.”
“And we’ve been in the coach the whole time?”
She nodded. “The windows and doors are barred shut from the outside.”
He tested her claim with his own strength. The door didn’t budge, though cracks of daylight teased them.
“’Tis those men, isn’t it?” she said softly. “The ones who attacked you before?”
He glanced over his shoulder to smile at her. “How do you know it’s not a suitor, jealous of my attentions toward you?”
Her eyes glinted with anger. “That isn’t amusing, Alex. We’re in danger here.”
“Not if they’re who you think they are,” he said lightly, though tension tightened his body. “They have yet to do any dirty deed well.”
“But you haven’t caught them, have you.”
He shrugged, then sat back opposite her and stretched out his legs.
Emmeline straightened, glancing between him and the door. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Why aren’t you trying to escape?”
“I’ve already tried, and it seems impossible. All we can do is wait until they confront us.”
“Or kill us!”
“If that’s what they wanted, they’d have done it by now. They want something of me.” Hellfire, she was angry, not even afraid.
But he was. For the first time in his life, he felt afraid—because he’d put her in danger. He’d ignored the threats, pretended that these foolish criminals weren’t capable of carrying out their promises. How would he live with himself if she came to harm because of him?
Huddled in her corner, Emmeline tried not to glare at Alex. He was right—there was no sense in beating futilely at the coach, though the impulse to do just that almost had her squirming.
But how could he be so relaxed? Why did that damnable smile never leave his face?
And why did he have to keep watching her from beneath lowered eyelids, making her forget the danger, forget everything but his mouth on hers, his hands touching her, cupping her—
She had to distract herself. “Alex, the noise has died away, so we must have left London.”
“I know. We can only wait and see what their intentions are.”
“Then…distract me!”
He was off his bench and over her so fast that she gave a little gasp, even as she stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“Not like that!”
He leaned even harder against her, his body overwhelming, the heat in his eyes stunning her. They were in horrible danger, and the first thing he thought about was…that?
“Then shall I compose poetry for you, fair Emmeline?” he murmured, his lips so close to her upturned face. “I’m sure I could think of something for the occasion. We could call it ‘The Seduction of Emmeline.’”
“Alex!”
“‘A proud, noble beauty, above reproach; lost her innocence while traveling in a—’”
“Stop!” she cried. In a weak voice, she continued, “Tell me…tell me about when your brother was spying against Spain.”
He blinked, and though he didn’t move, she could sense everything freezing inside him. After a moment, he gave her a bland smile and slid back onto his bench. His ability to control his expression always amazed her.
“So you’ve been talking to people about me.”
“Not deliberately. I overheard a conversation.”
“I can only imagine,” he said dryly. “How long have you known?”
“A fortnight.”
He said softly, “Why didn’t you say something before now?”
She felt another dreaded blush steal over her. “If you’ll remember, whenever we’ve been alone, you haven’t given me much chance to…talk.”
His narrowed gaze roamed down her body, and she wished she had not reminded him.
Quickly, she said, “But I’d like to talk now.”
“Very well. Ask your questions.”
“I don’t have any questions yet, because I don’t know what happened. Won’t you tell me?”
She held her breath, waiting, until he finally nodded.
“It is quite simple, really. The Queen asked my brother to run off to Spain and pose as a Spaniard, all for the sake of our good England. And I was to stay behind, posing as Spencer, though occasionally I came to town as myself just for appearances. I was much better suited to playing the nobleman than the spy; my command of the Spanish language would fool no one, you see.”
Emmeline watched him, barely daring to breathe, knowing that even as he made light of his situation, there was a lingering bitterness he thought hidden from her. “Did the plan succeed?”
“Oh yes, Spencer returned quite the hero, England was saved, and I was released from the drudgery of estate management.”
“Perhaps your brother had all the glory, but your efforts were just as noble,” she said softly.
He laughed. “Emmeline, how kind you are, but the danger was all Spencer’s. I had nothing more dangerous than three mistresses and too much money to spend.”
She ignored her painful spasm of jealousy. “But without you, Spencer couldn’t have succeeded as a spy for so long. It was over a year, wasn’t it? Questions would have been asked, threatening his life. You prevented that.”
The coach rumbled over another hole in the road, and she held onto her bench lest she be tossed into Alex’s lap.
As the silence continued, she asked, “What was it like, pretending to be someone else for so long?”
He hesitated, then said simply, “I almost forgot who I was.”
She forced away the sting of tears, knowing he’d hate her sympathy. His smile spread wide, and he leaned forward to rub one finger over her skirt-covered knee.
“I’m teasing, of course. Can you imagine me as a viscount, with all those responsibilities, all that money to manage? I had to give Spencer some of my personality, for how else could I repay him for such a sacrifice?”
“Hence the mistresses,” she said dryly. “The naked statue given to Queen Elizabeth.”
He laughed. “You know about that, do you?”
She studied him, knowing that perhaps there was a deeper reason he felt the need to add his own behavior to Alex’s. Hadn’t he said before that no one ever recognized him? Which meant that somehow he wanted desperately to be seen for himself.
“Oh please, do not think Spencer was ever a saint,” Alex continued. “He cut a swath through London that I had a hard time following. After Roselyn left him—”
“She left him?” she interrupted, intrigued.
He shook his head. “Too long a story. But suffice it to say, my brother set quite the example. And I continued it, giving him more of a personality than he deserved.”
“But surely there’s more to the life of a viscount than women and scandal.”
“Sad to say, but yes, the drudgery did take up a good part of my day.”
“What drudgery?”
“The estates, of course, the many people who depended on the Thornton name for their livelihood.”
“I heard of no mass starvation from the Thornton households,” she said in a teasing voice.
She knew he wanted to withhold a smile, but couldn’t.
“True. I didn’t quite manage to ruin everything.”
“Ruin everything? I seem to recall a comment my father made a year or so ago. He was quite grudging in his praise of how well the Thornton estates were managed. And it wasn’t Spencer managing them, but you.”
He remained still, watching her. “And how would you know if I had employed a very capable steward?”
“I’m sure you had one, for you cannot be everywhere at once. But your conversation with Clifford about farming—it was not the talk of a man uninterested, uninvolved. I seem to recall…” She lifted his hand from her knee and turned it over, spreading his fingers wide. “…calluses.” She ran her finger over the hard bumps at the base of each finger. “You did not get these from dancing.”
She stared at his large hand resting in hers, afraid to look up and meet his eyes. There was such a discrepancy between what Alex truly was, and what he showed the world. Why? Why did playing his brother seem to damage him somehow? And did he lodge away from Thornton manor because he couldn’t bear to watch his brother take back what had given Alex so much pride?
She was afraid if she looked into his eyes right now, she’d gladly surrender to his embrace, melt against this man she was growing to care too much for. And then it would truly be “The Seduction of Emmeline.”
“We’ve been traveling too long,” Alex finally said, his hoarse voice making her shiver.
She let go of his hand.
He turned away toward the door and threw his shoulder against it repeatedly, until she began to shudder with each painful-sounding hit.
“Alex, stop. This won’t work—”
But the door suddenly flung wide, and Alex leaned out to catch it before it could bang against the side of the coach. Emmeline smothered a cry as he seemed to hang precariously out over the moving landscape.
Cold air rushed in and swirled about them. The sun had set, and the growing darkness made the retreating fog seem ever more ethereal. It hugged the hollows in the farm fields, and obscured where the road ended at their side.
Emmeline grabbed Alex’s doublet and hauled him back inside.
He sat back and held the door partially closed as he glanced at Emmeline. “Thank you. We’ll wait a few moments to make sure they didn’t hear us.”
“Wait for what? The next time they stop, we’ll burst out at them and—”
“Be shot or stabbed for our effort? I don’t think so. There are at least two men holding us prisoner, and you’re not up to the fight. So we’ll go now.”
“Now?” she echoed, her voice a high-pitched squeak. “But…we can’t even see where the ground is. We’ll break our necks.”
“I saw a grassy embankment. We’ll be all right.”
“But Alex—”
“Would you rather wait here and see what they have in mind for you?” he asked bluntly.
“But ’tis you they’re after,” she protested.
“And you’ll be the added treat.”
After only a brief hesitation, she leaned forward and opened the door herself. She stared transfixed at the fog-covered ground that moved past, the brisk air swirling, rushing about her. Before she could gather her courage, she felt his arms about her waist, then her feet leaving the floor, heard “What the hell,” and then they were flying out into the night.