As she
drifted to sleep, the soft padding of the maid's slippers stirred her senses.
Not wanting to take a bath so soon, Emily kept her eyes shut and spoke in a
tired whisper. "You may take the soup now, and please have the water sent
up in about an hour."
"I
am not your servant, madam."
Chapter
Seven
E
mily's eyes flew open in surprise.
"You!" Her gaze quickly shot to the door and saw that it was closed.
"Yes,
me," Jared said, his amber eyes twinkling with mirth.
"This
is not funny, my lord. You do realize that Roderick will shoot you if he finds
you alone here with me."
"Will
he, now?"
Her jaw
dropped the second he folded himself into the chair beside her bed. Buckskin
breeches clung to long, powerful legs, leaving nothing in the man that seemed
wanting . . . except his heart. She blushed hotly.
Dark
hair, still wet from his bath, curled at the nape of his neck like that of a schoolboy,
making him look more innocent than he was. She could not help but notice the pair
of broad shoulders stretched taut against a cinnamon-colored jacket.
"Y-you better leave."
His
smile only widened, and when he leaned forward, she detected the scent of
peppermint from his breath. Beneath the sheets, her fingers dug into her palms.
Insufferable man! "I will scream if you do not do as I say."
"Oh,
you do that, Lady Emily. Scream loud and clear."
Her
heart sped with a maddening beat when he lifted a strand of hair from her eyes.
"I-I will scream, I tell you."
He
flopped back in his chair and arched a devilish brow. "You do that and we
will be married within the week."
Emily
gasped, angry with herself for the power he still possessed over her. What was
he about? Even the hint of mischief that flickered in those amber eyes confused
her.
"You
are a monster, sir," she said, managing to tear her gaze away from him.
"Monster
or not, my sweet"—he gently cupped her face with his hands and turned her
head toward him— "you are about to tell me about that wound on your back.
Or should I call your brother and ask him?"
She
tensed. Jared had seen her back.
"Tell
me, Emily." His thumb trailed down her face, and every muscle in her body
rebelled against his pitying touch. She had no wish for his sympathy. She
wanted to be left alone. Wanted to forget. The man who shot her was dead, and
her vow of silence regarding her work made it impossible to tell Jared anything
anyway.
"Leave
me be," she said, turning away, feeling the stinging tears begin to dam in
her eyes. "I never want to see you again."
"Agatha
is the only other one who has knowledge of your scars, if that is what you
fear," he said softly.
She felt
herself blush. Agatha? Had the woman betrayed her?
"Emily,
look at me."
She
turned her head and glared at him. "Leave me," she whispered
hoarsely. "I never want to see you again, do you not understand the king's
English?"
A muscle
jerked in his cheek. "Let me change the subject, then. I'm asking you to
forgive me. Is that so hard?"
Forgive
him for what? Three years ago? Bowing to Roderick's request to guard her? Or
quarreling with her at the fair? A knot rose in her throat and she took a deep
breath, hoping he would leave after she eased him of his guilt. "I forgive
you." But I will not love you.
He
smiled then, a most devastating turn of his lips that made her heart flutter.
But she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still
affected her. She wanted to be far, far away from this man as soon as possible.
He
kissed her hand, and she desperately tried to dismiss the familiar aching in
her body.
"Well,
then," he said matter-of-factly. "Since we are on better terms, I
wish to know how you obtained that wound on your back." His smile vanished
as quickly as it came, and his eyes flashed with impatience. "In fact, I
demand it."
"You
demand? How dare you demand anything of me!"
"How
dare I?" he growled, his hand coming down on hers in an iron grip, then
gentling into a dangerous caress. "I daresay your brothers would not fancy
that scar. Do not keep this from me, Emily."
She
swallowed and tugged at her hand. "You have no right."
"Em?"
They both froze at the sound of Roderick's voice outside the hall.
Emily
glanced at the door. "Give me a minute, Roderick.
"Good
heavens, do something," she hissed, looking at Jared. "Slip under the
bed."
He
stared at her as if she had two heads. "What?"
Her
command surprised even her. "Slide under the bed or we will be wed before
the week is out."
The man
seemed momentarily speechless. He glanced at the door and lowered his voice.
"The devil I will. I refuse to hide like a sniveling coward."
Another
knock. "Em?"
Emily
bit her lip. "I beg you, please."
He
scowled. "Very well, but if Roderick—" The sentence was left unsaid
as he bent over and slid beneath her bed.
Emily
bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. "Of course, you know
it will be much more than a wedding license that he will demand," she
whispered.
The door
creaked opened. "Em?"
"Come
in."
"Thought
you were taking a bath, but caught the maid in the hall and she said you were
sleeping. Then I heard voices." He lifted a concerned brow.
"Voices?
How very odd."
His wary
gaze swept the room. "A male voice, if I am not mistaken."
Emily
coughed. "Do be a dear, Roderick, and fetch me a glass of water."
Resting a hand against her head, feigning a headache, she pointed to the
pitcher on top of her nightstand.
Roderick
rushed to her side and poured the water, forgetting all about the voices. Emily
thanked him and downed the entire glass, all the while wondering what Jared was
thinking, while being held prisoner beneath her bed and staring at the toes of
Roderick's shiny black Hessians. The very idea made her giggle and spurt out
some of the water onto the floor.
Jared
had no idea how long he had been sandwiched between the mattress and the dusty
pine-planked floor. But whatever it was, it was too blasted long. The parade of
people marching back and forth from Lady Emily's chambers seemed endless.
As Black
Wolf, he had done his share of espionage, but hiding under a lady's bed was not
in his repertoire. If that woman thought he had not heard her stifled giggles
over his dire predicament, she had better think again.
First,
it was Roderick asking about how the fire started. Then, it was the duchess who
pampered Emily like a sickly child. Then, it was Jane who cried over the
bruises on Emily's cheek. Now, it appeared Agatha was feeling responsible for
the entire mishap.
Jared's
mouth twitched as a piece of dust floated to his lips. When in thunderation
would they leave?
"What
was my nephew thinking, leaving you in the midst of that wild crowd?"
"He
did not exactly leave me," Emily said.
"What
would you call it, then?" Agatha's parasol thumped against the floor,
setting up another round of dust.
Jared
grimaced, feeling a sneeze coming on. Confound it. This was intolerable. The
lint beneath the blasted bed was enough to give a person consumption. On the
other hand, consumption would be a better alternative than his aunt discovering
him in this sorry predicament. Heaven knows what kind of attack she would mount
against him then. That black parasol could be a powerful weapon if used
properly.
He
slowly slid his fingers to his nose, pinching his nostrils to stop the sneeze.
If the men at White's found out about this, he would never hear the end of it.
"Ah,
here comes the bathwater now," Agatha announced.
Jared
lifted his head, hitting the rung above him. Bath water? Devil take it! He bit
back a groan when the sweet scent of roses drifted to his nose.
"I
have added a few drops of rose oil, dear. I know you like it that way."
"Thank
you, Agatha. You are too kind."
"If
you wish, I could stay and be of some help to you."
Jared
clasped his head in his hands. He had to retreat as swiftly as possible. Emily
was going to take a bath, and he would have to stay prisoner under the bed
while she did it. The thought was both arousing and nauseating at the same
time. Roderick would surely kill him!
"No,
thank you, Agatha. I assure you, no maid either. I will be able to take care of
myself."
Jared
let out a sigh of relief. He would look the other way. Well, perhaps . . .
"What
was that?" Agatha asked, her parasol thumping closer to Jared's feet.
"Thought I heard something scampering beneath your bed."
Emily
coughed. "My bed?"
"Yes,
I distinctly heard—"
A bark
from the door interrupted Agatha's comment.
Jared
groaned at the sound of thumping paws. The moment his dog pounced onto Emily's
mattress, the rung above him banged against his head.
Blast it
all. Nigel would surely give him away.
"Nigel,
out of here," Agatha cried. "Emily cannot recover with you licking
her face."
Emily
laughed. "He loves the scent of rose water, Agatha."
Jared
grimaced. Lucky dog!
"Off,
Nigel. Off!" Agatha's parasol whacked the side of the bed. "Now, I
say. Move!"
There
was a bark and another thump, but this time it was Nigel's heavy paws thudding
to the floor. Jared held his breath. His dog had the best nose in England and
France put together. No doubt, the game was up.
"Quiet,
Nigel," Agatha snapped. "Emily has had quite enough commotion for one
day."
Nigel
gave one last bark and whimpered.
Jared's
eyes widened at the sight of a wet nose staring back at him. Praying for a
miracle, he silently waved the dog away. But Nigel was not about to move an
inch. Blast it to hell.
Agatha's
voice boomed above him. "Ah, here comes more water, dear. You will feel so
much better after a good warm bath." Jared flinched when he heard a
splash. "Feels perfect."
He
turned his head as the bed squeaked, and his aunt started helping Emily down.
His heart stopped pumping at the sight of a shapely ankle sliding down the side
of the bed.
His eyes
suddenly grew round with pleasure. Perhaps he would not move for some time
after all.
"Thank
you, Agatha, I can do everything else from here."
So could
I, Jared thought with a smile.
"Very
well, dear, I will leave you two alone."
Jared
felt the blood rush to his head.
"Two?"
Emily squeaked out.
"You
and Nigel, that is, unless you want Nigel with me?" Without waiting for
Emily's answer, Agatha walked across the room to leave, closing the door behind
her.
Jared
stared fixedly on the second shapely ankle that descended at his side, and he
started to sweat. He was not such a sapskull that he was going to remind her he
was here.
"Out!"
He
jerked at the sound of the harsh voice, thwacking his head on the rungs above
him. "Confound it!"
"Out,"
Emily snapped again.
Jared
came to the realization that she was speaking to him and not Nigel.
"Daresay, I prefer the view from here."
"Out!"
Letting
out a dry chuckle, Jared snaked his body out from beneath the bed, eyeing more
than just a shapely ankle. His gaze locked on one creamy white calf. "I
take that back. Perhaps the view is better from here."
"You
scoundrel!"
He
smiled, lifting his gaze to her blushing face. He had an overwhelming need to
pull her toward him and kiss her soundly. Well, why the devil not?
Before
she knew what he was about, he wrapped a strong hand around her head and
crushed his mouth to hers. Her lips were warm and sweet, just like he remembered.
It ended all too soon when she hastily reared back, as if she had been
scorched.
"Oh,
how could you?"
"How
could I?" Jared raised a mischievous brow, watching her sweep the coverlet
swiftly over her body. He dropped his gaze, patting the dust off his trousers.
"How could I not?"
"Will
you please leave?" She swept her finger toward the door.
"I
will leave only because you need a bath and more rest." He quickly spun on
his heels, snapping his fingers for Nigel to follow.
"Be
certain my brother is not waiting in the hallway," she bit out tartly.
He
glanced over his shoulder, his gaze riveted on her snapping eyes. He knew that
the scar on her back was only scraping the surface of a much larger secret.
"We will continue our little talk tomorrow, Lady Emily."
"I
do not believe so, Lord Stonebridge." Her tone was bitter. Yet he could
not blame her, for he deserved every bit of her condemnation. But he would not
let that scar go unanswered.