Splendid (21 page)

Alex could tell the moment her hesitation gave way to desire. Her eyes softened, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. But before he could
resume the kiss, she stopped him, placing her hand on his cheek and murmuring his name in a husky voice.

Alex turned his head slowly to kiss the palm of her hand. “What, my love?”

Emma's voice was hoarse with emotion. “Will you promise me you'll stop when we should stop?”

Alex looked at her intently, wondering if she understood what she was asking of him.

“I—I don't have very much experience with this sort of thing, Alex.” Emma swallowed, trying to work up the courage to continue her request. “I do want to kiss you. I think I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. But I may not know when we should stop, or how I should stop you. I am asking you to give your word as a gentleman to stop us before we do anything— irrevocable.”

Alex knew at that moment that she was his. He knew that he could make love to her right there on that very blanket, and she would do nothing to stop him. But he also knew that her mind did not want what her body so obviously desired. Alex looked down at her shining face and realized that there was no way he could live with himself if he took advantage of her trust. “I give you my word,” he said softly.

“Oh, Alex,” she moaned, her arms stealing around his neck as he bent down over her once again.

“If you only knew how long I've been waiting for this,” he murmured, his lips trailing hot kisses across her face and then down the side of her neck.

“I—I think I know
exactly
how long,” Emma returned shakily, her voice tremulous under the onslaught of his desire. As he slowly lowered her down onto her back, she sank her fingers into his thick hair, desperately pulling him closer to her.
Something deep inside her seemed to know that this was the right man, and she just couldn't seem to overcome the urge to get as close to him as possible. Unthinkingly, she pressed her body up to his, molding herself against his powerful frame.

To Alex, her innocent movement was like a torch igniting the spark that had been burning steadily inside him for months. “Oh God, Emma,” he groaned. “Do you have any idea what you're doing?” He looked down at her. Her dark eyes were burning with newly discovered desire and also—trust. As he lost himself in those violet pools, Alex groaned again. “I can see you do not.”

Emma did not understand his cryptic comment. “Is—is something wrong?” she queried, worried that her lack of experience had caused her to do something that displeased him.

Alex leaned down and placed twin kisses on her eyelids. “Believe me, love, nothing is wrong.” He chuckled as he saw relief flood her expression. It warmed him to his very core that she was so concerned about pleasing him. “You seem to have a natural affinity for this sort of thing.” Privately, Alex was wondering how on earth he'd be able to force himself to stop as he promised Emma, but he did not voice that thought, fearful of breaking the sensual spell that had been cast over their secluded picnic.

Emma flushed with pleasure over his compliment. “I just want to—ohh!” she gasped aloud as Alex's hand stole across her midriff and came to rest on her full breast. The heat of his touch was so searing she was surprised it hadn't burned right through the fabric of her riding habit. Her eyes flew open and her lips parted in surprise at his bold caress.

Alex's smile was one of pure masculine satisfaction. “You like that, don't you, love?” As he felt her nipple harden into a tight little bud through the material of her dress, he squeezed the mound of flesh he held in his hand and watched Emma shiver with desire. He silently cursed the row of tiny buttons marching down the back of her dress that made it next to impossible to pull the fabric down off of her shoulders. With a ragged sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that he would not be able to gaze down upon the full breast and dusky nipple that were proving to be so intoxicating. This setback, however, was probably all for the best considering the vow he had made just moments earlier.

“Oh, Alex,” Emma moaned softly. “This is all so very strange.” She let out another gasp as she felt his hand creep under the folds of her skirts and caress her firm, sleek calves. Spasms of pleasure shot up her legs to the very center of her being and she sighed with abandon. “And so very nice.”

Alex's hand stroked steadily upward until it reached the sensitive spot where the tops of her stockings met pale, soft flesh, and Emma nearly flew off the blanket from the sheer energy that seemed to pour forth from his fingertips. And then, although she could not quite believe it was happening, he moved further still.

“Alex?” she asked breathily. “What—what? Are you sure? I don't know.”

Alex silenced her with a soft kiss. “Shh, darling. I promise you that I will not”—he smiled wryly at his melodramatic words—“ravish you right here on the blanket. When we make love, it will be perfect, with no hesitations or misunderstandings between us.” He continued to drop gentle kisses across her face to ease her fears as he slipped his hand beneath her
undergarments and began to tease the soft thatch of hair that protected her womanhood.

Emma's breath caught in her throat, and she tensed up against him, twenty years of proper upbringing flooding her mind and telling her that she ought not to be in such a situation. She pressed a hand against his chest, feebly trying to push him away. “Wait, Alex, I'm not sure…”

“Not sure of what, love?”

Her voice quavered with apprehension. “Of you, of this, of
anything
.”

“You're not sure of me?” he asked, trying to tease her fears away. “Are you telling me you'd rather be here with someone else?”

“No!” she burst out. “It's not that, it's…”

“It's what?”

“I don't know!” Her mind was screaming that she ought to get up and walk away, but she could not deny the thrilling sensations that poured forth from his every touch. And even as her internal struggle raged, she felt herself relax against him, her body begging for what so frightened her mind.

“Don't worry, love,” Alex murmured, relieved by her acquiescence. “I will keep the vow I made to you this afternoon.” He took a deep breath, laboring hard to keep his own desire in check. His need for her was painfully apparent, his hard manhood swollen and straining against his breeches. “I just want—I
need
to be inside you somehow. I can't explain it. I just need to feel you right now.”

With that he slipped one finger inside her. She was hot and wet, just as he knew she'd be, but so very small and tight. He felt a surge of pride as he realized that he was the first man ever to touch her in so intimate a manner. He felt himself throb with need for her, his manhood begging to trade places with his wandering fingers.

Delicious waves of pleasure shot through Emma's body, and she began to feel herself tensing in expectation of something she didn't understand but somehow knew had to happen. “Alex!” she cried out. “Help me, please. I can't bear any more.”

“Oh, yes you can, love.” As Alex's finger continued to stroke her intimately, his thumb found the sensitive nub of flesh that was hidden beneath her soft curls.

“Oh, my God! Alex!!” Emma screamed his name in complete abandon. Every little wisp of desire that had been curling through her body moved to one tender spot in her abdomen, and she started to tense convulsively until her world simply burst apart, and she lay limp and exhausted on the soft flannel blanket.

Alex gently slid his finger out and laid his body down alongside hers, propping himself up on his elbow. “Shhh,” he murmured comfortingly, trying to ease her back down from her climax. As he stroked her hair, he gazed out over the countryside and began to will his body to calm down, for he knew that he would not be enjoying the same kind of release Emma had. Still, there had been an undeniable sense of satisfaction in pleasuring Emma. And although Alex had always been an extremely considerate and giving lover, this was the first time his own need had become completely secondary to someone else's.

“Oh my,” Emma sighed, just as soon as she regained her powers of speech.

“Oh my, indeed,” Alex chuckled, running his forefinger along the elegant line of her jaw. “How do you feel?”

“I feel—oh, I don't know how I feel.” Emma closed her eyes for a moment, utterly relaxed. A light smile touched her lips, and she reopened her
eyes and fixed her gaze on the man before her. “You know more about this than I do. How do I feel?”

Alex laughed aloud. “You feel splendid, my sweet. Absolutely splendid.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” she sighed, curling up against him. “Although I wasn't too…vigorous?”

He bit back a smile. “No, darling, you weren't too vigorous. You were just perfect.”

“Thank you so much for saying that,” she said, burying her face in his side. “I wasn't at all sure what to do, you know.” She wanted to look up at him, wanted to see the expression in his eyes, but a faint flush of embarrassment crept over her.

“Have no fear. I plan to give you plenty of practice.”

“What?” Emma sat up quickly, suddenly extremely eager to smooth her skirts. Alex's words had somehow triggered the return of reality. “Alex, you know we can't be doing this all the time.”

“Why not?”

“We just can't. There are too many people who would be hurt. Too many people who expect better of me.”

“I can't think of anything
I'd
like better from you.”

“You are being deliberately obtuse. I just—” Emma's face suddenly drained of color. “I can't believe what I just did,” she said, her eyes wide with shock over her scandalous behavior. A stolen kiss was one thing, but this—dear Lord, she had let, no begged, Alex to touch her in a most intimate fashion.

Alex groaned as he watched doubt and self-recrimination pour over Emma's face. His body throbbed painfully, and quite frankly he did not
have the energy to deal with her sudden attack of feminine sensibilities.

“I don't blame
you
,” Emma said quickly. “I blame myself. I lost control of myself.”

Nothing she could have said would have made him feel worse. She was such a little innocent; she had no idea what kind of sensual pressure he had used on her. How like his brave darling to try to assume the responsibility for their lovemaking. But despite the guilt that was beginning to invade his mind, Alex wasn't feeling particularly charitable. His body was still begging for release, straining his nerves.

“Emma,” he said suddenly, his voice even and controlled. “I'm only going to say this once. Do not regret what happened this afternoon. It was beautiful and natural, and you were everything I ever dreamed you would be. If you continue to berate yourself you're only going to make yourself sick. And if you feel that we should never again share our souls as we did today, well, you're just going to have to accept that I will probably put up quite a fight.”

 

They rode home in silence. Emma felt as if her every emotion had been torn asunder. On the one hand, she could not help blissfully replaying the torrid lovemaking she had experienced just moments earlier. On the other hand, she wanted to flog herself once she got home.

Life, she decided, was getting rather confusing.

Alex was not inclined to make conversation, either. His body felt like it was about to snap, and it didn't help that Emma's scent seemed to be everywhere—in his clothes, on his hands, simply floating through the air. He had known from the beginning that he would not find satisfaction, but
he had felt that the thrill of pleasuring Emma would be enough. And it had been—until she had begun to doubt herself, cheapening the experience with her shame.

He was going to have to make some major decisions in his life, he decided—and soon. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

By the time the couple finally arrived back at Westonbirt, Emma was in a complete state of confusion. As they entered the cavernous foyer, she mumbled something incoherent to Alex and raced up the long, curving staircase with speed she had never dreamed she possessed.

Alex was left with a fleeting vision of midnight-blue muslin and flaming hair flying away from him. He sighed wearily. He almost wished he could just tell himself that he'd handled her badly. At least then he could try to undo his mistakes. But the fact was that Emma's anguish stemmed from her own feelings of guilt and was probably something that she was going to have to work out on her own. With a frustrated groan, Alex raked his hand through his hair, turned on his heel and strode off to his suite, thinking that he ought to have his valet prepare a chilling bath.

When Emma reached her room, she was still moving with such haste that she practically flew through the doorway, flinging herself onto her bed with complete abandon. Which was why, she later supposed, she had been so surprised when she realized that Belle was lying there, curled up peacefully with a volume of Shakespeare.

“Hell and damnation, Belle,” Emma snapped, rubbing her shoulder where it had connected with her cousin's hip. “Couldn't you possibly read in your own room?”

Belle looked at her with innocent blue eyes. “The light is better in here.”

“For God's sake, Belle. Try to be a little more creative with your excuses. Your room is directly next to mine, and it faces the same direction.”

“Would you believe your bed is more comfortable than mine?”

Emma looked ready to explode.

“All right, all right,” Belle said hastily, quickly scooting off the bed. “I admit it. I wanted to hear about your ride with Ashbourne.”

“Well, it was fine. Are you satisfied?”

“No,” Belle replied vehemently. “This is Belle, remember? You're supposed to tell me everything.”