Part 7 (1/2)
She left Mary's room for her own. There, a small fire still crackled on the hearth. It didn't give off much warmth. Still, considering how the chill still seemed to nibble at her bones, she welcomed it just the same. She padded over to kneel on the hearthrug, just beyond the reach of any embers that might pop free.
She held her hands out to the flames. Little by little, the chill faded to the point where she could undress for the night and slip into her night rail. Being under a pile of blankets and quilts on a night like tonight, with frigid wind swirling down through the chimney, was the perfect way to pa.s.s the night. There was nothing quite like a cozy bed on a cold night.
Chapter Seven.
THE COLD WINDOWPANE bit into Julian's bare shoulder as he sat perched on the windowsill, clad in only his buff colored breeches and stockings. His hair, wet from when he dunked his head in the basin, dripped onto both his shoulders and the length of towel he draped about his neck. He rubbed at his temples with the towel's ends then tossed the towel into the wicker basket alongside the chest of drawers.
The soft rap on his door brought a smile to his lips. Most likely it was Dunstan, the lone male on staff at Stonebridge. He didn't need a valet's a.s.sistance, and although he'd only send Dunstan on his way, that didn't stop the man from offering to help him dress. It was the same thing every visit. He drew on his s.h.i.+rt, but left it open at the neck as he padded to the door.
But when he opened it, the valet was not the person standing on the far side of the threshold.
Emma stood there, her eyes widening as she found herself face-to-chest with him. A hint of color swept up along her cheekbones and she visibly swallowed. However, even as she blushed, her left brow arched higher than her right, a trait that came as natural to McKenzies as breathing.
”Do you usually open your door when you aren't completely dressed?”
”No, but I thought you were Dunstan, and he wouldn't blush finding me like this.” He folded his arms over his chest. Inviting her in was out of the question. If anyone saw them like this, it would mean trouble, and yet he didn't want to shut the door in her face, either. ”What brings you up here?”
”You offered to speak to George for me. I need you to do it. Tomorrow. When he and Rose are here for the Christmas party.”
He frowned. ”You're here for that? Em, you know better.”
Her blush deepened, and she pressed her lips together until they disappeared into a fine white line.
He held her gaze, tapping his left forefinger against his right arm as he waited for her to answer.
Then her lips reappeared. ”I didn't know how busy you'd be today, and I wanted to catch you before you left for the day.” She mimicked him, right down to tapping her forefinger against her upper arm. ”You said you'd help me.”
”I said no such thing and you know it.” He shook his head. ”I told you, I'm not getting involved. I think you should step back as well.”
Her head dipped, but then she brought it up again, set her jaw and squared her shoulders. ”I'm aware of that. And I'm not entirely certain you're wrong. But I can't live with myself if I don't at least try once more.” She peered first up the hall, then down, and with a sinking feeling, he knew what her next words would be when she pointed over his shoulder, into his room. ”May I?”
”That's not a good idea. Someone could see you.”
”Who? I'm the only one up here. And if someone unexpected shows up, I can go out the window.”
In spite of himself, he craned his neck to peer at the window in question. ”Out there? If you haven't noticed, there's about six inches of snow on that roof.”
”I've done it before. But I was much younger. And probably not wearing a gown at the time.” Her forehead wrinkled as she glanced down, dressed in pale blue cotton that set off the blue in her eyes and hugged the curved slope of her hips.
He tightened the fist tucked beneath his right arm and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He remembered those days, and no, she didn't wear gowns when she s.h.i.+mmied up the oak tree outside Garrett's windows to eavesdrop on them. From what he remembered the one time Garrett caught her, she was adorable in castoff breeches and a smudged, stained s.h.i.+rt that one of her brothers had outgrown.
”Em, I-”
She didn't wait for him to finish, but pushed by him to sail into the room. ”Thank you.” She closed the door behind her far enough that at a casual glance, she would most likely not be seen, yet the door wasn't firmly shut. Even if they were doing nothing wrong, she obviously didn't feel like courting trouble, either.
He didn't even want to entertain the notion of trying to explain exactly why she was in his room. Especially when his thoughts veered down a less than innocent path.
She brushed by him, her stride deliberate and when she faced him, her eyes were steely again. ”I know you don't want any part of this and that you think I'm mad for even trying. You're right, but this is my fault and I want to fix it. And I can't fix it if you don't help me.” She blinked up at him, her voice softening as she delivered the coup de grce. ”Please?”
He clenched his teeth. The please was almost enough to make him waver. Almost. ”Emma, let them work it out themselves.”
”I can't. They aren't even speaking to each other.” She threw her hands up as she marched toward the same window she promised to go out, should someone knock at his door.
He waited, and sure enough, she made her way back. If nothing else, he could count on her pacing.
She looked up at him. ”How are they going to work things out, if they won't even talk to one another?”
”Well, I don't-”
”Julian-” she pa.s.sed by him again ”-you simply must help me.”
”But I-” He turned toward her a little too fast, making himself dizzy in the process.
She paused to grab him by both hands. ”Please?”
”Em-”
”Must I get on my knees? I will, you know.”
He didn't doubt that. He also didn't want to see it, as those less than innocent thoughts came screaming to the forefront of his mind. ”That won't be necessary.” He pulled his hands free to rub his face. d.a.m.n weather. If it had only cooperated, he could have made his escape, and then he wouldn't be standing here, with her threatening to sink to her knees before him, which brought all sorts of wicked images to his mind. Wicked and wanton and-oh, G.o.d, he wished he could shut his mind down.
G.o.d had a cruel sense of humor. He only hoped he wouldn't regret his next words as he lowered his hands from his face. ”Fine. You win. I'll talk to him. I doubt it will help, but still...”
”Thank you!” The smile she flashed was powerful enough to almost knock him back a step. It lit up her entire face, and without warning, she threw her arms around him. As they came into contact, heat shot through him. Thank G.o.d they were here, and not in his office, where the chance of being interrupted was significantly less, for the thoughts ripping through his mind were enough to make the devil himself blush.
She must have felt him tense, for she broke the contact almost immediately. ”Oh, Julian, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-”
”It's all right,” he broke in quickly, wiping his palms against his thighs. The tension in the room fairly crackled around them, like the charged air before a thunderstorm. If he wasn't careful, lightning would strike him down.
The colors in her face were beyond striking. A deep flush colored her cheeks, her eyes had darkened to the most beautiful shade of midnight blue. Her lips, soft and inviting, were also lush with color. So much so that he almost groaned. He wanted to kiss her. No. He was going to kiss her.
He unfolded his arms and brought both hands up to cup her face in his palms.
She stiffened at the first touch, but then rose up onto her toes to lift her lips to his. Her hands curled about his wrists, tightening as he kissed her with a slow thoroughness. Her lips were every bit as lush and soft as they looked.
The scent of cinnamon rose from her hair, spicy and sweet as it tickled his senses. Her lips parted and he thrust his tongue between them before she changed her mind. Her breath caught, her fingers tightened about him, and it was his turn to stiffen as she slid her tongue silkily against his. G.o.d, he didn't want to ever stop kissing her, wanted to savor the taste of her, the softness of her mouth. And he did. His body tensed with desire, every sinew humming with the urge to open her gown and tug it over her shoulders, to expose what he was certain was flawless, smooth, pale skin.
Her fingers loosened, her hands sliding up, over the bend of his elbows, to his shoulders. They paused, and then he s.h.i.+vered as her fingertips swept over a sensitive patch of skin along his nape, swept up into his hair. Cold droplets showered his shoulders, but he barely felt them as she pressed up against him. Every scenario like this that had ever gone through his mind didn't feel anywhere near as amazing as the reality.
Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed into his chest, and he forgot all about the smooth skin of her cheeks.
He let his hands fall away from her face so he could wrap her in his arms, so he could press those small, firm mounds even deeper into him.