His words gave her courage now.
“That I would be too late and you would think I no longer cared. I was afraid you would leave and never come back,” she rushed out. “I wouldn’t know where to look for you and—” She licked her lips, bracing herself to say the rest. “I couldn’t bear not seeing you again. You are the best part of my day.”
She wasn’t sure what response she’d expected, but this charged silence wasn’t it. Gradually, she became aware of the morning sounds of the park—of birds chirping, water lapping gently against the mud bank, even a goose honk in the distance. But not a word from him.
His face, which she’d once likened to a master’s painting, now reminded her of sculpted marble instead—still a work of art, but less approachable.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Had she misread him? Had she made a fool of herself?
“Please,” she whispered. “Say something.”
He reached for her hand instead, grasping it in both of his and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his mouth gloriously warm and firm on her skin. His eyelids fluttered closed, as if he were savoring her, yet Emmaline couldn’t take her gaze from him. All of the tension of the morning, all her worries, fled as joy burst through her.
A long moment later, he lifted his head, but didn’t relinquish his grasp. “Your hands are cold,” he said roughly.
She laughed. “Yes, I was in such a rush to get to you, I didn’t think to grab my gloves.”
He reached for her other hand then, and brought them together palm to palm, pressing hers between his own as if in dual supplication. Lending her his warmth. But she didn’t need it. Just knowing he might feel something of what she did for him heated her from within.
“We should get you home, then,” he said.
She shook her head. “No.”
Emmaline didn’t care if she froze to death. This opportunity wouldn’t come again, to spend time with him alone—no one trailing along behind them, listening to every word.
She wasn’t naive enough to believe that her father would ever let her marry as she wished. The Duchess of Albemarle was nearing the end of her confinement, and her father insisted that his influence—and Emmaline’s blasted beauty—would win her a coronet. This time next week, she was as likely to find herself engaged to a duke as not.
This might be her only chance to be just a young lady, enjoying time with a gentleman of her choosing. Her only chance to be with him, her knight.
“No,” she repeated, and pulled her hands free of his. “Duke and I are spending our morning in the park.”
And if she was going to flout convention anyway…
“In fact, we’re planning to walk along one of the forested footpaths today. Much more picturesque,” she said, turning that direction and patting her thigh to call the pup to her.
When the dog reached her side, she turned her back on the man before tossing what she hoped was a mysterious smile over her shoulder. “And more private.”
Then she walked off, willing him to follow.
And thrilling when he did.
CHAPTER 5
PART OF MAXWELL’S question had been answered decisively. She certainly did wish to be pursued.
Into the forest, at least.
The ‘innocent, yet not’ nature of their mornings was heading more toward ‘not’ with every step they took.
But what kind of man would he be if he didn’t follow? For her protection, of course.
Neither spoke as they made their way around the lake. She set a brisk pace, and they quickly left the Serpentine behind, turning onto a path that disappeared into the tree line at the center of the park.
Alone.
Being November, there was less canopy to shield them from prying eyes than there might be in summer. However, a light fog rose up to lend a cloak of intimacy that set his nerves on edge.
Damn, but he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. That brief touch of lips to hand had only served to ignite his already simmering desire for her.
You are the best part of my day.
Had she truly said that? Max’s heart thumped in his chest, hard. Another question answered. She knew nothing of his possible dukedom, thought him no more than himself, and yet she’d all but said she wanted him.
And oh, how he wanted her.
He had to distract himself. Conversation. Conversation was safe.
He asked the first question that came to him. “What did keep you today?”
She glanced over at him, wariness flashing in the green depths of her eyes.
Well, hell. Not so safe after all. His question came close to violating the unspoken barriers they’d been so careful to hide behind. But something had shifted between them this morning. Perhaps they would both divulge truths in these woods.
He kept his gaze steady on her, encouraging.
Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she gave a sharp nod and said, “My father. We had an awful row.”
Her lips firmed, and she clasped her hands together across her middle as if she had to brace herself for this conversation.
“My father is an—is a peer of the realm.”
He nodded. “I’d gathered that.”
She sent him a weak smile. “I’m sure you also gathered—from what I said the day I named Duke—that he has plans for me to marry one. A duke, that is.”
Again, Max nodded, aiming for casual interest. He had no wish to spook her when they were finally speaking of something real, something personal.
“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked, curious to know her true thoughts.
Her lips twisted with chagrin. “You must think me terribly spoiled to oppose such a match.”
He huffed. “Not at all.” That would smack of the pot calling the kettle black, though she couldn’t know that. Still, while he knew his own objections to becoming a duke, what were hers to becoming a duchess? Was it simply because she didn’t wish to bow to the dictates of her family? Or did she have deeper reasons?
“I only wondered why.”
T’was her turn to huff. “For one, I should like to marry for more than just social position.”
“You would like to marry for love,” he said, his voice raspy even to his own ears.
Her eyes flew back to him. “Yes,” she said simply.
Their gazes held as they walked side by side.
“Me, as well,” he admitted, and realized he meant it. He hadn’t given much thought to marriage or family, so consumed was he with his fight to win representation for those who needed it most. But whether he became a duke or remained a barrister, love was something he wanted in his life.
He could love her.
Perhaps. Should he become the duke, and thus a suitable husband for her, perhaps he could.
Who was he kidding? It would be easy to love her, whether he became a duke or not.
But they weren’t discussing him. Or were they?
“Perhaps you could come to love this duke,” he ventured.
She looked away from him then, and one delicate shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “Perhaps I already have feelings for another.”
Another hard thump of his heart. She meant him.
He should confess all. It was clear her feelings were for him, not a title. He could tell her now, and then if he were to inherit, they could—
“But that’s not the only reason I have no wish to marry this duke,” she said, and the words died on his lips.
“No?”
He noticed she’d started wringing her hands now. He walked along beside her in the tense silence, allowing her time to gather her thoughts. He used the time to think as well. Surely whatever concerns she had could be overcome. Were he to become duke, he’d do anything in his power to make her happy.
Finally, she released a long breath, as if unburdening herself of things she’d long wished to say.