Page 64 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

“The whole of Europe for that matter,” Eloise said, clearly defensive of the paragon whom she still held in her heart as an untarnished example of all a lady should aspire to be. Indeed, it was no secret to the family that Eloise had esteemed Lady Emma for years.

“Julia, you must speak plainly to us,” Jane said. “If this is a matter upon which we are compelled to act, there is no time to mince words. All I know is that Adrian came to Emma’s rescue at a wedding. Perhaps not in the most graceful of ways, but—”

“It is already too late,” Charlotte Boscastle broke in very quietly.

Jane drew a breath. “I see. Then exactly how does the situation stand between our two—dare I call them—lovers?”

“I would say the situation is at a complete standstill,” Charlotte replied. “I don’t believe that Emma can take a step these days without one of my cousins peering over her shoulder.”

Chloe snorted lightly. “I do remember their smothering guard myself. It’s a miracle Dominic and I ended up marrying with the four devils boxing me in. And now they’ve added Gabriel to their ranks. Poor Emma. To think she’s found love this late, at last, only to—”

Jane wandered over to the window. “You’re probably right. They’ll ruin this for her—oh, Lord above. He’s here.”

“Lord Wolverton?” Hermia asked eagerly, halfway out of her chair.

“No. Grayson, the cabal leader, come to decide Emma’s—”

A dull thunk shuddered through the wall. “Did you hear that?” Jane asked, whirling around in alarm.

Chloe examined a loose bead on the instep of her slippers. “Yes. Grayson has never gone through a door he didn’t slam. You should know that by now, Jane.”

“It wasn’t the door,” Jane exclaimed. “It—”

“—came from the other side of the house.” Charlotte leaned forward, pointing over her shoulder. “From the side where Emma’s suite is located.”

Adrian climbed up the rickety wooden ladder and swung one arm, then his right leg over the sill, grateful to that imp Harriet for remembering to open Emma’s window. Of course he’d paid the greedy little urchin good coin for the favor. No doubt she would still try to blackmail him into buying her silence. Well, he would deal with Miss Gardner tomorrow. If all went well tonight, he might even want to reward her.

He glanced around, surveying the darkened chamber. He’d landed in the bedroom, as luck would have it. A sea coal fire smoldered amber-gold in the grate. Good. She wouldn’t be cold after he’d declared his intentions and taken her to bed.

Through the door that adjoined her suite, he glimpsed her sitting in the next room on a saberlegged rosewood chaise, a book on her lap. Her beautiful, long hair was loose, gathered over one shoulder. Rapunzel. He wanted to twist it around his neck, his arms, his hips. He could almost feel the softly spun strands caressing his back, his belly.

His beautiful Renaissance angel.

He moved quietly toward her. She hadn’t noticed him yet. In his day he could have sneaked aboard a ship of pirates and slit their snoring throats before he disturbed their dreams. Surely he could sneak up on the woman he desired and—drop to his knees beside her.

He walked straight into one of the potted plants on a marble pedestal that flanked the door. She leapt to her feet, her luminous eyes widening in shock.

“You!”

“Damn it, Emma.” He caught the pot of English ivy before it could crash to the ground, then rebalanced it carefully on the pedestal. “Please, whatever you do, don’t scream.”

“I have absolutely no intention of indulging in such a useless act.” She looked up slowly into his face. “If your appearance here is in regard to those lessons in deportment again, which you desperately need, I shall refer you to a certain French count who is an acquaintance of Devon’s. I understand he is more than happy to instruct Englishmen in the refined arts.”

He walked her back into the chaise. “Darling, I don’t give a damn about my manners. I never did.”

Her breath caught, a tiny hitch of sound that belied her composure. “Obviously.”

He lifted his hands to her shoulders. “I came here for one purpose only.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Adrian Ruxley, if you do not leave this instant, I shall—”

“I adore you,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers. “And I want you to be my wife. Emma, please, put me out of this torture. Do you feel as I do? No, don’t answer. I already know.”

He kissed her before she could utter a word. Soldier of fortune, he took advantage of her shocked immobility to brush his mouth across hers. He drew her against him and held her so there was no question of escape. Sensual pleasure pulsed throughout his body as he felt her lips, then her body soften against his.

Knowing Emma, he’d have little time to weaken her defenses before she rallied her guard. But he waited for her answer, anyway, his heart beating, wild and hopeful. He combed his hand through her hair, untangling a knot, cradling her nape, stroking her warm skin.

She moved slightly so that his mouth rested upon her cheek. “Are you proposing to me?” she asked in a soft, precise voice.