Page 32 of Until I’m Safe in Your Arms

“I do.” He nodded his head furiously. “I would never ask that of you, my dear.” Cautiously, he slid his finger down her cheek. “But neither should you ask me to resign. I cannot do so, and you also know why.”

“What if you transferred to another regiment?” Grasping at straws, she fought to think of anything that might keep him here with her.

“I could do so, but the advancement to major would not be assured. At least, not for a number of years.”

The sadness in his voice wrenched her heart, but there seemed to be no remedy for their heartbreak. “Then we are both bound to a pain-filled span of years, my dear. And, I suspect, when you return, our life can never be what it was or might have been. We will have missed the most precious years of our life together.” Emma gazed at his face, a mirror of her misery, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks once more. “I only hope you can learn to live with that.”

*

Next evening, Emma sat in their bedchamber, dressed in her sheerest nightgown of white Indian muslin, the design of which just happened to accentuate her bosom more than any other garment she owned. She’d applied her favorite perfume and touched her cheeks with rouge from the pot she kept hidden in her trunk. Her heavy ruby earrings swung seductively from her ears, catching the candlelight and hopefully the eye of one Captain Alex Bancroft.

After their argument last evening and the ensuing night spent apart, Emma had wracked her brain for a means to persuade her husband that they would both be better off if he remained at home in England with her. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d hit upon what she hoped would be the perfect method of persuasion.

She’d sent a note to Alex that they would be dining in the bedchamber that evening. What she hadn’t told him was that the feasting would begin somewhere other than the dining table that had been set before the fireplace. She hoped her husband had eaten heartily at lunch, as they would likely not enjoy their dinner until well after midnight.

The entry doorknob rattled.

One of the best things about their bedchamber was its location directly above the foyer. The slam of the front door was easily heard here, warning Emma of the approach of her husband. Immediately, she sat straighter, bowing her back slightly so her breasts jutted out beneath the delicate fabric. She believed, if Alex looked close enough, he’d be able to see the dark circles of her nipples.

As the door opened, Emma smiled her brightest.

Alex entered, his brow furrowed. “Your note said you wished to eat in our chamber. Nothing is amiss, is it, Emma?”

He was worried about her. That was good.

“Not in the least, my dear.” She rose and started toward him, swaying her hips with each step. “I thought that a leisurely, intimate evening might be called for, is all. We’ve been so worried about the news from your regiment, and now that it has come, perhaps the best thing for us to do is spend the evening simply.” She licked her lips. “Enjoying one another’s…company.”

“But you seem ready for bed, my dear.” He eyed her gown. “Are you certain you are not fatigued?”

“Oh no, my love.” She started on the buttons of his tunic. “Quite the contrary. I only wanted to be as comfortable as possible.” His garment now stood open, revealing his undershirt, the muscles of his chest stretching the fabric. “You should too.”

“Indeed.” He peered down at her as she pulled his tunic off.

“Yes, so I’ve ordered a bath for you before dinner.” She busied herself with laying his uniform on the bed and taking up his dressing gown that she’d laid out, a silky dark blue garment he usually wore. “James has set the tub in the dressing room. It should be filled by now.” She helped him slip the robe on, then took her time tying the sash.

“You are being very wifely this evening, my dear.” Alex followed her every move as she pulled the bow tight.

“If we only have a few weeks before you must leave, we shouldn’t spend them being cross with one another, should we?” Emma ran her hand up the lapel of the dressing gown, his chest warm and hard beneath it.

“Absolutely not.” He grabbed her up and seized her lips, thrusting his tongue between them, ravishing her mouth with an air of desperation.

So very good. Their lack of intimate relations last evening would play into her plan nicely. With an effort, she broke the kiss and backed away. “Bath first, please.”

He groaned but hurried dutifully to the dressing room. The gleaming copper washtub fit snugly in the room with just enough room to maneuver around it. Emma followed him in and shut the door. “Do you need assistance with the rest of your clothing? Shall I call Phillips?”

Alex sent her a lecherous grin. “I think my valet can be dispensed with if you will lend me a hand.”

“My pleasure.” She managed to give the word every ounce of sensuality she could before grasping his waistband and unbuttoning his trousers. Once done, she snaked the garment down over his hips, his shirt falling over the evidence of his growing interest. “Sit there,” she indicated a chair in the corner, “and take off your boots. I’ll step out while you step into the tub.”

He snared her hand to halt her as she tried to leave. “You’ll return to wash my back, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“You can depend upon it, my love.” Swiftly, she left him, excitement building within her. She would win her husband back from the allure of the army no matter what it took.

When she returned, Alex sat naked in the water, his curly dark head leaning back against the rim of the metal tub, eyes closed, looking more peaceful than she’d seen him in weeks. “You look very comfortable.”

“Ummm, I am comfortable. The water is perfectly warm.” He opened his eyes to gaze at her longingly. “Thank you for arranging this, especially after last night. You know I’d stay here with you if I could, Emma.”

“I know.” Emma knelt beside the tub, careful to let the neck of her gown fall open, exposing her breasts to Alex’s avid gaze. His low moan confirmed that he’d seen them. “Shall I wash your back now?”