Her Reluctant Groom (21 page)

“
Yes,” he bit off. He used a nearby chest for leverage to push himself to a standing position.

Emma fought back the urge to giggle. Marcus had always intrigued her. “All right. Now, what was it you wanted?” She lit the five candle candelabra that sat on the table next to the bed.

“
If you'd not run away from me, you'd know.” He sat down the chest and groaned as he simultaneously stretched out his leg.

Guilt flooded her. She should have stayed and listened to him instead of running up the stairs like a ninny. Now, because of her pettiness, his leg hurt. She threw her hair over her shoulder and knelt down in front of him. “Where does it hurt?” She placed her hand just above his knee in the place she usually saw him rub when he was in pain.

“
There.”

She nodded and rubbed his leg, taking note of the large, hard knot under her fingers. “Is this always there?” she asked even though she had a feeling she didn't want to know the answer.

“
The knot is always there, it just gets bigger when I use the muscle too much,” he answered with a grimace.

She bit her lip. “I'm sorry.”

“
It's just as much my fault as it is yours.” he said with a grunt. His head rolled back and he closed his eyes. “I'm the one who chose to chase you up the stairs even though you clearly had no intention of speaking with me.”

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his thigh. “I was embarrassed.”

“
I can understand that. My reaction to finding you in my bed wouldn't have inspired any other reaction, I'm afraid.”

At least he had that right. “Once again, I'm sorry, I—”

He reached his hand forward and pressed his fingers against her lips to stop her. “Don't. I can see now how my words in the study weren't very clear. I had intended we go to our respective bedchambers, but when I found you—” he shrugged— “I should have handled it a bit better.”

That
was an understatement. She didn't comment though. Instead, she refused to look at his face as she continued to massage his knotted thigh.

Just as her hands were getting tired, his fingers encircled her wrist and gently tugged.

She looked up. His grey eyes had softened considerably.

“
I love you,” he whispered with a hint of a smile.

“
I love you, too.”

“
Emma, I'm sorry about our misunderstanding tonight.”

Emma closed her eyes. “Can we please not mention it again?”

“
Done,” he agreed, his body visibly relaxing. “I ought to go back downstairs now.”

Nodding, Emma stood up and took a step backward. Suddenly feeling shy about only wearing a chemise, she folded her arms across her breasts and waited for Marcus to stand.

Marcus braced his hands on either side of him and pushed up to gain a standing position. As soon as he was on his feet and tried to take the first step, he stumbled. Muttering an unflattering phrase under his breath, he tried to regain his stand while Emma grabbed onto his arm and shoulder to steady him.

“
You're not fit to go back down the stairs.”

“
I'll be all right.” He disengaged himself from her hold and tried to take another step, nearly collapsing as he did.

She shook her head and held onto him again. “No, you're not. Here, you can stay in my bed and I'll go downstairs.”

“
No. I'll not kick you out of your bed. I said I'll be all right. Just let go of me, please.”

“
Absolutely not. You'll get in that bed and stay there until morning if I have to tie you there,” she said with a smile.

He grinned back. “Touché.”

“
So we're in agreement, then?” She urged him in the direction of the bed. “Marcus, I've never seen you limp so badly. Do you need me to go get something for the pain from downstairs?”

“
No,” he said with a wince as he took a step. “I knew this might happen.” He closed his eyes tightly and clamped his teeth together as he continued to slowly lumber over to the bed. “I've been doing too much this past week.”

She was surprised he'd admitted what she'd known. Since she'd come last week, he'd gone up and down several flights of stairs, carried her around repeatedly, and even playfully wrestled her to the bed. There was no denying he'd been using his leg too much. “Lie down. I'll be back in a minute.”

“
Where are you going?”

“
I'm going to see if there's anything for pain in the kitchen.”

He scowled. “There's not.”

“
How do you know?” She put her hand on her hip.

Marcus shifted against the pillows. “Allow me to rephrase. There's no pain medicine in this house I'll take without it being forced down my throat.”

“
You've taken a strong dislike to laudanum. I take it you were given enough of it after your fall.”

“
You're correct. The only reason I ever allowed that vile concoction into this house is because Olivia demanded it on a weekly basis to alleviate whatever was ailing her at the time.”

Emma turned her face so Marcus wouldn't see her snicker. “All right, no laudanum. What about a poultice? Would that help?” She turned her gaze back to him and watched as he idly rubbed his leg.

“
Don't bother. The pain usually goes away by morning. And if it doesn't, then I'll do something about that unpleasant possibility when the time comes.”

“
Goodnight, then.” She took hold of the door handle to shut it behind her on her way out.

“
Wait.”

She turned her head slightly in his direction. “Yes?”

“
Could you help me first?” He jiggled his foot slightly to draw attention to his boots.

“
Right. Can't sleep with your boots on, can you?” She walked over to him and sat down on the end of the bed. “Put them on my lap, it'll be easier to unlace them that way.”

He obeyed and watched her as she untied the laces and pulled his boots off. “Thank you.”

“
You're welcome. Is there anything else you need?” She couldn't force herself to look at him as she asked that question. The only other thing left for her to do was help him remove his clothes, and he'd made it quite clear on several occasions now that he'd not require her help on that score.

“
Just one more thing.” He removed his feet from her lap so she could stand.

She stood and clasped her hands together in front of her. “What can I help you with?”

He held up his hand and crooked his finger at her. “Come closer,” he urged, his face expressionless.

She took a step closer. “What would you like me to do for you, Marcus?”

“
You're not close enough yet. I think three big steps should do the trick.”

Humoring him, she took three steps in his direction. “Yes?”

Marcus slipped both his hands under his head, interlocking his fingers before looking back up at her. “I don't think I'll sleep very well without a goodnight kiss.”

“
You're impossible.”

He frowned. “Not at all.” He reached his right hand out from behind his head and took hold of her hand in his. “Emma, I thought we'd agreed to forget about earlier.”

“
I didn't say anything.”

“
You didn't have to,” he countered. “Your refusal to kiss me and the tension in your hand told me more than your voice ever would.”

She cracked a smile. It would seem she was rather obvious. “All right. One kiss.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but his quick hands reached up and framed her face before she could pull away.

“
Not yet,” he whispered. He pulled her lips back to his and kissed her again. “Don't go back downstairs. Stay here. With me.”

Emma shut her eyes. She didn't want to make herself look like a tart again by making assumptions. “It's best I go downstairs.”

“
No,” he said, shaking his head adamantly. “Stay. I'll not dishonor you, I promise.”

She smoothed a lock of his hair back from his brow. She knew he'd not dishonor her. The problem was she could very easily dishonor herself if she stayed in the same room with him tonight.

Before she could voice another protest, however, he wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her on top of him. “I love the way you feel against me,” he murmured before he kissed her again.

Emma’s breasts swelled and her nipples hardened against his muscled chest. As Marcus deepened their kiss, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his thick brown hair. Twirling her fingers in the silky strands, she allowed him to roll her onto her back. “Marcus,” she sighed.

Marcus’ lips left her mouth and left a hot, searing path to her ear then to her neck. She arched her back, granting him better access.

He groaned. Lowering his lips to her shoulder, he used his thumbs and pulled both straps of her chemise over the crest of her shoulder. His fingers let go of her chemise and his hand moved over to gently cup the bottom of her right breast.

She sighed as his fingers seared her flesh and made it tingle through the thin fabric. Wanting to touch him as intimately as he was touching her, she reached between his arms and quickly undid his waistcoat and attempted to shove it, along with his coat, off his shoulders.

Reluctantly, Marcus removed his hand from the underside of her breast as she pushed his coat and waistcoat off his shoulders, immediately putting his hand back when she was done. Emma settled her hands on his shoulders then lingered down to the hard muscles in the tops of his arms. She marveled at the feel of him. He felt hard as stone, and yet as warm as freshly baked bread.

Marcus’ body shifted and his lips traced the top edge of her chemise, bringing her excitement to the next level. She pressed her breast more firmly into his hand and moved her fingers to the front of his shirt to undo the buttons.

Slipping the first three free with great ease, Emma reached her hands inside his shirt to connect with the bare, rough skin of his chest. Marcus pulled back as if she'd touched him with a branding iron. “Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head. “No. They're not sensitive to the touch. A bit itchy at times, but not tender.”

“
Then why did you jump back?” She looked down and watched as Marcus propped himself up on the bed on one forearm and used his other hand to close his shirt. “Marcus?”

He looked at her, his grey eyes full of uncertainty. “I just prefer not to be touched there.”

“
That's not an answer.”

“
Well, it's the only one you're getting.”

She closed her eyes and refused to sigh. “Marcus, I know they're there. I don't care.”

He looked as if he didn't really believe her. “I care.”

“
Well, I don't,” she said flippantly. “It's a part of who you are.”

“
Yes, I know.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.

“
Then what's the problem? They're on your face, too, but you don't go around insisting on wearing a mask. What's the difference?”

His eyes grew hard. “Emma, leave it alone.”

She shook her head. “I don't understand you. I love you, Marcus. I always have. Before your scars and after. They mean nothing to me. Why can't you accept that?”

“
I have accepted them,” he countered, rolling off her and onto his side of the bed.

“
I wasn't talking about your scars. I was talking about my love.”

“
I've accepted that, too.” He glanced away as he said it, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought she picked up on a trace of sadness in his tone. “But that does nothing to change the way I feel about...” He shrugged as if that were a sufficient way to finish the sentence.

Trying not to groan in aggravation, she shook her head against the pillow and stared up at the embroidered flowers in the top of the canopy.

Why did he have to be so difficult? She knew the scars were there and didn't find them repulsive the way most would. She loved him, so why should he have insecurities around her?

She rolled on her side, ready to demand some answers from him when she noticed the soft set of his slightly unhinged jaw and heard his soft snores.

Refusing to act like Louise would in this situation by waking him up to argue, she rolled over onto her back and once again studied the needlework on the canopy. Tomorrow was a new day. She'd get her answers then. Even if it meant she had to take a few minutes to consult with Lady Bird's naughty book to determine a sneaky way to have him at her command, she would.

Chapter 15

Marcus was relieved that Emma had believed his act. There was no way he could sleep after everything that had just happened between them, not to mention the horrific pain in his leg.

To Emma it seemed immaterial for him to remove his shirt. She was right. He had nothing to hide. She knew as well as anyone about the scars that covered his arms, chest, stomach, and back. The scars themselves weren't the real reason he had refused to remove his shirt and let her touch him. They only served to remind him once again of what he could never have: Emma. She may say she didn’t even see the physical scars that covered the upper half of his body, but she’d care about the rest. That was why the plan he’d developed last night had to work.