Page 75 of The Earl’s Entanglement

He tried not to smile at the way her eyes darkened at his deliberate mention of the storeroom.

Garrick turned his attention to Geoffrey. “So were you pleased with the outcome of the council?”

“Very much.” Geoffrey held up his mug for a toast. “Cheers, Lord Clave, on your day. It appears your return to England has been quite successful so far.”

“Mostly so,” Emma said.

Though her brother drew his brows together, Garrick knew what to expect—more teasing.

“On the return trip, that night on Clan Scott’s land. You seemed vexed. Frustrated. I never did get to ask if all was well.”

His thoughts immediately went to that night. How he’d opened the door to find Emma standing there, lantern in hand. He’d pleased her well and would do it again tonight.

Oh, she was bold.

“Ahh, that. I do recall now. It was something the chief said. Nothing of importance. In fact”—he tried not to grin—“it was so inconsequential I’d nearly forgotten it.”

When her eyes narrowed, Garrick resisted the urge to laugh aloud. It really was too easy to tease her back.

“Speaking of Graeme de Sowlis,” Geoffrey interjected, “I nearly forgot to mention.” He turned to Emma. “Sara believes we should invite him to Kenshire. What do you think?”

Geoffrey’s words landed between them like a sea-tossed ship thrown onto a shore of rocks, obliterating even the memory of any smooth sailing.

The Scottish chief was going to propose to Emma. Or, at the very least, pursue her.

No.

He’d told Emma to ignore whatever he said this eve for this exact reason. Somehow he had known Geoffrey would ask for his opinion of the chief. And he would not lie and slander a man he respected.

“I do believe Sara and I had that same discussion before I left,” Garrick said. “As I told her, Sowlis should be considered.”

Geoffrey took the words as they were given, as an affirmation of Graeme’s good intentions, no more.

But Graeme de Sowlis would not marry Emma.

After tonight, there would be no doubt of it.

19

He’d intended to take her virginity tonight, but he couldn’t go through with it. No matter how much he wanted her, it would be irresponsible to treat her as such. He would have to wait until they had an understanding.

“Emma?”

Garrick opened the door without knocking. The darkened chamber was lit only by a fire and two candles, so when she appeared in front of him, it was as if she’d been conjured from his dreams.

“I thought you may be sleeping.”

His heartbeat thudded with every step she took toward him. Her velvet robe could have passed for a gown until she came closer. But now he could clearly see the slit that made its way from her neck to the ground.

“Sleeping?”

She reached out, hesitant and unsure.

He took the outstretched hand, pulled her toward him, and enveloped her in a kiss that was meant to claim. Garrick poured all of his frustration and urgency into that kiss. It terrified him how much he wanted her. He’d kissed more women than he could count, but never had he become so lost, so quickly. Never had the urge to be inside a woman physically pained him.

Overcome with the desire to see more of her, to feel her body against his, Garrick tore her robe off in one swift motion. He grasped Emma’s hair at the nape of her neck, pulled her toward him, and ravaged her mouth.

She shoved at his tunic, and he broke contact with her for just long enough to remove the offending garment from his body. He threw it on the floor beside them, and then, at Emma’s prompting, did the same with his shirt.