Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(82)

So in one last fit of going against the demands of society and her parents, she snuck away to dance. It was the last night before they were to leave for London. After all, the Season would start soon, and although she was betrothed, her parents wanted her to attend. They hoped she would gain some friends, considering most her time would now be spent in London, once the wedding was completed. Not wanting to take any chances of getting caught, she would often practice in the small hunters lodge next to the stream. It was only a mile from her house, close enough for her to feel safe but far enough away she felt she wouldn’t be discovered.

Laughter bubbled out of her as she reached the cabin and slammed the door behind her. The air was charged with excitement. Emma made sure to lock the large wooden door, as was tradition, and then turned to start the fire.

After lighting the nearest lamp, she began swaying her hips. The rhythm started slow and sensual as she lifted her arms above her head and snapped her wrists. And as her hips continued to sway, she allowed her hands to twist and turn, convulsing her body into the familiar rhythm taught to her by her Romany friend.

A loud thump jolted her out of her haze.

She shrieked as a cloaked figure walked toward her.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

His voice sounded gentry. Too much like a gentleman, but there were no gentleman in the area she knew of, other than her betrothed and his family.

She swallowed and slowly walked backward toward the locked door, her mind a jumble of ways she could escape without the man grabbing her. How could she have been so stupid to come out her alone? Yet she had done so for the past two months without disturbance.

“Aw, my pet, do not run away from me just yet. I have something special planned for you.”

“No thank you.” Her voice was weak. Quickly, she turned the notch to unlock the door, but the man's hands pushed her against the wooden frame.

“Oh, you won’t be leaving. There is no way out.”

He slammed her body into the door and began rustling with her skirts.

This was not happening; it could not be happening.

She tried to scream but was immediately silenced by his large hand.

The other hand continued to frantically grab at her skirts. She kicked him in the shin and tried for the door again.

“Okay, pet, now you’ve made me angry.”

With a guttural growl, he ripped open her dress, revealing her bodice, and leered at her breasts. Her corset and chemise still covered her body, but she felt horribly exposed and dirty.

“So you like to tease, do you? You little witch, I should have known you would want me like this. You’ve been begging for months. I almost had you so many times, but now I’ll have you as much as I want. I know you want it too. If you scream it will just make it better for me.” He leaned in so she could smell the reek of brandy on his breath. “Nobody will want you now. Nobody will have you but me.”

Her pulse raced as she fought frantically to free herself from his grasp. Her prayers were answered as the door she was leaning against began to move wildly behind her. Shouts were heard on the other side of the wooden door.

The man cursed and pushed her down before opening the back window and escaping. Utterly exhausted and weak she fell to the ground in one giant heap alternating between sobs and choking.

The door opened revealing her father and their nearest neighbors the Rawlings and, to her horror, the man she was betrothed to. Naturally all they saw was a young girl with her clothes torn, alone and crying.

Nothing needed to be said, because no matter how many times she tried to explain what had happened, nobody believed she hadn’t invited advances from a man. Not even her own parents, and especially not the man who had earlier that year pledged himself to be her husband.

Emma never danced again.





Chapter One


London, England

Four Years Later



Nicholas was convinced his wife of five years had gotten used to his habit of pacing when he had something on his mind. Yet back and forth he went as the clock on the wall chimed noon. He felt it in his skin, in his bones.

She was going to protest.

They’d both been in his study since he brought the suggestion to her ears, and her expression in those past few hours hadn’t changed to anything more agreeable than it was at this moment.

“What exactly do you mean when you say he’s already here?” she inquired, the slight rise in her voice giving away that she was a little more annoyed than he had previously guessed. In a span of five seconds, her mouth was open to ask another question, and he silenced her with his hand.

Usually their arguments went the other way around. All she needed to do was flash a smile in his direction and he would buy the blasted moon, if it would make her happy. But today the tables were turned, because it was he who was asking the favor.

And it was obvious she had more self control than he did, which oddly enough wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances of their marriage. Naturally he assumed it was because she was a woman, but mentioning that around her wasn’t good for his health, which meant he kept his mouth good and shut. Yes, compromising his dear wife before she had any chance to protest had turned out to be the best mistake of his life.

He flashed one of his most genuine and sensual smiles, and noticing the breath steal from her lungs, he leaned over and kissed her firmly on the mouth.