Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(17)

She didn’t immediately right herself but clenched her gloved hands in her lap and continued leaning against him, head bent. “I. . . I am at a loss as to what to say, as usual. Should we stay in the carriage?”

Tempted, but aware of the constraints of travel, Dare wound a loosened tendril around his finger and kissed her ear again. “The next stop will not be as nice an inn as this one. We’ll only change horses there, so it’s best to use the facilities here.” He forced his legs over the side of his makeshift bed and secured her garden hat, returning it to her. Sighing with regret as he gave her fair bosom one last glance, Dare refastened her silly purple cape over her shoulders. “I’ll have no other man admire what is mine. I’m feeling oddly possessive today.”

Which struck him almost as hard as his lust. His mistress could have taken a dozen lovers, and he wouldn’t have cared so long as she made time for him. But this woman. . . This one was his and his alone. Somehow, that made a difference. Perhaps because all that mattered to him had been inherited—except his horse. He had gained Emilia of his own accord, and she was a precious asset he must nurture, as his father had never tended the wealth of resources he’d been given.

The footman handed Emilia out. Dare had to adjust his trousers and don his coat before he was even remotely decent. Grabbing the door frame and using the steps instead of leaping out as he had once used to do reduced his ardor somewhat. He was only half the man he’d been. He’d do well to remember that.

“We should arrive in Alder this evening, shouldn’t we?” she asked in a low voice before they entered the inn.

“Barring lame horses and broken axles, yes,” he said with fervency, taking her hand on his arm and leading her to an inn maid who would see to her needs.

He’d been a selfish idiot to believe they could travel without her personal maid. He still didn’t regret the rose in her cheeks when she threw him a thoughtful glance over her shoulder, before she was led away down a dark corridor. Tonight, they could share a bed.

He arranged a luncheon basket so they could return to the road immediately. Then he availed himself of the facilities, felt no need to cast up what remained of his breakfast, and forewent the medicine bottle.

His lady returned with her hair properly rearranged, looking as modest as was possible in that fashionable outfit, by the time a fresh team had been harnessed.

He climbed in, helped her up, took the lunch basket and set it on the floor, and signaled that they were prepared to proceed. As the door shut and he returned to his damned bed, he watched in satisfaction as her hat landed on the far seat. She deliberately untied her cape and flung it to join the hat, conveying her surrender.

A surge of joy and lust energized him.

They had an hour or more before the next stop. Dare tugged his bride until she tumbled across his lap.



Emilia gasped at suddenly being enveloped in big, warm male. She, who barely hugged her own family, was now shoulder to thigh with a near stranger, with his strong arms surrounding her. She could feel his limbs through her layers of clothing.

And it was. . . interesting. Exciting even, if she could recover from her attack of nerves. If only she could think clearly. . . She couldn’t, but it seemed their mutual lust diverted the healing connection that began with prickles warning of pain and energy depletion to follow. She might suffer later but it was worth the risk. This contact was too new and marvelous to forego.

“We have at least an hour to play, more, if we leave the curtains drawn,” he whispered in a deep voice low in his throat. He returned to fiddling with her bodice fastening.

She’d been the one to wantonly cast aside her pelerine. She could not complain if he took full advantage of her loose behavior. She did not want to complain. She had not been able to think of anything else the whole time they were separated. She wanted his hand on her breast again. That had been the most amazing. . .

She gasped as he located the bodice hook beneath the ruffle.

“I will double your modiste’s wages,” Lord Dare said in admiration, easily unhooking her. “A front-opening bodice is nothing short of brilliant.”

It had been Celeste’s idea, actually. Her new cousin was a seamstress with very practical notions. But Emilia was incapable of discussion while her husband systematically worked her fastenings and his bare fingers came closer to her aching flesh. The prickles were always worse when flesh touched flesh. She held her breath, praying. . .

“And the corset, too!” he covered her face in kisses, distracting her from what his agile fingers were accomplishing—until his big hot hand had covered her breast.

She almost melted. Instead of noticing pain, she became excruciatingly aware that she was sitting across his thighs, and there was a long, hard. . . movement. . . beneath her bottom.

“It’s too much,” she gasped, clutching his waistcoat and dislodging his encroaching hand.

He arranged her more comfortably across one hard thigh but returned his hand to her breast. “Your turn, then. What would you like to do next?”

She was in serious danger of expiring from sensation and could scarcely pull two words together. “I. . . I do not know.”

But she did. She wanted to touch his bare chest, except his waistcoat was fastened for a change. And his shirt was tucked into his trousers. And of course, touching bare skin was likely to. . . She settled on untying the black cravat around his neckcloth.