Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(29)

Squaring her shoulders, she strode briskly out of the room and down to the parlor, where Nikolas waited. She hesitated just before crossing the threshold and turned back to the maid, who had followed her. “You may leave us alone, Katie.”

The maid opened her mouth to argue, but as she met Emma's determined gaze, she nodded in resignation.

Emma took a deep breath, closed the door, and turned to face Nikolas. He rose from a chair and stared at her intently. He looked as handsome and remote as ever, his eyes as bright as topaz. Emma had intended to speak first, but suddenly she couldn't say a word. Meeting in such restrained surroundings, after she had shared his bed the night before, was hard to bear. She stood there in silence, her color rising, her pulse racing.

Nikolas approached her and took her cold hand in his warm one. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked softly.

“I…I thought you might have,” Emma blurted out.

A gleam of amusement showed in his eyes. “There's no chance of that. Not when I've waited so long for you.”

She shook her head in confusion. “How can that be true? I could believe it if I were beautiful, or accomplished, or gifted in some way, but I'm only—”

Nikolas slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. His kiss was deep and warm, reminding her of the dizzying passion of last night. After a long moment, he lifted his head and stared into her dazed blue eyes. “I want you. I'll never stop wanting you, even if you decide to turn down my proposal.” His hand slipped down the length of her back, coming to rest on the lowest point of her spine. “Consider this, Emma…there are many reasons why people decide to marry. Love, loneliness, convenience, necessity…and sometimes, as in our case, friendship. That's not such a bad reason, is it?”

His words unlocked an unexpected wellspring of relief inside her. The impulse to take his help, to lean on him, was impossible to resist.

“No,” she said breathlessly. “I mean, I'll still marry you. I haven't changed my mind.”

“Good.” He kissed her again, pulling her hard against his aroused body, letting her feel exactly how much he desired her. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips parting beneath the pressure of his. She had never felt so overwhelmed by a man, not only by his physical appeal but by the sheer force of his personality. And yet she was not afraid of him. She wanted to meet the challenge he offered, to know and master him as effortlessly as he did her. With an odd little shock, she realized that she wouldn't mind at all if he dragged her upstairs and climbed into bed with her right now.

Nikolas drew back his head and smiled slightly, as if he could read her thoughts. “Shall we go to Southgate Hall and inform your family?”

“They won't give you their blessing,” Emma warned.

He laughed, and gently fingered the blue bow at her throat. “I don't intend to ask for it, ruyshka.”

They spoke very little on the carriage ride to the Stokehurst country estate. Emma was occupied with her own thoughts, while Nikolas was filled with triumph. He stole swift glances at her determined profile as she stared out the window. The sunlight gave her skin a luminous glow and made her freckles gleam like a sprinkling of gold. He thought of the way her hair felt in his hands, soft and vibrant. Emma had given him more pleasure than he had ever imagined—not to mention the first taste of peace he'd had in his life.

He suppressed a grim smile as he imagined Lucas Stokehurst's reaction to the news of the impending nuptials. He and Stokehurst had always disliked each other, not only on a personal level but also on a cultural one. Emma's father openly mistrusted the fatalism and mysticism of Russian ways, considering anything different from Western civilization as barbaric. Stokehurst loved his wife, Tasia, but that love didn't extend to her native country, a country that Nikolas represented at its savage worst. And now Stokehurst's daughter would marry a Russian. Nikolas smiled with a trace of devilish enjoyment.

“I'm not sure I like the look on your face,” Emma commented. “Like a cat with a mouse beneath its paw.”

He met her gaze and grinned openly. “Who is the mouse? Not you, certainly.”

“I feel more like one with every mile that brings us closer to my father.”

His gaze narrowed perceptively. “You're not afraid, are you?”

Emma lifted her shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug. “No, but…it's not going to be easy.”

“Of course it is. There won't be a battle, if that's what you're dreading.”

She gave a scornful laugh. “How can you say that, knowing my family?”

“Have some faith. I'm a very persuasive man.” There was a sly gleam in his eyes as he added, “You should know that by now.”

Emma bristled and glared at him, but he just smiled mockingly.

At last they reached the Stokehurst estate. One footman proceeded to help them from the carriage, while another hastened to alert the butler to their arrival. Emma took Nikolas's arm, her fingers tightening on his sleeve as they ascended the front steps.

She gave the butler a tense smile. Seymour's face was as blank as usual, but Emma thought she detected a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Seymour, where are Papa and Tasia?”

“I believe they are in the library, miss.”

“Are they entertaining guests?”