Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(3)

Thinking herself alone, Emma fidgeted on the bench, tried to flatten her red curls, and arranged her legs several times to make them appear shorter. Evidently deciding her efforts were useless, she slumped in resignation. Nikolas smiled at her antics. Emma rose to her feet, brushed off her skirts, and stretched her back, standing in profile to him. Nikolas admired the elegant length of her body, the roundness of her br**sts. She paced around the bench and broke off a sprig of honeysuckle from a hedgerow.

A man's voice cut through the serene rustling of the garden. “Darling!”

Emma turned, dropping the honeysuckle. A dazzling smile appeared on her face. “You're late,” she accused, and rushed to the visitor. Flinging herself into his arms, she lavished a storm of kisses on his face.

“I had to sneak away without causing suspicion.” The young man laughed as he tried to defend himself. “You know nothing would stop me from coming to you.”

“Every time I see you across the room, I want to run into your arms.”

“Soon we'll be together.”

“How soon?” she asked impatiently.

“Very. Now, hold still so I can kiss you.” He grasped Emma's curly head in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers.

Nikolas watched the lovers, his eyes narrowed and intent. The man's back was turned to him. Patiently Nikolas circled them. He pushed aside a low-hanging branch to get a good view.

The man drew back slightly, the light falling on his face. It was Lord Adam Milbank.

Suddenly Nikolas relaxed. “Perfect,” he said under his breath, and meant it.

Now he understood Emma's need for secrecy. Milbank was an impoverished viscount. A fortune hunter. Emma's father would never allow his only daughter to marry a penniless manipulator like Milbank. No doubt Stokehurst had forbidden them to see each other. Nikolas turned and walked back to the ballroom, almost purring with satisfaction. It would be easy to get rid of Milbank. Nothing would stand in the way of his having Emma.

Emma linked her arms around Adam Milbank's neck. She breathed in his smell, clenched her hands in his jacket, luxuriated in his nearness. He was a tall, good-looking man of twenty-four with an appealing boyishness. “I'm more in love with you every day,” she said, staring into his velvety brown eyes. “I think about you all the time.”

Tenderly Adam stroked the side of her face. “You've bewitched me, Emma Stokehurst.” He kissed her for a long moment, his mouth warm, his arms locked around her narrow back. When he lifted his head, they were both slightly out of breath. “We'll have to return to the party soon,” he said. “Separately, of course. It won't do to have anyone suspect us. And don't scowl like that. You know it's necessary.”

“It seems as if we've been doing this forever, Adam. Ten minutes here and there…it's not enough. Now that we're both certain of how we feel, we should confront Father together. And if he won't give his blessing to our marriage, we'll elope.”

“Hush, darling,” Adam soothed, his face shadowed with sudden wariness. “I don't want to hear the word ‘elope’ from your lips ever again. I know how important your family is to you. I won't be the cause of a separation between you and your father.”

“But Papa may never approve.”

“He'll come around in time.” Tenderly Adam kissed her furrowed forehead. “I can be very patient, Em.”

“I can't.” Emma gave a frustrated laugh. “Patience may be one of your virtues, but not mine.”

“Try talking to your stepmother,” Adam suggested. “If you can win her to our side, she might soften your father's heart toward me.”

“Maybe,” Emma said thoughtfully. Her stepmother, Tasia, had always been like a kind older sister, unfailingly sympathetic to Emma's problems. “I suppose if anyone could change Papa's mind, it would be Tasia. But if that doesn't work—”

“It has to work. Em, you must understand how important it is to have your father's approval. We can never be married without it.”

She drew back in surprise. “Never? Why not?”

“We won't have any money to live on.”

“But money isn't as important as being together.”

“That's a very nice sentiment, sweetheart, but you've grown up with the finer things in life. You have no idea what it's like to do without. And remember, without a dowry you would have to give up your menagerie, and sell your animals to zoos and private buyers.”

“No,” Emma said, horrified at the thought. “My animals would be terribly mistreated. I couldn't allow that to happen.” For years she had kept a menagerie on her family's estate, taking in strays and wounded creatures of all kinds. She harbored horses, bears, wolves and dogs, monkeys, and even an Asian tiger. “They depend on me…very few of them would survive without special care.”

“Then you understand that it's necessary for us to have your family's consent?”

“Yes,” Emma said reluctantly. She longed to goad Adam into confronting her father. If only Adam would stand up to him, and demand his permission to marry her. It would never happen, though. Poor Adam hated arguments, and he, like everyone else, was in awe of her father.

It was understandable. Her father, Lord Stokehurst, intimidated people easily. In his eyes, no one was good enough for her. Several months ago he had flatly forbidden Adam to court Emma. Adam had been too terrified to argue. Instead he had slunk away in defeat, and now the whole situation was impossible.