Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(44)

Nikolas pulled her down to his chest and hugged her as he thrust straight into her center. Emma moved her mouth against his ear and caught the soft lobe in her teeth, making him growl with desire. Clasped against his long, scarred body, she felt the waves of excitement deepen until she was lost in a searing cl**ax. She sobbed against his neck and writhed in delight. Almost immediately Nikolas convulsed with the same pleasure, his breath hissing through his teeth as he drew a sharp breath. He made a low, helpless sound and pushed one last time, holding himself deep inside her.

Knowing his dislike of being touched too long, Emma began to roll away. Nikolas gripped her h*ps in a reflexive movement, holding her against him. They lay together for several minutes, breathing, relaxing, while the cool air dried the perspiration on Emma's back. A new feeling came over her, a sense of calmness and quiet she had never known. Nikolas's heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, his hands gentle as he traced the curves of her h*ps and bottom. The hair at her temple was stirred into flutters by his breath, and his lips brushed her cheek. It was the most tender gesture he had ever made to her. Soon Emma was lulled to sleep. She was so tired…too tired to make anything but the faintest protest as she felt him leave her during the night.

The first thing Emma saw when she awoke was the flattened pillow beside hers. She lay amid the jumble of sheets and experienced a strange feeling of lightness, almost giddiness. Last night with Nikolas had been different from any other time he had visited her. He had been so intense, savage…and the moment of intimacy afterward…it was as if they had crossed a boundary Nikolas had never intended to reach.

Remembering, Emma turned crimson with an excitement she couldn't explain, even to herself. What would Nikolas say to her today?

She took a long bath and scented her wrists and throat with spicy perfume, then tied her hair at the nape of her neck with a crisp peach-colored ribbon. With Rashel's help, she dressed in a white ruffled blouse and a peach skirt. There was a deep side pocket on the skirt, adorned with a large silk rosette. Pleased with her clean-scrubbed, glowing appearance, Emma went down to breakfast just as the clock chimed nine.

She was gratified to find that Nikolas was at the breakfast table, behind a concealing screen of newspaper. He didn't bother to rise or even glance at her, only flipped a page with meticulous care.

“Good morning,” Emma said brightly.

The newspaper lowered a few inches to reveal her husband's expressionless face. His hair was damp and freshly washed, his golden skin gleaming from a close shave. Emma wondered if, like her, he had taken special pains with his appearance this morning. “It's not often we have breakfast at the same time,” she commented, seating herself beside him. “I'm usually out with the animals at this hour.”

“Why not today?”

“Well…there's nothing the servants can't take care of. Just routine chores.” For the first time Emma could ever remember, she wanted to spend a morning doing something else rather than tending her animals. Her heart beat a little faster as she thought that perhaps Nikolas might invite her to spend the day with him. They could ride or take a walk together, stroll past a market or through a promenade of shops. “What are you planning to do today, Nikki?”

“I have business in London.”

“I could come along with you,” she said casually.

“What for?”

“To spend time together.”

Nikolas set the paper down. His brows lifted sardonically. “Why the hell would we want to do that?”

“I just thought…” Emma began, and floundered into silence.

Reading the disappointment on her face, Nikolas turned caustic. “I hope you're not going to pretend there's more than mere friendship between us. Let's not play that game, Emma. There's no need to complicate things. Surely even you aren't naive enough to have romantic illusions about me.”

In the wake of her rapidly deflating pride, Emma's temper began to seethe. “You're the last person I'd ever have illusions about!”

“That's a relief. Don't ever become softhearted, Emma. There's no faster way to bore a man.”

“Well, I'd hate for you to become bored,” she said, struggling to match his cool, jeering tone.

Just as the exchange promised to escalate into an argument, Stanislaus came to the door of the breakfast room. Although the butler looked and sounded much the same as usual, there was a tension in his face, a line between his slanting brows, that alerted both Emma and Nikolas.

“Your Highness,” Stanislaus said evenly, “there are visitors at the front entrance. A farm woman and a small boy. The woman is asking to see you.”

“Tell her to take any complaints to the estate agent,” came Nikolas's curt reply.

“Sir, perhaps…” The butler paused delicately. “Perhaps you might want to hear what the woman has to say.”

Coming from a butler, the suggestion was astonishingly bold. Only highly unusual circumstances could have prompted it. The two men exchanged a long stare. Wordlessly Nikolas stood and left the room, brushing by Stanislaus. Emma followed close behind, too curious to resist. They went to the front entrance of the manor, and down the wide steps to where the two small figures waited outside.

The farm woman was dressed in simple clothes and a threadbare shawl that had once been blue but had deteriorated to a dingy shade of gray. Her face might have been pretty except for the careworn expression and the lines of sun and weariness around her eyes. The skinny child beside her, a boy of five or six, wore decent but well-worn little trousers and a corduroy coat with sleeves that were too short. He had a sullen, tanned face and thick brows that matched his black hair.