Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(87)

She should have been pleased at this bit of good luck. She had never dreamed the timing would be so perfect, having Nikolas see her in the midst of a cozy chat with her former suitor. Instead she was seized with cold worry. She had meant to stir up trouble, and now she wasn't so certain she wanted it.

Nikolas's face was flushed. Strange, he was usually so adept at hiding his feelings—but he looked absolutely furious, as if some demonic frenzy were about to be turned loose. Adam Milbank stood up with his fists clenched, looking not defensive but equally enraged. Hatred seethed in the air like a living thing. Emma was amazed by the explosive silence. Once she might have provoked a fight between the two of them, and taken great pleasure in it, but now she tried to defuse the situation.

“Nikki,” she said with a shallow smile, “you're back early. I was just having a conversation with Lord Milbank, waiting for some tea to be brought in—”

“I'm afraid I don't have time for tea,” Adam interrupted, his gaze locked with her husband's. “I've just recalled a pressing engagement. I must leave at once.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” Emma said instantly, and tried to usher him toward the door. “It was pleasant to see you. Please give our regards to Lady Milbank.”

Nikolas spoke then, his tone simmering with belligerence. “This is the last time you'll come sniffing around my wife, Milbank. Don't try it again, or I'll rip you limb from limb.”

Rather than fear, the statement provoked a flash of malevolent defiance from Adam. He stopped near the door, his arm like steel beneath Emma's tugging grip. “This isn't the last you'll see of me,” he said in a low hiss. “You were once able to smash my dreams to bits because I was afraid of you. I'm not afraid any longer. I'm going to even the score, and I promise you won't have to wait for long. I owe it to Emma as well as myself.”

Emma's hand fell away from Adam, and she stared at him in surprise. She had never heard him speak like that before. He strode away rapidly, leaving her to face her husband, who watched Adam's departure with a contemptuous curl to his lip.

“Where is Jake?” she asked, trying to appear relaxed, even though her stomach was pierced with needles of anxiety.

“When Stanislaus told me that Milbank was here, I sent Jake upstairs.” His gaze traveled over her in a quick sweep. “Did you invite him here?”

“No, he was making a social call—although I will invite him or anyone else I choose, and I won't ask your permission!”

Nikolas took a step toward her, his expression darkening. “I won't abide his presence in my home.”

“After all you've done to me, you have no right to complain about any of my friends or anything I choose to do with them.”

“I'm not complaining. I'm telling you to stay the hell away from him.”

“You arrogant, conceited—You can be a petty dictator with everyone else, but not me! And stop treating me as if I'm a fool, putting on this jealousy act when I know perfectly well that you don't give a damn about me—”

“I love you,” he growled. “Damn you for not believing it!”

She laughed sharply. “You have such a sweet way of showing it.”

“I do love you,” Nikolas said through his teeth. “So much that I'm going to explode. Do you have any idea of how much I need you? I nearly go insane every night, knowing you're so damn close, alone in your bed—”

He broke off and seized her in an unbreakable grip, leaving her no chance of retreat. “Emma,” he murmured, pulling her close until she could feel the tremor in his body, the tightly leashed power that strained to be free. He was intensely aroused, the taut ridge of flesh burning against her loins. Emma was startled to feel a throb of response in her own body. Her pulse thrummed as if a resonant chord had been struck within her. Suddenly she knew she wanted him to hold her like this—she had wanted it for weeks.

She felt his lips on hers, eager and hard and sweet; felt the pressure of his hands as he urged her higher against his body. His lungs shuddered with a breath of relief, and he kissed her more deeply, greedily searching the warm interior of her mouth. She could smell the cold outdoor air on his clothes, and the scents of wool and tea that mingled in pleasantly familiar harmony. She flexed her body around him, arms tightening and legs pressing to hold him in her sphere. Her breath came fast, driven by pleasure and excitement. Nikolas had never kissed her like this before, not with skill or technique, but with raw feeling. The sensations climbed too far, too fast, and she broke away with a fearful sob.

Nikolas released her without a struggle, staring at her with hot golden eyes.

Emma fought to catch her breath, and clasped her arms around her middle. She had never felt so defenseless, so horrifyingly vulnerable. In that moment she discarded all plans of pitting herself against him or putting him in his place. She had to stay away from him if she was to have any chance of keeping herself whole. “Don't bother me like this again,” she said shakily. “If you need a woman so badly, find someone else. I don't want you. Even if I did find pleasure in it, I would hate myself afterward.” Her throat clenched, not allowing any more words, and she fled the drawing room.

Nikolas followed Emma purposefully. He wasn't finished yet. He wanted to know exactly what had been said between her and Milbank, and how Emma felt about her former suitor. She headed outside toward the menagerie, her green skirts swishing along the cold ground and billowing in the blustering wind.