Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(36)

“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, bemoaning the loss of contact when he removed his hand from her grasp. She dusted off her hands upon the chintz apron she’d donned for gardening. Her tools jangled in the front pockets.

“You garden.”

“I am surprised to see you.”

They spoke in unison.

“Yes, I garden.” She frowned at the pile of weeds at their feet. “Though I fear I’ve been neglecting these far too long this Season.”

A full smile turned Drake’s lips. This wasn’t the mocking grin she’d come to expect from him.

Her heart leapt erratically beneath her breast.

“Uh, yes, I overheard that as well,” Drake said.

Her toes curled with mortification. Of course he’d heard that. And of course the day he chose to pay his first visit, she would be less than presentable. She grimaced. With her stained skirts, ‘less than presentable’ was being magnanimous.

To top off this splendidly disastrous day, he’d discovered her talking to plants…about him no less.

“I have a tendency to talk to my plants.”

He said nothing and Emmaline felt all the more humiliation for the admission. Stop talking, Em.

Over Drake’s shoulder, she caught sight of Grace as she entered the gardens. The maid sat on a bench near the entrance of the portcullis.

Emmaline waited for Drake to fill the void. She’d learned over the years; nothing her betrothed did was without careful deliberation. Something had brought him round to visit today…and she didn’t think it had a jot to do with her stimulating company.

“I’ve come by for a reason.”

And direct. Lord Drake was direct.

Well, they may as well get to the heart of it. Oh, but how nice it would have been if he’d merely come for a visit. She sighed. “What brings you here, my lord?”

“About last evening,” he began. “I saw you and I must inquire as to your flirtation last evening.”

In the full light of day, memories of her brazen kiss from the evening prior made her cringe. She toed the ground with the tip of her black boot, kicking aside a soft patch of mud. Oh, if she could just dig a hole and bury herself. “I-ah—it was merely a kiss.” But it hadn’t been just a kiss. In fact, it felt blasphemous to so slight that magical union of their lips.

A vein bulged at the left corner of his neck, the only indication of his tightly suppressed control. “Just a kiss?” he asked silkily.

Now she’d gone and done it. She’d offended his male pride. Emmaline waved her hand breezily, or rather gave her best attempt at breezy. “La, sir. You’ve kissed so many ladies. I cannot imagine my kissing one gentleman would rouse such a stuffy reaction.” She cringed. Had she really just said, La sir?

“You kissed him, too?”

She scratched her forehead. “I kissed who, too?”

“Him,” he growled.

“Do you mean, you?” His convoluted questioning was beginning to give her a megrim. “And I would hardly call it a flirtation,” she added.

His eyes narrowed, the emerald deepening to a jade hue, as they were wont to do when he was irate. Emmaline had come to know Drake enough to recognize that telling reaction.

She placed her hands on her hips and glowered back at him. “How cowardly of you to blame me. I daresay you are of equal blame for what transpired last evening.”

He took a step towards her and she scrambled away from him. She didn’t believe he’d hurt her but still, gentlemen fought duels for lesser charges against one's character.

Drake’s lip pulled back in a sneer. “Are you saying I’m at fault for what transpired between you and Waxham?”

Emmaline placed her foot on a moist patch of ground and felt her boots sink into the earth. She tried to tug it free, when his words registered. “Waxham?”

“Yes, Waxham,” he bit out.

“Waxham?” Whatever was he talking about?

“You kissed him.”

What?! “I kissed Waxham?”

His nostrils flared, and she realized he’d construed her question as a statement. “You think I kissed him.” Emmaline snorted, and then she howled with laughter, hilarity shaking her frame until she doubled over with a stitch in her side. Tears of mirth smarted from behind her eyes. “A-are you d-daft?” She struggled to breathe. “I didn’t kiss him.”

Drake cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t kiss him?”

She dashed a hand over her eyes. “No, you silly man. I kissed you.”

He made a show of dusting the impeccable sleeve of his sapphire coat. “I saw you tilt your head, whisper, and smile up at him. I daresay I’ve engaged in enough flirtations to know the nuances of one. And I will not allow such flirtations to continue so long as we are betrothed.”

Emmaline shook her head. “Oh, you are daft.”

Had she been made of less stern stuff, the flinty gleam in his eyes would have caused her trepidation. But it would take more than that to make her run.

As if remembering they were not alone, Drake glanced over in Grace’s direction. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I saw you with Waxham. After shamelessly kissing me, you hurried over to flirt with him. Mayhap you have set your cap on him if you can’t bring me up to scratch.”