The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(35)

He could still smell grass, wet from a recent rain shower, from that day so long ago.

“The blade didn’t slide into his body as I’d imagined. But when it did, he fell immediately and never posed another threat to me, or anyone, again.”

Garrick had never spoken of the incident aloud before, but he found it easy to tell her. His father had berated him for not following orders. One or two of the men had said, “Well done.”

But that had been it.

“For some time afterward, I saw the man’s face. Or what I thought his face would look like. His great helm revealed nothing, but my boy’s mind thought he must be ugly and scarred.”

“Do you see his face still?”

“Nay.”

“So someday I will be able to banish those horrible images.”

Garrick wanted to tell her there were pleasurable ways of distracting oneself from thoughts of the battle, but he bit his tongue.

“Let’s speak of something else,” she said.

Emma’s mind moved as fast as her body did on horseback.

When neither of them said anything, Garrick thought to tease her.

“Just not of the battle. Or my intended. Or Graeme. Or how angry your brother will be when he learns what happened. Let me see, shall we talk about . . .” He trailed off and took another sip of his beverage.

“That kiss?”

He choked then, nearly spitting out the fine ale that somehow made its way down his throat.

“Hardly a delicate topic,” she said.

“But a fine one, nonetheless.”

“Indeed?” Her eyes danced with the merriment of knowing she’d unbalanced him. He’d certainly not expected the suggestion.

“What precisely, my lady, would you like to discuss concerning said kiss?”

“Hmm.” She lifted her finger to the corner of her full mouth. “Shall we discuss the first one, or the second? I believe the second.” As if having made a weighty decision, she said, “The second kiss. Aye, let us discuss that.”

He set down his mug. “Gladly.”

“I’ve been kissed before, of course.”

The words immediately conjured a vision of Graeme de Sowlis bending his head to her, claiming those—

“But they were nothing quite like yours.”

They?

“How were they different?” Garrick struggled to keep his voice neutral.

“Well,” she narrowed her eyes. Damn if she wasn’t trying to remember them. Multiple past kisses with different men.

“For one, I’d never opened my mouth before. Your tongue . . .” She’d reached the limit of what propriety would allow her to say.

A shame.

It was a shame there were different standards for what the two of them could discuss. And that she’d felt the need to stop.

“If you never kissed a man using your tongue,” he said, “then you’ve never been properly kissed.”

“But—”

“Before me,” he clarified.

“Did you kiss your intended?” she blurted.

“Did you kiss Graeme?” he shot back.

This was a dangerous game they played.

He inhaled, the scent of burning wax overpowering the stores of wheat surrounding them.

“Why would I kiss Graeme?” she asked it innocently enough, giving him his answer.

“Sometimes admirers will—”

“I never said the chief was a suitor.”

“So he is not? He expressed no interest—”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“So he did express interest.”

Of course he had, Garrick admonished himself. The man had asked for permission, as if it were his to give, to visit Kenshire Castle. To properly court her.

“You never answered my question,” Emma said.

They looked across the table at each other, Garrick wanting nothing more than to pull Emma onto his lap and show her a proper kiss. Ensure that no matter who came after him, it would not be the same.

“I didn’t even meet her,” he said, his tone neutral.

“Oh.”

Did she seem pleased by that news?

Neither of them said another word as they continued to pick at the meal.

When they were both finished, Garrick pushed himself away from the tray and stood. “If you’re ready?”

Emma stood as well and wordlessly turned toward the stairs. This was it. The last time they were likely to be truly alone together. She had just put her foot on the first wooden step when he stopped her.

Garrick, this is not a good idea.



As soon as she felt the tug on her arm, Emma knew she was lost.

She had little experience with men and even less with desire, but she’d begun to understand both a little more over the course of the meal. To be around Garrick was to experience a constant state of desire. Her rapid heartbeat was so strong she imagined everyone could hear the pounding in her chest. The need to look at him whenever he was in the same room was almost overpowering. The utter lack of control, not that she had much to start, over what came out of her mouth.

Around him, Emma felt like a witless fool. She’d never be as controlled as Sara, but she strove to emulate at least a shred of her poise.

Not with Garrick near.