The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(65)

“Not that you were in love, of course, but that you would be. He could have mentioned his purpose for traveling to Scotland. But he did not.”

“He had already told you, I take it?”

“Aye. He’d mentioned it the evening before. And kept it from you. Not to be deceptive, I believe, but . . .” He shrugged. “It matters not. You and Garrick Clave simply cannot be.”

She could hear herself breathing.

“But Graeme—”

“Not now, Geoffrey, please. Not now.”

Geoffrey pulled her toward him. His happy life at Kenshire had softened him, and embraces came more freely to him these days.

She didn’t want to think of Garrick or Graeme. Or of Geoffrey’s revelation that he’d known all along. In fact, Emma didn’t want to think of anything.

Eventually, she pulled away. “I’m going to the stables.”

He let her go, but not without a softly uttered reminder. “The chief will be wanting an answer. And given your aversion to well-titled Englishmen—”

“A Scots clan chief is no better.”

“I believe he would serve you well.”

Emma groaned. “I need time to think. I will speak to him myself and tell him to go home, that I do not have an answer,” she said, giving Geoffrey a quick squeeze. “Thank you for not being upset about Garrick.”

“I never said I wasn’t upset.”

And with those ominous words following her from the room, Emma tore through the castle and discarded any sense of decorum.

Graeme expected an answer from her. Unfortunately, she had none to give him.





24





He straddled her, and Emma couldn’t resist running her hands along the ridges of his stomach. Desire pooled in her core, the aching for his touch unbearable.

“Make me yours, Garrick.”

Where were her clothes? Though she couldn’t recall removing them, when he reached up and cupped both breasts in his hands, there was nothing to inhibit his caress.

“Not yet,” he said.

It was an order that she didn’t mind obeying. His thumbs rubbed her nipples, forcing them to peak under his expert touch.

And then his hand moved lower, the light touch along her waist a promise of more to come. Then lower still until it rested there.

“Please.” Was that what he wanted? For her to beg? “Please,” she whispered again, arching, finally getting his hands to move.

Her eyes snapped open.

Garrick was not in her bed, and the hand lying at the precipice of pleasure . . . was her own. She pulled it back and looked around the chamber.

Of course he was not there. It had been nothing more than a dream. A wonderful, beautiful—

Emma could wait no longer.

She’d told him to make his own decision. She’d made a mature decision.

Yet she’d never been more miserable in her life.

The last few days following her conversation with Geoffrey had been especially torturous. She’d nearly gotten herself killed on a reckless ride that could have ended badly if not for Eddard’s companionship. She hardly slept, and when the blissful blackness finally settled upon her, it was always invaded by thoughts of him.

Garrick protecting her against the mounted Scottish warriors. Cherishing her body at the inn. Tossing snowballs at her. Touching her. After every single dream, she woke breathless and disappointed.

She would know her future.

Today.

Emma briefly considered finding Edith to tell her, but she didn’t want her maid to be forced to lie for her. She also did not want Geoffrey riding to Clave to haul her back to Kenshire before she could even speak to Garrick.

What to do? It was perhaps a bit foolish to go alone. But she could not trust anyone to keep from telling her brother.

If she left without word, they would all worry. Though she could easily make it to Clave Castle and back within the day, she’d not return at least until the sun began to set.

Emma jumped from the bed and grabbed a small wooden box that contained parchment and quills. She was about to open it when her eye caught the carving etched into the box. She ran her finger over it and took it to her bed.

This box was the only thing she’d requested from Bristol. It had been her mother’s, and when Geoffrey had brought it home to her, her hands had shaken so violently upon taking it she’d feared she would drop it.

What would Mother think of Garrick?

Everyone, from her brothers to her aunt and uncle to Faye and the servants—everyone reminded her of her similarities to her mother, not just in looks but in manner. The fact that she had died attempting to fight off a Scottish warrior likely twice her size had surprised no one.

Would her mother encourage her to preserve the agreement Garrick had made? Encourage her to allow what she’d told Garrick to stand? To do what he thought was right? Or would she urge her to follow her heart?

Emma flipped open the box and took out the quill.

After writing the message, folding it, and placing it on the bed where Edith would be sure to find it, Emma dressed in a practical navy-blue riding gown, a tunic, and a sideless surcoat. There was no time for anything but a quick brush of her hair. Grabbing a mint leaf, she popped it into her mouth and set off.

Avoiding the hall, and unfortunately the kitchens too, she made her way to the stables. She saw only a few servants, all of whom let her pass with a “good morn” and no questions.