Prologue #2
The moment the words flew out, Wylder regretted it.
Emily’s eyes widened with confusion before dangerous curiosity blazed like a flame in the pretty blue depths.
Gritting his teeth, his gaze raked over her form, lingering for a brief moment on the bodice of her gown.
The twin globes of creamy flesh swelling above the exquisitely embroidered trim made his mouth water.
Damn her for provoking him. “That was an ill-advised thing for me to say aloud, Lady Emily. Forgive me.”
“Of course, I don’t understand it, but if you meet me in the gazebo, I’m sure you will explain it, Lord Wyldewood.”
And with a challenging smirk, Emily smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, dipped a slight curtsey, and floated out of his reach.
*
Emily bit the inside of her cheek to keep her frustration hidden from the other guests.
“Lord, but he is a stubborn man,” she muttered beneath her breath. Weaving through the crush of people, she made her way to a small group of debutantes huddled near the refreshment tables. One girl broke from the group, meeting Emily halfway with a shy smile.
“You spoke with him,” Miss Penelope True said in a low voice full of awe, linking her arm with Emily’s. “I don’t know how you do it, Emily. How you carry on a conversation as though his scowls do not frighten you half to death.”
A little shiver passed through Emily, but she laughed at the woman’s obvious concern.
“I am occasionally made somewhat nervous by his surliness, but Lord Wyldewood would never intentionally harm me.” She truly believed that, but still, his tone when speaking of punishments made her pulse race a bit faster.
For some unknown reason, a sudden image of her upended over Wylder’s lap flashed in her brain.
She swallowed hard as another delicious and completely mysterious shiver tickled her insides.
What might it feel like? To be so helpless in his grasp?
To submit to the darkness of his desires and discover the shadows that existed within herself?
Penelope’s gaze drifted to where the three most eligible and carefree bachelors in all of London now stood before one of the many terrace doors.
The men were the center of attention, targeted by many marriage-minded mamas despite their rakehell reputations.
“Your brother… when he is displeased, it’s like a thunderstorm gathering overhead.
It’s dark and silent and quite threatening.
” She let out a tiny huff of laughter, her cheeks turning bright pink.
“I imagine you’ve seen that many times over the years and are used to it, but truthfully, I find it terrifying. ”
Emily hugged the other girl. Penelope True, with her soft, chestnut-brown curls and heavily lashed green eyes, was one of the loveliest girls in this year’s crop of debutantes, but she was also painfully shy.
Easily overlooked at the social events they’d attended since being presented to the Queen, she tended to melt into the background and seemed content to be there.
But Emily formed an instant liking for the girl, appreciating her quick, quiet wit and the elegant manner in which she rose above her family’s unfortunate reputation.
Lady Camden, Emily’s mother, graciously agreed to sponsor the girl, allowing her to have a season, although on a limited budget.
“Simon’s not all that bad. Truly, he’s not.”
Penelope’s mossy-green eyes narrowed with doubt, but she tactfully changed the subject. “Lord Wyldewood agreed to your request?”
Emily nodded, her gaze finding Wylder across the crowded ballroom. “He did. Remember, if anyone asks about my whereabouts, I’ve gone upstairs to find a new fan as I set mine down somewhere and lost track of it. This will not surprise my mother in the least, and she will not press you on it.”
“What if…” Penelope chewed her bottom lip, then blurted out in a worried tone, “What if it is Lord Camden who comes searching for you?”
“He won’t,” Emily said confidently. “My brother signed Lady Raiborne’s dance card for the first waltz, God help him. That woman will monopolize his evening until he manages to slip away for the games of chance my father arranged. Do not worry overmuch about him.”
Penelope did not seem convinced, but she smiled when Emily hugged her again. “Thank you, Pen. And please do not fret. I’ll be fine.”
As the half hour ticked by, Emily found herself so apprehensive that her palms were sweating.
Thankfully, her gloves hid the condition from others, and if anyone noticed how tense her smile was, they had the good grace not to mention it aloud.
It was with a sigh of relief that she slipped away from the loud, overly crowded ballroom.
Hurrying down the path toward the gazebo deep within the west gardens, she frequently checked over her shoulder to ensure no one else followed.
The gazebo was empty, lit by the glow of a full moon and the faint illumination cast by the terrace lanterns, which were some distance away.
The steady chirp of crickets blended with the lilting strains of the music drifting out of the ballroom’s open doors.
Leaning against the railing and staring out into the shadowy depths of the garden, Emily breathed deeply of the night air scented by roses surrounding the base of the gazebo and the blooming jasmine that twined around the structure’s frame.
Was she doing the right thing? Forcing Wylder’s hand in such a way?
Indecision now plagued Emily, now that she was alone with her thoughts.
Wylder was not happy about the challenge she’d thrown him, but what else could she do?
This was the only option available. Drastic, yes, but she never believed it would be this difficult to make this dark and moody earl see that they were meant to be together.
Why he fought so hard against it was a perplexing mystery.
All that noble talk of remaining loyal to Simon did not explain it, and Emily was determined to discover the truth.
“I should have known you would choose to act foolhardy.” Wylder’s voice was low and rough, coming unexpectedly from the gazebo steps behind her.
Emily cried out in surprise, whirling to see the earl standing on the last riser. He had approached the gazebo like a true predator, his footsteps on the gravel silent.
“You-you startled me,” she exclaimed with a small laugh, her hand over her heart to steady its galloping beat. “I did not hear your approach…”
“If you are startled now, then you best prepare yourself for what is coming next,” Wylder replied with a heavy sigh.
Slowly, deliberately, he stalked toward her until Emily stood trapped against the gazebo’s railing.
“You are the most reckless, foolish, stubborn female I know, Emily Blackthorne.” A whisper of reluctant pride laced his words, and Emily basked in it.
“I don’t mean to be, Wylder,” she said honestly. “But you refuse to acknowledge—”
“I keep my distance to keep you safe, Emily. Why can’t you understand that?”
He stood so close she could smell his cologne. It was a masculine scent, reminiscent of sandalwood and cloves. Sharp and yet enveloping. It was perfect for him, and it melted Emily’s insides.
“Keep me safe?” she scoffed even as she swallowed past a lump of apprehension. “From whom? My own brother?”
Wylder gripped Emily’s elbow, jerking her closer. “From me, Emily. You must be protected from me.”
“That’s ridiculous… I trust you with my life, Wylder,” she asserted with far more conviction than she felt in that moment.
Wylder glared down at her, frustration rolling from him.
“If you had any idea what I wished to do to you right now, you would run screaming.” His mouth tightened into a thin line.
“But I fear action is the only way to truly dissuade you from this course you’ve set.
I must show you so that you completely understand. ”
Emily’s knees nearly buckled with shock. Was Wylder about to kiss her at last? Her limbs turned to jelly, her head falling back as she licked her lips in anticipation. He loomed over her. Dangerous energy, hot and molten, crackled in the air between them.
“Wylder…” she murmured, her voice breaking with the power he held over her. She would do anything for him. Go anywhere. Submit fully to him. If only he would admit that he wanted her with similar desperation.
“Emily,” he rasped, the words a husky growl of warning, his gray eyes glittering in the shadows of the gazebo. “Remember, you provoked me to this.”
The next instant, Wylder’s mouth descended upon her own in a quicksilver moment of heated passion and frustration.
His lips were a burning brand of wickedness and brandy and honey-sweet temptation.
Emily moaned in surprise, melting against him, but as quickly as the kiss began, it ended, leaving her adrift and wanting something she could not name.
Ignoring her gasp, Wylder abruptly spun her away from the railing, plopped down on one of the gazebo’s benches, and hauled her across his lap. With the striking quickness of a tiger, one large hand secured her wrists in the small of her back.
“What on earth are you doing?” Emily let out a muted screech even as her nerve endings abruptly exploded into brilliant, almost painful awareness. “Wylder, what’s gotten into you?”
“I warned you, Emily. Warned you of the danger in pushing me to the breaking point. It is a pity your father has failed to enforce any semblance of discipline. I personally believe you would benefit greatly from such attention.”
“That-that is none of your business!” Emily choked out. Embarrassment stabbed her with merciless, needle-like pinpoints because while her body definitely agreed with the way it was being handled, her mind was arguing that she should not enjoy being held across Wylder’s very firm and muscular lap.