Chapter Three
Wylder
Wylder clenched his teeth to keep the grin from spreading across his face at Emily’s sharp inhale of outrage.
“You-you admit it, then,” Emily stuttered.
“Without hesitation.”
“Oh! You are such a cad. I don’t know what I ever thought was attractive about you, Lord Wyldewood.
” Emily pushed herself farther into the corner of the coach with a huff of irritation.
“You are uncouth. Irresponsible. Completely lacking in morals. Why my brother insists on a friendship with you is unfathomable to me.”
“Fortunately, I have not sought your permission or approval on how I conduct my affairs, Lady Emily,” Wylder stated calmly, daring a peek to see her cross her arms over her chest. “Or my friendships.”
“Well, perhaps you should. Perhaps you would benefit from the counsel of someone other than my brother. Who, I might add, conducts himself in the same manner as you. Always flitting from one club to the next. From woman to woman. Never a thought or care for the future and the duties entailed by your title. Your family’s fortunes are in a state of flux, and you…
you act as though you haven’t a care in the world. ”
Wylder’s eyes snapped open, and he pinned her with a heated glare. “What would you know of the subject?”
Emily frowned at the directness of his question. “Everyone knows His Grace has squandered most of the estate’s holdings. At some point, you must marry… and marry well… to salvage whatever remains of the Claymore and Wyldewood title along with all the lesser ones.”
“You think my marrying an heiress will solve the problem?”
“That seems to be a logical solution.” Emily shrugged, slumping against the seat cushion as though defeated by the thought of Wylder marrying another woman. “You would not be the first titled gentleman forced to such drastic measures.”
Irrational anger filled Wylder. That his father’s wastefulness was a topic of idle gossip among the ton was hardly surprising.
But the fact that young ladies such as Emily were also aware of the matter was inexcusable.
He resolved in that moment to have a very serious conversation with the duke.
There must be a solution other than marriage to a woman he did not want.
“I’ve no intention of marrying anyone, Emily,” he finally said in a harsh voice. There was only one woman he wanted, and she was far beyond his reach.
“You’ve made that abundantly clear, my lord,” Emily slowly replied, her bright blue gaze now shuttered from his perusal. She almost seemed to shrink into herself at the remembrance of his cruel words years before.
“But if it were possible, you would be my only consideration for the role as my wife,” Wylder admitted in a low voice.
“Oh, you would certainly drive me mad. Vex me at every turn with your reckless, impulsive nature. And it goes without saying that your brother would quickly make you a young widow, but Emily, if I had the choice when it comes to marriage, it would be with you.” Reaching out, he snagged her wrist as she stared at him in shock.
“However, that is just as impossible now to make a reality as it was before.”
Sorrow flickered in the indigo depths of her eyes at his unexpected confession, and all intention to maintain the distance between them melted. He could not bear seeing this girl in pain. The need to comfort her swamped him… especially since he was the cause of her distress.
“Come here, minx.”
She did not resist as he pulled her to him, and without meaning for it to happen, she ended up sprawled over him.
Widening his legs, she settled naturally between his thighs, her pelvis pushing against his own.
Swallowing hard, Wylder raised a hand and cupped her jaw.
God above, she was so damned soft. So sweet.
And watching him with absolute trust shimmering in every feature of her face.
“I still do not understand why you believe that, but if you are firm in your convictions, there is nothing to be done. But if what you say is true—that you want me even if we can never be together—will you at least grant me a simple request? Will you kiss me as though I belonged to you and only you?” Emily’s words were a soft whisper on his heated skin.
“One day, when my future husband’s touch turns my blood to ice, I’ll have this memory to warm me. ”
The realization that Emily would one day have a husband, a man with all rights and permission to do whatever he wished with her, ignited a fire inside Wylder.
How could he ignore her plea? How could he possibly exist another second without knowing what her lips felt like on his own?
Simon would kill him if he ever found out, but even that was hardly a deterrent in this moment.
Ripping his leather gloves off, he curled one hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers tangled in the curls of her dark hair as he pulled her down toward him.
“The things I would do to you, Emily, would shock you.” His growl was feral, laced with jealousy and possession.
He liked the way her eyes widened at the ferocity of his statement.
Liked the glint of unease in her beautiful blue eyes that melted into awareness.
“And if I acted upon them, there would be no doubt in your mind that you mean everything to a degenerate like me.”
“Then shock me, Wylder. Prove to me that these are not empty words used to ease the sting of your rejection.” Emily’s full, tulip-pink lips parted, and Wylder’s fingers tightened on her skin, his free hand skimming over her hip.
She moaned low in her throat and shifted her body closer.
His cock rose immediately at the contact, hard as iron and ready for her, hot blood racing through his veins as she unconsciously rocked against him in tandem with the sway of the coach.
“Emily…” he warned, but she cut him off with her mouth against his. A soft, innocent brush that made Wylder forget the danger and desire the impossible. She did it again when he didn’t push her away, and with a grunt of frustration, he relented to her silent plea.
He swore silently under his breath. “I cannot resist you, and you damn well know it. Damn you, Emily. Damn us both.” Then he took control before the reality of his actions had a chance to take over and bring everything to a halt.
This kiss was neither soft nor sweet. It was hard and desperate and wild with longing. The kiss they’d shared at the Blackthorne ball three years before was nothing but a fleeting caress compared to this devouring. Wylder held nothing back, his tongue lashing at hers, demanding that Emily respond.
She obeyed with a whimper, melting into him as though she’d waited for this for an eternity.
Her fingers clutched the material of his waistcoat, holding on to him as he kissed her with such ferocity it felt as though their souls entwined.
For a long moment, Wylder explored her mouth, tasting and teasing until her hips restlessly shifted again and again and the friction of her body left him mindless with pleasure and irrationally ready to risk his life for more.
Tearing his mouth from hers, Wylder blazed a trail of hot kisses down her throat, the hand at her hip used to shift her higher until he could taste the creamy skin swelling above the bodice of her dress.
Emily’s breath caught, a strangled moan of lust escaping as he nipped and licked the softness of her flesh, and her hands came up to clasp his head, holding him to her, her fingers tangled in his dark hair.
Her nipples were stiff as he moved his lips back and forth over the gown’s material, and another gasp of shocked delight echoed in the stillness of the coach.
“Oh, my God, Wylder. Do that again… please…”
“That’s what I want to hear, little minx,” Wylder growled. “Beg me not to stop. Tell me you want more. If you beg prettily enough, I’ll give you what you want and fuck you with my fingers.”
“More.” Emily let out a tiny whimper at his filthy demand, but she obeyed as he knew she would. “More… and don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Wylder sat up, reversing their positions so that Emily lay against the cushion. Looming over her, he drank in the sight of her flushed from his kisses and desperate for his touch.
“I’m going to touch you now, Emily,” he said in between scalding kisses to her mouth and along her jawline.
His lips ghosted the delicate shell of her ear before catching the lobe between his teeth and giving it a sharp nip.
“If you do not stop me, I will slide my hand up under your skirt and give you a memory you shall never forget.”
“Yes… I want that, Wylder. Please,” she said in a broken whisper. Clutching the lapels of his suit coat, she kissed him with beseeching, innocent enthusiasm. “I want—”
He cut off her words with a kiss so scorching he wondered if the two of them might not erupt into flames.
And as she settled into the kiss, he swept a hand under the hem of her dress, pushing the material higher and higher until the tops of her stockings were exposed.
Her thighs gleamed like satin in the dim shadows, leaving Wylder’s mouth dry with lust. God help him, but if he had her laid out anywhere other than his coach, he would have immediately buried his face into the sweet juncture of her legs and feasted upon her as though she were his last meal on earth.
Instead, he settled for tracing the pink ribbons at the top of her stockings, the roughness of his fingers so different from the silk of her skin. She stilled at once, holding her breath as his hand drifted higher.
“Breathe, minx,” he murmured in amusement. “I’ll not have you fainting on me. Not yet anyway.”
She laughed, a shaky sound that was accompanied by her body trembling almost uncontrollably. “Why would I faint?”