Chapter Twenty-One
Wylder
Wylder watched Emily and Penelope with such intensity that he did not realize Lucien was watching him with a satisfied smirk on his handsome features.
“Something is different, I think,” Lucien dryly remarked.
Wylder’s attention snapped to his best friend. “What do you mean?”
“Between you and Emily… there is something there.” Lucien returned Wylder’s heated stare with admirable calm. “Come now, do you really believe I would not see it, Wylder? Marrying Charlotte has opened my eyes to so many things in life. Things I either ignored or was blind to before her.”
“And what do you believe that you see, Lucien?” Wylder’s jaw tightened with annoyance. He did not like the close scrutiny. It made his skin feel hot and itchy. As if every salacious thought revolving around Emily Blackthorne was on full, unblinking display for the entire world to see.
Lucien’s head tilted before his lips curved with a smile at Wylder’s obvious irritation. “I think you’ve done something that would greatly upset Simon if he ever found out. And I think you and Emily have grown closer despite his strenuous and numerous objections.”
“Simon has been assisting me in rebuilding the St. Clair accounts. At my insistence, my father has given them over to me. Emily has no part in that.”
“Ah, I see. But you must give something in return, correct?”
Wylder swore beneath his breath at his friend’s astute nature. “I must engage in a search for a suitable bride if I wish to retain control over the estates. My father would not agree to my plan without his own damnable stipulation.”
“It should come as no surprise that I highly recommend marriage. Providing you find the right woman to spend the rest of her life with you as her husband. So, it’s official? You are truly hunting for a wife?”
“Yes and no.” Raking a hand through his hair, Wylder cast a glance at Simon, who was now showing Charlotte how to throw the balls for the game.
“It is a bloody charade, Lucien. An act I am forced to perform for as long as it takes to rebuild the estate. I’ve no wish for a damned wife.
You know that. How could I possibly marry a woman and not have her run screaming when she realizes the depths of my sexual proclivities? ”
Lucien smiled. “It may be easier than you think to find a suitable match. After all, I did.”
Wylder slanted a glance at his friend. “So you are faithful to your countess in all aspects?”
“Every single one. And I’ve never known such satisfaction as what I find with my wife.
It is possible to fall in love and have every desire you’ve ever had fulfilled, Wylder.
” Lucien’s gaze drifted to where Charlotte was laughing in delight as she managed to throw the ball straight.
“It is incredible, actually. To share the most intimate moments with the woman you love. And to have her give her very soul in exchange for your own.”
“Even if it were remotely possible, the woman I want is out of my reach,” Wylder said slowly.
He despised the envy that rose in his throat to choke him with bitterness.
Regret mingled with the emotion when recalling the role he played in the attempt to subvert Lucien and Charlotte’s relationship in the beginning.
It had been a foolish, ill-advised endeavor, spurred mainly by Simon.
“It is because of my depravities that she remains unattainable. Simon will never—”
Lucien grunted in sudden annoyance, his jaw clenching tight.
“It is because of our friendship that I nearly let the woman I love slip through my fingers. That, and my own stubborn nature.” His tone turned more retrospective as he stared at Wylder, his dark-green eyes somber.
“Our reputations have become an extension of ourselves, which is to be expected with the notoriety of our escapades. After all, not a single man among us fought very hard to maintain even a hint of respectability when it came to the fairer sex. We have certainly enjoyed the benefits of such a lifestyle, both privately and publicly. But I sense things are changing for you, at least. I suspect you’d rather allow that portion of our lives to fade into the past. But loyalty to the rakehells, and all the sentimentality for the camaraderie we share, is keeping you from reaching for happiness with both hands.
” His smile was suddenly tender and directed toward Charlotte, who was waving at him to join her in a game of bowls.
“Take what you want from life, Wylder. Everything else… friends, family, responsibilities… will fall into place. And once you’ve chosen the woman with whom you wish to live out your days, do not hesitate to take her as well. ”
*
After speaking with Lucien, Wylder looked for Emily and found her standing with a group that included Sir Gregory Brighton and Lady Bashear’s grandnephew.
Lord Patrick Bashear had arrived only a short time ago and was now apparently regaling other guests with tales of his time in France.
Several times, the entire bunch burst into laughter, and hearing Emily’s musical giggle woven with the others made Wylder’s hands tighten into twin fists.
She seemed charmed by the tall, dark-blond-haired lord with the good-natured manner.
But then again, she treated Gregory with the same genial pleasantness, effortlessly flirting with the two men until they were jostling one another for the honor of fetching her cups of lemonade.
Emily had no trouble juggling multiple suitors.
Wylder knew that from having watched over her for the last few years.
But this had a different feel to it. Before, she’d always searched him out in the crowd.
She always erected an invisible wall between her and other gentlemen, but now that barrier was sagging.
The knowledge struck a chord deep inside Wylder—a sense of panic he’d not experienced before.
Something had indeed shifted between them.
Something intangible that resulted in a coolness during their last interaction.
Was it possible that Emily was drifting away from him, the hold he had on her disintegrating one fragile thread at a time?
He argued with himself that this was for the best. Their association must eventually come to a natural end, but realistically, Wylder doubted he could allow that to happen.
He wanted her with a desperation that overrode all sense of reason.
But was there really any other option to be made?
He could not claim Emily and accomplish his goals at the same time, no matter Lucien’s advice on the subject.
Obviously, Lucien could not appreciate Simon’s vehemence when it came to keeping Wylder far away from his sister.
And it was a simple fact that Lucien was not dependent on Simon’s financial expertise to save the family name and fortunes.
So far, the old duke had upheld his end of the bargain.
He was steering clear of the gaming tables and allowing Wylder to run things the way he desired.
Now, Wylder must act the part of a reformed rakehell and search for a wealthy heiress to wed.
From his position beneath the shade trees, Wylder watched Emily break away from the group.
Patrick followed close behind her while poor Sir Gregory Brighton looked positively disheartened.
When Patrick reached out and took her by the arm, Wylder gritted his teeth.
Having just made one another’s acquaintance, what could the two of them possibly have to say privately to one another?
With a teasing smile and shake of her head, Emily pulled away from his grip and continued walking.
Her purposeful strides away from the man took her to the entrance of the statuary garden.
Within a few moments, she disappeared from view, leaving Wylder to realize this was an opportunity that had just presented itself.
Regardless of how irrational his decision was, he would pursue her.
He waited five minutes or so before following her, wondering the entire time if she planned on meeting Patrick. God, he hoped not. He wasn’t sure if he could restrain himself from destroying the man’s handsome features simply because he dared to pursue Emily.
He found her standing outside the stone folly, her arms behind her as she leaned against one of the pillars.
She stared out at the large lake, watching the swans and a small flock of ducks as they swam close to the shoreline.
Several large weeping willows dotted the banks, the wind rustling through the long branches and making them sway.
Occasionally, one or two rowboats floated aimlessly by, steered by gentlemen eager to impress the ladies brave enough to set foot in the vessels.
Wylder did not speak as he advanced upon Emily, but he knew the moment she became aware of his presence. There was a tensing of her shoulders, and her chin tilted higher. Her body seemed to brim with defiance and anticipation.
“I knew you would follow me,” she said softly without even looking his way.
“Were you expecting me or that useless fop, Bashear?”
A slight smile played across her features, lifting her lips at the corners. “Do you believe Lord Bashear was inclined to follow me as you have?”
Wylder stepped closer. “I think he is entranced by you.” He huffed out an exasperated sigh. “As any breathing male in your orbit would be.”
“So you think I am to blame if a man finds me attractive and wishes to pursue me?” She still did not look at him, her attention centered on the tiny group of ducklings. They followed the older ducks onto the shore.
Bloody hell. I did not mean it like that.
“Are you not strong enough to resist my apparent lure, Lord Wyldewood?” Emily asked, amusement coloring her tone as she finally faced him. Her eyes were so blue in the sunlight that they sparkled like rare sapphires.
Wylder’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping there as he clenched his teeth. “You know that I am not, little minx, and that’s the damnable truth of it.”
Emily’s expression darkened. “Should we agree that our affair is at its end? I certainly have no wish to be the cause of your distress.”
He laughed, a short, sharp sound that made Emily flinch in response. “Do you honestly think I want to end things with us? Because I don’t. I cannot help myself… no matter how much of you I get, I only end up wanting more.”
“You make it sound as though I am an affliction you need to be cured of.” Taking a piece of vine that wrapped around the column, she entwined it around her fingers. “Perhaps it is best that we keep our distance from one another.”
Wylder could not stop himself in that moment. Capturing her wrists in one hand, he moved until they were no longer visible to anyone rowing past on the lake. He pressed Emily against the column, her hands trapped high above her head.
“Distance?” he murmured as she gasped in surprise. Running his nose alongside hers, he closed his eyes and let her soft perfume drift over him. “I cannot accept that, Emily, and you know it.”
“Wylder… we shouldn’t…” Emily’s words came in a whisper, her body arching toward his despite the denial.
“You are right… we shouldn’t. But we both know we will.
We both know we are addicted to this. To one another.
I cannot get enough of you, Emily. I want you.
I want your taste in my mouth. Your hands on my body.
My hands on yours…” Wylder dipped his head until his mouth brushed over hers.
She tasted of lemonade and smelled like sugary citrus.
His cock hardened as he coerced her lips to part, remembering when she had pleasured him with her mouth and swallowed his seed.
With a whimper, she let him in, her tongue dancing with his.
His free hand wrapped around her throat, anchoring her in place as he kissed her with all the pent-up frustration racking his body.
To keep her head tilted at the right angle, his thumb pressed to the underside of her chin, and she moaned in agonized delight as he controlled her.
When he pulled back, allowing her a quick breath of air, Emily was panting. Eyes glassy with desire, she begged for him just as he had dreamed she would.
“Please, Wylder. Touch me like you did before… please.”
“It’s too risky, Emily.” His lips blazed a trail down her exposed throat, burning kisses that skated from collarbone to collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts.
Fuck, if it weren’t for the possibility of someone stumbling across them, he would have already dropped to his knees and sucked her sweet little quim into the heat of his mouth.
But he wanted to take his time with her.
Make her come again and again until she collapsed in exhausted pleasure.
“No, no, it’s not,” Emily moaned, her fingers flexing in his grasp. Her body trembled, tempting him to throw caution to the wind. “I need you. Don’t you understand?”
“Shhh.” Wylder nibbled her jaw, his fingers tightening with the slightest pressure around her throat.
She quieted at once with a low hum of arousal.
“I understand what you need, minx. My fingers deep in your tight, little pussy. My hand around your throat, giving you permission to breathe. My mouth sucking your sweet little nipples until they are hard and aching for me to bite them. Yes, I understand what you need.”
His filthy words left her gasping with shock, but her body responded by melting into him.
“I’m sure if I touched you right now, you would be soaked for me, wouldn’t you, Emily?
” Wylder continued the torment, his hand leaving her throat to skim over her breasts.
Beneath the thin material of the gown and half-stays, he pinched her budded nipples until she squirmed in delight.
“Should I see if it’s true? Should I slide my fingers inside you and make you come for me? ”
“Yes… oh yes, yes…” Emily chanted, rocking her hips into his pelvis and making contact with his cock. The thrill that raced through him was explosive, but he had to stop before things went any further.
“I will do all of those things, Emily,” he promised, releasing her hands from his tight grip. Her eyes were closed, but they drifted open to stare at him in dazed wonderment. “But not here, where anyone might discover us, naughty girl.”
“Then come to my room tonight, Wylder,” she replied huskily and without hesitation.
She licked her lips, bringing one hand up to trace the shape of his mouth.
When he turned his head and bit the inside of her wrist, she sucked in a breath of pure adoration.
Then, like the brat she was, Emily challenged him without a care for the consequences.
“Come to my room and you may punish me for my recklessness.”