Chapter Twenty-Two
Emily
Wylder insisted that Emily walk back through the statuary garden alone.
Of course, she knew he could not accompany her.
That would mean announcing that they had spent time alone with one another.
She wanted to protest, argue that she was not a secret he could keep forever, but she obeyed him.
She walked out of that garden on wobbly legs, her breathing shallow as she emerged from the rows of meticulously groomed flowers and exquisitely carved marble figures.
Her gaze darted around, taking note of the guests enjoying themselves. Instinctively, she searched for her brother and found him at the archery range. He was laughing heartily at something one of the other men said when he suddenly caught sight of Emily.
A smile formed on her lips, and she waved her hand at him, praying the suspicion in his gaze would fade away.
But his features darkened, his mouth turning downward into a scowl as he stared past her to the gardens.
Emily knew he was waiting to see if anyone followed her out.
But when no one did, his face relaxed and he smiled back at her before returning to the archery.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Emily continued making her way up the expansive lawn. She did not stop until she reached the refreshment table. Accepting a glass of lemonade from one of the footmen, she gulped it down, willing her racing heart to slow its pace.
Her body was practically vibrating with electricity.
She ached in all the places Wylder intended her to ache.
Swallowing hard, she remembered begging him to ease that pain deep inside her.
Begged him for a release he had no intention of granting.
The kisses, the caresses. All were simple methods of proving his mastery over her.
And despite her innate independence, Emily was happy to let him do it. She craved it, actually. Needed the weight of his hand around her throat, his fingers tightening until she was lightheaded and dizzy with need.
I begged him to punish me.
A pang of desire reminded her how much she loved those punishments. If he came to her tonight, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from begging him to use her body in any manner he desired.
Penelope had feigned illness and retired to her room while Emily’s parents played a game of bowls with another couple.
Gazing at the guests dotting the brilliant green lawn, Emily spied Lucien and Charlotte sitting on a bench beneath a sprawling oak tree.
The couple laughed often together, and several times, Lucien’s head bent toward his wife in the most affectionate of ways.
Emily watched them enviously and came to a sudden, sad realization. The dream she carried of her and Wylder coming together as a couple would never be realized.
All the sneaking around in the shadows. The secret kisses and caresses. The way I am forced to hide my feelings for him. Pining over him while the world twirled around in cruel ignorance.
It was suddenly far more than she could bear.
Stomach roiling, Emily pressed a hand to the back of her mouth, choking back a sob.
No one must see her this upset… certainly not her parents nor her brother.
And it would be an utter disaster if Wylder saw her in such a state.
He would no doubt demand she tell him the reason for her distress, and her humiliation would be complete to admit she was crying over him.
With slow, deliberate movements, Emily set the glass of lemonade down on the table and turned away from the polite, yet questioning smile of the footman.
For a few moments, she strolled about the lawn until it was possible to escape the gaiety with no one the wiser to her absence.
And when Wylder did finally walk up the garden’s terraced steps, she was not there to see the disappointment in his eyes when he discovered she had slipped away.
*
Emily did not appear for dinner that evening, explaining to her mother that she was not feeling well. Since Penelope suffered from the same mysterious illness, it was assumed the two girls had eaten something that resulted in the malaise.
“I will leave in the morning.” Penelope’s smile was pensive. “Are you certain you can manage without Mary for a few days?”
“Of course I can manage, darling Pen,” Emily assured her.
“What of your mother? Do you think she will question why my illness requires me to return home immediately?” Penelope wrung her hands, overwhelmed with worry. “The worst part of all this is the numerous falsehoods I must tell.”
“She will believe you, Pen. Please do not worry overmuch about that.” Emily flopped back in her chair, staring at Penelope, who sat across from her. A fire crackled in the fireplace grate, the flames warm and low. “I wish you did not have to go.”
“But we both know I must.” Penelope’s brow creased with a tiny frown.
“I’ve no choice at this point. Mother’s last letter said negotiations were moving forward with Lord Grant.
They will sign the marriage contract by next week.
My God, the way they have sold me into marriage really does make me ill. ”
Emily sighed in commiseration. “I don’t know what else to do, Penelope. It is your choice to make, if you should stay or go. Whatever you decide, I will support you.”
“I know, Emily.” Penelope pushed her hair back from her face, revealing the tears tracking down her cheeks. “But I must go. I cannot… no… I will not marry that man.”
“Oh, dearest,” Emily whispered, pulling the girl in for a tight embrace. “They won’t get away with this dastardly act. I promise you that.”
When Penelope returned to her room just before midnight, Emily banked the fire and then settled herself into bed. Turning the lamp down low, she opened her book, intending to read for a little while.
The door suddenly flew open as Wylder stormed inside her room.
Emily sat up so fast that the book slipped from her lap and onto the floor. Was the earl truly in her room? Shock rendered her speechless for a long moment before she angrily stuttered, “Wh-what on earth are you doing, Wylder? Are you insane?”
Wylder’s eyes narrowed as he locked the door behind him, and Emily’s heart rate tripled its beat as he strode toward her. Upon reaching the bed, his hand shot out. Gripping her chin between thumb and forefinger, he stared down at her.
“What is wrong? Your mother said you were ill.” His tone was harsh, although concern seeped through every word.
Emily’s eyes fluttered shut. How could she possibly explain to this man that he was the cause of her condition?
“I’m waiting, Emily.”
“I—” she faltered, then offered in a small voice. “I am unwell, Wylder. And I cannot do this any longer with you. Please understand and go away.” Her eyes filled with tears despite every intention she had to remain strong and fierce and most of all, resistant. “Please.”
“This illness you suffer from… is it because of my actions this afternoon in the gardens?” Wylder demanded. “Did I hurt you, Emily? Did I?”
Emily swallowed hard, choking back another sob.
“Not physically, no. But you are killing me. Little by little, I have been dying since we began this insanity.” She gripped the hand holding her chin in both of hers.
“I cannot want you like this and not have you. Because while you may desire my body, you refuse to accept my love and my heart. That is why I cannot do this anymore.”
Anguished rage lit Wylder’s eyes, turning them a dark gray.
His lips tightened into a straight, thin line of regret.
“Fuck, Emily, I want all of you. Every single gorgeous inch of you. Do you think this is any easier for me?” Releasing her chin, he gripped her upper arms in his hard hands and hauled her up from the bed.
“I want to kiss you in front of your parents… your damnable brother… the entire ton… and claim you as mine while the world watches.”
“Then why don’t you, Wylder? Why do you torment me with this half-measure of affection?
Why do you torture me with talk of searching for a bride while bowing down to my brother’s demands to stay away from me?
You are a Mayfair Rakehell and for some reason that remains unknown, that moniker renders you unsuitable in Simon’s eyes.
Explain to me what you have done to warrant this sordid reputation,” Emily ordered, her voice stronger now as hurt and anger flooded her veins.
The emotions flared higher as Wylder remained silent.
“You deny us both but refuse to tell me the truth.” She tried jerking out of his grasp but failed miserably.
His grip was like tempered steel, her feet barely touching the floor as he held her captive.
“If you will not tell me the truth within yourself, if you do not trust me to know your secrets, then you do not deserve any part of me.”
“Damn you, Emily. You want the truth?” Wylder growled, his eyes darkening even more. They were almost black now and glittering like shards of ice as he glared at her. “The truth is, if I tell you what you want to hear, you will never allow me to touch you again.”
“I deserve to know what you are hiding from me,” Emily replied stubbornly.
“You don’t know what you are asking of me, Emily.
You cannot possibly understand the darkness inside me…
the overwhelming need to control and possess you in every way imaginable,” Wylder hissed, nearly shaking her in his frustration.
His fingers dug into her shoulders with unintentional cruelty.
“The things I do to my women… the things that bring me pleasure… are not acceptable practices. The depraved acts I enjoy would disgust you. It would not happen right away but eventually you would despise me for subjecting you to such things. And, I cannot bear to have you hate me as you once did.”