Chapter Eight
They arrived at The Castle late in the afternoon.
The consequences of her confession or rather her deceit, were felt keenly by Emily.
While Deo was polite, there was a constraint between them.
Their companionable peace was destroyed, replaced by an awkward silence, broken only by necessary conversation.
It was making Emily feel miserable, and Deo didn’t look happy either.
In fact, he exuded thundercloud more strongly than an incipient storm.
Surprisingly though, he didn’t snap or raise his voice.
She almost wished he would. It might clear the air and break the tension.
As a consequence of this, by the time they arrived at The Castle, her confidence was very low. She found herself wishing the ground would open and swallow her up, rather than having to face the Duke and Duchess of Troubridge.
In desperation, as the carriage entered the grounds of the estate, Emily reached out to touch his arm. “Deo?”
He looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” she said. “I cannot bear to face them with you so angry with me. They will sense it, and I’ll die of embarrassment.”
“I’m not angry—” he protested.
“Yes, you are, I can feel it!” she interrupted him.
He took a breath and huffed it out. “Very well. But I cannot just wave a magic wand and not be angry.”
“No, but you could yell at me, and you might feel better?” she said, peeking at him.
He glared at her for a moment and then surprisingly, he laughed.
“Is that what I do? You said something like that the other night.”
“Yes, you do,” she said with a tentative smile.
He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I’m like a bear with a sore head.” He shook it as if to shake off his mood. “But you don’t have to worry about the duke and duchess. They are very nice people.”
She shuddered. “The duke is terrifying. I’ve met him!”
“Oh, that’s just his starchy public face. He’s not like that at home, I assure you. And Sarah is a vicar’s daughter, the eldest of eight. She is very warm and friendly.”
“Oh, well, if you will not glare at me too much, I should be able to manage, I suppose. I’m not good at social situations.”
“Neither am I, but this is different. You’ll be among friends. My friends. They will welcome you simply because you’re my wife.”
She nodded, and he surprised her by raising her hand to his lips and kissing it, then he gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was comforting, as she was sure it was meant to be.
“We’re here,” he said as the carriage rolled to a stop before the very imposing front entrance of a sprawling three-story mansion.
Opening the door, he let Kes jump out and then followed, turning to help her down, which he did by lifting her.
He did this so effortlessly, he made her feel like thistledown.
The whole sensation made her heart flutter and gave her gooseflesh—the good kind.
He was so big and handsome, her husband.
Her eyes ran up his length, and she breathed in his scent.
His masculinity was overwhelming sometimes—that chest, those arms.
Last night, she’d flung herself against him and cried all over him. And he’d hugged her, held her, and begged her not to cry. No one had ever done that before. She swallowed a swell of emotion as he set her on her feet, and he turned her toward the entrance, which was suddenly full of people.
She recognized the duke, and she thought the other rather carelessly dressed gentleman looked vaguely familiar, too, but she couldn’t be sure.
The rest was a blur of ladies and three children who, with loud squeals, descended the steps at a run, heading straight for Kester, who wagged his tail at this greeting and capered about barking madly.
Pandemonium reigned for a few moments until Deo got Kes to settle down and the rumpled man who wasn’t the duke managed to subdue the children somewhat.
Deo greeted the man with a hug. “Emrys!” He smiled. “I took your advice,” he murmured obscurely. Then he said, “Meet my wife, Emily. Em, this is Emrys, Viscount Ashford. He was at Cambridge with the rest of us.”
Emily curtsied and murmured something that she hoped was appropriate, while the man, who had very kind eyes, twinkled at her. “My pleasure, Lady Pendrell.”
“Hey, precedence!” protested the duke, stepping forward. “Why does he get the first introduction?”
Deo laughed, clapping the duke on the back. “Your Grace, I would like to introduce my wife, Emily Frances, Countess of Pendrell. But Em tells me you’ve met?” There was a faint challenge in that tone, and Emily’s heart turned over.
The duke, ever the polished gentleman, took her hand. “Indeed, we have. When we last met, you were Miss Grenfell, so this is a happy change in your circumstances. Welcome to The Castle, my dear. Let me introduce my wife, Sarah,” he said, sweeping a tall, brown-haired young woman forward.
“I’m delighted to meet you!” The duchess enveloped Emily in a hug.
“Come and meet everyone else.” She swept Emily up the steps, making introductions as she went.
“This is Annis, Lady Ashford. And the children are Elizabeth, Charlotte, and Ewen. As you might have guessed from his peace-keeping duties, they belong to Emrys. Now do come in and put off your cloak. You must be thirsty and hungry, yes?”
They entered the house with Kester and the children, rounded up by Deo and the viscount, and the duke bringing up the rear with instructions to the butler to take care of their luggage.
Tea was served in the drawing room on the first floor, and a very elegant apartment it was, too.
Emily found herself seated next to Deo on one of the couches as the duchess served and handed round cups of tea, biscuits, cakes, and sandwiches.
“We’re expecting Kenrick any moment too, with a friend, so we will have quite a house party.”
“Hereward has a standing invitation, but I think he has gone to a friend’s for a spot of hunting,” said the duke.
“Well, it’s quite like old times having everyone here, isn’t it?” said Sarah. “And some new, very welcome faces, too,” she said kindly with a smile at Emily.
“So, you’ve come to investigate the cross, eh?” said the duke to Deo. “Stevens gave me your note, of course. I had no idea when I wrote to Aberdeen about it that he was going to send you.”
“What can you tell me about it?”
“Emrys found it,” he said.
Emrys leaned forward to take another piece of cake. “Actually, the Watson boys found it, last summer. It’s about fifty yards from the ruins. We did a bit of digging, and it seems likely there is something buried underneath it. So, we left it to the expert. Which is you.”
Deo took Emily’s hand and said, “We are. In fact, Em is more of an expert than I am in this one. Celtic burials and artifacts are her specialty.”
Emily blushed with pleasure at his praise. “It’s so very exciting. Thank you for the opportunity.”
*
At the end of tea, the duchess said to Emily, “You’ll want to wash up and rest before dinner, which is at seven. I’ve put you and Deo in the yellow suite. Deo will show you where it is.”
With a slightly sinking heart, Deo left his friends to escort Emily upstairs to their room.
He had specifically asked Stevens to secure them a double suite.
Either he hadn’t asked, the message had gotten lost in translation, or the duchess had chosen to ignore the request. The yellow suite had only one bedchamber, dressing room, and sitting room.
They were likely to be here for weeks, and the prospect of sharing a bed with Emily for all that time . . .
He opened the door of the sitting room, off of which the bedroom ran.
It was a light and airy chamber done out in yellow brocade furnishings and gold-and-white striped wallpaper.
The sitting room had a generous-sized desk, and perhaps that was the reason the duchess had assigned the suite to them.
This room would become their headquarters while they worked on the burial.
Stevens had laid out their books and papers on the desk and made a neat pile of Deo’s archaeological equipment in the corner.
He led her through into the bedroom which boasted the same style furnishings as the sitting room and poked his head into the dressing room to check that their clothing had been put away.
“Dinner,” said Emily in a panicked tone. “What shall I wear?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I had a word with Sarah, she said they wouldn’t be dressing for dinner tonight as it’s just family. She’ll sort you out with something tomorrow.”
“That is very kind of her.”
“I told you she was kind.”
She nodded. “Thank you,” she blushed, “for what you said downstairs, about my expertise.”
He smiled. “It’s true. You’ll be taking the lead on this one.”
“B-but I can’t! You know far more about archaeology than I do.”
“True, I’ll be applying the methodology, but you will provide the contextual and interpretive knowledge.”
“Oh, Deo.” She wrapped her arms round his middle and hugged him.
It was so unexpected, he just froze. Looking down at her head pressed against his chest, he slowly put his arms up to hug her back and irresistibly, he lowered his head and kissed her hair.
Her rose scent was intoxicating, and the feel of her slender form pressed against him was having a disastrous effect on his equilibrium.
It was Wednesday, not Thursday, and way past three in the afternoon.
He wanted to push her away and flee and at the same time pull her closer and—kiss her. No, no, no! That way lay disaster.
Unfortunately, his body wasn’t listening to his brain. She raised her head, and those rosebud lips were so close. She stared up at him with such a softened expression in her bright hazel-green eyes, her lips slightly parted, plump and inviting. And he couldn’t resist.
He lowered his head and set his lips to hers, gently, softly, tentatively, as if he were afraid he would startle her.
He hadn’t much of a clue about kissing. He’d never done it, not properly.
When he was a raw young lad, there had been a few sloppy attempts along with some heated groping in the barn with the dairy maid that had ended abruptly when he came all over himself.
Her disgust and the humiliation had made him retreat, and he’d not tried that again.
Now here he was, a thirty-two-year-old man with a beautiful woman in his arms and not a clue what to do with her.
Well, not much of a clue anyway. Instinct made him move his lips a little and the effect was searing.
A kind of heady, tingling pleasure exploded outwards from the caress of her soft lips, and he pressed a little closer, chasing the delicious feeling, moving his mouth around to try different angles and get more of the delectable sensations.
He was drowning in sensation. Nothing had ever felt this good in his life.
Her lips were pure heaven, and his cock was rigid in his breeches.
It was that realization that made him pull back.
His boyhood terror of disgracing himself cut through the bliss and made him let her go with a groan of longing.
He stepped back, turning away to hide the effect she had on him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We may not even be legally married at this point.
I—” He swallowed, his throat clogged. “I’m going to take Kes for a walk.
” He moved to the door, calling Kes. But Kester was looking at Emily as if reluctant to leave her.
“Kes!” he said peremptorily, snapping his fingers for emphasis. Kes came, his ears and tail down. Deo held the door for him and left the room rapidly.
*
Emily, left alone in the bedchamber, put her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes.
The sensation of his mouth on hers had sent a thousand delicious tingles through her body and a warm, nagging heat between her legs.
She sank down on the big bed to contemplate what it meant.
She had felt the hard heat of his body pressed to hers through their clothing.
She knew just enough to hazard a guess at what that signified.
And a smile curved her lips. The agonized groan he’d uttered as he pulled away from her told her that he hadn’t wanted to let her go but felt compelled to—by his scruples, she supposed.
She sighed. Perhaps she could persuade him to kiss her again. After all, what could a few kisses hurt? And they felt so good . . .
*
Deo, tromping over the lawns while Kester romped round him, tried to sort his brain out.
What is wrong with me? I barely touched her, and I’m stiff as a poker.
And it’s not even Thursday! Mind you, he wasn’t in the habit of kissing pretty young women, so how was he to know what was normal and what wasn’t?
If I did it more often, his logical brain pointed out, I might find out.
He groaned. I’ve opened that damned Pandora’s box.
Just a crack, and it’s already ruining everything.
He didn’t even know if they were truly married.
He had to stop hurtling down this slippery slope immediately.
At least until he knew what their legal status was.
Then if he needed to marry her again, he would, and that would solve that problem.
And by then perhaps he would have figured out how to approach the other problem.
How to kiss my wife without making a mess of myself.
Because he had to admit, he wanted to. Very much.
So much, it scared the living daylights out of him.
The fact was he hadn’t a clue how to make love to a woman.
He knew the mechanics of intercourse, but that was the problem.
It had all been mechanical with Damaris.
That was how he liked it. Because it put him in control of the situation.
He could very clearly see, just on the basis of that kiss, he could very rapidly lose control of the situation with Emily if he wasn’t very, very careful.
What am I going to do?