Chapter Nine
After dinner, Emily was yawning, so Deo sent her up to bed first in the hope that by the time he joined her she would be asleep.
Eventually bidding the other fellows good night, he returned to their suite, nervous and reluctant.
Entering the sitting room, he contemplated sleeping on the couch, but it was far too small for his big frame, and he resigned himself to the prospect of sharing the big bed with Emily.
To his relief, she appeared to be fast asleep, worn out with traveling, no doubt. He was tired himself. They would inspect the burial site tomorrow and begin the work after a good night’s rest. It was an exciting prospect.
He stripped in the dressing room, had a thorough wash, redoned his breeches, and approached the bed quietly, slipping between the sheets.
The bed was big and comfortable. Kes rearranged himself at their feet, and Deo lay back against the pillows, trying to relax and ignore the fact that Emily was lying about a foot away from him, sleeping.
With any luck, they would both sleep through and there would be no awkwardness. The best thing would be if he rose extremely early. With this laudable ambition in mind, he rolled onto his side and tried to sleep.
The next thing he was aware of was a wave of pleasure pulsing through his body.
He was lying on something soft. A woman’s body, but he couldn’t see her face, yet somehow, he knew it was Emily.
He was dreaming, of course. Another wave of agonizing pleasure rolled through him.
He was rubbing his cock on her, and it wasn’t enough!
Horror seized him at what he was doing, and he woke abruptly, his eyes popping open, and he rolled panting onto his back, his cock stiff and quivering inside his breeches.
He glanced over at Emily, but she was curled away from him, oblivious of his tumescent state.
He stared down at this inconvenient state of arousal, visible as a bulge through the cloth, and his balls twitched, his stomach muscles pulling tight with need.
There was no way around it, he had to do something about it.
Sliding from the bed, he went swiftly to the dressing room and found the little bottle of oil he kept for his needs in a side pocket of his valise.
Exiting the dressing room as quietly as possible, he groped his way to the door into the sitting room, opened it and with a glance back at the bed, slid through and closed it softly behind him.
The sitting room was lit only by the glow of the banked fireplace. He crossed swiftly to the fire, leaning on the mantle, his breathing erratic and his cock quivering and hard, demanding his attention.
He undid the buttons on his breeches, allowing his aching cock to spring free, and applied the oil with shaking fingers to the silky, warm shaft.
He took himself firmly in hand and stroked.
He could deal with it quickly and return to bed as if nothing had happened.
This is just an aberration; it has nothing to do with kissing Emily or sharing a bed with her . . .
A hushed groan escaped him as he recalled the feel of her mouth under his, her delicious lips, and her soft, lovely body pressed against him. He closed his eyes tight. God, I want to kiss her again, properly, deeply. Oh, fuck!
He came rapidly and hard, his seed splashing onto his hand and splattering his belly, breeches, and even into the fire, as a faint hiss from the hot ashes attested.
He gasped for breath, hanging onto the mantelpiece as his knees trembled from the force of his release, tingles spreading all through his body.
Oh, God! He caught his breath and shook his head as the tingles gradually faded, and he got the use of his legs back.
Fuck! That was . . . Words failed him for the intensity of the sensations.
He looked down at the mess on his hand, clothing, and belly.
And nothing to clean it up with. You did not plan this well, Deo!
Of course I didn’t. I didn’t mean it to happen!
And it mustn’t happen again. No more kisses or lascivious thoughts about my wife—if she even is my wife . . .
He must write to his solicitor first thing and get that sorted out.
Once it was settled—he could think about perhaps approaching the issue of consummating his marriage, changing the rules.
With Emily’s agreement, of course. But only in such a way as he maintained control of the situation.
He couldn’t be putting himself in a position of losing control, of—of humiliating myself again.
He turned back toward the bedchamber. Reentering very quietly, he crept across the room to the dressing room and slipped inside to clean himself up. Then he climbed back into bed, seemingly without disturbing Emily. Thank goodness she seems to be a heavy sleeper.
Relaxing back into the pillows, he slipped into sleep.
The next thing he knew it was morning. Emily was still asleep, and he rose quietly from the bed, washed, shaved, dressed, and took Kes out.
On his return, the first thing he did was pen a letter to his solicitor at the desk in their sitting room, before sorting through his equipment for the dig and writing up a quick methodology to discuss with Emily.
The door to the bedroom opened, and he turned to the sight of Emily dressed in a plain gown and sturdy boots, her hair confined in its usual chignon. She smiled at him and his heart lifted. She is so dashed pretty . . .
“I was just getting everything ready,” he said. “Shall we go down to breakfast? We can leave straight after that for the site.”
“Yes, please. I am so excited; I can’t wait!”
He smiled and held out his hand without thinking. Emily’s enthusiasm and warmth were infectious. She took it, and he was conscious of a little rush of pleasure. This is what I dreamed of. If I can just keep my physical responses under control . . .
They descended the stairs to the breakfast parlor and found Ashford and his wife there before them.
“Ah, our intrepid archaeologists!” said Emrys. “Annis and I will be happy to show you where the site is after breakfast if you like?”
“That would be delightful. Do tell us about it!” said Emily, taking a seat, while Deo fetched her a plate of food. It was becoming a habit for him to fill her plate up. She is still slender as a reed. I don’t want her fainting on me again. That is an experience I can do without repeating.
“We were there when the boys found the cross,” said Annis, as Deo came back to the table with two plates piled high with eggs, ham, sausages, mushrooms, and crispy potatoes.
Emily looked at her plate and said, “Gosh, Deo, I can’t eat all that!”
“Try,” he said, taking his seat. “We will be working all day; you’ll need something substantial to keep you going.”
Emily made a manful attempt at her plate full of food.
After everyone had their fill, they collected flasks of water and tea to take with them; Deo shouldered his rucksack of equipment, and Emily put on a huge floppy brimmed hat to keep the sun off her face, and they set out to find the site, with the Ashfords showing the way.
It was a fine day, not too hot, some cloud cover and a light breeze, but no immediate threat of rain.
A perfect day for a dig. As they walked across the lawns toward their goal, Deo reflected that while they were here, he should write up the ruins, too.
There was only a paragraph on them in John Nichols’s great work.
Surely there was more to be said about them than that.
When he voiced this, Annis said, “Oh yes, I found some material in the library on them; I must show you. There was probably a moat originally. The dip in the ground is still there.” Annis had been the Layne sisters’ governess before she married Ashford and was well acquainted with The Castle.
Emrys turned to Emily. “So, what date would you put on this cross, do you think?”
“If it’s what I think it is, most of them date to the immediate post-Roman period in Britain. But I won’t know for certain until I look at it,” she said cautiously.
Deo smiled with pride. Emily understands the importance of checking the evidence first before making an interpretation. She will make an excellent archaeologist.
“Are those the ruins?” asked Emily excitedly, pointing to the remnants of the stone tower ahead.
*
Emily was so excited she had to stop herself racing ahead like a child.
As they approached, she could see the dip in the ground encircling the tower that must be the moat that Lady Ashford spoke of.
There were lots of large stone blocks scattered about, half overgrown with creepers and covered in moss, as well as a fragment of wall around the broken tower, with its exposed side open to the weather and showing the staircase within.
“According to the floor plan I found, there were four towers originally, but this is the only one left,” said Lady Ashford.
They poked about a bit, but Emily was anxious to see the cross, and she suspected Deo was, as well, so they headed toward a stand of trees and a rising bit of ground, behind and to the right of the ruins—about, as the viscount said, fifty yards away.
“The bit we uncovered may have got covered up again. It’s been a few months since we did the exploratory dig and a year since we found it originally. That was last summer when we were here with all the children,” said the viscount.
They stopped at the base of the rising ground, which was covered in grass and leaf mulch and was roughly circular and about fifty feet in diameter. Emily clasped her hands, trying to contain her anticipation. “Deo, do you think this could be a burial mound?”
“A burial mound? How thrilling!” said Lady Ashford. “Emrys, here we were tromping all over it like hobgoblins, showing no respect!”
“What would you expect to find if it is?” asked the viscount.