A Kiss Before Dawn (13 page)

He traced his hands up her sides in a slow stroke, taking satisfaction in the way she quivered beneath his touch. The firelight shone through the thin white linen of her chemise, delineating every curve of her lush form. Her breasts were high and firm, her rosy nipples taut and stabbing against the damp material.

It was more provocation than Peter could bear.

“Dear God, Emily. You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely, smoothing a hand over her shoulder. Slipping a finger under the strap of the chemise, he slid it down, his mouth following in its wake, tasting the creamy skin that was revealed to him.

Her head fell back against the wall, and she made no move to stop him as he reached up to peel aside the other strap as well. The chemise fell to her waist, baring her ripe breasts to the fire's glow and his reverent gaze.

Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned down to take one of the distended pink tips into the warm cavern of his mouth.

Emily was lost in the bliss of Peter's touch, unable to think of anything but the delight of being in his arms again. His hands on her sent bursts of sensation through her nerve endings, and the moment the heat of his mouth enclosed her naked breast, she went up on her toes in reaction, a keening cry falling from her lips. As he suckled her gently, his tongue plied her nipple, curling around the erect bud until it ached.

She had dreamed of him touching her this way. But never had she believed it could ever happen. Yet, here he was, caressing her, loving her, making her feel things she'd thought never to feel again.

Something niggled at the edges of her consciousness, but she pushed it away, determined to experience every bit of pleasure she could in the moment. Cupping the back of Peter's head, she held him to her as he nuzzled first one nipple, then the other, the edges of his teeth grazing the tender nubs before his tongue shot out to soothe them. She released another moan in response.

“If I'm dreaming, angel,” he murmured, his breath fanning over sensitive flesh still moist from his attentions, “don't ever wake me. I want to stay in 'eaven wiv you forever.”

His words were enough to send her pulse skyrocketing. The emotion in that Cockney-tinged voice told her he meant everything he said. To know that she affected him just as profoundly as he did her was heady knowledge.

Needing to feel his skin, to touch him in some way, she let her hands glide down over his broad shoulders and into the vee of his shirtfront. She felt his body shudder as her palms lingered on the solid wall of his chest, indulging in the feel of satiny flesh over hard muscle.

What would come next? she wondered as he lifted his mouth from her breasts to give her another soul-stealing kiss. Emily might have been a virgin, but she was well aware of what went on between a man and a woman, and she knew if they carried this through to the logical conclusion, there would be no going back.

No going back…

The thought was enough to arrest her movements and seize the air in her lungs. The vague shadow that had wavered at the back of her mind, disturbing her, took shape and had her suddenly shoving at Peter's shoulders in an attempt to push him away.

She couldn't do this! Too much stood between them. Not the least of which was the fact that
she
was the Oxfordshire Thief.

Seeming to become aware that she was no longer pulling him closer, but trying to hold him off, Peter tore his lips from hers and gazed down at her in confusion, his blue eyes unfocused and blazing with the depth of his need. “Emily?”

She barely managed to squeeze the words out through the lump in her throat. “Peter, we have to stop. Now.”

Though her voice wasn't quite steady, he must have been able to read the seriousness in it, for he blinked and his expression instantly closed up. Wheeling about, he stalked across the room to stand with his back to her as he put up an obvious battle to regain control.

Pulling up the straps of her chemise to cover her swollen, aching breasts, Emily knelt down to retrieve her blanket and quickly wrapped it about herself. Dear God, what had she almost done?

Peter Quick was a dangerous man, and finally knowing why he had left her only made him that much more lethal to her peace of mind. She had believed for so long that he simply hadn't cared, but now she realized that he'd cared too much. He'd walked away from his home and all he'd known because he'd believed it was best for her.

Closing her eyes, she heaved a sigh and reached up to rub at her temples. Never mind that she was the one who had demanded the truth. She couldn't let any of it matter. Even if there was still some feeling between them, she couldn't afford to lose her heart to him. Not again. Regardless of his reasons, she'd put her faith in him once before and he'd left her.

How could she ever trust him again?

“I'm sorry.”

His voice was low, almost inaudible over the ominous growls of thunder from outside, but she heard it nevertheless.

“It's my fault,” he went on, turning to face her. The pain in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. “I never should have touched you, but when I'm around you I seem to have trouble remembering that.”

Emily shook her head. She couldn't allow him to take all the blame. “No. I was just as responsible.” She started forward, one hand outstretched as if to offer comfort, but came to an abrupt stop. He wouldn't want sympathy from her. Not after this.

Biting her lip, she looked down at the floor, struggling to find the right words to soothe the troubled waters between them. “Let's just put it down to talk of the past and the isolation of our surroundings. It's all too easy to forget things—important things—in a situation like this and to get swept up in the moment. It was an aberration, nothing more.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “An aberration. That sounds about right.” Stalking over to his saddlebag, he lifted it off the floor and slung it over his shoulder before casting her a hooded look. “I'm going to go check on the horses.”

Before she could say a word, he had pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain.

Emily hurried after him, coming to a halt on the threshold and watching as he splashed through the puddles in the muddy yard before disappearing around the side of the cottage.

As soon as he was out of sight, she collapsed against the doorframe, letting the weakness that had been hovering, ready to overtake her, have its way.

What have I done?

She shook her head. She knew the answer to that, even if she didn't want to admit it. She had reminded herself all too powerfully of what had first drawn her to Peter. Of the passion and emotion that was obviously still very much alive and well between them.

But it was of no consequence. No matter what she felt for Peter, nothing could come of it. Even if he should still care for her, any relationship was doomed to failure from the start.

Wasn't it?

Oh, this was getting her nowhere! Tightening her hold on her blanket, she glanced up at the gray sky, glad to see that at least the storm seemed to be over. The rain had slackened to a mere trickle, and the thunder had tapered off to an occasional grumble far in the distance.

Closing the door, she returned to the fire to lift her still-damp dress from the floor and shake it out, brushing off the particles of dirt that clung to the material before slipping it over her head. When Peter returned to the cottage, she would tell him it was best that they continue on their way to Knighthaven. Once they were away from this place, they could forget this incident and move on.

But despite her determination, a seed of doubt still remained.
Could
she forget what had passed between them here?

Could either of them?

"Y
ou've been very quiet this morning, Em. Is everything all right?”

The soft query brought Emily out of hermusings, and she looked up from her contemplation of a nearby patch of violets to meet her companion's concerned gaze.

“Of course, Adam,” she said, forcing a note of lightness into her voice that she was far from feeling. “I was just daydreaming, I'm afraid.”

The viscount shifted in his saddle, his expression unconvinced. “You've hardly said a word since we left Knighthaven.”

Emily bit her lower lip and swiftly looked away. It was true, but what could she possibly say to explain her preoccupation?

It had been a need to clear her head and a large dose
of guilt that had led her to accept when Lord Moreland had dropped by the house early this morning to ask her to accompany him for a ride about the estate. After having turned down his previous invitation for an outing, she'd felt she couldn't say no without further widening the rift between them.

But things had been awkward, and for once she found herself at a loss as to what to say to him. He'd always been so easy to talk to before, but now that he seemed to have set his sights on her as a wife, she was afraid anything she said at this point could be construed as encouragement.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked especially handsome today with his golden-blond hair tumbling over his forehead in a rakish manner, his muscular form clad in close-fitting buckskin breeches and a bottle-green coat that outlined the width of his shoulders.

Why was it that the idea of wedding Adam filled her with a sudden desire to bolt for the hills with all due speed? Perhaps marriage wouldn't be such a bad thing to consider, especially to someone she liked as well as the viscount. She felt comfortable with him and they got along well. Of course, according to gossip he had a bit of a weakness when it came to the gaming tables, but no one was perfect, and there were certainly much worse faults to be had than a penchant for wagering.

But there was no spark between them, no attraction, no matter how much she might wish there was. If she was going to tie herself to someone for life, she wanted it to be someone who affected her both physically and
emotionally. Someone who made her head spin and her heart beat faster.

Someone like Peter.

Emily's jaw tightened. She'd made up her mind she wasn't going to allow Peter Quick to cast a shadow over her time with Adam, but she was finding it difficult to keep exactly that from happening. Even when she wasn't in his company, he occupied her every thought. She couldn't seem to forget the feel of his hands smoothing over her skin, his mouth on her breasts…

Shivering, she took a deep breath and shoved him from her mind once again before turning back to Lord Moreland with what she hoped was a placating smile. “I'm sorry. I've been a bit troubled and haven't slept well lately, so I suppose I'm just tired.”

“Troubled by what? Does it have anything to do with this Quick fellow?”

At his question, she started and couldn't help giving an inward groan. It seemed even in innocent conversation with another man, she couldn't escape Peter.

They had halted their horses next to a stream at the edge of the Ellington property, but needing to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions that swept through her at the mention of Peter, Emily prodded Artemis forward into a walk and the viscount followed suit on his mount, falling in next to her.

She studied him over her shoulder. “What makes you ask that?” she queried, keeping her tone nonchalant.

Adam's chiseled mouth turned downward. “I don't like the way he looks at you. And he seems to put you
on edge when you're around him. I noticed it the other day at breakfast.”

Well, she couldn't deny that, Emily had to concede. And Lord Moreland was much too observant. More observant than she'd given him credit for.

Searching for some way to excuse her behavior, she shrugged and waved a careless hand. “Mr. Quick and I tend to put each other's backs up. We've had some…disagreements in the past, but we've come to terms with it and now we have an understanding of sorts.”

That was true, as well. In the last few days since the incident in the abandoned cottage, she and Peter had somehow managed to continue to work together. She had accompanied him as he had questioned each of the people on the list of dinner-party guests Lord Fulberry had provided, and though their interaction had been strained at first, his investigation and her determination to keep him from finding out the truth had soon taken precedence.

And they hadn't spoken of what had passed between them again.

Adam's brow furrowed in obvious disapproval. “I'm certain that you believe that, Em, but I don't trust the man. He
is
a former pickpocket, after all. And to have him staying in your home with you…well, I can't imagine what Lord Ellington is thinking.”

Emily took immediate exception to the viscount's condescending attitude. “He is a former pickpocket who is now an officer of the law. And my brother is
thinking
about the people of Little Haverton and catching this thief before he causes any more devastation.”

“Of course.” Lord Moreland looked suitably chastened, though something still lurked in the depths of his hazel eyes that tugged at her uneasiness. “I apologize. But you must understand, I'm just concerned.”

She nodded, but found herself unable to reply. The man's criticism of Peter had angered her more than it should have, and that disturbed her. More than she was ready to admit.

At that moment, they trotted into the stable yard at Knighthaven, and Emily had to restrain a sigh of relief. Always before, she had enjoyed being with Adam, but today she was most anxious to part company with him. Had her friend always been so dictatorial, so arrogant? So proprietary where she was concerned?

It seemed Peter's return had opened her eyes to several things she'd once been blind to.

She started to slide down from her saddle, but the viscount appeared at her side before her feet could even touch the cobblestones and grasped her waist, lowering her next to him. Instead of letting her go once she was on the ground, however, he maintained his hold, staring down at her in a disconcerting manner.

“Why, Adam, whatever is wrong?” she asked, attempting to keep her tone light and amused. “Do I have a spot of dirt on my cheek?”

To her surprise, he let go of her waist to reach up and gather her hands in both of his. Oh, dear. Was he actually about to declare himself?

“Emily,” he began earnestly, “I've been meaning to speak to you about something rather important. I'm certain you must know how I feel about you, and I—”
“I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

At the sound of the deep voice, Emily glanced up to find Peter lounging in the entrance to the stables, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in silent inquiry. The sight of him had her heart giving a queer flutter in her chest, and she felt a surge of relief as she pulled her hands free from Adam's grip and took a step away from him. There was no mistaking the look of displeasure that crossed the viscount's face, but she could only be grateful for Peter's timely arrival. “Of course not, Mr. Quick. Lord Moreland and I were just…talking.” She forced a smile. “Did you need something?”

He straightened and ambled toward them, his strides long and fluid. “As a matter of fact, Lady Emily, I was looking for you. I plan on going to see Baron Caulfield in a short while and was hoping you would have the time to come along.”

“Certainly.” A crony of Emily's father from long ago, Baron Caulfield had been one of the victims on Jack's list of marks. A stuffy, posturing man in his middle years, he had an attitude of preening arrogance that had made Emily feel a bit less guilty about the part she had played in the robbery of his home—though only a bit.

A slight sound drew her attention to Adam, who stood where she'd left him, a frown marring his handsome face. “I'm afraid I don't understand, Emily. Why should you need to accompany Mr. Quick to see Lord Caulfield?”

It was Peter who answered. “Lady Emily has been of great help to me in my questioning of the victims of the Oxfordshire thefts.”

The viscount's mouth fell open and he sputtered for a moment, as if lost for words. When he finally managed to speak, his tone dripped with righteous indignation. “Quick, do you mean to tell me you've actually been allowing Lady Emily to take part in this investigation of yours? Do you realize what sort of danger you could be putting her in? Is Lord Ellington aware of this?”

Peter's countenance hardened and he took a step toward the other man. “Lord Ellington is quite aware of it, Moreland. In fact, his wife is the one who suggested Lady Emily might be of assistance. And I would never do anything to place her in any sort of jeopardy.” He lifted his chin. “Never.”

His voice was so fierce, the look in his eyes so challenging, that Emily feared fisticuffs might be imminent. Stepping swiftly between the two bristling adversaries, she placed a calming hand on Lord Moreland's arm. “Really, Adam. There is no need for this. I'm in no danger. It's not as if I am out chasing the thief down. I simply go with Pet—um, Mr. Quick—when he questions the victims and witnesses. They know me and my presence seems to put them at ease.”

The viscount tore his gaze from Peter and folded his arms across his chest, giving her a belligerent scowl. “I still cannot approve of this, Emily. Not at all.”

That did it. Emily's own temper flared to life and she fixed him with a stern glare. “It is not for you to approve or disapprove of anything I do, Adam,” she informed him coolly. “Kindly remember that in the future.”

For a long, awkward moment, no one said a word. Then, close enough to her ear that the warmth of his
breath on her neck caused her to shiver, she heard Peter whisper, “Bravo.”

She felt her cheeks heat in response.

It was obvious that Lord Moreland heard him as well. But other than sending another glower over Emily's shoulder in Peter's direction, the viscount didn't deign to reply. He merely gave a stiff bow, his pale lashes lowering to veil his eyes, effectively hiding his thoughts.

“Of course. I do apologize. It seems I've overstepped my bounds once again. But you are a good friend, Emily, and I can't help but worry.”

“I appreciate your concern. But there is no reason for you to worry. I am quite safe in Mr. Quick's hands—er, care.”

The slipup was telling, and Peter's soft chuckle had her seeing red. He
would
enjoy seeing her flounder like this!

“Yes, well, I suppose I'll just have to take your word for that.” Seeming oblivious to Emily's discomfiture, Adam captured her hand again, raising it to his lips for a fervent kiss. Behind her, she could almost feel Peter stiffen. “I suppose I should take my leave now. But I do hope we will have a chance to finish our conversation later?”

She nodded, though the mere possibility of his proposing to her tied her stomach in knots. “I shall look forward to it.”

As she and Peter watched, the viscount climbed on his horse, inclined his head to them, and cantered out of the stable yard.

After a second or two, Emily turned to face Peter, unable to help wondering if he could tell how glad she was that Adam was finally gone. The thought seemed disloyal somehow. “Well, if you don't mind waiting, it shouldn't take me long to make ready, and then I'll join you for the trip to Lord Caulfield's.”

Peter examined her thoughtfully for a second. Then, shoving his hands in his pockets, he gave a casual shrug. “I don't mind waiting at all. If you're
sure
you want to go. Your Lord Moreland didn't seem to care for the idea.”

“He's not
my
Lord Moreland, and as you heard me say to him, he has no authority over how I choose to spend my time. I've agreed to accompany you and I intend to do so.”

As she finished speaking, a young groom came forward to take Artemis, but Emily waved him on his way. She needed some time alone, she decided, to rein in the chaos in her head. And taking care of her mare was always a soothing task that required little concentration on her part. Thank goodness. “It's quite all right, Tad. I'll get her settled.”

“If you're certain, m'lady.”

“I am.” As the lad loped off, she wrapped the reins around her hand and cast Peter one last glance. “I'll be ready within the hour.”

With that, she led Artemis into the darkness of the stables.

Once inside and out from under Peter's watchful eye, Emily felt herself relax, and her pent-up breath escaped her in a rush. It had been a trying morning, and she
could only hope the day ahead would get better. Surely it couldn't get any worse.

Dutifully, Artemis allowed her mistress to lead her to her stall in the far corner. And it was only after Emily had removed the mare's saddle and bridle and turned to reach for the currycomb that she realized Peter had followed her. He stood just inside the stall, watching her with a quiet intensity.

Comb in hand, she froze mid-motion. She should have known it wouldn't be so easy to escape him.

“You know, nothing has changed.”

His soft words had her narrowing her eyes in puzzlement. “Oh?”

“You always did like the stables. I can remember you used to come here whenever you were angry or upset.”

That was true. The stable had been one of her favorite escapes for as long as she could recall. With its scents of hay and old leather, its sounds of horses snorting and snuffling in their stalls, it was a place of warmth and safety, somehow comforting to her senses.

“And I can remember the day your brother brought you Artemis.” Peter crossed the stall to join her. “It was your sixteenth birthday. I don't think I'd ever seen you so happy.”