How could she not be when Stratford had all but acknowledged he cared for her—not as a friend. Not as a cousin. Not as a sort of sister.
As a lover?
Emmeline wasn’t certain why she was so thrilled at this revelation. A month ago, she would have never once thought of kissing Stratford. He was her escort, someone who had to accompany her on the never-ending list of social engagements. She was miserable and only looking for escape.
But then she had escaped, and Stratford had shown up, and something changed. He wasn’t just the man she’d known since they’d been children, not just an escort who endured the Season at her side. He was a Stratford she had never seen—probably, she could admit, because she had not looked at him in so long. Of course, she’d realized he was handsome and well-built. She was not blind. Of course, she knew he had been decorated for his service to his country during the war.
But she hadn’t known how much she would like his intellect—how talking to him was refreshing and made her feel alive. She didn’t agree with all he said, but he made her think. He made her realize that running away from her mother was not the solution to her problems. She would have to face them head on.
Emmeline hadn’t known how much she would admire his bravery and cunning and loyalty to his friend. And she even appreciated his cool head and rational way of thinking. Those qualities had saved them all more than once on this adventure.
But she hadn’t thought that he felt the same about her. They had kissed, yes, and she’d known he enjoyed the kiss. But it had seemed he hadn’t wanted to enjoy it and hadn’t wanted to repeat it. And then they’d kissed again, and she’d said that idiot thing about marrying him. She hadn’t meant to say it, but at the time it seemed like such a good idea. If she married him, she would not have to endure any more Seasons. And she could keep kissing him.
But he’d seemed so appalled at the idea, and she’d been humiliated at having said it.
But then tonight he had all but told her that he thought of her in much the same way. Had something changed or had he started to feel something more than friendship for her, as she had with him?
That was when Loftus appeared. She hadn’t heard him coming, but with the rain pounding down, it was hard to hear anything. He emerged from the darkness and shook all over, trying to rid his coat of water. Emmeline laughed then looked about for Stratford.
“Where is Stratford?” she asked Loftus, who did not reply, just came to sit with her under the blanket and licked her face. She went instantly cold, afraid the plan to rescue Ines had gone wrong. But what could she do? She had no idea where the crofter’s cottage might be, and she certainly couldn’t try to find it in the dark with rain pouring down. She was better off staying here and searching for her friends in the light of day.
She knew it was the wisest decision, but it was not the easiest. As the minutes and then what seemed like hours passed, Emmeline began to wonder if Stratford might be hurt. What if he was lying in a field, bleeding? What if he was cold and wet and needed her?
She could not sit here and wait. She had to find him.
She lowered the blanket and rose, then looked at the dog. He peered up at her mournfully, eyes half-closed to keep the rain out. “Loftus, find Stratford.”
The dog whined and put his head on his paws. It was clear he didn’t intend to go anywhere. “Loftus, find Stratford!” she repeated. Loftus just looked up at her from those squinted eyes.
Well, what had she expected? That he would bound away and lead her straight to Stratford? That only happened in books. She would have to find him without the dog’s help. She knew which way the men had started out.
Wrapping the blanket about her shoulders, she began to walk in that direction.
“And where do you think you are going?” a voice asked.
Emmeline froze. She knew that voice. “Stratford?”
He moved out of the shadows, and she realized he’d been walking toward her, but she hadn’t seen him in the darkness and rain. Emmeline couldn’t stop herself. She ran toward him and threw her arms around him. He caught her, pulling her close and holding her for a long moment before he said, “Let’s find some cover.”
She led him back to the tree she’d sheltered under, but he shook his head and moved toward the woods. She followed reluctantly, but once they had entered the darkness, she saw the wisdom of his actions. With more trees clumped close together, the rain was muted. Of course, she couldn’t take more than two steps without tripping, but Stratford gripped her hand and kept her on her feet. They settled by a log, and she sank down, her back against it. Stratford took the blanket, draped it over some low-hanging branches, making a sort of shelter, feeble though it might be.
Then he sat beside her, his warmth most welcome as she’d begun shivering now. Loftus came to sit on her other side, and she was a few degrees above freezing.
“Ines?” she asked.
“Safe,” he answered. “Unharmed, too, I think. She’s with Duncan at the cottage. When the rain slackens, we will go there too.”
“How far?” she asked.
“About fifteen minutes. I got turned around, which is why it took me so much longer to make my way back here. Loftus went on ahead. I thought he would comfort you.”
She shook her head, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks.
Stratford touched her cheek, brushing the hair away. “You were worried?”
She nodded. He put an arm about her and pulled her close. She buried her face in his shoulder and tried to hold back tears. “I thought—” she began, but her voice faltered.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You are safe. That’s what’s important.”
He looked down at her. “I wish this rain would stop, so we could go to the cottage. I hate that we have to sit out in the cold and wet half the night.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. It was the truth. She didn’t mind as long as he was with her. “Though I have to say thus far I do not enjoy Scotland.”
He chuckled. “We can always go back.”
She drew back and hit him lightly on the arm. “Not a chance.”
He laughed harder then pulled her close. “Having the time of your life, are you?”
“I’m miserable,” she said.
“Well, no one I would rather be miserable with than you.” He gave her a quick kiss on the mouth.
At least it started out quick, but then his mouth lingered instead of withdrew. His lips seemed to be questioning hers, asking if she wanted what he wanted.
Emmeline answered by moving her own lips against his in a light whisper of a kiss. His arms tightened on hers, pulling her hard against him as his mouth pressed firmly against hers. When he held her like this, touched her like this, she couldn’t think of anything but the way his lips felt against hers. She forgot the rain and the cold and nothing but the heady press of his mouth, the gentle probing of his tongue, and the hardness of his chest under her palms mattered.
He kissed her for what seemed hours. They would pause, come up for air, and then their mouths would be drawn inexorably closer until they began all over again. He lowered her to the soft pine needles on the ground, his body covering hers and giving her warmth. With a sniff, Loftus moved off to the side and put his head down between his paws. As Stratford kissed her, the heat in her belly caused the rest of her to tingle and ache. She pressed against him, wanting the feel of him in that spot between her legs and against her tender nipples.