“You will be the death of me,” he all but groaned as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. His hands slid down over her bottom, squeezed it, then slid back up again to rub her arms, cup her breasts, and then brush over her sex. She moaned as he touched her and turned in his arms to kiss him fully.
He pulled her to the bed, coming down next to her and gazing at her with undisguised admiration. They both took their time exploring the other. She was particularly fond of the feel of his hip under her leg when she threw it over him. He seemed to want to kiss every part of her, twice. When they were both panting and dizzy with want, he entered her. It didn’t hurt this time, and Emmeline had to bite her lip to stop a cry of pleasure from the feel of him deep inside her. He moved slowly, locking his hands with hers, watching her face, and murmuring how beautiful she was and how he loved her.
When the pleasure had built to a peak and she was mewling with need, he suddenly rolled her over so that she straddled him.
“What is this?” she asked, breathless. But he nudged his hips, and she could see exactly what he wanted her to do. She took him inside her and moved her own hips tentatively.
“That’s it,” he said. “Show me what you like.”
She moved again, the friction delicious. He gripped her hips as she rocked over him, his face a mask of restraint. And then the pleasure was spiraling through her, coiling up through her belly and radiating out to every limb. She cried out and gripped his shoulders as he thrust into her, deepening her own pleasure. They crashed over the edge together, clinging tightly to each other to steady themselves in the storm.
Afterward, when she lay in Stratford’s arms, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She looked up at his handsome face, his tousled blond hair and heavy-lidded eyes. “Thank you for coming after me,” she said. “I think the truth is, I wanted someone to come find me.”
“I’ll always find you,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
“You’ll never need to. I plan to stay right by your side.”
“Good.” He turned and kissed her. “That’s right where I want you, my love.”
INES
Ines watched Mr. Fortescue start up the stairs after Emmeline and gave Duncan a meaningful look. He smiled and leaned close. “Ye take the stairs over there—”
“Oh, no.” Catarina moved behind them. “You are staying right here, irmã.” She pointed to the empty seat beside Duncan, where Fortescue had been seated. “Move over.”
Duncan sighed with resignation and moved. Ines steeled herself for a lecture, but Catarina smiled at her. “Are you happy?” she asked in Portuguese.
Ines smiled. “Sim. Very happy. I love him, Catarina. He is a good man,” she answered in their native tongue.
“He is not the man I would have chosen for you.”
“Senhor Podmore will find some other unfortunate woman to bore.”
“He already has.”
Ines raised a brow.
“He has been courting the daughter of a renowned saddle maker.”
“Saddles and coaches. They sound perfect for each other.”
“They do, yes.” Catarina’s smile faltered. “Is that why you ran away?” she asked. “Because I wanted you to consider Mr. Podmore?”
Ines grabbed her sister’s hands, concerned at the look of guilt on Catarina’s pretty face. “Não, não. Well, partly? I told you I was merely hiding, and then the coach started to move.”
“I did not believe that story.”
Ines squeezed her hands. “It is true. But the reason I did not want to come back? I did not want to meet any more Mr. Podmores. I wanted a Duncan Murray.”
Catarina glanced at him. “But you have always wanted love and romance, and he is so...”
At that moment, Duncan drained his wine glass, slammed it on the table, and signaled for another. All to the cheers of the men nearby.
“Scottish.”
Ines watched Duncan who winked at her. “I like that he is Scottish. I like this country. It is wild and free.”
“You really will not come back to London with us?”
Ines looked about the old keep of the castle and thought about the loch, the sea, and the mountains beyond. “We will come and visit.”
“What about our lace shop?”
Ines cocked her head. “That was always your dream, Catarina. I enjoy making lace, but I always made what you showed me. And perhaps I can show some of the women here how to make it. We can sell to some of the shops in Edinburgh.”
Catarina’s brows lifted. “Expansion of Catarina lace?”
Ines smiled. “I can see the excitement in your eyes already.”
Catarina laughed and then her expression turned serious. “I want you to be happy, Ines. I feel responsible for you. You were only fourteen when you ran away with me.”
“And you have been a mother and father to me,” Ines said. “But now I am all grown up, and you should go live your own life. Visiting me regularly, of course!”
“Of course.” Catarina hugged her, and Ines rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. Her sister always smelled of home to her, and Ines had to sniff to hold back tears. “You are crying, irmã.”
“Because I am happy,” Ines said. Catarina gave her a look, and Ines conceded, “And I will miss you not bossing me around every day.”
“Then you must come to London often so I can keep in practice.”
“I will.”
“And you,” Catarina said, switching to English as she turned on Duncan. “If you do not make my sister very happy, I will come for you.”
Duncan scooted back in his chair. “I promise she’ll nae have a moment’s complaint.”
“Good. And do not even think of sneaking away. I want to hear all about your travels. I hear you allowed her to be abducted by bandits.”
Ines buried her face in her hands.
She had thought once the breakfast was over, she and Duncan would have time together, but then they had to bid farewell to the guests who were travelling home that day. Emmeline and Fortescue had not been seen again, so the task fell to Ines and Duncan. And then there were gifts to open and sort and the duke wanted to speak to his nephew privately. By the time their parley was over, it was time for dinner. Emmeline and her new husband did reappear for the meal, and they looked very happy. Ines and Duncan could only stare at each other across the table.
Finally, after more toasts than Ines could count, the ladies adjourned to the drawing room while the men had their whisky. Both Emmeline and Ines protested they were exhausted and ready to retire. The ladies hurried up the stairs, giggling and then at the landing stopped to embrace.
“You’ll have to come visit us,” Emmeline said. “You’re like a sister to me now.”
“And you will have to come and visit us.”
“We will.” Emmeline squeezed Ines’s shoulders.
“Did you speak to Senhor Fortescue about Senhor Pope?”
Emmeline pulled back. “Are you still worried about him? Even after he shot your husband?”
“He apologized.”
“Before he threatened to do it again!” Emmeline put an arm around Ines’s shoulders and paused outside the door to the bedchamber she and Duncan had been given. “Stratford has promised to make inquiries and to speak to Mr. Pope’s father, Lord Beaufort, if necessary.”