He bent his head toward her. “You look beautiful as usual, Miss Pageant.” He kept his voice low, but his eyes spoke volumes as he slowly allowed his gaze to travel down her body and back up again.
She offered him her gloved hand, turning it to where her wrist was facing upward. “I’m wearing the perfume you gave me,” she whispered mischievously.
He breathed in the scent deeply, and then kissed the delicate, exposed skin. She gasped when she felt the tip of his tongue lick her lightly, the sensation shooting all the way to her mid-section. “So delectable,” he murmured.
Emary had a hard time catching her breath. She tried to tug her hand away, but he held her fast. His eyes were pure temptation when he looked at her, blue sparks of fire swirling in his bright gaze. And again, she felt his tongue dart out and taste her. The air left her lungs in a rush. “Donovan, please…” Again, she tried to tug her hand away.
He let her go, but not before he leaned closer and said softly in her ear, “Someday, my dear Emary, I will taste every inch of you.”
She closed her eyes to imagine the erotic images his words evoked, but then remembered that she was on the street where anyone could see them, her parents and his mother waiting only a few feet inside. “You’re a wicked man,” she returned firmly, although her voice had a shallow quality that belied her words.
“Indeed,” he returned, nonplussed. “And very soon, you will join me in this land of debauchery and I promise that you will enjoy every minute of it.”
With that, he leaned back, leaving Emary feeling hot and flushed. But at least what he said was true. She couldn’t wait to begin his tutelage.
Donovan discovered that he loved to tease Miss Pageant. Perhaps a bit too much. But he found that there was nothing else he’d rather do than to keep that charming blush on her cheeks and the sparkle of passionate interest in those expressive, dark brown eyes.
He was still entertaining some rather lascivious thoughts about the woman at his side, and was surprised he wasn’t struck with a lightning bolt the moment he walked into the sanctuary.
They took their seats and Donovan managed to hear at least half of what the man in the pulpit was saying, even though he was more aware of Emary’s soft, curvaceous body right next to him. When the second of their marriage banns were read, he glanced over at Emary to gauge her reaction. She appeared perfectly calm and composed, but he could sense a certain tension in her.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Having second thoughts already?”
She turned to him and bit her lip rather becomingly. “Of course not.” She paused. “You?”
He dared to wink at her. “Never a doubt.” He was pleased to see that caused her lips to twitch into a slight smile. She also seemed to relax slightly.
After the service was over, they made their way outside. After being closed up in the dim confines of the church, the sunny December day was nearly blinding. He lifted his hand to shade his eyes and turned to his fiancée. “You haven’t said anything about your book recently. How is it coming along?”
She sighed heavily and looked at him from beneath her becoming straw bonnet. “I’m afraid it isn’t.”
“No?” he asked. “Won’t it be rather hard to put me in my place without anything to use to do it?”
“Don’t you think I realize that?” she snapped, slightly annoyed. “I just can’t seem to find the right…” She waved her hand in the air as if searching for the appropriate description. “Words.”
“I see.” Donovan studied her slightly dismayed face. Perhaps it was a reaction that was ingrained in most men to lift the spirits of downtrodden women, but suddenly he wanted to be her champion. “Perhaps I might be of assistance.”
She snorted. “Surely not. That would be like giving your enemy the advantage.”
He winced. “I’m not sure I would have put it quite that way. And it’s not as if I’m offering to write the story for you,” he pointed out. “It seems only fair that, given the brief amount of time you have left to write this novel, that I give you a fighting chance, as it were.”
She tilted her head to the side and considered it. “That does seem quite reasonable, Your Grace.”
“Capital.” He grinned. “That settles it then. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
Emary was in the drawing room trying to concentrate on her needlepoint, having changed into a pale pink muslin, when the duke strode in. Since her mother knew that he was going to call, she promised that she would entertain any guests that might drop by in order to give them some additional time alone. Emary had been grateful for her mother’s intervention, but at the same time, she had wanted to wring her hands in anticipation of Donovan’s arrival.
Was it so terrible that she wanted to kiss him again, instead of discuss some book that she would no doubt, never even write?
But since this was all part of a web of deceit of her own making, she decided that she had no choice but to play along. Then again… She tapped her finger against her lips in thought. This might work out to her advantage, and she knew just what to do. It would be rather devious, but it would likely be worth it. And if all went according to plan, she would have a story and that kiss.
Thus, when Windwood entered, she had to keep a smile from spreading across her face. Instead, she rose with a curtsy. He bowed in turn, and after a brief greeting, for they both knew why he was there, she walked over and sat down on the settee, nearly bemoaning the fact that he took the seat across from her. But she told herself it was only a slight deterrent.
“I think I may have had a breakthrough, Your Grace,” she announced proudly.
“So soon?” His left brow inched upward, causing his scar to stretch slightly, roguishly.
“Most certainly.” She clasped her hands in her lap in apparent excitement. “I do believe I already told you that the title shall be ‘A Seduction at Christmas.’ Of course, it shall be a romance.”
“A romance?” he echoed, seeming to consider the idea.
“Indeed. And this afternoon it suddenly occurred to me that the motivation I’ve been lacking has been right in front of me all this time.”
“Oh?” He grinned.
It’s a shame he looks so hopeful... “Yes. I thought of the idea after I returned home from St. Paul’s. I shall make my hero a country vicar!” She clasped her hands together. “Isn’t it delightful?”
His face visibly fell. “Uh...of course.”
“You don’t like the idea?” she asked, trying to appear discouraged, but on the inside she was filled with glee. He was falling perfectly into her trap.
“It’s just rather…” He cleared his throat lightly. “That is to say, I was given to understand that I might have inspired you.”
She laughed lightly at the slightly bemused expression on his face. “Why, you certainly aren’t vicar material!” He seemed to be relieved at this assurance, but then she took it one step further and tapped a finger against her lips somewhat thoughtfully. “Then again, when I was developing his nature, you were rather similar in character.”
