thought.
“I bought this in the village,” he said, gently dabbing her eyes and swabbing her cheeks with it. “I thought I recognized the handiwork, the tiny, elegant stitches. I would have paid a lot more than the merchant asked for it. I envied your brother, I think. That he had someone who loved him so much and made him so wonderful a keepsake to remind him of home—and of all we were fighting for.”
His quiet words worked on her frazzled emotions, bleeding her raw. Her tears ran anew. He blotted them away.
“I will stitch you as many as you want,” she murmured. “I’ll make you scores of handkerchiefs.”
“If it pleases you to do so. As a wife sewing for her husband. I hope you will not have to go into trade, Emma. Not ever again.”
He took her hand, examining the pricked fingertips her thimble had not shielded. His lips grazed each one again. Over her hand, his eyes suddenly smoldered with unbanked passion. The naked desire she read there made her quake, and kindled a similar blaze within her.
Emma could no longer fight her attraction for this man. The idea that he had recognized her craftsmanship in a shop in town and wanted to have one of her handkerchiefs melted everything within her.
How could she keep blaming him for Michael’s death? Michael had been a grown man. No one had forced him to take up forty shillings on the drum. He hadn’t purchased a commission or trained to be an officer, as Adam had. The military had not meant that much to him. He’d enlisted on a whim, running off to the Peninsula as a lark. And he’d been cannon fodder. She would always feel the pain of his loss. But could she hold the viscount responsible?
Adam was such a fine, good man. The touch of his hand on hers made her want to promise him anything. His heated look thrilled her. The memory of his potent caresses made her yearn for more. She wanted him to stroke her again, and to hear his soft groans, as if he’d never experienced anything so sweet.
She wanted to know him in every possible way.
“Kiss me, Adam. Please. Just kiss me.”
Chapter Five
Emma’s words acted on Adam like a drug. Desire pulsed through his veins like liquid heat, spreading to every part of him, quickening his breath, hardening his cock. His whole body tightened with arousal.
Was Emma in nervous shock from the recent encounter with Farraday, or merely grateful to him for helping to extricate her from her dire circumstances? Could she really want a man so damaged?
His admiration for her had steadily increased over his weeks in Brimley. He’d known she’d watched him on the cliffs. His awareness of her gaze had driven him to push himself harder, to try to speed the healing of his leg. Ever since their meeting this morning, his sexual need for her had intensified, the fierce passions always simmering below the surface. When Emma tilted her head, shutting her eyes and parting her lips expectantly, the pot abruptly boiled over.
Adam leaned toward her, sweeping her into his arms until she was lying against his chest. Every masculine part of him roared with hunger. He knew he should proceed slowly but burned to ravish her.
His mouth closed over hers, as gently as he was able considering the ravening male beast she had loosed. With a little cry, Emma looped her arms around his neck. The fragrant scent of her hair, combined with her warm, feminine essence, intoxicated him more than the most potent brandy. Made him desperate to possess her.
He deepened the kiss, his mouth slanting against hers with such wild ardor she trembled in his arms. He cursed himself.
“Forgive me, sweetheart, I do not mean to be so clumsy. But I—”
Emma squirmed against him, cutting off his words. “Hush. I don’t want you to stop.”
Her arms tightened around him and she deposited a row of frantic kisses on his throat.
Her excitement spurred his, making him so hard and stiff he thought he might embarrass himself like a green boy. He ached with his need,
“I bought this in the village,” he said, gently dabbing her eyes and swabbing her cheeks with it. “I thought I recognized the handiwork, the tiny, elegant stitches. I would have paid a lot more than the merchant asked for it. I envied your brother, I think. That he had someone who loved him so much and made him so wonderful a keepsake to remind him of home—and of all we were fighting for.”
His quiet words worked on her frazzled emotions, bleeding her raw. Her tears ran anew. He blotted them away.
“I will stitch you as many as you want,” she murmured. “I’ll make you scores of handkerchiefs.”
“If it pleases you to do so. As a wife sewing for her husband. I hope you will not have to go into trade, Emma. Not ever again.”
He took her hand, examining the pricked fingertips her thimble had not shielded. His lips grazed each one again. Over her hand, his eyes suddenly smoldered with unbanked passion. The naked desire she read there made her quake, and kindled a similar blaze within her.
Emma could no longer fight her attraction for this man. The idea that he had recognized her craftsmanship in a shop in town and wanted to have one of her handkerchiefs melted everything within her.
How could she keep blaming him for Michael’s death? Michael had been a grown man. No one had forced him to take up forty shillings on the drum. He hadn’t purchased a commission or trained to be an officer, as Adam had. The military had not meant that much to him. He’d enlisted on a whim, running off to the Peninsula as a lark. And he’d been cannon fodder. She would always feel the pain of his loss. But could she hold the viscount responsible?
Adam was such a fine, good man. The touch of his hand on hers made her want to promise him anything. His heated look thrilled her. The memory of his potent caresses made her yearn for more. She wanted him to stroke her again, and to hear his soft groans, as if he’d never experienced anything so sweet.
She wanted to know him in every possible way.
“Kiss me, Adam. Please. Just kiss me.”
Chapter Five
Emma’s words acted on Adam like a drug. Desire pulsed through his veins like liquid heat, spreading to every part of him, quickening his breath, hardening his cock. His whole body tightened with arousal.
Was Emma in nervous shock from the recent encounter with Farraday, or merely grateful to him for helping to extricate her from her dire circumstances? Could she really want a man so damaged?
His admiration for her had steadily increased over his weeks in Brimley. He’d known she’d watched him on the cliffs. His awareness of her gaze had driven him to push himself harder, to try to speed the healing of his leg. Ever since their meeting this morning, his sexual need for her had intensified, the fierce passions always simmering below the surface. When Emma tilted her head, shutting her eyes and parting her lips expectantly, the pot abruptly boiled over.
Adam leaned toward her, sweeping her into his arms until she was lying against his chest. Every masculine part of him roared with hunger. He knew he should proceed slowly but burned to ravish her.
His mouth closed over hers, as gently as he was able considering the ravening male beast she had loosed. With a little cry, Emma looped her arms around his neck. The fragrant scent of her hair, combined with her warm, feminine essence, intoxicated him more than the most potent brandy. Made him desperate to possess her.
He deepened the kiss, his mouth slanting against hers with such wild ardor she trembled in his arms. He cursed himself.
“Forgive me, sweetheart, I do not mean to be so clumsy. But I—”
Emma squirmed against him, cutting off his words. “Hush. I don’t want you to stop.”
Her arms tightened around him and she deposited a row of frantic kisses on his throat.
Her excitement spurred his, making him so hard and stiff he thought he might embarrass himself like a green boy. He ached with his need,
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