other misdeed—in our village is a business for those of us who
live
here, who have a vested interest in each other.”
A corner of Derick’s mouth kicked up in…
amusement
? This wasn’t at all funny. Who did he think he was?
“Not for some
interloper
who hasn’t deigned to grace us with his presence in fourteen years,” she accused. Oh, what could she say to get him to leave? “Not even for his own mother’s funeral.”
The half smile froze on his face, then began to twitch, hovering on his mouth like an angry hummingbird briefly before his features went completely smooth.
Emma held her breath as gooseflesh popped over her skin. Oh, she’d gone too far. Certainly she had wondered at Derick’s conspicuous absence all these years, had condemned him in her own mind as she’d watched his mother suffer over her son’s desertion, had been appalled when Derick had not seen fit to pay his respects even after the woman was dead. But she hadn’t intended to hurl such an ugly volley. She’d just wanted him to depart, leave her and George alone with their secret. She held her breath. Guilt choked her, warring with her hope that he’d been offended enough to retreat.
“You’re a terrible liar, Emma,” he said instead, hisvoice all smooth, dark silk, as were his movements as he advanced upon her.
Her eyes snapped to his hard gaze and she tried to escape it, escape him, backing herself up until her rump bumped the arm of a settee.
“Your lips say one thing,” he murmured, standing so close that bergamot and bay tickled her nose, “but your eyes tell a completely different story.” Derick leaned forward, forcing her backward as his long arms came around her in a flash. He planted them on the settee, on either side of her hips.
Emma’s heart fluttered in her throat. She was trapped. No ducking to escape him this time, no matter how much taller he was. Her breath came fast and hard…not from fear, exactly, though there was that. But from something more like…excitement?
What was wrong with her? She had to put some space between them and get control of herself before this damnable attraction she obviously still felt for Derick ruined everything. Emma braced her own arms beside her hips to the inside of his and arched back until she felt her spine might snap.
Derick’s gaze dropped low, melted into a green pool. It traveled up over her mouth to her eyes, holding her entranced. “Give me the truth now,” he coaxed, and she felt his voice almost as if it were a warm finger brushing her cheek. It made her want to spill every secret she’d ever had. “What are you hiding, Emma?”
She wanted to give him a tart answer, but it was as if he had immobilized her entirely with some unseen energy that held her in his thrall. Emma swallowed, hard, in a desperate attempt to wet her suddenly parched mouth.
Derick leaned closer, taking in a deep breath. Emma frowned as fiercely as she could muster, but he gave her no quarter. “You know, Emma, I can stay here all day…”
She imagined tucking her knees and rolling backwardover the arm of the settee to escape him. She might take him by surprise, but she knew better than to think she’d get far. She would only make a fool of herself and make the situation more unbearable.
There was no way around it. Now he would learn everything, and the life she’d come to hold dear would be at his mercy. Emma heaved a choppy sigh. “
I
am the magistrate,” she admitted, her arms trembling from the strain of leaning away from him. But her voice didn’t warble, and she took strength from that.
If she had to tell him all, she intended to do it on her own two feet. Emma pushed off from the cushion in an attempt to straighten, but Derick had pressed her into an awkward position. She had no choice but to relent and fall back again, except to—
Without further thought, she threw her arms around his waist and tried to pull herself up. Electricity jolted through her, singeing her
live
here, who have a vested interest in each other.”
A corner of Derick’s mouth kicked up in…
amusement
? This wasn’t at all funny. Who did he think he was?
“Not for some
interloper
who hasn’t deigned to grace us with his presence in fourteen years,” she accused. Oh, what could she say to get him to leave? “Not even for his own mother’s funeral.”
The half smile froze on his face, then began to twitch, hovering on his mouth like an angry hummingbird briefly before his features went completely smooth.
Emma held her breath as gooseflesh popped over her skin. Oh, she’d gone too far. Certainly she had wondered at Derick’s conspicuous absence all these years, had condemned him in her own mind as she’d watched his mother suffer over her son’s desertion, had been appalled when Derick had not seen fit to pay his respects even after the woman was dead. But she hadn’t intended to hurl such an ugly volley. She’d just wanted him to depart, leave her and George alone with their secret. She held her breath. Guilt choked her, warring with her hope that he’d been offended enough to retreat.
“You’re a terrible liar, Emma,” he said instead, hisvoice all smooth, dark silk, as were his movements as he advanced upon her.
Her eyes snapped to his hard gaze and she tried to escape it, escape him, backing herself up until her rump bumped the arm of a settee.
“Your lips say one thing,” he murmured, standing so close that bergamot and bay tickled her nose, “but your eyes tell a completely different story.” Derick leaned forward, forcing her backward as his long arms came around her in a flash. He planted them on the settee, on either side of her hips.
Emma’s heart fluttered in her throat. She was trapped. No ducking to escape him this time, no matter how much taller he was. Her breath came fast and hard…not from fear, exactly, though there was that. But from something more like…excitement?
What was wrong with her? She had to put some space between them and get control of herself before this damnable attraction she obviously still felt for Derick ruined everything. Emma braced her own arms beside her hips to the inside of his and arched back until she felt her spine might snap.
Derick’s gaze dropped low, melted into a green pool. It traveled up over her mouth to her eyes, holding her entranced. “Give me the truth now,” he coaxed, and she felt his voice almost as if it were a warm finger brushing her cheek. It made her want to spill every secret she’d ever had. “What are you hiding, Emma?”
She wanted to give him a tart answer, but it was as if he had immobilized her entirely with some unseen energy that held her in his thrall. Emma swallowed, hard, in a desperate attempt to wet her suddenly parched mouth.
Derick leaned closer, taking in a deep breath. Emma frowned as fiercely as she could muster, but he gave her no quarter. “You know, Emma, I can stay here all day…”
She imagined tucking her knees and rolling backwardover the arm of the settee to escape him. She might take him by surprise, but she knew better than to think she’d get far. She would only make a fool of herself and make the situation more unbearable.
There was no way around it. Now he would learn everything, and the life she’d come to hold dear would be at his mercy. Emma heaved a choppy sigh. “
I
am the magistrate,” she admitted, her arms trembling from the strain of leaning away from him. But her voice didn’t warble, and she took strength from that.
If she had to tell him all, she intended to do it on her own two feet. Emma pushed off from the cushion in an attempt to straighten, but Derick had pressed her into an awkward position. She had no choice but to relent and fall back again, except to—
Without further thought, she threw her arms around his waist and tried to pull herself up. Electricity jolted through her, singeing her
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