Chapter 10

Emily slowed her horse when she heard another shout, this time one of fear. She turned just in time to see Godric clear the fence but get thrown from his horse. His body hit the surface of the lake in a loud splash and sank out of sight. She held her breath, waiting for to him break the surface. Any moment he'd come up sputtering and humiliated.

Only he didn't.

A thread of fear moved through her, whispering with guilt for letting a man like him die. He couldn't die because of her reckless plan, he couldn't. She was beginning, just a little, to understand him and she didn't want his death on her conscience.

Emily cast a panicked look in the direction of Blackbriar, cursed under her breath and headed back to the lake. She refused to consider whyshe owed Godric nothing.

She flung herself out of the saddle and plunged into the water nearest his entry. The lake was shallow near the edge but murky. She barely pinpointed the contours of Godric's white shirt. She wrapped her arms about his chest and kicked hard, propelling them to the surface. He sagged heavily against her, unconscious, but she kept kicking, never more thankful that she was a strong swimmer. When she reached the shore, she was sucking in air as she clawed her way up the muddy embankment with Godric in tow. Her riding habit weighted her down as though she were dragging a boulder in addition to Godric's body back to shore.

She rolled him onto his back and pressed her head against his chest. He wasn't breathing.

"Oh, God, please don't be dead." Blood roared in her ears. She could barely think as panic swept through her. She had to focus.

There was one thing she could try. She'd seen a servant do it once, to a boy who fell in a pond.

Lifting Godric's chin, she pinched his nose with one hand and cupped his chin with the other. Her mouth covered his as she breathed into him, praying it would revive him. She pulled back, waited a second, then tried again and again. The fourth time he stirred, and she nearly wept with relief. He was alive.

A hand caught her wet hair, and held her, keeping their lips locked together. Godric's other arm snagged her waist and dragged her on top of him. He kissed her deeply before he rolled over to pin her beneath him.

Emily balled her fists and beat at his chest as his firm but soft lips explored hers. The taste of him blacked out all awareness beyond the satin of his lips. It was heated, but tempered with a seductiveness she hadn't expected.

A moment of lucidity shocked her into awareness. She tried to kick out and free her legs and Godric pulled back a breathless moment.

"Easy, darling. I only wish to thank my rescuer." Godric abandoned words and kissed her ruthlessly. She couldn't let him do this. He couldn'tcouldn't Emily gasped against his mouth when his hand took hold of the underside of her right knee and caressed the bare skin of her thigh while he pushed his hips deeper into the cradle of hers. Shots of pleasurable pain danced up her legs. They needed to stop, yet she found herself wanting to experience the sensations his lips and hands were creating.

Waves of heat crested through her body, the power of it terrifying. Her body quaked as confusion warred with desire. She may not like the man, but his kisses, his caresses were starting to have an entirely wanton affect on her. The realization drew a tiny whimper from her and an answering growl of desire from the man on top.

The world winked out of existence, except for the rush of blood in her ears and the panting breaths. In. Out. In. Out. The symphony of sighs and gasps that danced between each breath in an endless waltz terrified her. The temptation to let go, to abandon herself and follow Eve's footsteps. One taste, a mighty fall, and she would be lost forever.

***

Godric's chest shook with silent laughter as he drank in her sweet tasteinnocence like fine brandy, addictive and intoxicating. Joy heated his blood and warmed his heart. She'd come back for him, rescued him.

Her hands clenched his biceps, fingers digging into him the more he kissed her. By the time he'd lifted his head to gaze down at her, she was panting, and her hips rubbed instinctively against his own.

He was transfixed by the delicate blush of her cheeks, and the slightly upturned nose that created an impish charm.

Yet he sensed she feared him a little.

Emily had never been with a man, never been kissed until he'd captured her. A more practiced woman would have known what to do. He enjoyed the little instruction he'd given her. The temptation she presented was too much to resist. He moved one hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking the line of her jaw. Raw desire churned in the violet pools of her eyes, a hint of frustration added a shimmer that made him smile. She didn't like that she enjoyed kissing him.

He found her reaction to him fascinating. Other women would gaze at him with slumberous eyes, and leisurely return his kisses, or in Evangeline's case, bite him back. Emily's eyes were bright and full of wonder tinged with anger. There was an eagerness in her lips, a searching in her hands as she stroked his shoulders. It was as though she was determined to enjoy herself, even if she didn't like him. He liked the rebellious spirit in her. She was taking what she wanted from him. If she demanded he stop he would, even if it killed him. But until then he'd steal as many kisses as he could.

Godric wanted to spend days with her, explore her soft curves and find new ticklish spots. He wanted to bow down and worship at the altar of her sensual innocence. She was every bit the wanton, wild creature for which he'd spent years searching. He'd finally found her, and he would have her beneath him, atop him, against the wall, bent over the bed Oh, the possibilities.

He hadn't known a woman could taste like this, feel like this. He felt like a damned villain, having faked his drowning, but he'd wanted to see if she would return. His friends could have found her in Blackbriar easily enough, none of the shopkeepers would keep her presence a secret from him had he been searching for her.

But she had come back. The second she'd dragged him from the lake, he'd wanted to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted to kiss any woman. Right on the muddy bank, soaking and cold. He would warm her with his passion and his gratitude. The wet skin of her thigh was smooth. The muscles there stretched against him as she tightened her leg. She had the legs of a rider. Lord, how he wanted those legs wrapped around him the same way.

Soon. He promised himself he would take her a thousand times, in every way, ride her until she couldn't walk, yet leave her begging for more.

Her touch, her taste, was all-consuming. The rhythm of her breaths and the feel of her curves cushioned him and then, through the haze of his desire, he heard Cedric's distant shout of concern.

It took every ounce of willpower to release Emily. She gazed up at him with dewy-eyed desire, surely stunned by the assault on her senses. She blinked slowly, as though still lost in the wake of a fading dream. Her lashes were long, and they curved up slightly at the ends, perfectly framing the most expressive eyes he'd ever seen.

For years now he'd only ever looked at a woman's eyes to see if they invited him to her bed and to tell if he was pleasing her. But this woman beneath him was different. Her eyes held a different invitation: to enter her heart and stay.

Like a boxer's uppercut, Godric flinched at the painful truth. Men like him didn't settle down, didn't care for women beyond the pleasures of the bed.

He was doing wrong by this young woman, ruining her body and her future. She'd expect him to marry her after, but he couldn't. Marriage was for fools who believed in love. He had even saved his friends from the folly of matrimony and now they were all enjoying bachelordom. Those in society married for political or financial gain, it was expected. But he refused to tie himself to a woman forever unless he cared about her. He was a hardened, jaded fool who avoided love. He knew how weak it made him.

Emily's bravery and quick wit were admirable, but she deserved a man who would be a worthy husband. He couldn't give her anything else but his body.

The strangest urge to justify his behavior had him stumbling for an excuse. "As I said, you saved my life, Emily. I simply wanted to show my thanks," he said, rather apologetically, as he lifted her to her feet.

She swayed slightly, and Godric threw an arm out to catch her around the waist. He tried not to look down at the lush breasts that jutted out against the thin wet fabric, or her hips, amply displayed by the wet riding habit molded to her body. Cedric rode up to the wall, staring at them both with a shocked expression.

"What happened, Godric? I heard shouting and then saw you go over." His friend's eyes drifted to Emily's body and heated in an expression Godric recognized all too well.

"Cedric, could you lend Emily your coat?" Godric's tone broke Cedric's improper attentions. The man tore off his coat and flung it over the wall where Godric caught it and wrapped it about Emily's shoulders.

"Wait here. I'll take our horses and jump them back over," Godric ordered. He knew by her wide-eyed look that she would obey.

Cedric trotted down the length of the wall to assist Godric, and when the two stood alone, he demanded to know what had happened.

"She distracted me and bolted for the wall. I didn't think she would clear it but she didby God, she didand better than I did. Bloody horse threw me right in the water."

"Are you all right? I lost sight of you both."

"I was fine. Poor Emily. She thought I'd drowned and was trying to bring me back to life with those sweet lips of hers." Godric laughed softly.

"You aren't going to tell her you are an excellent swimmer?"

"The water was shallow, she thought I'd been knocked senseless. Besides, I'd rather have her believe that she saved me. Otherwise, what I did to her afterwards will get me slapped."

"Oh, Godric, you didn't! That poor girl. She'll never save your worthless hide again. Tell me you didn't take it too far."

"A few harmless kisses Maybe a few not-so-harmless caresses," he admitted. But he had no regrets. He could never regret each kiss, each second that Emily's touch reawakened the ghost of the man he used to be.

He used to treasure kisses, count them like a young man, waiting breathlessly to see again the woman who'd inspired such romantic notions in him. His first love, a miller's daughter from Blackbriar, Annabelle, had taught him how to savor kisses. She'd seduced him, introduced him to the world of sensual delights, but she'd done it slowly, the chase and challenge perfect. Since then, anything rushed hadn't been worth it.

He wanted that with Emily, the patient chase, the steady pursuit. Each kiss he'd take from her willing lips would be a sweet victory. Love seemed but a thin veil away from him now, instead of locked away inside himself as he'd always believed.