The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 7.1 (Part 2)

   As supper time was not far distant, there were only two other couples on the shallow terrace, and within minutes both had returned to the ballroom. Francis, food very far from his mind, strolled down the terrace, apparently content to go where Emma led. But his sharp soldier's eyes had very quickly adjusted to the moonlight. After a cursory inspection of the surroundings, he allowed himself to pause dramatically as they neared the end of the terrace. "I really think..." He waited a moment, as if gathering strength, then continued, "I really think I should sit down."

   Emma looked around in consternation. There were no benches on the terrace, bit even a balustrade.

   "There's a seat under that willow, I think," said Francis, gesturing across the lawn.

   A quick glance from Emma confirmed this observation. "Here, lean on me," she said. Francis obligingly draped on arm lightly about her shoulders. As he felt her small hands gripping him about his waist, a pant of guilt shook him. She really was so trusting. A pity to destroy it.

   They reached the willow and brushed through the long strands which conveniently fell back to form a curtain around the white wooden seat. Inside the chamber so formed, the moonbeams danced, sprinkling sufficient light to lift the gloom and allow them to see. Francis sank on to the seat with a convincing show of weakness. Emma subsided in a susurration of silks beside him, retaining her clasp on his hand and half turning the better to look into his face.

   The moon was behind the willow and one bright beam shone through over Francis's shoulder to fall gently on Emma's face. Francis's face was in shadow, so Emma, smiling confidingly up at him, could only see that he was smiling in return. She could not see the expression which lit his blue eyes as they devoured her delicate face, then dropped boldly to caress the round swell of her breasts where they rose and fell invitingly below the demurely scooped neckline of her gown. Carefully, Francis turned his hand so that now he was holding her hand, not she his. Then he was still.

   After some moments, Emma put her head on one side and softly asked, "Are you all right?"

   It was on the tip of Francis's tongue to answer truthfully. No, he was not all right. He had brought her out here to commence her seduction and now some magical power was holding him back. What was the matter with him? He cleared his throat and answered huskily, "Give me a minute."

   A light breeze wafted the willow leaves and the light shifted. Emma saw the distracted frown which had settled over his eyes. Drawing her hand from his, she reached up and gently ran her fingers over his brow, as if to smooth the frown away. Then, to Francis's intense surprise, she leaned forward and, very gently, touched her lips to his.

   As she drew away, Emma saw to her dismay that, if Francis had been frowning before, he was positively scowling now. "Why did you do that?" he asked, his tone sharp.

   Even in the dim light he could see her confusion. "Oh, dear! I'm s...so sorry. Please excuse me! I shouldn't have done that."

   "Damn right, you shouldn't have," Francis growled. His hand, which had fallen to the bench, was clenched hard with the effort to remain still and not pull the damn woman into his arms and devour her. He realized she had not answered his question. "But why did you?"

   Emma hung her head in contrition. "It's just that you looked...well, so troubled. I just wanted to help." Her voice was a small whisper in the night.

   Francis sighed in frustration. That sort of help he could do without.

    "I suppose you'll think me very forward, but..." This time, her voice died away altogether.

   What Francis did think was that she was that she was adorable and he hurt with the effort to keep his hands off her. Now he came to think of it, while he had not had a headache when they came out to the garden, he certainly had one now. Repressing the desire to groan aloud, he straightened. "We'd better got back to the ballroom. Well just forget the incident." As he drew her to her feet and placed her hand on his arm, an unwelcome thought struck him. "You don't go around kissing other men who look troubled, do you?"

   The surprise in her face was quite genuine. "No! Of course not!

   "Well," said Francis, wondering why the information so thrilled him, "just subdue any of these sudden impulses of yours. Except around me, in the circumstances. You are my brother's ward, after all."

   Emma, still stunned by her forward behavior, and the sudden impulse that had driven her to it, smiled trustingly up at him.