Emma was silent for a moment. Luc’s plan made sense. She knew how wounded he’d been when Mary had broken up their engagement, in order to marry his best friend… yet another twist, Emma thought bitterly. The plot was thickening by the day! She felt like she was trapped inside some sort of absurd parody of a nightmarish soap opera.
“Its sounds like a perfect idea,” Emma said finally, forcing cheerfulness into her tone. “Two birds with one stone, so to speak. When can we leave?”
“You’ll have to keep up the pretence for a few days at least,” Jordan intervened. “It will look suspicious if you just up and go – take time to establish the lie first.”
Emma shrugged, meeting Luc’s querying gaze. “Why not?”
It was that evening, while the numerous guests mingled in the drawing room before dinner for drinks that the “announcement” was made. Emma took a deep breath, steadying herself, and stepped into the room.
Luc saw her at once. “Emma, darling!” he exclaimed, taking long legged strides towards her and looping an arm around her waist possessively. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours!”
“I was dressing,” Emma replied demurely, feeling James’ piercing gaze on her and deliberately playing up her part. “I wanted to look good for you, darling.” Perhaps that was a bit much, she thought wryly, as she saw the wickedly humourous look in Luc’s eyes. He pecked her nose fondly, and whispered intimately in her ear, “Tone it down a little, sweetie, or I might crack up and blow our cover.”
She whispered back, just as sweetly, “If you do, I’ll castrate you.”
He roared with laughter, drawing more attention to them, and offered his arm. She took it with a cloying smile, and together, they walked into the dining room, seemingly oblivious of the curious whispers they left behind, and one hot, furious gaze.
It was while she was standing outside on the balcony after dinner that evening, taking in the air and waiting for Luc to come back with her drink, that just what she had gotten into hit home.
The footsteps behind her came softly, almost silently, and suddenly, two large, male hands had clamped tight onto her shoulders. She stiffened, made to turn around, but found herself held forcefully where she was, gazing out into the darkness below.
“Do you know,” James voice was very near her ear, his body gradually positioning hers so that she nestled inside the cradle of his, “Its always been a fantasy of mine to take you like this, out here, before the world?”
“Funny,” Emma managed to retort, “I never would have picked you for an exhibitionist.”
“Oh its not that,” James said softly. “Its more a sign of ownership – a portrayal to the word that you are mine… that you belong to me, and only to me…”
“I can see where this is leading,” Emma said laconically. “I don’t suppose you ever listen when what you hear isn’t to your liking?”
She could almost feel him smile. “I listen…” he disagreed. “But I don’t have to accept. And I do not accept this – this charade – that you have set up with Luc.”
“Who says it is a charade?” And perhaps because her voice held just the right amount of indignation, anger, and scorn, she felt him still, heard him go silent for a moment before he ground out, “I say it is… and if it is not, it soon will be…”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Emma spat.
“Oh? You really are Luc’s woman, then, my love?”
His scorn was apparent. “How very… fickle, you are, Emma my dear. You claim to be his woman and yet you are more than willing to respond to my touch…” His hands moved from her shoulders to her arms, and across to stroke featheringly across her breasts, pulling her even more firmly against him.
“You lie,” Emma gasped. “I was unwilling, and you simply – simply took me.”
“I took you,” he agreed, “But you were all too willing. As you are now.” He slid a hand inside her dress, toyed with a peaked nipple. “I could make you come, right now.”
“N-No,” Emma protested, but somehow her protest seemed only token, as he spun her around and sealed her mouth was his. His mouth was bruising, hurting her, and yet inciting her against her will. His tongue invaded, trapped, lured, and touched. His lips captured, sucked. His teeth grazed, possessed, and bit with a hungry voraciousness that drew an involuntary moan from her. “James,” she gasped.
“Hush,” James ground out against her lips. “You’re being punished.”
He wrenched away from her suddenly, a wild look in his eyes. His gaze fell to her red, swollen lips, and his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. “I want you,” he rasped. “If I don’t go, I’m going to take you, right here, right now.”
Dazed, she merely stared dreamily back at him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes clouded. With a curse, he turned abruptly, and walked swiftly away from her.
It seemed that minutes had barely passed when he returned again, for all of a sudden, whilst Emma was once again staring numbly out at the darkness, arms circled her waist from behind, and a voice breathed passionately into her ear, “Emma.” James, she thought, bemused. Had he decided to come back, then? “I’ve waited so long for this,” he continued, feathering soft, gentle kisses across her neck. “At last – at last, I’ll have you.”
Now that didn’t sound quite right, she thought, confused. What the devil was he talking about? Before she had much time to ponder that, however, she had been yanked into his arms and his mouth was covering his.
She sensed almost from the moment his lips touched hers that something was wrong. His kisses felt wrong, new, different, somehow, and his taste seemed different as well. She tasted whisky on his breath, and whilst before he had always been demanding, almost violent, now his lips were gentle, meek, shy, almost. “James?” she said, confused, but found her lips covered once again.
There was a harsh intake of breath from the doors that led to the house and Emma’s eyes shot open, looking from the very large, menacing figure standing in the balcony doorway, to the man who was holding her in his arms. Kit’s eyes stared back at her.
With a cry of dismay, she pushed him away from her, stumbling backwards, unsurprised when he lurched drunkenly, then had to grab the railing to steady himself.