Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Thirteen: Part 3

"Julia and Gills are too adorable for words, are they not?" Emily asked Maddox walking in the garden of her father's house after the opera. Gills had insisted on escorting Julia home when she'd refused Maausa's invitation to come in for a nightcap. He'd combated Julia's insistence that she would be perfectly safe in the Rookscombe carriage with a list of dangers she might face from every rogue in New York, with only a coachman to depend on and him busy with his horses.

"So says one of the worst rogues I know," Julia had scoffed, but Gills had countered that he was therefore qualified to out-think all the others, and they'd still been arguing as the coach pulled away.

"Do you think they will ever stop bickering long enough to fall in love?" Emily held Maddox's arm, and he had chanced to cover her hand with his own.

Maddox gave her a measured look. "I think for Gills' part, he already loves the bickering as much as the rest of her. As to whether Lady Julia will cotton on and make him a happy man, I cannot speak. You probably know her mind better than I."

She laughed, a low, resonant rumble in her throat. "That is about the size of it, and I assure you, no one knows what Lady Julia is thinking about Lord Joseph, least of all the lady herself. They are amusing to watch in the meanwhile."

"Yes."

"You, Lord Maddox, are not bad to watch yourself. I find you vastly entertaining." Emily giggled when she glanced over at him. "My lord, you are blushing. Can you still be so young as to blush?"

"Miss Kilbrierry, I do not know what to say. I am not so young, no, but I must confess to feeling quite unworldly of a sudden."

"You cannot tell me the Hero of Kabul is stymied by the slightest flirtation. It is not possible you should be tongue-tied over me."

"I still retain my faculties, Miss Kilbrierry."

"Do call me Emily."

"Emily... I feel much the same—I am endlessly diverted by you, our conversations foremost—but I've not wanted to push my suit, for fear you think me one of the slavering sycophants who haunt your dressing room, trying to make you their mistress."

"I see," she said with a coy smile. "I could never mistake you for a slavering sycophant, Maddox. Your suit, my lord, is most welcome, should you wish to entertain each other like adults. I should think the position of mistress is one we can discuss at some future date, once we know each other rather better than we do now."

Maddox choked on a breath going down the wrong pipe.

"Do I shock you?"

"I do not know if shock is as much the problem as confusion. I would not hold your favors so lightly as to assume your consent."

"You are so sweet, Lord Maddox, so earnest. You are still young yet, no matter what you say. Tell the truth: had I not forced you to speak of this, you would never think to ask my consent, would you? You would never ask me to be your lover."

Maddox had no good answer to that. "You are probably right."

"Well then, how much simpler things are when two adults try their hand at communicating. And with that, sir, I believe we have communicated far more than enough in words for the evening." Emily stopped on the path and tugged Maddox's mouth down to hers. "I believe we have established you should kiss me."

Whatever Maddox's diffidence about his relative youth and Emily's experience, it did not affect the kiss. In this, as in their conversations, they met as equals, in a give and take of lips, tongues, and teeth, appreciative wordless murmurs, hands that stroked and caressed.

Emily lost track of time, even of place, conscious only of pleasure and the need for more. Until Maddox stilled, kissed her forehead, and set her away from him.

"I'm sure they are out here somewhere, Maausa," Benjamin said, his voice pitched to carry. "I'll find them for you."

Emily exchanged a glance with Maddox, taking in the depredations of their embrace. Swiftly, she straightened his tie and tweaked his collar back into place, and he returned the service, pulling her corset and bodice back into position and a tucking a dislodged lock of hair back into a pin.

She settled her shawl around her shoulders and stepped out onto the path, which they must have left at some point during that kiss. "I'm here, Maausa," she called. If she stayed in the shadows, perhaps her father would not remark her lips, which were probably as red and swollen as they felt.

She was a grown woman, of course, and had taken lovers before. But not in her father's house and under his nose. Maddox's slightly anxious look caught her eye and she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Yes. It was high time she moved out into her own apartment.