He could never choose her then, as he would always wonder if it was him or ‘the duke’ she wanted.

On that awful thought, he turned away from the lake and started off toward Knightsbridge.


THE COLD AIR burned in her lungs as Emmaline burst onto the main footpath from the tributary she’d taken at the Grosvenor Gate.

He was still here! Thank the Lord…

But he was walking away, and she was on the wrong side of the lake. She ground her teeth in frustration. The footpath she was now on went entirely the opposite direction, and she could hardly jump in and swim across.

She had to get his attention. If she didn’t, she might never see him again.

Panic squeezed her chest.

“Duke,” she cried to the pup who trotted along beside her. She pointed at the man, who’d almost reached Rotten Row. The pup could skirt the lake through the grass faster than she could. “There he is. See him? Now, fetch!”

Duke cocked his head at her. All right, so she’d not taught him to fetch yet, and he likely didn’t understand any other word she’d said. But desperate times… She made a shooing motion toward the man, hoping the dog understood that. “Go get him, boy! Go get our knight!”

But he just danced at her feet, his tail wagging in happy confusion.

Drat it all! Emmaline looked back toward the man. A few more steps and he’d be on the far side of the King’s Private Road, and beyond her reach…perhaps forever.

There was nothing for it.

She hooked her pinkies in the corners of her mouth and blew the shrill whistle her male cousins had taught her years ago, much to the chagrin of her mother. The sharp sound set Duke to barking. His yips echoed off the surface of the water, too. Emmaline prayed the sounds carried.

The man stopped.

Her heart kicked in triumph.

He turned and she barely restrained herself from throwing her arms up in the air and waving madly so that he saw her.

Duke, bless him, must have finally picked up his friend’s scent, as the little dog bounded off toward him.

Emmaline exhaled a long sigh of relief, then began picking her way around the far side of the lake.

The whole while she watched him. He bent low to greet Duke, then rose more gracefully than a man ought to be able to. The morning sun limned his long frame, and Emmaline’s breath caught in her throat. Then he crossed Rotten Row and took the footpath that would eventually meet up with hers.

As he advanced, Emmaline’s relief gave way to nervous excitement, and a strange angst settled in her chest. It felt vaguely like the anxiety she’d experienced this morning when she’d realized she’d never make it to the park in time—a scare that only now opened her eyes to how very much she looked forward to seeing him every day.

And yet, it was different, too. Warmer and…and more achy. A desire to be with him that was unsettling and stirring and…imperative.

His long legged strides were twice her own, so she’d barely made halfway to the bridge when he and Duke reached her.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here—” she began.

“Is everything all right?” he asked at the same moment.

His handsome face creased with concern as his eyes searched her face and form.

She brought her hands up to her flushed cheeks, only now imagining how she must look. A fright, she’d wager, having practically run across half of Mayfair. Her hair had likely slipped her coiffure and she’d be shocked if her skin hadn’t gone blotchy.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

He gave her a doubtful look, and she tried to decide if he questioned her answer or her sanity. Then he glanced behind her. “Are you all alone? Where is your maid?”

She flushed deeper. She was breaking the cardinal rule of marriageable young ladies: Thou shalt never find oneself unchaperoned with a gentleman—much less an unsuitable one.

Should anyone come across them, particularly with her pink cheeks and her hair all askew, she’d be ruined.

A thought she’d never considered before struck her: If she were to be compromised by a gentleman not of the aristocracy, would he still be honor-bound to marry her?

She didn’t know.

But she needn’t worry. While she still didn’t know her knight’s name, she knew him to be honorable. They’d talked of everything and nothing in their short time together. Yet every word he’d spoken, every story he’d told of his youth or the lessons he’d learned in his life or the literature that had touched his heart, made her admire him more.

Still, she imagined her father’s rage at the daughter he’d intended for a duke marrying a mere mister instead. The thought brought a bitter smile. If her father cared about what truly mattered, he’d be proud to have such a man as a son-in-law.

If only.

“I ran out of the house so quickly, I didn’t have time to wait for her,” she said, breathless now at the intensity of his hazel gaze. “I was afraid…”

“Afraid?” he asked, his voice delving into a low rumble.

She understood what he was asking. Understood, too, what his waiting in the cold for her for nearly an hour signified.

Emmaline swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. All she had to do was have the nerve to say it aloud, and it would be out there. Between them.

I find you quite brave, he’d said that first morning they’d met.

His words gave her courage now.

“That I would be too late and you would think I no longer cared. I was afraid you would leave and never come back,” she rushed out. “I wouldn’t know where to look for you and—” She licked her lips, bracing herself to say the rest. “I couldn’t bear not seeing you again. You are the best part of my day.”

She wasn’t sure what response she’d expected, but this charged silence wasn’t it. Gradually, she became aware of the morning sounds of the park—of birds chirping, water lapping gently against the mud bank, even a goose honk in the distance. But not a word from him.

His face, which she’d once likened to a master’s painting, now reminded her of sculpted marble instead—still a work of art, but less approachable.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Had she misread him? Had she made a fool of herself?

“Please,” she whispered. “Say something.”

He reached for her hand instead, grasping it in both of his and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his mouth gloriously warm and firm on her skin. His eyelids fluttered closed, as if he were savoring her, yet Emmaline couldn’t take her gaze from him. All of the tension of the morning, all her worries, fled as joy burst through her.

A long moment later, he lifted his head, but didn’t relinquish his grasp. “Your hands are cold,” he said roughly.

She laughed. “Yes, I was in such a rush to get to you, I didn’t think to grab my gloves.”

He reached for her other hand then, and brought them together palm to palm, pressing hers between his own as if in dual supplication. Lending her his warmth. But she didn’t need it. Just knowing he might feel something of what she did for him heated her from within.

“We should get you home, then,” he said.

She shook her head. “No.”

Emmaline didn’t care if she froze to death. This opportunity wouldn’t come again, to spend time with him alone—no one trailing along behind them, listening to every word.

She wasn’t naive enough to believe that her father would ever let her marry as she wished. The Duchess of Albemarle was nearing the end of her confinement, and her father insisted that his influence—and Emmaline’s blasted beauty—would win her a coronet. This time next week, she was as likely to find herself engaged to a duke as not.

This might be her only chance to be just a young lady, enjoying time with a gentleman of her choosing. Her only chance to be with him, her knight.

“No,” she repeated, and pulled her hands free of his. “Duke and I are spending our morning in the park.”

And if she was going to flout convention anyway…

“In fact, we’re planning to walk along one of the forested footpaths today. Much more picturesque,” she said, turning that direction and patting her thigh to call the pup to her.

When the dog reached her side, she turned her back on the man before tossing what she hoped was a mysterious smile over her shoulder. “And more private.”

Then she walked off, willing him to follow.

And thrilling when he did.




CHAPTER 5




PART OF MAXWELL’S question had been answered decisively. She certainly did wish to be pursued.

Into the forest, at least.

The ‘innocent, yet not’ nature of their mornings was heading more toward ‘not’ with every step they took.

But what kind of man would he be if he didn’t follow? For her protection, of course.

Neither spoke as they made their way around the lake. She set a brisk pace, and they quickly left the Serpentine behind, turning onto a path that disappeared into the tree line at the center of the park.

Alone.

Being November, there was less canopy to shield them from prying eyes than there might be in summer. However, a light fog rose up to lend a cloak of intimacy that set his nerves on edge.

Damn, but he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. That brief touch of lips to hand had only served to ignite his already simmering desire for her.

You are the best part of my day.

Had she truly said that? Max’s heart thumped in his chest, hard. Another question answered. She knew nothing of his possible dukedom, thought him no more than himself, and yet she’d all but said she wanted him.

And oh, how he wanted her.

He had to distract himself. Conversation. Conversation was safe.

He asked the first question that came to him. “What did keep you today?”