Tempting a Gentleman by Smith, Ann (bearly read books .txt) 📕

His greatest fear became a reality as Simon, one of Emma’s guards, approached and said, “She’s not at the shop.”

He must have heard wrong. “It’s one in the morn. Surely Emma is safely asleep in bed.”

The blasted footman simply stared at him and shrugged. At another step towards Emma’s shop, Simon shifted and blocked Christopher. “I assure ye, sir, she’s not abed yet.”

“Where is she then?”

“I can’t tell ye. Would ye like fer me to hail ye another hack?”

Christopher shook his head and turned to begin the trek back across town to his townhouse.

Damnation. Where the hell was Emma?

Chapter Fifteen

A gust of wind pushed at Emma’s back, forcing her to reach for the nearest solid tree trunk.

Blimey, it was cold. She tugged her cloak tighter about her. Glancing about, Emma searched the tree line for signs of Christopher’s night watchman. She needed to time her approach with the change in guard. If she was caught, the Network would be abuzz. Gossip Christopher nor Emma could afford. Scanning the sky, Emma located the three-quarter moon set low to the south. Blast! She’d missed her chance—it was well past the midnight hour. Even after employing all the counterargument tactics Bronwyn had taught her, Emma couldn’t convince Sebastian to alter his will. The man was a stubborn mule. Narrowing her eyes to locate the men on patrol, Emma slowed her breathing. She’d have to outsmart the Network guards.

Hugging the shadows, she crept through the gardens, bobbing and weaving around the neatly manicured hedges. She approached the back terrace, pebbles crunching beneath her slippers. She froze and scanned the area once more for the bloomin’ guard. Two large black blurs moved fast in her direction. She picked up a stone no bigger than a small apple, and she threw it as far as she could in front of her. Emma dashed back to sneak down the stairs to the kitchen doors. Heart racing, Emma slipped through the entrance and rested her throbbing forehead against the inside kitchen wall. That was too bleedin’ close.

She needed to see Christopher, regardless of whether he wished to see her. For four blasted days, she’d waited and wished Christopher would change his mind and come seek her out. But oh no, ever the gentleman, the man had kept his bloomin’ word.

Pushing away from the door frame, Emma waited a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The cold, empty kitchen was daunting compared to the last time she had visited during the bustling early morning hours. A strange yearning to stay rooted Emma to the spot. She should move. If she was caught, Emma would have to explain her actions to the Network elders. Would they believe her if she told them the only reason for her late-night visit was to seek out legal advice? No. They’d likely see through her flimsy excuses and wait for her to confess—she missed Christopher, and despite all the reasons she had formulated to stay away, she couldn’t.

Emma willed her feet to move. She slipped past the footmen in the foyer and mounted the main staircase leading up to the upper floors. It would have been safer to use the servants' passageways, but whether it was courage from the drink Sebastian provided or Emma’s desire to test her skills of going about undetected, she didn’t care. It was the quickest route to her destination—the master bedchamber. The effects of the whiskey had Emma’s mind foggy. However, scourging her memory for talk of the layout of Christopher’s townhouse, she did recall Christopher’s preference for sunsets. Looking down the corridor, Emma headed for the largest chamber that would face west.

Quietly opening the door to the chambers she hoped belonged to Christopher, Emma slipped into the room and paused for a moment. Without the aid of the moonlight, she carefully moved further into the pitch-black room. The familiar scent of Christopher, a mix of musty papers, ink, and wood. She was clearly in the right place. She stepped forward—

Arms twirled her about and wrapped about her like steel bands.

“Emma?”

The surprise in Christopher’s voice almost had her giggling. Except the warmth of his body urged her closer. Barely louder than a whisper, Emma asked, “How did ye know it was me? It’s darker than coal in here.”

He ran his hand over her head and pressed her closer. “I know of no other woman who would dare come to my residence alone and in the dead of night.”

Christopher stroked her back, melting away her stress. Instead of pulling away from the comforting gesture, Emma wrapped her arms about him and leaned her cheek against his hard, warm, bare chest. “Aye, I suppose it is a rather odd time of day to seek legal advice, but it was on me mind, and so I’m here.” It wasn’t the only reason, but it was the only one she was ready to admit to him at present.

He pulled her away from him by the shoulders. “Are you in trouble?”

She shook her head. But since she couldn’t see anything, she assumed he couldn’t either. “Nay.”

“Stay here. I’ll light a candle.” He padded over to her left, and then the flame of the candle illuminated the room.

Her cheek was still warm from his skin. Emma’s heart raced at the sight of him in only breeches. The small ridges outlining his stomach captured and retained her gaze. He was a barrister, not a laborer, yet he was muscled and toned as if he hauled bags of wheat for a living. As he came closer, his eyes raked over her from head to toe. The worry lines on his forehead were clear.

Instinctively, she rolled up onto her tiptoes and reached out to smooth the wrinkles away. “Ye need not worry. I’m fine.”

He closed his eyes as if savoring her touch. She started to withdraw her hand, but he pinned her palm to his cheek. “This will sound bizarre given my