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CHAPTER 1

Nick Caulfield, the Earl of Devonshire, found the power to breathe, either in or out, quite beyond his capability. The scalding tea he'd hardly dared to sip had gushed into his mouth like boiling lava. He swallowed the whole of it unnoticed.

He sat in the Redford's second-floor sitting room. The sounds of the city beyond the large front windows were hushed by distance, thick brick walls and heavy drapery. All he heard, over her echoing and totally outrageous proposition, was the blood pounding in his head and the soft constant tick of a grandfather clock in the room's far corner.

Lady Emily Redford sat facing him. Her slightly embarrassed flush proved nothing compared to the growing colour in the man sitting opposite her. Her eyes grew huge as she watched his lightly tanned skin deepen to fire red. "Are you all right? You said the tea was too hot. Why did you drink it like that?"

"What tea?" he almost bellowed as he finally regained the ability to breathe. And slamming the delicate china cup and saucer on the Chippendale table that separated them, he furthered the bellow with, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Stop shouting!" she returned none too softly herself then glanced around the room as if expecting another to suddenly materialise, even knowing they were quite alone. "The servants will ..."

His voice grew low, almost sinister as he mimicked, "Oh, the servants. We wouldn't want them shocked to hear of the lady's plans, now would we? Jesus, if you aren't the most ridiculous, outrageous woman, I'd like to know who the bloody hell is."

Emmy took a deep breath. All she'd wanted was a piece of advice, an idea or suggestion, pertaining to the art of lovemaking. And who better to ask? Granted, she had imagined he might know some surprise at her proposition, but she never would have thought he'd grow this upset. "There's no need for you to use that language, Nicky. A simple no would surely have sufficed."

She should have known better than to ask. Her plan was indeed outrageous by most standards, she supposed, but Nick didn't know, couldn't ever know the loneliness, the need, the hunger that filled her world. Yes, she had friends, but friends weren't enough when faced with endless nights alone. She wanted, she needed more. Only she couldn't exactly name her yearning. All she knew for sure was she didn't want to marry. No, she'd already suffered through that delightful state and thought she could manage quite nicely without repeating it. "You said I could tell you anything."

"If I remember correctly it wasn't something you told me, but something you asked of me."

"Nicky, calm down and think. Who could do a better job of it? There's hardly a woman in all of London who cannot boast of knowing your expertise in bed. Is it too much to ask that you give your best friend a few pointers?"

He came suddenly to his feet. "I'm leaving. Let me know if or when you come to your senses."

Now that her plan had been disclosed, Emmy hurriedly rethought her proposal and back-tracked. It wouldn't do at all should Nicky contact her brother. Granted, she was an independent woman of more than a little means, and Johnny couldn't stop her once she'd made up her mind. Still an irate brother was bound to cause her a problem or two. "Wait! Don't go off in a huff," she said then hurriedly added a weak, "I was only teasing."

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her poised, delicate and ever so lady-like manner, her wide-eyed, oh-so-obvious innocence and wondered if he hadn't somehow misunderstood. "Were you?"

"Yes," she lied unconvincingly.

"I don't believe you."

"Nicky, it's not the end of the world. I'm a woman full grown, after all," she said, not caring that her words had just proven his suspicions correct.

Nick sat again, slowly, deliberately, conscious of every muscle and joint, suddenly all too aware of his skin, the throbbing of his heart, the dryness of his mouth, but most of all, far too aware of the woman he'd known since childhood. A woman, who was closer to him than his own sister, closer perhaps than if they shared the same blood.

She was a beauty to be sure, with her thick dark hair piled high on her small head, her skin the colour of rich cream and those big, blue eyes. Looking virginal in a white morning dress, with a high, stiff lace collar, no one could have imagined the wicked thoughts careening through her lovely head. If he lived a thousand years, he couldn't have imagined their scandalous direction. Nothing could have shocked him more than her last comment. He thought nothing ever would.

Nick gave the appearance of a man in calm, cool control. He always did, but today the fire in his eyes belied his usual tranquil persona. The man was on the verge of losing control, perhaps ready to explode, so when he finally managed a soft almost conversational, "Would you mind explaining?" Emmy couldn't keep her grin at bay.

"If you laugh at me, madam," he said stiffly, "I will take you over my knee and give you the thrashing you so justly deserve."

Emmy's blue eyes brightened with interest at the thought, only to find his glare all the more menacing. She thought she wouldn't linger overmuch on the picture his words had instilled. This wasn't the time to indulge in her usual fantasies. This little tête-à-tête wasn't working out at all as she had planned. She bit her lip and wondered how a woman went about convincing a man to see things her way.

He glared his annoyance.

She couldn't hold back her grin. "If you think to frighten me with that look, you'd best try again. I'm not afraid of you." And she wasn't. In truth, she felt closer to him than she did her own brother. She could always talk to Nick. And until today, he'd always seemed to understand.

She'd known him her entire life. As children, summer vacations found her brother, Nicky, and herself frolicking at her father's beach house, turning brown from endless days spent under the sun.

When her father had died, it was Nick who'd comforted. When her brother went off to India, it was Nick she'd turned to. He was more than just a friend. He was her best friend.

Over the years, especially this last year, after her husband had died, he'd become her closest confidant. Except for now, of course. Now, he was acting like a man. Emmy thought she might have made a grave mistake.

"You should be."

"Didn't you say you were leaving?" She took a sip of tea and wondered how she could undo a possibly disastrous blunder. Of course, she was old enough to know her own mind. She'd made her decision. If Nick wouldn't help her, she had no doubt another would. Still, she didn't need the problems he could bring to her life.

Nick ignored her question as well as the fact that she could look so innocent, while entertaining the most depraved thoughts. Instead, he asked, "Why would you need lessons in lovemaking? You were married for what? Six months?"

"Four," Emmy corrected.

He ignored the correction. "Why ask me?"

"That's obvious, don't you think?"

Again he ignored her response. "But most importantly, why would you give up respectability, something most women hold in higher regard than their lives? And lastly," his voice was rising again, "why the bloody hell would you take up with that rounder Philips?"

She shrugged in an attempt to lighten the tense moment, while deliberately lowering her voice to a near whisper, hoping he'd do the same. "Darien is very sweet." And before he could object which, judging by the stiffening of his body, he was about to, she went on with, "Respectability is not all it's cracked up to be. If a woman is discreet, I imagine her lover will —"

"You imagine wrong," he interrupted sardonically. "I can name a dozen ruined young ladies who thought they could trust the man they loved. I can't believe you're that naïve."

Emmy shook her head. "I don't care. I want to enjoy myself while I'm still young. I'm rich and pretty enough. Despite your obvious objections, I will be taking lovers."

She was mistaken if she thought he was ready to explode before. He was definitely ready now. Still he managed between clenched teeth a calm if biting, "You're not that young. You're twenty-three. A bit long in the tooth for many."

"Exactly," she agreed. "I'd best be at it then, wouldn't you say?"

"Marry again. There must be someone suitable." Judging by his sudden frown and subsequent strained look, his thoughts moved beyond their conversation, searching for the right man.

Emmy wasn't interested in the right man. She'd had the right man once, the perfect man according to her family and friends. And that proved to be a humiliating debacle.

"Actually, I was thinking the blacksmith at our stables is an attractive sort if a bit rough." She giggled when her outrageous comment caused a flash of murder in his eyes.

Emmy wouldn't have believed it possible, but his face grew even darker, his gaze promising untold pain if she continued on in this vein.

"I'm teasing. Don't work yourself into an attack of apoplexy, for heaven's sake." She breathed a long sigh. "Nicky, I've been married, and I'm not interested in a repeat performance, thank you. And since Richard was so kind as to leave me all his lovely money, I don't have to."

"Why?"

She frowned. "Why what?"

"Why don't you want to marry again?"

She shrugged. "Because marriage is not for me."

Nick snapped, "What kind of ridiculous thing is that to say? All women want to marry."

"Perhaps the ones you know."

"No, not just the ones I know. All women want to marry," he emphasised a bit more firmly. "What in the world has gotten into you, Emmy?"

She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. "Why is it such a horror for me and not you? You never married. You have a mistress, perhaps more than one, yet I must be sentenced to marriage? You travel. You see the world. You live. Why is it wrong for me to want the same?"

"You can travel and see the world with your husband."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Nick was suddenly of the opinion that his lifestyle had unduly influenced his friend. He tried to show her the error of her thoughts. "Emmy, I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that my life was one party and woman after another. It's not." He gave a small sigh and appeared almost reflective. "There are times, especially of late, that I would trade it all for a loving —"

Emmy gave a most unladylike snort. "Now who's talking rubbish? If you marry at all, it will only be to produce an heir, and no doubt, wife or not, you will continue on with the lifestyle you've spent years perfecting."

Nick frowned but didn't deny her words. He'd never given marriage or fidelity much thought and couldn't, at the moment, profess undying love to a woman he had yet to meet. "Whether I stay faithful or not would depend on the woman, wouldn't you agree?'

"Actually, I'd say faithfulness depends on the man. Either you're the faithful sort or you're not."

Nick quickly decided on another course, as the truth made no apparent impression. "Let's get back to the subject at hand, shall we? It's wrong for you because you are a woman, a respectable woman, at that, or at least, I thought you were until today." He watched as her expression closed, obviously unhappy with his last remark. He tried again. "Emmy, a woman like you doesn't suddenly become someone's mistress."

"I quite agree," she said a bit stiffly, "and I have no intention of becoming anyone's mistress. I will choose a lover. I'll never need a man to keep me."

Nick thought that was somehow even worse, although he couldn't have said exactly why that should be. For some reason, it just didn't sit well that a woman should hold all the power. He shook his head. "But women aren't supposed to —"

She interrupted with a disgusted, "I take it a woman's role is to satisfy a man, not the other way around."

Frustrated at her words since they at once proved true and totally unfair, he went on with, "Damn it, Emmy. Instead of filling your pockets, Richard should have filled your belly. If a little one were pulling at your skirts, you wouldn't be thinking of lifting them for any man. Why the hell didn't he?"

"It didn't happen." She shrugged, trying to sound unconcerned and unable to tell him the truth. She wondered if she'd ever be able to tell. "Who can say why?"

"Emmy, you've always been a moral woman. It's not that easy to throw all your standards and principles into the wind."

She laughed sarcastically. "Indeed, my standards and principles are bound to keep me warm at night."

"You'll feel all the colder after he goes back to his wife."

"Who?"

"The man you take as a lover, of course."

"I won't be taking married men."

"Won't you? Most men marry eventually. Suppose you fall in love?"

Emmy laughed again, the sound hard, almost ridiculing. "Love is for poets and young girls."

"And fucking is for whores!" he snapped, hoping to shock her into regaining her senses.

Only Emmy knew this man better than he might have supposed. She knew what he was about. She merely smiled at his ravings and asked, "Is it?" She sipped at her tea and calmly raised her gaze to his as she asked, "Well a woman can't fuck alone, now can she? So I'd wager that makes the man every bit the whore as she."

Nick released a long breath. His dark eyes narrowed as he tried to understand. What had happened to her? He'd seen her often during her marriage and more so since Richard's untimely fall and subsequent death, and never once had he suspected anything to be wrong. Suddenly, a thought occurred. Had Richard abused her? Jesus, had he hurt her? Is that why the thought of another marriage seemed to repulse her?

"When are you meeting him?"

"That's none of your business." There was no way she would tell him. Emmy hadn't a doubt he meant to foil her plans.

"And if I make it my business?"

She hesitated a long moment. Of course, she wasn't about to tell him the truth. She wouldn't put it past him to ruin everything. So she sighed, pretending she couldn't resist his insistence. "Friday night, at the Kensington ball, all right? Afterwards I thought I'd invite him here."

Nick knew a lie when he heard it, especially a lie from her. He knew her too well to believe she'd bring a man to her home for the purpose of bedding him. She had too many friends. Someone was always stopping by. She might want to do something disgraceful, but she wouldn't want everyone to know it. The Kensington ball was five days away. For some reason, he'd gotten the impression that the illicit rendezvous would be sooner. She seemed almost desperate for the particulars he might bestow. Wouldn't that mean time was short? He thought his best bet would be to watch the house, or better yet ...

"I have to go." Nick came to his feet.

Emmy stood as well, a worried look clouding her eyes. "You're not going to do anything foolish, are you?"

He frowned and wondered what she was about. "Like what?"

"Like offer him out."

Nick's head snapped back as if the mere suggestion was in need of dodging a blow. "And get myself killed?" He looked aghast at the thought. "I love you, Emmy, but I don't love you that much."

She laughed at his teasing and stepped into his arms for a hug and a brotherly kiss. The light kiss shared since childhood upon every greeting and departure suddenly and surprisingly proved oddly incongruent. Two sets of sensitive, all-too-knowing lips became far too aware of what they were about, and a kiss that should have been a mere peck lasted almost five seconds too long.

Nick's head snapped sharply back in shock. What in hell? He stared at her for several heartbeats, his eyes slightly glazed, his confusion more than obvious. Softly, he groaned, "Damn you," and clearly blamed her for his inability to resist.

His mouth claimed hers in earnest. She never noticed his arms gathering her close. His lips nearly ravished her mouth in his need to search out her taste. The need was overwhelming. He'd never suffered anything like it and vaguely wondered if he might never stop. The instant intense degree of wanting left him shaken to the core. He had to discover the lusciousness that was only hinted at beyond those generous lips.

His mouth was hot, clean, and delicious. His lips moved determinedly against hers and Emmy felt her knees threaten to give way. Her surprise obvious, she gasped for breath and took the scent of him deep into her lungs. A wave of dizziness assaulted her. The feelings that sped through her weren't anything like those she'd known when in Darien's arms. This was more, so much more. Lord, she'd known it could be like this. Somehow, she'd just known that the coming together of lips, in the arms of the right man, would rock her world.

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Excerpted from "To Save Emmy"
by .
Copyright © 2010 Patricia Pellicane.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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