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to fade a little, and her breath came easier. Nikolas, with his cool self-possession, his worldly
detachment, wouldn't let her fall apart.
They went to the west wing of the manor, where Nikolas's private suite was located. Emma blinked in
surprise as they came to a room she had never seen before. It was decorated in rich colors, with a ceiling
of blue glass and bronze moldings. The radiance of a rock crystal lamp filled the air with a serene glow.
Nikolas closed the amethyst-studded door, banishing the outside world. He looked at her in the muted
light, his features unreal in their stern beauty. The ivory shirt he wore was open at the throat, revealing a
scar that twisted across his skin. Tell me what happened, he said.
Emma pulled a crumpled scrap of paper from the pocket of her trousers. She handed it to him silently.
He took it from her, his golden eyes locked on her stricken face. Smoothing the paper flat on a nearby
table, he read the betrothal announcement without expression. His lashes cast long shadows on his
cheeks.
Ah, he said softly.
You don't s-seem very s-surprised, Emma faltered. I suppose on one is except me. I& I thought
Adam might actually love me. It was all a sham. And I'm the greatest fool alive for believing his lies.
He's the fool, Nikolas said quietly. Not you.
Oh, God. She put her trembling hands over her face. I didn't know it was possible to hurt this much.
Sit. Nikolas nudged her toward a settee upholstered in soft amber leather. Emma curled up at one
end, folding her long legs beneath her. Bending her head, she let her hair fall partially over her face. She
heard the sounds of crystal and splashing liquid. Silently Nikolas approached and handed her a small
frosted glass. Emma took a sip. The liquid was lemon-flavored and very cold, trickling gently down her
throat, leaving a path of ice and fire in its wake.
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What is this? she asked, wheezing slightly.
Lemon vodka.
I've never had vodka before. She took a large swallow, closed her eyes against the smooth, searing
burn, then took another. Coughing, she held out the glass to be refilled.
Amused, Nikolas poured more vodka for her, and one for himself. Drink it slowly. It's much stronger
than the wine you're accustomed to.
Do Russian women drink vodka?
Everyone in Russia does. It's best when consumed with caviar and buttered bread. Shall I send for
some?
Emma shuddered at the thought of food. No, I couldn't possibly eat anything.
Nikolas sat next to her, handing her a linen napkin, watching as she blotted her damp face.
I can't seem to stop crying, she said in a muffled voice. I think my heart is broken.
No. He pushed back a straggling curl from her forehead, his touch as light as a butterfly's. Your heart
isn't broken. It's only wounded pride, Emelia.
She jerked back, glaring at him in sudden outrage. I should have known you'd be patronizing!
You don't love Milbank, he said flatly.
I did! I always will!
Oh? And what did he do to earn this great love? What did he give to you? A few smiles, some flattering
words, a stolen kiss here and there. That wasn't love. It was seduction, and apparently a poorly executed
one. When you have more experience, you'll be able to recognize the difference.
Itwas love, she insisted, gulping down the rest of her vodka. Coughing, gasping for air, she dried her
stinging eyes. You don't understand anything about it because you're too cynical.
Nikolas laughed as he took the glass from her hand and set it aside. Yes, I'm cynical. But that doesn't
change the fact that Adam Milbank is unworthy of you. And if you're going to give your heart to a
scoundrel, you may as well choose one who will give you luxury and freedom& one who knows how to
please you in bed. That kind of man would be far more useful to you than Milbank.
If she were sober, she would have taken further offense at his bluntness. A gentleman would never have
used such words to a girl he respected. But the alcohol had wrapped her brain in a cool white fog, and all
she could think was that Adam had been her only chance, her only hope. Certainly no one else was
waiting in the wings. Whom do you have in mind? she asked bitterly.
His hands gripped her shoulders, then eased downward. Gently his palms brushed the sides of her
breasts. Emma stiffened, her breath catching. She started at him without blinking, the light from the crystal
lamp hovering on her gold-flecked skin. Emotions chased across her face& confusion, anger,
denial& and her mouth trembled as he lifted a hand to her cheek. Gently his thumb touched the edge of
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her lower lip.
Emma spoke in a scratchy whisper. I& I didn't come here for that.
Why are you here, then? he asked softly.
I don't know. I wanted& comfort. I wanted to feel better.
You were right to come to me,ruyshka .
She made a move to get off the settee, but Nikolas held her there in a light, steely grip, one hand at her
shoulder, the other at her waist.
Nikki& she said, half-defiant, half-pleading.
He leaned forward and caught her lips with a light kiss, then spoke with his mouth almost brushing hers.
I can offer you more than your family has, more than Adam ever could. I can help you, take care of
you& give you pleasure you've never felt before.
I have to leave, she said desperately. The vodka had made everything blurry, her thoughts drowning in
a tide of feeling.
Stay with me, Emma. I'll do only what you want. Only what you choose. The tip of his tongue
flickered against her lips, and then he nibbled at her bottom lip, his teeth closing gently on the soft curve.
He possessed her mouth with slow, seeking kisses, pausing to brush his lips over her eyebrows, her
temples, her cheeks. His hand played lightly in her hair, pushing the red curls aside to bare her neck.
Emma shivered at the new sensation. His mouth moved softly over her throat, exciting her nerves,
seeming to draw a flush of heat up to the surface of her skin. Gradually she lifted her arms around his
neck. Never in her life had she been so aware of a man, the hard body beneath the snowy white shirt, the
muscles filled with crushing strength. It was wrong to be here with him, wrong to feel his lips and hands
caressing her. But it seemed the perfect act of rebellion against her father, against her unfaithful lover,
against all the people who had ever called her an eccentric or a wallflower. Why not let Nikolas make
love to her? Her virginity was hers to give it no longer mattered, since she had lost the one man she had
ever wanted. Perhaps this was a sin, but there was undeniable pleasure in it.
Emma raised her hands to his beautiful hair, the tawny locks springing like coarse silk beneath her
fingers. At her hesitant touch, he took a sharp breath and pulled her closer, stretching along the settee
until they were matched together. Emma pressed close to him, wanting friction, pressure, his masculine
weight bearing down upon her. His kisses became longer, deeper, changing from question to demand.
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