Knightley's Tale Read Free Page B

Oh, she hoped she didn’t regret going down this path.
    “You’ve read?” His voice was wary. “What books have you been reading, Emma?”
    “Well,” she prolonged the single word as long as she dared. “In Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure… ”
    “What?” He accused. “You read Fannie Hill? ”
    “Well, yes. And The Way of a Man with a Maid, The Heptameron and The Lustful Turk, which, I have to say, was quite…er…energetic.”
    Knightley abruptly halted their dance, just as the violins struck the last note. His face was but inches from hers, and her chest rose and fell in even breaths, anticipating his next move. For a long moment he held her in this intimate embrace and simply looked at her. The mask hid the darkest of his emotions, but she could feel the heat—mixed with anger—rolling off him.
    Wrong path.
    Without ceremony, he released every part but her hand and stormed off the dance floor.
    She followed at first but then started tugging to free his hold on her.
    “Really, of all the high-handed, pig-headed…” she actually tripped into a man wearing a snout and pink ears. He was bent over a woman’s open dress. They weren’t alone. Three women dressed in white gossamer robes were stroking the couple up and down. They seemed to be quite enjoying themselves.
    “Excuse me,” Emma called out, but it didn’t seem to penetrate the small group.
    It did, however, cause Knightley to tighten his grip on her. She was sure he was taking her to her carriage and sending her home. Instead, he turned right and headed beyond the trees into the maze of shrubs.
    “Where are you taking me?”
    He didn’t answer, instead focusing his energies on maneuvering through the pathways and around the dozens of partially clad bodies.
    Breasts, buttocks, full nakedness—they were in full bloom next to the spring flowers. In pairs, in groups.
    Why, they had walked into a full orgy.
    Curious—and titillated—Emma craned her neck to see what these people were doing and, more importantly, how they were doing it. But Knightley had increased his speed. Regrettably, he was in no mood to stop and watch.
    Deep into the center of maze he dragged her until they reached a small private copse. He swung her around to face him. For a moment they huffed to catch their breath. A thin cloud passed over the moon, casting a hazy glow around them. Soft grass tickled her ankles. Everything was suddenly still, except her heartbeat in her chest, wanting.
    “Why?” Knightley gritted out the single word.
    “Why?” She tossed back. “Whatever do you mean: Why?”
    He breathed deeply.
    “Why are you doing this to me?” He stepped forward, almost intimidating her with his height. Almost.
    “Doing what?”
    He changed tactics.
    “You were in my library.”
    “Perhaps.”
    “You were reading about… things —things that a properly bred girl should not have knowledge of. Emma, you are practically my sister.”
    “Precisely my point. I am not your sister. Your brother married my sister. That gives us familiarity, not familial relations. Furthermore, I am not that neighbor girl in pigtails you once petted on the head,” she paused. Her breasts heaved.
    This was her moment of truth. In for a penny… “I want to be petted, but not on my head.”
    There was a long pause. Damn, but she could not read his expression. He was so near, he sucked all of the air from her.
    “Emma, you do not know the game you are playing at.”
    “I think I do.”
    “You are stretching my limits.” His hands gripped her upper arms, bringing their faces nearer.
    “They need stretching,” she shot back.
    “You are practically begging me to…” His voice was tight, as if he were fighting his last resolve.
    “Begging you to kiss me?” She meant the question to come out archly. In reality, it sounded like a longing whisper.
    Yes.
    Kiss me.
    And more.
    Nearer and nearer he drew; she dared not blink for fear she’d miss it. She could smell the mix of his