his hand. How daft could the man be? Her brothers
would shoot him on sight! To think she thought of marriage to this idiotic male
was enough to send her into another fit of giggles.
"Mr.
Fennington, do have a care."
"Help,"
the man croaked, grasping for leverage on the ledge as he miraculously clipped
the lantern onto the vine.
The
light gave Emily a clear picture of the situation below, and her expression
stiffened at the sound of an inebriated belch. Shock quickly turned to
annoyance at his stupid feat.
"Mr.
Fennington, you are foxed to the gills! You must leave here at once! The way
you came, if you please."
"I
fear, dear lady, I cannot. Indeed, I may die in the next few moments if I am
not carried into safety. But I would die for just one touch of your delicate
hand."
"Doing
it bit too brown, Mr. Fennington, even for a man in your state." But Emily
knew if she did not think of something quick, the idiot would fall to his
death. With a murmur of disbelief, she bent over the sill, grabbed the swaying
man, and with his help, dragged him into her chambers.
"Good
evening, Lady Emily. Your servant, madam." He bowed, his tall frame
swaying before her, mimicking the uneven cadence of the curtains rapping
against her window.
Emily
stared in openmouthed wonder. A drunkard was standing in the middle of her bedchambers,
acting as if he were meeting her at Prinny's Christmas ball.
"Mr.
Fennington, I daresay, this is the most incredulous thing I have ever been
witness to."
He
simply smiled back . . . swaying.
Emily
reacted with an icy stare that would even set Roderick faltering back a few
feet. Thunder and Zeus, the man was mad. "Mr. Fennington, if you think for
one minute that I would take kindly to your visit, you had better think
twice."
To her
surprise, the man took hold of her hand and squeezed. "Knew you were a shy
one, my dear. Precisely why I climbed through the window without a word to you
beforehand. Time is of the essence here, and I beg you to allow me to handle
all the details while we slip away into the night sight unseen."
"Oh,
for the love of the king," Emily uttered, stomping her foot and trying to
pull her hand away from his grip, amazed at the impertinence of the man.
"If you do not believe me, I daresay, my brothers will not take kindly to
your visit either."
"The
devil with your domineering brothers." With one quick move, the man jerked
her into his arms and pressed his wet lips to her neck. "Dearest, lady. I
love you. Love you."
"Mr.
Fennington, I beg you!"
"Ah,
my little cabbage, we will be together soon and you will never have to beg me
for anything."
Little
cabbage? Beg him? Why the insufferable pig! Emily flattened her hands against
his broad chest and pushed, but she was no deterrent to the insistent man and
his roving mouth. "Have a care, sir. My brothers will boil you in oil if
they discover you here. You must take your leave, I implore you!"
"Oil?
Ha!" His strong hands gripped her waist in a tightening embrace, and at
that moment, she wished she had let him fall to the ground.
"Unhand
me, sir . . . before I do something rash!"
"Come
away with me, ma petite."
"Are
you mad?" She grabbed his waistcoat for balance, accidentally grabbing
hold of that stupid quizzing glass. She gave him a swift kick in the shin and
was instantly released.
Curled
on the bed, Egypt hissed loudly. Fennington fell back, stunned, but before he
could say a word, his eyes widened in what Emily could only perceive as sheer
black terror.
Her
heart all but stopped as she slowly turned around.
"Roderick,"
she said, quickly drawing away from her intruder. "Th-this is not what it
seems."
Roderick
stalked across the threshold of her bedchambers, his eyes darkening with fury.
Like a general, he stood feet apart, his voice as hard and cold as the pistol
pointed toward Fennington's belly. "Do believe we can do better than oil, do
you not think so, gentlemen?" he replied, glancing over his shoulder.
Fennington
stood like