III

Emma yawned loudly at herself in the full-length mirror and pinned a sprig of mistletoe into her hair where she'd pulled it back with a ribbon. She wasn't planning on leaving the house today and no one would be calling on her. It was Christmas day, after all. A day to be spent with one's family. And one lusty rake posing as a family friend, she thought irritably. Jefferson continued to plague her dreams, causing her to wake several times in the middle of the night to visions of him as he'd held her last night in the garden … and on the dance floor … and in the kitchen months before.

Emma tossed her hairbrush on the dressing table and smoothed the skirt of her forest green dress – an early gift from her cousin who knew how much Emma despised the pastels she was forced to wear. She was tired of losing sleep over the confounding man. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she wanted him for her husband. It was his own fault with his sexy talk and lovely passionate kisses.

He'd made her want something for the first time in her life, something money couldn't buy and something she wanted with all her heart. It wasn't anything her mother was pushing her towards, oh no. This was something Emma wanted for herself without thought of wealth or titles. She didn't want the earl, but the man himself.

Did she love him? No, she was certain she didn't love him, yet. But she could. So easily could she fall in love with him, if he would just let her. What if he just desired her, she thought morosely. What if he couldn't love her? Lack of sleep and the scene at the Grandville masque was turning her mood sour. But she knew without the slightest hint of doubt she couldn't settle for another man. Only Rochefort would do.

Emma stifled another yawn as she slowly made her way down the staircase and entered the parlor. She was sure everyone was at breakfast. She could hear the clatter of dishes and the clink of crystal, but she knew she wouldn't be able to eat this morning. Her stomach was in too much upheaval after spending the better part of the morning worrying Jefferson would remember what she'd said to him last night on the dance floor. Please, God, don't let him remember, she offered up in prayer.

The front door opened, and she could hear Rivers offer a greeting. She strained her ear to hear who it might be, but the voices were too low. Instead of dwelling on the unknown visitor, she moved to the French doors leading into the gardens and pulled the curtains back. Snow, thick and heavy fell silently onto the garden path. She hated the snow. It made everything white and dreary. She much preferred the spring when everything was green and full of color, when the flowers bloomed, and the air turned warmer. Well, as warm as one could expect for England.

Strong arms encircled her waist and she bit her lip to stifle a scream. "Good morning, little rabbit," the voice whispered against her ear, the combination of his warm breath and husky tone sending a shiver of anticipation down her back. "Did you sleep well? Or did you lie awake all night regretting that you can't have me?" Jefferson asked, pulling her back to rest against his chest.

Bloody hellfire and damnation! Why did he have to remember? He had been sloshed! Now I'm going to have to listen to his sexy innuendos all day long. No escape for me. Belle won't allow me to hide in my room on Christmas. Stupid holiday!

His lips moved to the curve of her neck, his teeth nipping the tender flesh. Emma was fine with that. A little playing never really hurt anyone … right? As she was trying to convince herself, Jefferson soothed the bite with his tongue, and she stopped breathing. Who am I kidding … this is well beyond appropriate! "Um —"she stammered, her voice highly pitched.

Jefferson laughed softly and moved to the other side of her neck, his hands slipping higher, the rough pads of his thumbs brushing the sensitive undersides of her breasts. "Um? Um is good, I suppose." He pressed his lips below her ear, pleased she was once again trembling in his arms.

She hadn't been the only one to lie awake last night in the grips of a need which nearly consumed her. Her words had played over and over again in his mind. She wanted him. His kiss, his touch. She trembled with desire for him. He couldn't get her words out of his mind, not even with a case of scotch. He couldn't wait to arrive at the townhouse this morning to see her, thinking if she hadn't left him at the masque, he might've been able to coax her into coming home with him.

Jefferson's lips trailed over her shoulder along the edge of the lace trimmed velvet and back again to her ear. Emma felt as if she were about to burst into flames, her need was so powerful. "Would you have come home with me last night if I had asked, little rabbit?"

"N-No," she moaned, her breath catching in her throat.

"Would you have let me love you, sweetheart?" Jefferson breathed against her ear. "I'll take you there right now, Emma. All you have to do is say yes." His voice was becoming strained with need, one so powerful it left him trembling.

Emma turned in his arms and kissed the corner of his mouth, wanting more than anything to give him the answer he wanted so badly. But she couldn't. If she really wanted him for her husband, she was going to have to work for him. She was going to have to play just as dirty as she knew he was capable of being.

"All you have to do, Jefferson, is ask the right question," she whispered against his lips and stepped out of his embrace. Emma flounced to the sofa and sat down to pour herself a cup of tea, disguising her desire behind a mask of indifference. "Tea, Jefferson?"

What the bloody hell just happened? Jefferson asked himself. One minute she's quivering with unbridled desire in my arms and the next she's asking if I want tea?! He closed his gaping mouth and ran a hand through his hair. The right question? Oh, he knew all too well what question she wanted to hear. She can bloody well forget it!

"Yes, Emma. Tea would be lovely; absolutely bloody fantastic," he said dryly. He sat down next to her on the sofa and accepted the cup she offered, her smile seeming to irritate him even more. That, on top of his magnificent hangover and raging need, only soured his mood more.

"Would you like me to see if Abby will let you have one of her headache powders?" she asked sweetly, sipping her tea.

"No."

"It might help."

"No."

"Are you always this stubborn?" Emma asked quietly. There was no reason to raise her voice and aggravate his already pounding head. It was a testament of her growing feelings for him that she didn't want to cause him undue pain.

"Yes," he grumbled irritably. "One more thing we have in common."

Emma grinned at him over her cup. "Really? You think I'm stubborn?"

Jefferson pierced her with his smoky grey gaze. "Let's see, um, yeah! You want me and have admitted it, yet you won't let me take you to my bed," he complained, taking her hand in his and rubbing her palm with his thumb. Emma's eyes darkened and the cup in her other hand began to shake. "See?" he whispered, moving closer to her on the sofa. "You do want me, don't you, Emma?"

"I do want you, Jefferson. I meant every word I said to you last night, and all you have to do is ask the right question," she purred silkily, her face inches from his. He pulled away and set his tea cup back on the tray. She could feel him pulling away from her in more than the physical sense as he released her hand.

The earl rose from the sofa to pace before the blazing fire in the hearth. "I can't marry you, Emma," he said softly, hoping she couldn't detect the hint of sorrow in his voice.

"And I can't go to bed with you, Jefferson," she returned with equal calm. Stubborn ass! she thought miserably.

Jefferson looked just as miserable as Emma was feeling as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his buff breeches and stared into the fire.

*.*.*

Robert Gold snatched the cup of eggnog out of Belle's hands and set it on the coffee table. "Might not want to drink that, love. Jefferson's spiked it with scotch."

Abigail shot a fulminating glare in Jefferson's direction which he shrugged off. "Jefferson David Paul Madden! Why do I have to scold you year after year? Every Christmas you ruin the eggnog where you and Robbie are the only ones who get to enjoy it."

Jefferson handed a glass to Emma. "Emma gets to enjoy it this year," he drawled with a mischievous grin. His spirited little rabbit took the cup from him, her fingertips brushing his hand. His grin vanished, his eyes darkening at her innocent touch. This was really getting out of hand. He sat down on the sofa next to her and took her hand in his, folding her skirt over their entwined fingers so as not to draw the attention of the family.

She glared at him from the corner of her eye and tried to wrench her hand away to no avail, his grip vise-like. One corner of his mouth curled up into a lazy grin and his pressed his thumb into her palm, drawing slow feather-light circles across the sensitive flesh. Her eyes closed as she prayed for the strength not to betray either of them, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip.

Belle accepted a cup of tea from Robert and settled back on the opposite sofa in the comfort of her husband's arms. He looked like he was about to fall asleep. "Robbie, you can't fall asleep before we open presents."

"Sorry, sweetheart. Stuffed from dinner," he said with a yawn.

"Robbie, did you have the gifts delivered to the orphanage?" Abigail asked, absently sipping her tea.

"Yes, Mother. Henderson delivered them this morning."

"And did you make a donation?"

"Yes, Mother."

Jefferson ignored them and laid his head on the back of the sofa. "Aren't you going to drink your eggnog, Emma?" he asked, his voice a soft caress. "It's quite good this year." His thumb continued to circle her palm and he could tell it was starting to affect her if her darkening eyes were any indication.

Emma lifted the cup to her lips and took a hearty sip, reveling in the warmth as it spread through her. "Yes, quite," she agreed softly, her gaze on his mouth.

Jefferson leaned closer to her. "You're eating me with your eyes again, love," he whispered so only she could hear.

And Belle. "Jefferson!" straight into his head she projected the thought, causing him to wince. He straightened next to Emma and raised a brow at the duchess. Out loud she said, "Jefferson, why don't you pass out the gifts. Robbie's tired and I think I'd like to rest a while myself."

Jefferson dutifully rose to his feet and walked over to the giant fir tree which dominated the parlor. He noticed Abigail's tradition of only one gift was still holding true this year. He handed them out and returned to his seat beside Emma. A squeal from Belle drew his attention.

"Robbie!" Belle threw her arms around Robert's neck and whispered something in his ear. "My favorite!"

"Goodnight," Robert grinned, taking Belle's hand and leaving the parlor.

"What was that all about?" Emma asked.

"Nothing," Jefferson and Abigail said in unison.

Jefferson smirked in disgust. Robbie must have given Belle another box of chocolates, which would in turn result in hours locked behind the door of their bedroom. It was no wonder Belle was pregnant with as much time as those two spent in that particular room.

"Thank you, Jefferson, for the lovely pendant," Abigail said, rising from her chair to kiss his cheek. "I will see you tomorrow. You two enjoy the rest of the evening."

A lovely blush rose in Emma's cheeks as she realized she was quite alone with the earl. She rose from the sofa and walked around to the very back of the tree to retrieve the gift she'd placed there for him. She returned to her seat and placed the box on his lap, ignoring the raised eyebrow he turned on her.

"What? I can't give my friend a Christmas gift?"

"Only if you accept one from me," he said, pulling a long flat box from the breast pocket of his jacket and handing it to her.

"What is it?"

"Open it, rabbit," he coaxed, untying his cravat and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He got up and removed his jacket and moved to the partially open french doors, away from her. It wasn't overly warm in the room, but being in such close proximity to Emma made him feel as though he'd been covered in hot coals. The thought of them alone together, not a chaperone in sight, was indeed a delightful one.

"Jefferson," she breathed, holding the locket up to the light. "It's beautiful." He'd had it made for her over a month ago, after he couldn't get the thought of their kiss out of his mind. He'd known he wanted to buy something special for her if the occasion ever arose to give it to her. Christmas just happened to come along first. It was just a simple locket with a forget-me-not engraved on one side and an M on the other. M for Morrison.

He sat down next to her on the sofa once more and took the locket from her trembling hands, opening the clasp. Emma gasped as she stared at the miniature of her father nestled within. Hot tears scalded her face as she held the locket to her chest.

"I know how much Daniel meant to you. Wanted you to have something to remember him by," Jefferson said sheepishly, drawing the chain around her neck and closing the clasp, the locket nestled between her breasts. "Please don't cry, rabbit."

Emma couldn't stop the tears coursing down her cheeks, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his gift. "Wh-Where did you get the miniature of my f-father? I thought everything had been lost in the fire."

"It was with his belongings Robbie found in his office. I thought -" Jefferson pulled her into his lap and tucked her into the crook of his arm against the sofa. He handed her a handkerchief and rested his face against her hair. "I'm so sorry, Emma. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Like a typical male, he was quite undone by her tears. Emma slipped her hand into his open shirt, her touch cool against the warmth of his chest, and raised her eyes to his. "That is the most - what I mean to say is -no one has ever given me something like this. My parents never hesitated to spoil me with lavish gifts, but no one has ever touched my heart before. Your gift … Jefferson, thank you."

Emma slid her hands up to his neck and pressed her lips to his, her kiss hesitant, unsure how he would react after her earlier rejection to his advances. He was gentle with her, molding his lips to hers, unwilling to take advantage of her in her grief. It was tender and sweet and filled with the first bloom of love he was still denying he had for her. Jefferson held on to his desire, letting her drive the kiss. He let her take from him, her lips soft and searching.

"Emma, sweetheart," he said finally, cupping her face in his hands. "You've got to stop. I pride myself on my control, but even I have my limits."

Emma tried to move off his lap, but Jefferson's hands tightened around her waist. "I thought you wanted me to stop."

"I didn't say I wanted you to move," he teased with a crooked grin. "I happen to like the way your sweet little behind fits onto my lap, like you were made to be there."

Emma returned his grin and settled back into his arms. Her eyes fell on the gift she'd given him, still resting on the sofa next to him. "Jefferson, you didn't unwrap your gift," she said, lifting the box and holding it out to him.

Jefferson nuzzled her neck with his lips, running his tongue over the flesh beneath her ear. "I think I would rather unwrap you." His hand strayed over her hip, squeezing gently. "Would you let me unwrap you, Emma?"

Emma's lips parted on a gasp, the breath catching in her throat. "I-I th-think you should open your g-gift instead," she stammered, fighting the desire welling inside her.

Jefferson sighed woefully and removed the hand from her hip to take the box she was holding out to him, tearing off the ribbon and paper and tossing it on the sofa. Holy hell! Chocolates. He quirked a suspicious brow at her.

"Do you like them?" she asked hopefully. "I was having a difficult time deciding what you might like and Belle suggested chocolates."

Belle! Oh, you are in so much bloody trouble. If Robert doesn't put you over his knee for this stunt, I bloody well will! He wasn't expecting an answer, but he hoped she heard him regardless. Jefferson took it as a good sign that she didn't answer. Then again, Robert was probably keeping her busy.

Emma's shoulders drooped with disappointment. "You don't like them."

"No, rabbit, I do. See?" he assured her, popping a chocolate covered maple cream into his mouth. "Actually, it's quite good."

Emma beamed at him, relieved he was enjoying his gift. She wasn't expecting him to pop one into her own mouth. He was right, it was very good. "I always wondered why Belle was so obsessed with chocolate. She and Robbie are always running off with a box of chocolates. You never see them eat the chocolates, but they always have some with them. It's very odd," she mused as she swallowed the last of the treat.

"I know why. Robbie confided in me exactly why Belle loves chocolate so much," Jefferson told her, his gaze on her lips.

Emma's heart began to beat a rapid tempo in her chest. "I know I'm probably going to regret asking, but why is that?"

Jefferson placed the box on the sofa next to him and cupped her face in his hands. "Belle likes the way he tastes after he eats them."

Emma gasped. "Does she?"

"Do you want to taste me, Emma?" he asked, brushing his lips to hers. "I want to taste you, sweetheart. Will you let me suck the chocolate from your sweet little tongue?"

Emma pressed her hands flat against his chest, inside his open collar, her whole body trembling with anticipation for what was to come. She knew it wouldn't be a gentle kiss like before when he'd comforted her. No, this would be all-consuming passion of the like she'd never experienced before.

"You're not frightened of me, are you, my little Emma?" he asked, his lips moving along her jaw, burning a path to her ear. "Just one little kiss? A chocolate kiss? Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"Yes, I am curious. And no, I'm not frightened of you. You would never hurt me, Jefferson. Not intentionally," she said a bit breathily.

Jefferson drew back to look into her eyes. "You trust me?" he asked, a puzzled frown knitting his brow.

"Yes," she said without reservation, a small moan escaping her lips as he claimed her mouth. And she'd been right. She felt as though his goal was to devour her as he expertly coaxed her tongue into his mouth. He tasted so good, like chocolate cream and maple and Jefferson. She would have given anything for him at that moment as he ravaged her mouth, all lips and teeth and tongue. She pressed her breasts into his chest in an attempt to get closer and felt his hands leave her face.

Jefferson didn't know how much longer he'd be able to control his ever-consuming desire as she pressed herself into his chest, surrendering herself to his embrace. "Emma, love, if we don't stop —"

Emma claimed his lower lip between her own and moaned into his mouth. "Ask me, Jefferson. Ask me and we won't have to," she gasped.

"I can't, Emma. Right now, at this moment, I want nothing more than to ask you to marry me," he ground out through clenched teeth, fighting for control. "But I can't."

Pain of rejection clouded her eyes. "Why?"

"I just can't."

Emma placed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and climbed off his lap, swaying unsteadily. "Then you deny us both," she whispered softly, turning with her head held high and leaving him in the parlor alone to go to her room.

To no doubt lock and bolt the door! he thought miserably. Something had to give between them. They couldn't continue these games they'd been playing. She wanted him for her husband, but how long would she be able to resist before she gave in to the fiery tempest of carnal lust which swept them away each time they touched? Then she'd be ruined for anyone but him and they'd be forced to marry. The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.

The idea wasn't helping relieve his present condition … was, in fact, making it worse. He could always go down to the taverns along the wharf and find a willing woman, but he didn't want a tavern wench. He wanted the little spitfire upstairs who was suffering as he was. He wanted to slake his lust with Emma. Instead, he walked to the French doors, stalked out onto the snow-lined garden path and lowered himself down into the powder face first, praying the slush would cool the desire Emma had stoked into a bonfire.

*.*.*

Jefferson —

Why are you avoiding me? Are you still escorting me to Lord and Lady Hastings's New Year's Eve ball? You did make me promise not to go without you. I miss you.

- Emma

Jefferson stuffed the missive into the breast pocket of his jacket and signaled a footman to bring him paper and quill. He tossed back the scotch in his glass and groaned. It had been six days since she'd left him in the parlor on Christmas day. Six miserable days he'd been walking around with the need for her coursing through his veins and burning him up.

Either that, or he'd caught a fever from lying too long in the snow. No, it was her. Robbie had come to see him at the townhouse and so had Belle, wondering why he hadn't been over for dinner. He'd had to make excuses, unwilling to tell them the truth. He didn't want them to know he was avoiding Emma for fear of dragging her off to his bed. They didn't know he was in constant torment because he couldn't have her.

He set the quill to paper and stopped. What was he going to tell her? How could he take her to the Hastings ball and watch her hold court and dance with her suitors? It would be another episode in the garden or on the veranda where she ended up in his arms and then face down into the snow he would go. All he could think of was how much he wanted her, needed her. It was consuming him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't see her.

Emma —

I'm sorry. I won't be able to accompany you to the Hastings ball.

- Jefferson

He sent the missive off with a footman and settled back into his chair to watch Robert work over Lord Newberry in the ring. Bloody idiot! At least I won't have to worry about him trying to steal a kiss from Emma at the ball with that lovely split lip.

*.*.*

Fifteen minutes later, the footman was back with a response from his darling spitfire.

Jefferson —

I will expect you to collect me at nine o'clock sharp. If you do not comply, I will go straight to Robbie and Belle and tell them why you have been avoiding me.

- Emma

PS: Did you eat all of your chocolates?

"Holy hell!" he cursed, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and slipping his arms into the sleeves.

"Where are you going?" Robert called from the ring.

"I have to have a talk with someone," he practically snarled, stalking from the club to his waiting carriage. What the hell? Why is it Robert has all the luck? He gets hot, steamy missives in the post. What do I get? Threats!

Emma smiled as she watched Jefferson's carriage pull up in front of the townhouse. She'd been watching for him, certain her last missive would bring about the results she was after. Stubborn man thought he could avoid her, did he? She wasn't going to give up that easily. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too angry with her.

Jefferson stormed into the parlor and waved the missive angrily under her nose. "What is the meaning of this, brat?"

Uh-oh! He wasn't using any of the pet names he was wont to call her. He only used 'brat' when he was truly upset with her. Oh, well, no one said this was going to be easy. "Hello, Jefferson. I see you got my note," she demurred sweetly, moving to stand closer to him.

"That's close enough," he hissed, taking a step back.

"What's wrong?"

Jefferson glanced about the parlor to insure they were indeed alone. "You know what's wrong. What's the meaning of threatening me? You know exactly what Robbie will do if he finds out about the games we've been playing with each other. He also knows damn, good and well why I can't marry you."

"Does he?" she asked hopefully. "Which means Belle knows, too."

"Do not push this, Emma. You can't force me."

Emma's features softened and she took his hand in hers. "Jefferson, I would never tell Robbie about us. But I missed you and I knew you would come here if I sent a threat instead of an invitation -"

"Tricky little minx," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"- and I don't want you to be forced, Jefferson."

"Then why are you still holding out hope for something that's never going to happen?" he asked quietly, lifting her chin in his hand and holding her gaze. "You really missed me?"

"Desperately," Emma whispered, taking another step closer to him. He didn't move away this time. "I don't just enjoy the games we play, Jefferson. I like spending time with you. I enjoy sitting down to dinner with you and I like talking to you. I feel like I've driven you away. That was never my intention"

"Emma, I'm sorry."

Emma swatted at a tear which threatened to escape her eye. "Don't be sorry. Just keep your promise you'll be my escort tonight. I don't want to go without you. I know I'm safe with you. At least safe from harm," she teased.

Jefferson snorted. "Right. I'm to play escort and chaperone again. Wonderful," he said dryly. He lowered his lips to her cheek and gave her a swift kiss. "I'll pick you up at nine."

Jefferson was nearly to the parlor door when she called out to him, bringing him to a stop. "Jefferson, love?" she called, using a pet name of her own, relishing the shiver which visibly tripped up his spine.

Shit! I almost escaped without incident, he thought with trepidation.

"Just so you know," she said, her voice as sweet as honeysuckle. "Until the moment someone else slips a ring on my finger and binds me to them …"

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, a worried frown creasing his brow. He knew he wasn't going to like what she was about to say, could feel the dread creeping into his gut. "Yes?"

"I'll never give up on you."

Holy hell!

*.*.*

"Absolutely not! Go change," Jefferson growled at Emma as she entered the parlor. "You will not leave the house in that gown."

Emma looked down at the rose-pink ball gown she wore and frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

Belle quirked a brow at Jefferson. "There's nothing wrong with the gown she's wearing, Jefferson. She's beautiful and fashionable and all around lovely. So, shut it," she scolded.

"She's bloody well falling out of the bodice, Belle!" he shouted.

Belle looked down at her own gown and chuckled. "Jeff, I have a better chance of falling out of mine. Emma isn't changing."

Jefferson glowered at Belle for refusing to help. "Where are you and Robbie off to? I know he's not letting you drag him to the Hastings ball."

"Good heavens, no! We're having dinner with the Monroe's tonight," she said with a groan. "Robbie wants to talk to him about an investment or some such business, while I get to spend the evening hearing Lady Monroe blather on about her prize Labradors. I love dogs just as much as the next person, but she goes on for days."

Jefferson was staring at Emma's ample bosom threatening to spill out of her bodice. "Don't you have a shawl you can cover those with?"

"Jefferson, don't be absurd. She looks lovely," Belle scolded. "Go on, you two. Have a lovely time," she said, watching Jefferson drape Emma's cloak over her shoulders.

Emma waited until they were seated in Jefferson's carriage before she asked, "Don't you like my dress?"

"Emma," he growled warningly.

"I thought you would like it," she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she stared into his.

"You are being deliberately provoking me, woman, and I don't appreciate it one bit," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she insisted. "I promise to be on my best behavior and be charming and sweet to everyone. Can you say the same?"

Jefferson closed his eyes and laid his head back against the cushioned seat. He took a deep calming breath and then another. Nothing was helping. All he could think of was her falling out of the bodice of that damned dress. He imagined having her straddle his lap and pulling the silk and lace down with his teeth. Fucking hell! I'm never going to make it. She'll be ruined. I'll be married to a wife who will come to hate me. Shit! Shit! Shit!

He swallowed the panic rising in his throat to choke him and turned stiffly toward her. "Rules for the evening, milady."

What the hell? Since when does he call me that? Her brows rose in surprise. "Rules?"

Jefferson reached over and pulled the front of her cloak closed, figuring he might be able to concentrate if he didn't have to look at her bosom so blatantly displayed. "Rule number one: do not leave my sight for any reason. Which means, rabbit," he paused dramatically, "if you can't see me, I can't see you."

Emma nodded.

"Rule number two: under no circumstances do you dance more than twice with any one man."

"I think I know about that one, Jefferson. It was ingrained in me from the time my mother started my lessons in the schoolroom," she snapped waspishly.

"Rule number three: you are not to go out onto the terrace unless you are accompanied by me."

"I don't think the Hastings have a terrace," Emma replied blandly.

"Beside the point!"

I am so beginning to enjoy this. I'll have to remember to thank Belle for altering the bodice of this dress. Emma thought silently.

"Alright. Rule number four?"

"No chocolate."

"I beg your pardon? That's utterly ridiculous."

Jefferson closed his eyes and prayed for patience. How had he let that slip out of his big fat mouth? Just the thought of her sharing a chocolate kiss with anyone but him was twisting his stomach into knots.

"No chocolate," he repeated. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he felt her scoot across the leather seat and place a hand on his chest.

Emma's lips were a hare's breath away from his ear. "Can I have chocolate if I share it with you?" she asked, breathless from the close proximity.

Thankfully, the carriage stopped in the long drive of the Hastings townhouse and the door opened, saving Jefferson from having to answer. He led her inside and handed her cloak to a footman before greeting their hostess. All eyes turned to Emma as he led her onto the dance floor.

"Holy hell!" he cursed as he pressed her tightly to his chest and looked down at her. "You are going to cause a scandal with that bloody dress."

"Oh, I am not, Jefferson. Look at Sheila or Mandy or even Olivia. Their dresses are similar to mine and you're not complaining," she scoffed, nodding to several of her acquaintances.

"I don't care what they happen to be wearing. Look at your suitors, any of them, take your bloody pick. They're drooling, Emma, just waiting to get you alone for a dance," he snarled, his voice rising in anger.

Emma's lips turned up into a brilliant smile. "Jefferson, you're jealous." She could have clapped her hands with joy.

Jefferson quirked a condescending brow. "I am not jealous."

"Deny it all you want, Jeff, but I can tell," she said confidently. A little too confidently to suit Jefferson. "You want me for yourself. Which means you don't want other men to look at me. You don't want other men to dance with me. Lord forbid if one should hold me as tightly as you are holding me now."

"Minx," he growled, avoiding her foot as she missed a step. He was getting better at dancing with her. Of course, he was. She was his. He hated to admit it to himself, but she was right. He hated to be wrong. But everything she said had a ring of truth about it.

"Brute," she whispered near his ear, her voice soft and husky with desire. "But you're my brute. Mine, Jefferson. Why can't you just ask me?"

Jefferson led her off the dance floor and handed her to her next partner, grinding his teeth together in vexation. He grabbed a glass of scotch off the tray on the refreshment table and tossed it back. He'd had three before he trusted himself to find a spot in the crowded ballroom so he could watch her. He was going to have to speak to Robert about finding her a new escort, especially if she was going to wear evening gowns which barely concealed her breasts. He was finding he wasn't very good at resisting temptation.

*.*.*

Robert assisted Belle into the carriage for their journey across town to have dinner with the Monroe's. "Robbie," Belle gushed, her excitement bubbling forth. "You should have seen the look on Jefferson's face when he saw Emma's gown."

"Almost swallowed his teeth, did he?"

"It was lovely. And the feelings passing back and forth between those two are quite shocking," she said, snuggling into his side. "Reminded me of us not too long ago."

Robert caught her lower lip between his and groaned. "Belle, you're doing it again. We're on our way to a dinner party. Shall I tell Evans to turn around and take us home?"

Belle retracted her gift and sighed. "No, darling. I know you want to talk business this evening, but I'm excited about Jefferson and Emma. I want them to be together. They're perfect for each other."

"And, of course, Jefferson is resisting because he thinks Emma won't understand."

"Yes, exactly," Belle nodded, brushing the hair away from his eyes. "Now we just need to figure out some way to help them along the road to happiness. Remember, Robbie, Jefferson was there to help us."

"You don't need to convince me, Belle. I want him to be happy, too."

Belle brightened. "Darling, were you serious when you said you were including the Northumberland estate in Emma's dowry?"

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing he wasn't going to like what she was thinking. "Yes."

"The renovations are finished?"

Robert groaned.

"I think we should send Jefferson to Northumberland to inspect the estate, to make sure it's ready for Emma and her new husband," Belle purred into his ear. "I also think Emma should go with him to see her new home."

"Belle, that's a scandal in the making!"

"Delicious, isn't it?" she asked with a dazzling smile.

"Do you think they'll do it?"

"When has Jefferson ever denied you anything? You're his dearest friend, Robbie, and you can't leave your bride at home to run off to inspect some silly property, now can you?"

Robert dropped a kiss to her full lips and pulled her closer. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Besides the fact that I simply adore you?"

"Um hmm."

"You're amazingly clever."

A/N: Poor Jefferson. I kinda feel sorry for him ... no not really. Emma just wants him to be happy. I know there are some of you who keep asking for more Robbie and Belle ... this is NOT their story, dearies. They will continue to play a part of the story, but the main focus will remain on our MadSwan pairing. Things heat up next chapter as our pair continue to grow closer and poor Jefferson has one moment of peace before the roof comes crashing down on him lol. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to hear what you think, so don't hesitate to drop me a line. Love and chocolate to you all.