The earl led the way, and she and Isabel trailed after. Emily’s heart raced as her eyes followed the curve of his lordship’s bottom. This had been the first time she had looked at him so thoroughly, and her imagination ran wild. What would he be like? Touching me the way Downsbury did? Would he be gentle and soothing, or would he be gruff and callous? His thighs were thick and shapely in his riding breeches, and she wondered what his bare back would look like.
An unfamiliar warmth crept up her back, and seared her cheeks. Wicked thoughts of the two of them in an intimate embrace. Emily shook her head. Even viewing that woman on her knees with her soon-to-be-husband, she had barely caught a glimpse of his grace’s appendage. Do they all look the same? What does Lord Avonlea’s look like? Her face burned once again as the scandalous musings returned.
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