He'd enjoyed it, too. More than any evening he could remember.
She stood and brushed bread crumbs off his coat.
He jumped up and folded the blanket.
"I made a mistake." She folded her arms, frowning. "I got carried away, listening to all your stories about the past."
He placed the blanket in the basket. "There was nothing wrong with that."
She shook her head. "I should have gathered more information about the Malcontents. I should have found out where you're holding Shanna Whelan."
"Holding her? She's a happily married woman."
"My boss thinks she's been brainwashed. His first priority is to rescue her."
Angus snorted. "She's perfectly happy where she is. Is it that hard to believe a mortal woman can love a vampire?"
Emma's eyes widened.
Angus swallowed hard. Deep inside, a need was growing. An impossible desire. He wanted what Roman had. The love of a mortal woman.
Emma picked up the basket. "How do we get down from here?"
"Ye let me hold you." He stepped closer. "And ye hold on to me."
She smiled nervously. "Or we could always take the stairs."
He wrapped his arms around her. "It will only take a moment."
She looked sad as she looped an arm around his neck.
Blackness enveloped them for a mere second, then they were standing on the ground in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Emma released him. "Thank you, Angus."
He stepped back. "Ye're welcome."
They strolled silently down the gravel path in the small park. Angus frowned. The atmosphere of friendship they'd shared during the picnic had melted away. The air between them seemed strained and sad. As if something was missing. As if friendship wasn't enough. He glanced at her, wondering if she felt it, too.
A noise came from behind some bushes. Angus halted. Emma stopped beside him with a questioning look. She'd probably not heard it yet. He raised a finger to his lips and eased forward. She stayed beside him.
More noises emanated from the bush. A grunting noise. A female gasp. A French Malcontent, possibly, attacking an innocent woman. Angus leaned over to retrieve a knife from under his sock. He motioned to Emma to stay behind him.
With an annoyed look, she shook her head.
Stubborn woman. But he admired her bravery. She set down the picnic basket and retrieved the wine bottle. Holding it upside down in her fist, she went to the left. He headed around the right side of the bushes.
He jumped out. "Release her and back away!"
Emma leaped into position.
Angus winced. They'd interrupted a couple making love. Emma was standing at their feet, rather his feet, since the woman's feet were wrapped around the man's bare rump.
Angus was by their heads, his dagger pointed at the man.
With a gasp, the man scrambled off the woman. He grabbed his discarded pants to cover up his crotch. He yelled something in French about avoleur, then yanked his wallet from his pants and tossed it at Angus's feet.
Angus ignored the wallet, for he'd noticed something awful. The woman had pantyhose wrapped around her reddened neck. "I should gullet you! Ye're strangling this puir woman."
The man motioned to the woman on the ground, who was busily covering herself up with the man's shirt. They both babbled in French so fast, Angus had trouble understanding.
But the evidence was clear. "Ye're strangling her!" Angus stepped toward the man, his knife aimed at the man's face.
"Good heavens," Emma whispered.
"Don't hurt us, please," the woman gasped in accented English as she unwound the hose from her neck.
"Hurt you?" Angus gave her a baffled look. "I'm trying to save yer life. This bastard was choking you."
"I asked him to!" The woman glared at Angus, then at Emma.
"We should go." Emma motioned for Angus to follow her.
"Nay! I canna leave a defenseless woman with a strangler."
The man and woman cursed profusely.
"Angus!" Emma grabbed his arm and pulled. "Come on."
"But—" He glanced back at the French couple, who were still hurling curses at them. "Is it safe to leave her?"
"Yes." Emma retrieved the basket and hurried down the gravel path, tugging him along with her. "He isn't going to kill her. At least, I hope he won't."
"But he was choking her."
"She asked him to." Emma let go of his arm and fiddled with the basket. "They do it for… an erotic thrill. The choking causes heightened responses during sex. She'll have a bigger orgasm, I suppose. Not that I would know, but that's what I've read about it."
He halted. "She asked him to hurt her?"
"Yes."
Angus was stunned. He stared at Emma in disbelief, then strode down the path.
Emma followed him. "Are you all right?"
He shook his head and quickened his stride.
"The woman will be all right. It really was consensual."
With a growl, Angus tossed his knife. It embedded with at hunk into a tree. "I doona understand." He marched toward the tree. "I have lived too long. I no longer understand this world."
"I know it's a bit weird, but people do strange things—"
"Nay!" He ripped the knife from the tree. "A man should never harm a woman. Not even if she begs him to. There is no honor in hurting a woman!"
"Well, I—"
"I canna believe it." He leaned over and stuffed his knife into the sheath around his calf.
"If a man loves a woman, how can he bear to harm her?" He jerked his jeans down over the sheath, then straightened. "How could he do that to her?"
Emma shrugged. "She asked him to."
"Why? What kind of man would pleasure his woman by hurting her?" Angus paced across the path. "'Tis a man's duty, nay, his privilege, to give his woman all the pleasure she can bear. She should be panting and writhing with pleasure."
Emma remained silent, staring at him. Did she not believe him?
He walked toward her. "A real man would take all night if need be to make sure his woman was fully sated. She should be screaming that she canna endure any more."
Emma's eyes widened.
"It should be a man's greatest pleasure to see his woman shuddering in the throes of passion."
She took a deep breath and shifted her weight from one foot to another.
He paced back and forth. "Only when she is begging for him, should a man see to his own needs. And he should never, ever harm her." He stopped in front of her. "Am I totally wrong in this?"
"No," she squeaked.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Och, lass, ye shouldna look at me like that."
"I'm not looking." She turned away. Her cheeks flushed with pulsing blood. Her heart was racing, he could hear it.
"Emma."
"I think we'd better get back home." She looked at him, her eyes glimmering with desire.
He stepped closer. "Yer heart is pounding."
"Your eyes are turning red."
"Ye'll have to face the facts, Emma. This is a date." He touched her cheek.
The picnic basket she was holding tumbled to the ground. With a low growl, he pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.
He wrenched every ounce of pleasure from the kiss. He tasted Emma's lips, skimmed them with his tongue, and nibbled them till every curve and texture were embedded in his memory for all time. He held her tightly so he'd know exactly where her breasts pressed against him. He smoothed his hands down her back to learn the exact curve of her spine, the delicious way it sloped inward and then flared out again at her hips.
He nibbled down her neck. Her pulse throbbed just beneath her tender skin, filling his senses with the fragrance of blood and desire. Her breath puffed against his cheek in tiny, feminine gasps. Her sweet body melted against him. The scents, the sounds, and the sensations clouded his brain till he could no longer think, only feel joy, passion, and a hunger that demanded more and more.