by Reid, Stacy
She paused for a bit, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Max shifted closer to her.
“He did not come to my chamber that night, or for several weeks after. I admit I was very relieved for I was not ready for intimacy with him. Oddly we became friends.”
Max frowned, and she smiled.
“I know you think him a dastardly villain, but he was also a kind man, Max. And my husband did show me a lot of thoughtfulness during our first months of marriage.” She swallowed and continued, “The short of it was that he confessed…he confessed that he was no longer able to take any woman to his bed, and his desire had long been satisfied by watching others coupling, and he would like to watch me with another man.”
A delicate blush covered her neck and cheeks at that admission.
“You see, it had been like that with his previous viscountess. She took many lovers and he watched! I resisted his suggestions most ardently. I was hurt, confused, and very frightened. I was a girl of nineteen at this time, trying to make sense of being married to a powerful lord and understanding my place in society and my duty to my lord.”
Amalie shifted on the chase before she stood and walked to the window, watching the dark sky and the rainfall. Max rose and went to her, standing behind her and watching the sleeting rain as it slapped the cobbled pavement.
“What did he do when you resisted?” he asked darkly.
With a sigh, she leaned back against him, and it felt natural to rest his chin atop her head. Her elusive fragrance of lavender filled his lungs.
“He did not beat me if that is what you are thinking,” she murmured.
Relief rushed though him and he closed his eyes. Thank God. It would have killed him had she suffered such abuse.
“But his censure was potent. I was made to feel guilty, a failure for not doing my duty to my lord. He was my husband, and it was my duty to please him in everything. Even if that duty was to satiate his voyeuristic needs. For months I felt hounded by the constant pressure to take another man to my bed so he could watch. Then…then when he started to voice his displeasure more and more, and I realized that our marriage was a permanent union, I relented on the condition that I chose my lover.”
A jolt went through Max. “And you chose me,” he said a bit harshly, hating himself at this moment.
“I chose you,” she murmured. “But I was too ashamed to inform you of my reasons for enticing you to my bed. And I was wrong, Max, it was horribly wrong of me to plan to take you as my lover knowing my husband would secretly watch us.”
He squeezed his hands around her waist. “You were brave and strong. Lord Weatherston was a very powerful man. I am grateful he did not try more persuasive methods to bend you to his will.” And Max was indeed thankful. The man could have had her beaten, even committed to bedlam for failing to do her duty or even arranged for others to force her against her will for his selfish pleasure. And suddenly, understanding pierced Max’s soul, and an icy chill darted through his heart.
“The viscount did eventually try to force you,” he said, aware of the furious pounding of his heart. “That is why you were running bare foot in the street.”
She shivered in the protective cage of his arms. “After you left that evening, he was angry with me, with everyone. I…I asked him to take a mistress, have her see to his need. Everyone in the ton seemed to be the lover of someone else. I thought he had agreed, but the next day…the next day I woke to see Lord Spencer in my chamber,” she said in a horrified tone.
By God! Max could only imagine how petrified she had been.
“Lord Spencer was fully aware of the situation and also that I was unwilling. I ordered him from my room and instead he simply looked at my husband, who sat on the chaise longue, legs crossed, with a glass of brandy in his hand. My husband nodded to him, Max…a simple nod, and Lord Spencer started to remove his clothes.”
Those Goddamn bastards.
“I ran…and he chased me down the stairs, his taunting laugh at my heels. I suspected the servants would do nothing to help my plight, and I also knew Lord Spencer would eventually catch me, no matter which room I would go to hide. When I ran toward that front door…I saw it, Max—my scandal and my ruin. I faltered. And Lord Spencer was there in the hallway, and I could see on his face that he expected me to come back to him. He lifted his fingers and crooked them at me, his expression one of debauched anticipation. He even licked his lips,” she said with a shudder of remembered disgust.
She turned in the cage of his arms and lifted her face to him. “I could not bear the thought of being raped, so I did it. I threw the door open and ran into scandal and infamy.”
Ah, God. He dropped his forehead to hers, pierced by guilt and anger. Max could only imagine her fear and the strength of will it had taken to open that door and flee, even knowing she risked society’s condemnation. “You were so brave, Amalie.”
“I do not regret running,” she said, unexpected humor dancing in her eyes. “The viscount collapsed that very evening, from a heart that had been weakened over time. Perhaps it was the scandal which roared through the ton, or the furious promise I made to tattle to a scandal sheet should he ever try to force me again. But he took to his bed and the doctors could not save him. I ran from the scandal and condemnation of society as you know, but sheer boredom and loneliness encouraged me to return to town a few years later. But I’ve been made aware that society does not forget or forgive. I am barely accepted as it stands, and I will always be remembered as the hussy who drove her husband to his death with her wanton behavior.”
She touched his forehead briefly. “I can see that look of fire in your eyes. There is nothing you can do about my acceptance, and in truth, I am not certain I wish those stuffy old biddies to acknowledge me. I have been very fortunate in my friendship with a few widows with notable connections, and I have been invited to many balls and soirees.”
He stared down at her sweetly upturned face, recalling how alone she’d been at Lady Rushworth’s ball. Max had watched Amalie for so long, and no one had approached her to dance, and many had stared and whispered behind their fans. And she had endured it all by ignoring them. It did not even occur to ask her why then bother to be out in society with such continual judgment. That bold gusty girl he recalled would not have hidden away for long. She would not give in to their constant censure and hide at home afraid to venture out or bury away herself in the countryside. How very brave you are my sweet Amalie.
He pressed a kiss to her brow and her lashes fluttered close for long moments.
“Max?” she asked opening her eyes an impish smile curving her lips. “I am very curious about something.”
“What?” he demanded gruffly.
“Why must we take it slow?”
And before he could respond, she tipped on her toes slightly and pressed her lips to his. It was such a fleeting caress but he’d never felt anything so sublime.
It felt as if flames of need engulfed his entire body. He cupped her cheeks in his hand, and slanted his mouth over hers, taking her soft kiss to one of deep intimacy. He stroked his tongue along the seam of her closed mouth, and with an inarticulate murmur, she parted her lips.
Max’s groan vibrated between them. She tasted hot and sweet. Their tongues slid against each other, and he realized with some bemusement that her kisses felt shy…uncertain…and untutored. It was unbearable torture to not tumble with her to the bed and satiate the tide of fierce desire rising between them.
Max had never expected that lust could feel this exquisite. She twisted in his arms, restless and eager. Her fingers as they tugged as his cravat were impatient. His hands as he unknotted her chignon were trembling. Their teeth clicked together, and she giggled against his lips.
“I have never felt this…breathless before,” she said, kissing along his throat.
Another thought jolted him. “Have you never had a lover, Amalie?”
“No,” she said. “You’ll be my first, and I am thrilled it will be s
o.”
Sweet Christ. He pulled away from her and peered down into her flushed features. Anxiety pounded through him and all the knowledge he had boasted to George about having in his head scattered like ashes on the wind.
She moved forward and slipped her hand around his neck. “But fret not, Max, I’ve read your book.” A fiery blush lit in her cheeks. “I’ll promise not to swoon or be shocked by your appetites. I know you will aim to please me…and please me very well,” she murmured huskily.
Suddenly he felt the weight of his inexperience, and the urge to tell her all of it hovered on his tongue. But then in her eyes, he spied such anticipation and wonder, he could not bring himself to say it.
Bloody hell.
He felt like a damn fool. Then he almost shouted with laughter. The damn book again. This would be a very unconventional affair indeed. Two virgins exploring pleasure and debauched delights with each other. Max wondered if he confessed to her if she would look still how she gazed at him now—with raw, provocative hunger. Or would she think him not up to the task?
Hell, maybe she won’t know if you are lacking, something dark and frustrated in him whispered.
“Come away with me,” he murmured.
Her eyes were wide and luminous as they stared at him, her lush, rosy lips were wet and glistening from his ravishing kisses. “Where?”
“To one of my smaller estate in Derbyshire where we’ll have privacy and society will keep their noses out of our business.”
There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, which confused him. “Amalie, I—”
She gave him a bright smile. Yet the smile she gave him trembled a little before disappearing. “It would be glorious indeed to race with you once more or even go fishing. Very well, I shall prepare myself to visit your country seat this weekend. It promises to be such fun in the tedium of the season.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Until this weekend, Max.”
He turned his face, so her mouth grazed his. And Max swore he would do everything to prepare for taking her to his bed. She deserved to be well-loved and pleasured after living with disappointment for so long. He kissed her, brief and with violent tenderness, before lifting his mouth from hers. “Until this weekend.”
Her fingers, which were lightly resting on his wet sleeve, trembled. Then Max pressed a kiss to her forehead and made his way from the room.
He had his own damned book to re-read!
Chapter 6
“I cannot credit the papers would dare link your name to that woman,” his mother, Mrs. Barbara Langdon spat disdainfully. “I was so terribly mortified when Lady Thurgood asked me if I’d read the latest on dit. I eagerly walked into her trap never dreaming that tattle would be about my own son! And that disgraceful viscountess.”
Max leaned back in his chair, lowered his serviette, and rubbed the throbbing spot on his head. Hell, and damnation, this was the last thing he wanted to discuss with his mother, his sisters, brothers, and their spouses looking on.
At his lack of response his mother lowered her knife and fork with a decisive clink. She took a deep breath, trying to control her ire. “Why are you not answering, Maximilian? Am I boring you? Is that why you appear so unaffected by my distress?”
“Yes, in truth you are,” he said icily. “I have little interest to know how those in the ton deliberate over affairs which are no business of theirs.”
“Max!” his sister, Baroness Melville, snapped, casting a concerned glance at their mother who had frozen, hurt darkening gray eyes very much like his own.
Biting back an oath, he pushed from his chair at the head of the table, made his way to her. He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Mother forgive me. I am tired.”
She sniffed. “Very well. Now about the viscountess—”
“Mother,” he interrupted firmly. “I will not be one of those fools who cut Lady Weatherston in public.”
That had the attention of all nine people at the dining table.
“Max?” Louisa asked, darting a quick glance at her husband then back to Max. Baron Melville was a proper sort who cared too much about society’s opinion. Max was still at a loss how his vivacious sister had fallen in love with the man.
He arched his brow at her. He was a damn earl, and wealthier than the Baron. Why should he give a damn about the man’s concerns? Max gritted his teeth, for he loved his sister and his family and did not want to hurt or disappoint their expectations in any way. “You know Amalie...Lady Weatherston is a friend of mine. We have known each other for years.”
His brother, Harry, sent Max a searching stare. “I believed you lost touch with the viscountess some number of years ago. Are you reconnecting with her?”
Max hesitated briefly. “In a manner of speaking.”
Knowledge dawned in his brother’s eyes and he narrowed his gaze. Whatever the hell he was thinking about, Max did not want to know.
“There will be no ‘manner of speaking’!” his mother said with a gasp, pushing back her chair and standing.
Dinner was turning into a farce.
“Your sisters and brothers have made suitable matches to proper, respectable families. We will not shame them by having someone with such a dubious reputation attach herself to this family, because no one else has allowed her close! Only you and Mary remain unmarried, and any undesirable connections might ruin your chances. Of course, you will not tarnish the honor of the earldom. Now that is has passed to you, Maximilian, you must do everything to preserve its integrity.”
Louisa also stood, and of course her husband promptly joined her, resting a supporting hand by her elbow.
“Mama is right, Max,” his sister said softly. “When I saw it printed in the scandal sheets that you lifted your champagne glass to her in a silent toast, and the manner in which the ton have been speculating on that gesture, I thought...I thought it baseless! But I can see from your reaction that it is true, and you will be reconnecting with Lady Weatherston.”
Out of his four siblings, three were married, and all were at the table with their spouses. They had been very fortunate in their connections, finding love matches with ladies and gentlemen from respectable families. He met each person’s gaze thoughtfully. “No one at this table has conversed openly with the viscountess?”
Everyone nodded, and his gut twisted into knots.
“I can assure you that I know the truth of the scandal surrounding her. She is not to be blamed or condemned. She is a lady of elegance and thoughtful manners who through no fault of her own had her reputation tarnished unjustly.”
His family stared at him as if snakes writhed atop his head, and he sighed heavily. “I will be very conscious of your concerns,” he murmured, and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I have an engagement I cannot miss.” For the very first time, he used the excuse of visiting his club and then a ball to shorten his stay with his family.
That rubbed him the wrong way for he loved them dearly and enjoyed their company often. Eager to escape from the townhouse he had bought for his mother, he faltered in the hallway at the sound of his name. Max turned to see Harry coming toward him.
“Do you know what you are doing?” his brother asked, his brows creased in concerned. “This is the woman who chose to marry another man despite the love you had for her.”
They were only a couple years apart and were as close as brothers could be. “She was unaware of my feelings of the time. And all of that is in the past.”
“Do you love her still?”
Max carefully schooled his expression. “Do not be foolish. My feelings have altered. It would be impossible for my regard to have remained the same with the years between us. I daresay she will forever be my friend.”
Harry sighed. “The scrutiny that will fall on our family cannot be ignored or—”
“There is no reason to be so concerned,” Max refuted firmly. “We...we will be very discreet in our interactions.”
Harry’s eyes glinted with awareness. “Ah, so it is a
s I suspected. A position that will be enviable by many gentlemen in society who have tried to charm their way into the lady’s graces. Lady Weatherston is to be your mistress.”
Before he could reply a gasp sounded, and they both glanced up to see their mother at the end of the hallway. Her flushed countenance showed she had overheard that last bit. Without acknowledging her sons, she whirled around and disappeared down the hallway.
Max glanced at Harry. “I will take my leave.”
Several minutes later, he sat in his carriage as it rumbled towards a ball he’d not plan to attend. Earlier this morning in Hyde Park he had seen Amalie strolling with her Friend, Bess, Lady Hufford. Amalie’s face had lit with pleasure upon seeing him, and he’d tipped his hat in greeting. Many taking their fashionable strolls had observed the exchange, and no doubt another speculation would be in the scandal sheets.
The ton could be ridiculous in how they examined and dissected people, just so they could add to the rumor mill. Damned ridiculous it all was. But it was there he had overheard that she would be at Lady Sutton’s ball.
Though they would travel separately to his seat in Hertfordshire in only a few days, Max desperately wanted to see her, laugh with her, even dance with her. But why? Lifting his cane, he rapped on the roof of the carriage bringing it to a halt. Alighting from the vehicle, he informed the coachman he would make his way to the ball by foot.
The night was shrouded in darkness with only a few gas lamps here and there providing a measure of relief. He strolled along Piccadilly, unconcerned with the thoughts of footpads, for he had adequately trained over the years in how to fence and box, and Max was confident he could defend himself creditably.
The only thing he should occupy his thoughts with, is in what manner did he want Amalie in his life? Despite telling Harry that his feelings were altered, Max still held considerable affections for her in his heart. She was his friend still...and he wanted her as his lover. The very thought of kissing her lips, taking his mouth on a journey down her neck, to her breasts and to that valley between her thighs had his cock jerking in anticipation.
