An Unconventional Affair: Forever Yours Series

by Reid, Stacy

  How he made her laugh.

  “I just thought we could paint! I shall spare your sensibilities and wait until I am in your chamber to paint you in the nude.”

  They made their way over and sat on the chairs.

  “I confess I have never painted in my life.” He sat on his chair and patted his lap. “Why don’t we paint together?” There was a decided glint in his eyes, and she smiled.

  Amalie sat in his lap and took up the paintbrush. “What shall we paint?”

  He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck and inhaled deep.

  “What do you miss the most?”

  She turned her head to stare at him. “You are already here with me.”

  Something intense flared through his eyes, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable, so she reached out and painted his nose.

  “Ah, it is this kind of play, why didn’t you say so?” he murmured roguishly. “Then he leaned over dipped his finger into the paint and swiped it on her cheek.

  Before she could retaliate, he swooped down and took her mouth in a burning kiss. With a sigh of surrender, she greedily responded. When they broke apart, he gently turned her around.

  “Look at the colors in the sky, the formation of the clouds and those birds on the skyline. Let’s paint them.”

  She nodded, and they stayed like that, painting and laughing and chatting until the endless day bled into the night.

  The very next day, Amalie and Max reposed on the soft, plush carpet by the fireplace in the library. Though it was barely noon, the sky was overcast, the sun hidden by dark, bloated clouds, encouraging them to be indoors once again. They were in scandalous disarray, for he had just made love to her wickedly and so thoroughly she felt limp with exhaustion and pleasure. She had peaked at least four times, and surely the servants had heard her screams of fulfillment through the large oak door. That had not seemed to bother Max the least, and he had smiled with intoxicating sensuality to her fretful worries.

  Biting her bottom lip in deep concentration she glared at the chess board. He had won the last two games, and she had only won one so far. They had agreed to play six rounds, and the looser would be at the winner’s mercy. From the wicked glint in his eyes, Amalie suspected that it wouldn’t be foot rubs and reading that he would demand. The blasted man planned to torture her. He had even gone upstairs for four of his silken cravats and dropped them on the carpet. Her gaze kept darting to them, and she wondered exactly what he planned to do with them should he win. Her curiosity almost urged her to allow him to win, but her naturally competitive spirit would not allow it.

  “Amalie.”

  “Hmm,” she said distractedly, debating it she should make a move with her bishop or to sacrifice another pawn to lay a trap that would only be sprung four moves later.

  Max cleared his throat, and the discomfort of it, tore her gaze from the chess board to look at him.

  He was clothed only in his trousers, and his naked chest rippled with muscles. Her lover was so dashing and virile. Though she had just spent over an hour in his wicked embrace, the desire to be snuggled against him darted through her. Amalie had to fight the overwhelming need to be closer to him. She tried to assess his unreadable features.

  “What is the matter?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, then leveled his direct stare at her. “I... I did not protect you.”

  She frowned, not understanding his meaning. “Protect me from what?”

  His gaze travelled over her face and searched her eyes. “The possibility of a child.”

  Her stomach knotted, and she slowly pushed up into a sitting position. “A child?”

  A flush mounted on his savagely hewed cheekbones, and he too sat up, folding his legs beneath him.

  “I... fuck!”

  She flinched at the curse word. “Surely it is not a given that... that I might fall with child?”

  “In my experience, which is not an excuse, I did not think to withdraw from your body... at the end. I was so damned consumed that I did not think.”

  She swallowed. “What made you realize it now?”

  His jaw tensed visibly.

  “Max?”

  “I was simply lost in a dream for a moment.”

  “And what dream is that?” she demanded softly.

  He stood and padded to the windows overlooking the lake. There was a restless energy to his movements. “You are walking on the lawn as you did this morning with a book in your hand. I have seen no one walk and read before, and you did it with such enchanted animation. Only this time... I imagined you with your belly swollen with child, and another two children running behind you flying kites.”

  Amalie stood and clasped her hands before her. “Are you there too?”

  He faced her, and the raw need in his eyes had her gasping. “Yes.”

  They stared at each other, a silent question swirling in the air.

  “Do you still want children?” He asked.

  “Yes, I do,” she said, hating the pain bursting in her heart. “I... you know I have always wanted a large family.” Amalie took a deep breath. “What if I am with child?” This was never something she had given any consideration when she had agreed to their affair. How naïve and ignorant she had been.

  “I will take care of you.”

  Her pulse skittered alarmingly, and a heaviness settled in her stomach. “How?”

  In a few steps he was before her. Cupping her chin, he regarded her carefully. The intrusive knock on the door jolted her. With a scowl he lowered his hands and moved around her.

  “What is it?”

  The butler entered; his eyes carefully lowered. “Forgive me my lord, your sister, Baroness Melville is here. I’ve placed her in the parlor by the east gardens, but she was most eager to find you.”

  Max’s mouth tightened, and she wondered what emotions he felt.

  “I will be there shortly.”

  The butler bowed and melted away.

  “We will resume this conversation later. I will deal with my sister.”

  Amalie nodded. “Should I come with you?”

  “No. Do not leave this room.”

  That order sent a shock through her. “Max?”

  He did not answer, putting on his shirt and waistcoat with impatient jerks. Without putting on his boot and jacket he made his way from the room. At the door, he shifted so he could see her.

  “I do not wish for you to encounter my sister. Stay here until I’ve return to you.”

  “It does not matter to me if your sister knows I am here,” she whispered.

  “It does to me.” Then the door closed with a resounding thud.

  Oh God. Amalie hurriedly made herself presentable. Thank heavens she had donned back her day dress after he had ravished her. Ignoring the twinges in her body and the ache between her thigh, she hurriedly put on her stockings and slippers. Then she tided her hair as best as she could without a maidservant assisting her.

  Then she sat on the sofa and waited. She tried to entertain herself by playing both sides in the chess game but found it difficult to concentrate. The clock on the mantle ticked by slowly until an hour had passed. Amalie stood and paced, wondering exactly when Max would retrieve her.

  Her breath hitched. Stay... retrieve. Like I am a bloody dog! Her emotions vacillated between shame and anger, and she tried to tell herself she overstated the matter, but the feelings lingered, twisting her heart into a painful knot. Her heart swelled with a feeling of doubt. Her thoughts tumbled, jagged and painful.

  Lifting her chin, she made her way from the library. She would head to her chamber, call for a bath, and then finish read her book. She would not hide away like she was a distasteful secret. Once in the hallway, she made her way to the winding staircase. Amalie climbed the stairs when a loud gasp had her stopping and turning around.

  Max arched a brow at her, but it was his sister’s scandalize mien Amalie stared at. Her eyes were red, and her nose blotched. She had been crying.

  �
��You said she was not here!” She slung accusingly at her brother.

  Amalie’s heart cracked when his only reply was directed at her.

  “I instructed you to remain in the library.”

  An inexplicable feeling of emptiness swelled inside. “Go to hell!” she snapped hoarsely.

  His sister gasped, and her hand fluttered to her throat. “How vulgar!”

  Anger flashed in his head. “You will be civil and respectful at all times to Lady Weatherston or I will drop you on your fundaments outside and bar you from entering again no matter how prettily you cry!”

  His defense did not soothe the pain in her heart. He had planned to hide her presence in his home.

  “Lady?” his sister demanded scathingly, her eyes flashing. “I told you of the rumors swirling about town linking your disappearance and you denied she was here!”

  “I informed you I have no interest in rumors, that is not a denial.”

  “So, it is true? You’ve taken her as your mistress?”

  Unable to bear any more of that judgement, Amalie hurried up the stairs, painfully aware he did nothing to stop her. Was that what he had spent the hour doing? Reassuring his sister that Amalie would not taint their family’s name? she entered her room and leaned against the door, breathing harshly. With a sense of alarm, she realized tears coursed down her face. She had allowed no one to make her feel so wretched in the ton, in all the years they vilified her, so she could not explain the wild, unfettered feelings tearing through her body.

  I cannot stay. Her pride was too fierce and unwavering for that!

  She hurried over to the armoire and pulled her dresses, and riding habits down. Another hour passed, and Max did not come to her, and she became painfully aware of how low she must be on his rung of importance. And what if she should truly be with child? Dear God, how silly I have been. She had acted with reckless impetuosity with little thought to the consequence of her heart and future. But she was now achingly ripped from her fantasy.

  “What are you doing?” a deep voice questioned.

  Amalie whirled around. Max framed the doorway, his eyes taking in the room’s disarray in a sweeping glance. She was so intent on closing her hatbox she had not heard the door open. “I am leaving.”

  A shadow crossed his face, and he moved into the room.

  “Let me hasten to assure you I have no... no expectations beyond this affair. I understand your position and I am quite aware of mine! That does not mean I wish to be treated like a nasty secret,” she said in a choked whisper.

  “This is what you think of me?” he asked blandly.

  “There is little evidence to say otherwise! Your sister descended on us unexpectedly and you commanded me to stay in the library as if you could not bear for us to meet! I had no expectations of an introduction, but I do not expect to be treated like something shameful by you! I cannot help feel you wanted me to stay in that library until you had dealt with her and she could leave without our paths crossing.”

  “I was being protective of her sensibilities and—”

  Amalie flinched. “I see,” she said hoarsely, hating that tears burned her throat. “I am a wicked tart whose presence will rattle your sister’s notion of what is sensible and just! Of course, I had to stay in the damnable library! How dare you!”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Amalie do not berate me unjustly. Your presence here at my country home can only mean one thing. That we are embroiled in a wicked affair. I did not want you to face her silly judgement until I determined what she was doing here. I am not ashamed of you! How could you think it!”

  “And I supposed it took you another hour to come and tell me this.” She held up a hand when he made to speak. “Please allow me to hazard a guess. She was hysterical and you could not rush from her side!”

  The truth glowed in his eyes. “I promise you there is more to it than your presence in my life.”

  “I do not believe you meant to be harsh, Max, nor do I believe your actions that of a bounder. But this moment has shown me more than anything else, my place in your life and heart despite...despite my dearest, foolish hopes. It is not your fault I have developed the most intense tendre for you, and I cannot hope for you to return my sentiments.”

  “What did you say?” he demanded gruffly.

  The eyes which peered up at him glisten with tears. “I... I love you, Max, most ardently, I love you.”

  Chapter 11

  Silence fell, and Max stared at Amalie wordlessly. The impassioned declaration had pierced his heart deeply, and he held them close. Yet he could not open his mouth to return her love. What would saying such sentiments do? His plans in relation to her was muddled, and he needed to understand them fully before he gave them any hope. But by God, he did love her, “Amalie...”

  “You do not have to say anything,” she cried. “I know you will not marry me, and I do not expect an offer! I knew that before I agreed... before I agreed to come here. Thank you for the past couple of weeks. They were wonderful, but I believe it is time I bid you adieu.”

  His heart had started a slow pound. “I do not want to lose you. I cannot lose you.” Not yet.

  She searched his face intently. “Did you expect us to have an affair forever?”

  “No,” he admitted slowly. “I knew it would be a temporary state.”

  It was subtle, but he caught her flinch, and the pain which darkened her eyes almost undid him.

  “Then do not be silly,” she chided. “We must go on and cherish the wonderful time we had.”

  She tried to say this lightly but the pain in her eyes and tone were inescapable.

  “Amalie...what if...what if...” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “What if we never have to part?”

  Her lips parted, and she took an involuntary step toward him. “I... do you mean a permanent attachment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh Max, I would...” He couldn’t say what stopped her, but her words faltered, and she clasped her hands before her. “Did you speak of marriage just now?”

  He had no idea what he spoke of. He had left his sister still in a hysterical state because of Amalie’s presence in his life. It was a deflection from what bothered her heart, for she had run to him after discovering her very proper husband was having an affair. His own sister asked if it would be proper to read his book, for she did not want to lose her husband’s affections. Directing her distress to Amalie now was simply a distraction from her pain.

  At his silence, Amalie’s eyes widened before her expression crumpled into a mask of agony. The flash of raw pain was quickly buried to be replaced by civil indifference, but he had seen it, and the power of it shocked him speechless.

  “Of course, it is for the best. And I understand...why. Because of my tarnished reputation it would be foolish to even consider making me an offer. I would not expect it, I...I was but silly for a moment.” Then she stepped forward, tipped onto her toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I bid you farewell, Max,” she whispered. “I cannot willingly break my heart so I must leave. Thank you for being such a kind friend.”

  He could have stopped her. He could have used the knowledge he had of her body and ruthlessly seduced her to stay with him for a few more weeks... maybe a few more years. But he did not, unable to understand the emotions twisting through him. It was only meant to be an affair, he reminded himself. And affairs ended. Yet his supposition felt wrong, his heart trembled with the force of his need, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  They needed some time apart, maybe then everything would be brought into perspective. It was with that damn foolish thought driving him, he allowed her to board his carriage and drove out of his life a few hours later.

  The fear and oddly placed sense of loss that slithered through him felt terrible. There had been something too frightfully empty in her eyes when she had bid him goodbye.

  Sweet Christ, what if he had just made the worst mistake of his life?

  Max saunter
ed along the path of his estate, his hand clasped behind his back, Lady Rebecca ambling by his side in the most charming ensemble of yellow dresses dotted with flowers at the hem, and a hat perch rakishly atop her blonde curls. The young lady was indeed a diamond of the ton, incredibly beautiful and a rumored dowry of fifty thousand pounds. Her father, the Marquess of Rushworth was very respected and influential in high society. Somehow, the young lady and her mother had set their cap upon Max. Worse, his mother and sisters connived to invite the marchioness and her daughter to his estate for the weekend without his permission.

  Informed of the relationship he had with Amalie; this was their attempting to protect the family’s reputation by directing more eligible debutantes into his sights.

  “Are you listening, my lord?” a very pique tone demanded. “I have mentioned twice now that I will be playing at mamma’s musicale tomorrow and you should make every effort to attend.”

  He glanced down into lady Rebecca’s pouting expression. The very notion of a union between their families delighted his mother and sisters but left him cold. “I am distracted, lady Rebecca,” he said with a rueful smile. “I am not the best person to accompany you on a walk today.” Or watch you sing and play the pianoforte tomorrow.

  “Of course, you are,” she cried, reaching out to grasp his lower arm.

  He stared at where she held him, and she reluctantly removed her touch, a flush mounting on her rosy cheeks.

  “I shall accompany you in silence then,” she said magnanimously.

  In the distance he saw his brother, walking his Poughkeepsie on a leash. The entire family had descended upon him, and no doubt it was Louisa’s doing. She and her husband seemed to be doing well, considering the tender looks they kept sharing, and the frightful blush on his sister’s face whenever she met his stare.

  She had read his book, and she had employed his instructions on her staid husband. Max had not been sure what to make of that nor did he know how to ease her mortification. He hadn’t told her to read that damn book, but he was glad it was helping to mend the rift between she and her Baron.