Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, to make you happy.
“You left me like I didn’t matter during that horrible time, as if I wasn’t as worthy as your precious spy mission for the Crown.” Her voice broke and the sound slammed into his person. “I was alone and—” Abruptly, she cut off her words and rushed at him. Emotions danced over her expression, the same ones that battered his own bruised heart. “You have no idea what you set into motion, what I had to endure alone.”
Cornelius caught her in his arms, but confusion gripped him. She obviously referred to the secret she kept, but for whatever reason she couldn’t—wouldn’t—share it. “Let me make it right between us if I can.”
“My brother’s death released a cascade of ill-luck.” Amelia was far away, lost in her thoughts. “They all left me after that. Everyone I cared for is gone.” Though she met his gaze, he doubted she saw him. With a curled fist, she beat her hand on his chest. “Mama and Papa gave up after Peter died; they simply forgot they had me, their other child. I meant nothing once their favorite passed.”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean it that way...”
“They all left me, as you did. I was alone.” Tears fell to her cheeks, and he held her, let her vent her anger, disappointment, and grief.
“I am not dead yet,” he whispered and brushed her forehead with his lips.
“Your being here...” Her voice was barely audible. “I’m so tired, Cornelius.”
“I’ll wager you are. You’ve held all this inside for far too long. It’s time to cleanse yourself of it.”
Amelia nodded. “Charles stayed away; still does. He’s irresponsible. My parents died, leaving Peter’s child in my custody. I had no one to talk to, no support, no help, no one to comfort me.” Her fists fell with precision at each point she made. “I was frightened but had to remain strong for Rebecca, but oh, I wanted to fall to pieces.”
“Yet you married Grant directly following our affair.” He forced himself to say the words. “I foolishly thought that you and I might... Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I had to marry him.” She shook her head. Tear tracks showed on her cheeks. “When I thought I would grow old with him war took him too.” Her voice rose slightly. “Trenton Park is run smoothly because of my hard work. Yet no one ever thought to ask me how I’ve held up, if I needed help or assistance.” A note of hysteria had wormed its way into her speech.
“Through it all you never had time to grieve properly.” Would she dissolve into sobs and finally break free of the prison she’d made for herself? “War is hard on everyone. I felt like that too, but away from England, I was in a difficult position. Dangerous, even, so I shuttered my own grief deep down inside.”
“It hurts.”
“I agree.” He held her closer and she rested both fists on his chest, the fight apparently drained from her.
“I was so...” Her words died as she stared at him with moisture-spiked lashes, her eyes dark green pools.
“Angry.”
Amelia nodded. “I never had the chance to say goodbye. Not to any of them. Not even to that tiny little hope...” Her swallow was audible. “It wasn’t fair.”
“Death is never fair.” He cupped her cheek and wiped at the tears lingering there. “When you lose someone, you don’t get fair. You don’t have closure or goodbye. Fate gives you anger instead. For a time, it fuels you, but you must be careful, for it will blind you, destroy you if you let it fester.”
“Then what happens?” She nuzzled into his palm, and he rejoiced at the trust she showed.
“You must find a way to let the anger, the disappointment, the guilt and regret, go. If you don’t, you’ll be left with none of the good things in life when you fall.”
“If I fall.”
“You will. We all do when things hit the breaking point. Trust me on that.” Daring much, he drew the pad of his thumb along her lower lip, much like he’d done during Blind Man’s Bluff. “That’s what you’re doing now, because you’re finally shedding those pent-up feelings.”
“Who will catch me?” she asked in a barely-there whisper.
It was a question he couldn’t answer. He didn’t have that right. “Once the cleansing is done, you’ll have a new outlook on life. Perhaps you’ll finally find happiness and peace.”
“Cornelius...” She looked so lost that his protective instincts welled. “I need you to catch me,” she whispered, and another tear fell. “Remind me that I’ll come out right if I let go. I’m so weary of fighting... everything...”
There was only so much willpower a man could tap into before he broke. Cornelius crushed his lips to hers in a savage kiss that told her in no uncertain terms he wanted her and the tortured mess she represented. By the time they wrenched apart, they were both breathless. He sought her gaze with his. “Tonight, here with me, there is no right or wrong. You don’t have to remain strong if you don’t wish it.”
“I want to forget, or to pretend that we’re not at odds...” She tugged his shirttail from his trousers and then shoved her hands beneath his shirt. The heat of her seared his skin, ignited his blood. His body caught fire and was fueled by the stark want in her mossy eyes. “Tonight, I need you.”
It was folly to give in. Everything would change between them yet again, but if a quick coupling would help rid her of the residual anger...
“Ah, Mia.” Never could he resist her. Would that this tryst brought them closer together instead of putting them further at odds. Cornelius embraced her, kissed her hard so there were no doubts of how much he desired her. Over and over he devoured her mouth as if she’d be instantly ripped from his life. She did the same, gave as good as she got, and soon they were panting, hands searching, fingers trailing over familiar skin, lost to the heat between them.
As desire overrode common sense, he carried her to the desk and deposited her on it. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes.” She tugged him closer. “I might as well have one scandal as a widow, and at least with you, it’ll be amazing.”
The honesty in her words fed his ego as he settled between her naturally splayed legs. With a hand at her back, he pleasured her breasts, sucking the hard nubs of her nipples through the silken fabric of her night clothes. Her soft cries of enjoyment spurred him onward, and by the time she reached for his frontfalls, his length was engorged to the point of pain. As his member sprang from his trousers, he paused long enough to appreciate Mia in all her glory. Skin flushed, legs parted, nightrail rucked up to her hips, eyes shining, she looked the part of a woman far gone in lust.
And his heart squeezed from the image.
“Why do you hesitate? I’ve dreamed of this, ever since I lost...” She didn’t finish the sentence.
Lost what? Obviously, she held the secret close to her heart. Then her words sank in. She dreamed of him, of them, doing this? Desire for her spiked. Circumstances weren’t ideal but taking her on the desk would have to do. He couldn’t very well carry her up the stairs in such undress and risk someone seeing them.
“I’ve never forgotten those nights I spent in your arms.” He shoved up yards of her skirting, and when she was bared to his gaze, he gripped her hips and brought her forward until she balanced on the edge of the desk. As passion drove his instincts, he kissed her, found her center with the tip of his member, and then thrust swiftly in until he was fully seated in her honeyed heat. “Oh, God,” he whispered against her lips.
It was like being welcomed home after long years on the march, and everything he’d gone through had been worth it.
Amelia clutched at his forearms as she moaned. Need mirrored in her eyes. “Don’t hold back.”
He nodded. It had been a long time indeed since he’d been with a woman. Such a thing hadn’t been a priority in recent years. But now, with Mia, it felt right, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
His thrusts were frantic, hard, and deep. At one point, he paused inside her mer
ely to enjoy the blissful sensations she created within him. Amelia held his head between her hands, brought his forehead to hers, and kissed him like a woman desperate for the very air he breathed. Cornelius kissed her back. Never had the connection between them been so strong.
Then, he straightened as urgency compelled him to finish. He held her hips, the outside of her thighs in an effort to go as deep as he could, stroking again and again into this woman who’d managed to upend his life again.
All too soon his stones drew tight and hot pleasure rushed through his length. He ignored the pain screaming in his knee while he thrust quicker and faster. When she broke with a cry upon her lips and tears in her eyes, he kissed her, taking most of the sound into himself as he fell into an intense release that left him shattered and sated. He ground his pelvis into hers to prolong the joy, but the act was over, and he wasn’t ready to let her go.
His limbs shook as she clung to him. Obviously, the same sentiment hit her, so Cornelius removed them both to one of the chairs. After he sank into the leather, he cradled her on his lap, her legs on either side of him. Dear Lord, please let her storms have passed. In the aftermath, when his pulse pounded and he felt the flutter of hers beneath his fingertips and their frantic breathing slowly calmed, the guilt snuck in once more.
I must tell her. But he was loath to break this tenuous trust building between them, and he was a coward besides. It would keep.
Eventually, Amelia roused. She caught his gaze. “For my sanity, we can’t come together like this anymore, Cornelius.”
“Why?” They were perfectly matched. “This was amazing.”
“If something happens to you...”
“It won’t.” He frowned even as part of him rejoiced that she felt that connection between them as well. “You asked me to do this.”
Shadows haunted her eyes. “I’m not strong enough to lose you again.” Finality rang in her voice.
His heart constricted. “I won’t leave. This I promise you.”
“You said that before.”
“Now I mean it. I have no commitments.”
“The Home Office?”
“Can go hang. I resigned my position last week.”
“Oh.” Her eyes rounded in surprise.
His chest tightened as he thought of the secret he kept. In time, all would work out. “Let me court you through Twelfth Night,” he said in a rush. I am a bacon-brained idiot to offer myself up for rejection. “If we don’t suit, no foul. We shall remain friends.”
With a sigh, she slid from his lap. “You know I won’t marry again, so a courtship is a waste of time.”
And I won’t let you be a mistress. “I remain ever hopeful, in this and many things.” He couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “Think about it.”
“Goodnight, Cornelius.” But there was a sparkle in her eyes. He had intrigued her.
As she quit the room, he returned to his original chair behind the desk. How the devil was he to win her over, for he knew what he wanted now above all things: to marry Amelia and finally have the domestic life he couldn’t for so many years.
Chapter Nine
December 23, 1818
Cornelius dropped his shaving blade for the second time that morning. A quick curse followed. “What the devil is wrong with me?”
His son grumbled a protest from his bed and cracked open an eye. “It’s your fault for not calling your valet. Why are you awake? You came in after I’d already retired.”
Thankfully, bending to retrieve the tool hid his expression. “I couldn’t sleep so I spent time reading in the study.” His head pounded from the brandy he’d drunk the night before. It was one of the reasons he didn’t imbibe much.
“Interesting.” Edward struggled into a sitting position. He pointed to a bedside table near the narrow bed Cornelius used. “Yet your reading spectacles were there when I came in.”
Damn and blast. Cornelius darted a glance at the offending eyewear. Then he transferred his attention back to the mirror. He’d lied, and his son knew it. “I am able to read without them.”
Edward snorted. “I call fustian.” He swung his legs over the side of his bunk. “What were you really doing last night?”
He concentrated on finishing his shaving. “I was in the study where I had a couple glasses of brandy. I thought it safe since I hadn’t taken laudanum all day.” It was best to stick close to the truth. He’d taught his son too well to discern a liar from a truth-teller.
“Ah.” But Edward narrowed his eyes. “Something is different about you now.”
Oh, God. His hand shook on the last swipe with the razor, leading to a nicked spot on his neck. With a curse, Cornelius grabbed a small towel and pressed it against his skin. “How so?” he finally asked. “I’m quite the same man, I can assure you.”
“Let’s see, shall we?” Edward came across the floor, his night shirt giving him the air of a small child. “There is a twinkle in your eye. Your features are relaxed and the anxiety you usually carry is less pronounced in your expression. Your posture is at ease. You seem somewhat distracted, as evidence by your dropping the razor and cutting yourself.”
“So?” His pulse pounded in time to his aching head. Was it possible his son suspected what he’d done with Amelia?
“You very well might have been in the study, but I’ll wager you did something rather scandalous with a woman last night.” A large grin skated across his face as he waited.
Heat rose up the back of Cornelius’ neck and spilled into his ears. “I’ve taught you too well.” He sighed and moved the towel. The slight bleeding had stopped. “Are you certain you won’t interview at the Home Office? They’d love to have you.”
“Don’t distract me, Father.” He smirked. “Who was it? Lady Eaton? She’s fast enough and has made no secret she’s on the prowl. Lady Amelia? I believe you’ve always harbored feelings for her.” Edward dropped his voice. “Did you fall for one of the debs? Some gentlemen prefer virginal and innocent so they can mold them into the perfect woman.”
“Don’t exaggerate.” Cornelius couldn’t hide his abhorrence. “I’m old enough to be their father. No, young ladies don’t tempt me.” He shook his head. Perhaps talking with Edward would help clear his head regarding Amelia. “Suffice it to say, you don’t need to know what I was doing or with whom.”
For that aberration hadn’t meant anything. It had merely been an excuse to vent residual feelings and emotions, except...
“I never thought you for a rake.” A trace of disappointment clung to Edward’s statement.
“I’m not. Things... happened. I thought the connection she and I had shared the last time we met was still viable.”
“And now?” His son’s sharp gaze searched Cornelius’ face.
“I don’t know, to be honest.” At least it was the truth. “The physical attraction is very much in evidence. But the lady doesn’t want to marry again, and I refuse to take her as a mistress. She deserves more respect than that. And...”
“Yes?” There was a certain interested light in Edward’s eyes that made Cornelius uncomfortable.
“I want another chance to prove to myself that I’m not a failure at being a husband. I fear I did wrong by your mother and your step-mother.”
“I’m quite certain they understood the rigors of your position.”
“There are times when I wonder what they truly thought of my being far from England most of the time.” He paused, searching for words that made some sort of sense. “I told the lady I wanted to court her. Do you think that’s a good idea? I haven’t done this in a while and—”
“Father.” Thank goodness his son cut off the pointless babble before embarrassment sprang into being.
“Yes?” Would he need to sit through chastisement?
“I think you courting anyone is a marvelous idea.” Edward clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “Does this lady make you happy?”
An unexpected bark of laughter escaped him. “At the moment, s
he’s driving me into madness.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“I’d like to hope.” He matched his son’s grin. “I feel we can both become happy with each other if everything works out.” He gave into a shrug. “At the very least, I no longer work for the Home Office, so there’s that stumbling block removed.”
Edward’s lower jaw sagged. “You gave up your career?”
“I did.” For the first time, Cornelius was able to smile about it. “Last week, though my superior thinks I wasn’t in earnest.” He nodded. “I want the freedom to follow the life I feel I should have always pursued.”
“You want domestication.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” He met his son’s eyes without shame or embarrassment. “I need to attend the title, and I can’t do that while working for the Crown.”
“Good for you, Father.” Edward nodded. “Then by all means, court Lady Amelia.” He winked.
“You knew all along?” Truly, the woman had scrambled his brains if he’d missed that sign.
“When one knows what to look for and knows how to interrupt shared glances, yes, I knew.” His grin turned wicked. “I truly don’t think you and she know exactly how deep you’ve fallen. It’s almost scandalous. Plus, you gave away your interest during Blind Man’s Bluff quite handily.”
“I see.” Another swath of heat moved through Cornelius. “So, you think courting her is acceptable? That I won’t make a fool of myself at this advanced age?”
Edward snorted. “Oh, no doubt you’ll lose your damn mind over her, but isn’t that the purpose of romance?” He shrugged. “Besides, women are more susceptible to courtship during Christmastide. Lots of emotions are flying about and it’s all cozy and syrupy.”
Cornelius rolled his eyes. “Never say you don’t believe in love?”
“Do you?”
“Honestly? Yes, I do.” He stared at his son as if the knowledge had suddenly fallen over him. “It comes in many forms, but if I can find that emotion, that thread of connection again with her after being an utter failure, I’m going to take that chance.”
Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4) Page 9
