by Rose Gordon
Hot desire shot through her as his open mouth moved over her breast. Then suddenly it felt like fire had been poured into her veins when he found what he'd been searching for. His wicked tongue flicked across the tip. Once. Twice. Then he pulled away, his hands lifting her chemise back into place.
Panic washed over her. What if this was the only chance she'd ever get? What if he rejected her or only bedded her because he was between mistresses and didn't want to bother with a bawdy house after she told him the truth? This could be the only chance she'd ever have to have him like this and curse her black soul, she wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything before, the consequences be damned.
“Yes.”
Elijah froze, his hands back on her shoulders, his fingers loosely holding onto the straps he was about to release.
Wordlessly, he took to his feet again, the hungry look in his eyes stronger than before. With a slowness that made Amelia's heart hammer so wildly in her chest that she was surprised it hadn't beat right out, he lowered both sides of her chemise. The fabric, followed by Elijah's intense gaze, glided over her sensitive skin, arousing her more, if such a thing were possible. He swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat just as he lowered it enough to reveal her full breasts. His hands stopped moving the garment lower for a moment as his eyes drank her in thus far.
Her breasts swelled under his watchful gaze. He dropped to his knees again, then ever-so-slowly, he continued lowering her shift to the floor. “You're more beautiful than I'd imagined,” he said as he took to his feet; his voice hardly more than a broken whisper.
Amelia furrowed her brows. Was that an insult or a compliment?
As if he'd read her mind, he said, “That's a good thing.” Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her puckered eyebrows, then at the top of her nose, then in the middle of the slope of her nose. He kissed all the way down until their lips met again.
Her hands reached forward on their own accord. He was moving too slow. If she didn't start taking his clothes off, they might be interrupted and reminded of dinner. That was the last thing she wanted. She slipped the buttons free first his coat, then reached inside and unfastened his cravat and waistcoat. He broke their kiss and stepped back just long enough for her to push his coat and waistcoat off his shoulders, remove his cravat and pull his shirt from his trousers. As if now she were the one moving too slow for his liking, Elijah yanked his shirt over his head.
His skin was bronzed as if he'd spent a considerable amount of time outside without his shirt. He'd been to the Mediterranean and many other exotic places, she should have expected nothing less. His skin was tight against the protruding muscles in his chest and the twin row of ripples that went down his stomach. In the middle of his chest was just a sprinkling of curling, light brown hair. Instinctively, she reached up and touched him, reveling in the way his muscles leapt beneath her touch. She glided her hands over the plane of his chest and to his broad shoulders, down his sides and across his stomach, there wasn't a part of him she didn't want to touch, all the unusually shaped scars that littered his abdomen included. Simultaneously, his hands found her body, too. They skated down her from just beside her breasts to the flare of her hips, up her back then slowly back around to cup her full breasts.
He squeezed, not hard, but not in a way that made it tickle. Perfect. His hands slowly caressed her breasts as his lips set out to find hers again. This time his kiss was more demanding, urgent. His tongue swept through her mouth and his hard body pressed hers. She lowered her hands down to his waistband. Would it seem too forward of her to unfasten them? His thumbs brushed her pebbled nipples and she instantly knew the answer: no, he wouldn't mind at all. One. Two. Three. She slid the buttons through their holes, releasing the fall of his trousers.
He broke their kiss and removed his hands, his breathing ragged and his face slightly flushed. He bent down and tugged at the laces in his boots until they were just loose enough for him to step out of. He took off the first and tossed it to the ground with a thud, then did the same with the next. When his eyes met hers again, that savage look was still there, thrilling her to no end. He reached for her hands and placed them back where they'd been at the top of his waistband. “Continue. Please.”
No more words were needed. She slipped her hands just inside the top of his trousers, and gave them a gentle tug. They came down just an inch or two. Revealing only the dips of his hips, just enough to frustrate her.
“They're stuck,” Elijah rasped.
“Yes, I see that, but on what?” She'd undone all of the buttons. She ran her hands along the outer edge of his waistband, perhaps they were stuck on his hips and needed help coming down—
Elijah's fingers closed around her wrist then moved her hand down the front of his trousers.
Shock, then curiosity, took hold. Longer than her hand, thick and hard, she'd never touched anything like it before. Holding that part of him against his body, she gave his trousers another tug. Ever-the-gentleman, Elijah took mercy and helped her with the other side, then when they'd fallen to the floor, he stepped out.
She blushed. Her hand was still on his...er...body part. She abruptly let go, eliciting a small sound of vexation from Elijah. She smiled at him. Who knew she'd ever have this affect on anyone, especially Elijah. She reached forward and took his hand. “Come.”
He waited for no further invitation and followed her to the bed. He helped her climb in and then was there beside—then on top of—her in a matter of seconds. He positioned himself to lie between her parted legs and brought his mouth back to her chest where he tasted and kissed her. She arched into him, offering him as much of her breast as he could take. He didn't fail her, he covered one with his mouth and the other with his hand, squeezing and shaping it. She gasped his name and her fingers found his silken hair, sinking into it and holding his head against her breast. His lips closed around her nipple and his fingers around the other. Each time he licked or lightly squeezed her there, she had this strange, yet exciting sensation in her abdomen.
His mouth moved lower, down to her hip, licking a hot trail with his tongue as he went. He drew up to his knees, his other hand now finding her recently abandoned breast. In tandem, he explored them both while his mouth continued its exploration of her hips. He placed a kiss just in the dip of her hip, then on the point of her bone, then just above. She shivered.
Just when she thought she could stand no more, he began to kiss a path up the middle of her stomach, then through the valley of her breasts and all the way back to her lips. He released her breasts and repositioned himself again, this time lowering his body to rest on top of hers. He rolled just off to the side a bit and reached between them. Something broad brushed her most private flesh, exciting her in a way similar to what she'd felt the other day when Elijah touched her there. She flushed at the shameful memory, but all shame and embarrassment was banished from her mind when he brushed her again and another small wave of pleasure shot through her. Then, something pushed at her opening. She tensed, her fingers clutching his hair so tightly she feared she might pull some out. With one swift motion, he thrust in.
Her body jerked in response. That had hurt. Why, she didn't know, but it had hurt. She brought her hands to his shoulders. “Could you wait a moment, please?”
His eyes widened. “I'm sorry, Amelia. I should have warned you,” he said thickly.
“No.” She shook her head violently against the pillow. “I just hadn't expected it to hurt.”
He dropped a kiss on her lips. “It won't next time.”
She certainly hoped it wouldn't, but couldn't be too hopeful. It had hurt this time and it wasn't supposed to, after all. She moved her hands to his shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. Their eyes locked, his were asking a question, and she hoped he could read the answer in hers.
With a terse nod, he began to move again. Slow and easy at first, then a bit quicker and more deliberate. Her fingers dug into the warm skin of his muscled shoul
ders as he drove into her. With each thrust, her skin grew warmer and her abdomen contracted as small sparks of excitement shot through her.
Elijah bent down and kissed her lips and then her chin, and then over to her breast. When he found the crest, her body bucked on its own accord. He moved to the other, lavishing the same attention on it. He lifted his head, his eyes so dark blue now they almost looked black. His breathing was heavy and with each thrust became louder, more labored. Then suddenly a savage grunt that sounded as if it were ripped from his chest filled the air and his body stiffened, then collapsed on top of hers.
He murmured something against her hair, but she didn't hear it, nor did she mind so much. She was perfectly content to hold him this way. She brought her hand up to sweep back the blond hair on his damp forehead.
“Don't move, I'll be back,” he said a few minutes later. He moved to stand up, separating their bodies.
She felt bereft in his absence, like part of her was missing. He came back a moment later with a basin and a handkerchief. She swallowed. What would he say when he didn't find what he was looking for? Terror washed over her. He might not have noticed before, but he'd certainly notice now.
He took her right leg in his hand, and instinctively she flexed the muscles to keep them together. “Can you move your legs apart for me a little more?” He squeezed her leg, presumably to help her understand what he wanted.
Taking a deep breath, she did as he'd asked.
“There's not much, don't worry,” he murmured, wiping the cloth between her legs.
That did not put her mind at ease. There was a reason there wasn't much. Wait. If there wasn't much, then there was some. Nervously, she sat up. What was down there? Perhaps her stomachache and sensitive breasts had just been a sign of her impending monthly, she thought hopefully as she craned her neck to see if perhaps that was what he was seeing.
It couldn't be. Her monthly had never been quite so...bright before. But that didn't make sense. She'd woken up with her gown crushed and the bodice gaping, and no actual memory of what had happened. Was it possible the stranger had left her chaste, after all? How could that possibly be? Perhaps she'd fallen asleep and the stranger had lost interest; or perhaps he'd been caught before something happened; or discovered she was a lady; or had some sort of male trouble, she'd heard a few of the old matrons discuss special herbs before. A million questions cycled through her mind, and all would have to go unanswered because she didn't even begin to know where to seek her answers. Whatever had happened, she didn't dare question it. She was far too grateful that Elijah had been her first and would be her only. She looked up to Elijah. He didn't look quite so well, his face had gone pale and his eyes were downcast.
A sudden sense of shame came over her and she clamped her legs back together. His eyes shot to hers. “Amelia?”
“You don't need to do this, I can take care of it.”
He shook his head. “It's my honor to do so.”
A shaky laugh passed her lips. “Are you cracked? An honor?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. Many bridegrooms think it's an honor to do this.”
All right, so many bridegrooms were cracked. “Why?”
“Some feel it's their duty and a way of paying penance for the pain they've caused. Others like to do it as a means of showing respect for the wonderful gift their wife has given them.”
She swallowed past the emotion in her throat. “And you?”
“For both.”
“How unfortunate there isn't something similar for a wife to do to a husband.” She forced an uncomfortable laugh. “Not that it'd matter, I suppose.”
He dropped the handkerchief into the water. “Why not?”
She shot him a doubtful look and moved over so he could crawl into the bed next to her. “Gentlemen are never virgins on their wedding night.”
“You think so, do you?” He lay back against the pillows and gathered her into his arms. “And if he were, would you take his word for it?”
Amelia stilled. Did he mean to imply... “Were you?” she blurted; too nervous to look at his face, she studied his chest hair instead.
“Yes, my dear Amelia, it was you who divested me of my virginity.”
She would have laughed at his tone and ridiculous statement if not for the excitement she'd felt that what they'd done together was new for both of them. But it didn't make sense. He'd traveled the world over. Surely, he'd felt the need for some female companionship as her mother once explained her father's frequent visits to London. “Why?”
He kissed the top of her head. “You're the only one I wanted.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Do you have any plans today?” Elijah murmured.
Amelia's eyes fluttered open. “Don't we need to go to— Oh dear, we missed Caroline's dinner, didn't we?”
“I'm afraid so,” Elijah said, running his hand up and down her arm. He loved the way her skin was so soft and smooth compared to his. “I'm sure we could make her breakfast or her luncheon today if you're so keen on dining with my family.”
She traced the muscles in his chest. “It's not that. I just feel awful that I've missed almost every day of her party.”
“Don't. We weren't even originally invited guests, remember?”
She grinned at his logic. “Actually, you were.”
“Only because I live here. And once you came to live here, you were invited, too.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Tonight is the costume ball. We'll attend that. Today, however, you are all mine.”
Amelia grinned up at him, sending a jolt of desire straight to his groin. She came up on her knees, causing the sheet to fall from her body and expose her delicious body to his very hungry gaze.
He shifted. He couldn't take her again. He'd felt so guilty after what he'd done last night, he couldn't do it again. He hadn't come into the cabin yesterday bent on seduction. Just the opposite. He'd heard she'd retired and had come to check on her. But then...and then afterwards, a crushing weight of guilt had come over him. He'd had no right to take things so far without offering her the truth. She'd deserved the truth, and yet, he hadn't given it to her. He nearly snorted. It wasn't until after he'd decided not to bed her until he could explain everything that she was finally willing. And now there was a giant lie between them.
The way she'd stood before him yesterday like a siren, leading him home was too much for his resistance to bear. He'd wanted her and in a moment of clouded judgement, he'd acted without thinking.
She moved to straddle him, bringing her supple breasts within mere inches of his lips, the temptress; and then looped her arms around his neck for stability.
“Actually,” he started, skating his hands up and down her back. “I wanted to take you on a picnic today.”
“You did?” she murmured before kissing him.
He closed his eyes he deserved to be tempted and left wanting, that's exactly what he deserved, but she didn't deserve the same. “Amelia.” He opened his eyes and tucked a lock of her silky hair behind her ear. “We need to start walking soon if we're to make it to Bath for our picnic.”
“And if I don't want to go on a picnic,” she asked between kisses.
“There'll be plenty of time for this later,” he promised, praying he was right and she wouldn't hate him when she learned the truth. “But for now—” he rolled her onto her back and came to lie on top of her, her firm breasts pressing against his chest— “we're going to go on a picnic together and you're going to enjoy it.”
She nipped his lower lip. “Oh?”
He repeated the gesture. “Yes.” Mustering every ounce of strength he had, he crawled out of the bed and away from her warm body. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” she said quickly, too quickly.
Elijah followed her line of vision. “A curious sort, are you?”
She flushed. “Well, you looked your fill at me yesterday,” she reminded him.
Placing his hands on his hips, he sa
id, “Feel free to do the same.”
“No, thank you.” She sat up. “I've seen enough.”
He looked down at his erect phallus and frowned. “Is there something not to your liking?”
“Your cockiness,” she said smartly.
“Well, as long as it's my cockiness that's put you off and not my—” He shut his mouth with an audible snap, embarrassment and a small dose of shame creeping up his face. She might be his wife, but she was still a lady. “Sorry. As you know, I am my father's son.”
“It's of no account, Elijah. I'm not always the proper young lady gentlemen desire. I have heard a few scandalous whispers behind some fans.”
“Oh?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
She laughed. “No. You wouldn't believe what I've heard even if I did tell you.”
He shrugged. “You'd be surprised what I'd believe. I've heard plenty of gossip while in London myself.” He reached forward and helped her to her feet. “Shall we dress and go on our picnic?”
“Only if you'll play the part of my lady's maid again.”
“It'll be my pleasure.”
And it was. It was a great pleasure to roll on her stockings, and a great disappointment to see her shift go back on. He tied her corset and helped her into her gown.
“Are you sure you've never kept a mistress? Your lady's maid skills are quite good,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror.
“I'm positive.” He dragged on his trousers, then his shirt. “Every country has a different way they find fashionable. I've dressed in many types of garments.” That was true enough. As a spy, he always needed to blend into the crowd around him, no matter what they wore. He couldn't count how many times he and Henry needed to help each other dress in some of the most bizarre costumes—even in corsets once or twice. He finished dressing and helped her gather her reticule and bonnet. “Do you mind waiting here for a minute? It looks like Mr. Henry Hirsute is in need of another grasshopper. It'll just take a minute.”
