by Rose Gordon
She glanced over to the wooden box with the glass lid that Mr. Henry Hirsute lived in and shuddered.
Elijah laughed. “I would invite you to come with me, but I thought you'd prefer to wait with the critter behind the glass.”
“Indeed.”
“I'll be right back.” Elijah stepped outside and walked about ten feet away. He bent his knees, his eyes scanning the grass. Aha. He cupped his hands together and caught him. Closing his hands to keep him from escaping, he walked back inside and dropped him in the top of the box. “Are you ready now?”
“More than you'll ever know.”
He chuckled and reached for her hand. They walked to the main house where Amelia joined the ladies in the drawing room while Elijah ordered a picnic hamper.
“Have you learned anything more?” Henry asked, stepping out of the library and into the hall.
“No. Have you?”
Henry shook his head. “Are you still angry with me?”
“No. Really you haven't done less than your share. It's not as if you knew to be there in Brighton. We never had a clue that directed us there.” He exhaled. “I just hate that Amelia's involved.”
“And why is that?”
Elijah looked at his brother as if he were addled. Then he realized it wasn't that his brother didn't understand why Amelia's involvement bothered Elijah but why she was involved in the first place. Unease settled over him. “I have no idea. If I ask her, then I have to admit I was there and saw her that night.” He shrugged. “I found her in the library looking through papers. Perhaps she found a way into her cousin's party and when she realized how dangerous it was, she wanted to leave and was looking for something to write with to send a message.” At least that's what he'd assumed she was doing that night when he found her and he still hoped that's all she was there for.
“Something about that doesn't add up,” Henry commented. “I promised Caroline I'd play lawn games for an hour today and I overheard that you're taking Amelia on a picnic, so I won't keep you, but I'll keep thinking about it.”
“If you make a grand discovery and you're not too terribly injured by the whole ordeal, please let me know.”
Henry twisted and puckered his lips and partially closed his eyes. Elijah had come to think of this as his “you think you're being humorous, but you're not” look.
Elijah clapped him on the back as he passed and continued to wait for the hamper to be brought to him.
Once he had the hamper and the carriage was readied, he collected Amelia and helped her into the carriage.
“How were the ladies this morning?” he asked, climbing up into the carriage.
She moved over so he could sit next to her. “Like they always are. Chattier than magpies, as your Aunt Carolina would say.”
Elijah wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “Do they not include you?”
“They do. Or they would,” she amended. “I just don't like to talk.”
“I know.” He'd always found that a little strange about her. When he'd glimpsed her from across the London ballrooms, he'd always noticed she was always listening. Very few times had he actually seen her chat. Perhaps that's why he was drawn to her when he'd seen her during her first Season. Not that he was one to dominate a conversation, but he was sure she had something to say, and even if nobody else did, he wanted to hear it.
Of course, she'd blushed and been reluctant to talk to him at first as back then rumors wildly circulated that she held a tendre for him and refused to consider anyone else, waiting for only his proposal. He'd tell her that it was just a young girl's fantasy, to marry her girlhood playmate, and would encourage her to let other gentlemen pay court to her. At the time, his actions had been innocent and what he believed to be in her best interest. He never dreamed that one day it would be him who was in love, only to have waited too long.
But that's what happened. With each ball or assembly he saw her at, he became more attracted to her smiles and craved more conversation with her. He'd jokingly suggest she allow a completely unsuitable fellow to court her only to see her nose scrunch up and hear her list his faults, to which Elijah would always try to parry back with how a negative attribute such as having foul breath from his tobacco was a good thing because it meant he'd spend the majority of each ball outside with his cheroot instead of collecting his obligatory dance with her.
He'd half-heartedly suggested himself as a candidate two Seasons ago. She'd laughed and said, “I couldn't marry you. You're my friend. If we were to marry, I'd never get to be a mother.”
He'd wanted to refute that. To tell her then and there how much he desired her. But he couldn't. He was in the middle of a mission and the last thing he needed was to get her tangled up in the mess.
“Besides,” she'd continued. “I'm no longer a young girl who believes she's known her true love all along. He's out there. I just have to wait for him to come to me. Unless I die first.”
He'd chuckled at her jest, his heart lifting, at least there was a chance for him to woo her.
“Are you all right, Elijah?”
Elijah jumped. “Oh, sorry. Just a bit of woolgathering.”
“It must be some heavy wool,” she teased, stroking his cheek with the back of her finger.
“The heaviest sort.”
She looked like she wanted to press him for more details, but he was saved when the carriage came to a halt at the park Elijah had asked the coachman to take them to.
“Here,” he said, leading her by the hand to a grassy spot by the water. “We can even sit on the log and put our feet in if you'd like.”
Amelia's eyes grew wide. “Take our shoes and stockings off, out here?”
He made a show of looking around. “I don't see anyone who'd care. Oh wait—” he craned his neck forward and squinted— “I think I see a toad in the distance he might be scandalized.”
“That or try to nibble our toes,” Amelia said as she kicked off her slippers.
Elijah tried not to stare as she rolled down her stockings and pulled them off. “You should have waited until you were already sitting on the log before removing your slippers. I don't image the bark will feel good under your bare feet.”
Her throaty laughter filled the air. “Perhaps it'll scratch your feet, but I'm sure mine will be— Ouch!”
Elijah jerked his head up from looking inside of the picnic basket to see what had hurt his wife. “Did you step on something?”
“No. This hit me.” She held up a little red apple.
Together, they lifted their eyes up to the tree they'd been using for shade. “Well, I never.”
“Never what?” she asked, grinning. “Got sense knocked into you with an apple?”
“Guess not.” He returned her grin. “Wait. What are you doing?”
She didn't bother to look up from where she was now walking around half bent over looking for apples. “I'm looking for fruit for our fruit bowl. Aren't we supposed to pick it up today?”
Elijah had nearly forgotten about the bowl. “Yes. But you don't have to collect apples, Amelia. We can get some fruit from Cook.”
“Nonsense. You made the fruit bowl, I'll supply the fruit.”
Elijah walked over, bent down, and snapped up the apple she was reaching for. “Correction. We made the fruit bowl together, so I'll help you collect the fruit.” He bent forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips then moved over to pick up another apple. “Perhaps tonight during Caroline's ball, we can sneak out and go to the orangery and collect some of Alex's oranges.”
“Why would we have to sneak out at night to do that? Does Alex not like people taking his oranges?”
“No, he doesn't mind.” Elijah snapped up two more apples. “But if he catches us, we'll mind; and the price we'll pay will not be worth the fruit.”
“Still has to explain the science of everything, does he?”
“Indeed.” Elijah walked over to the picnic hamper and set his apples inside. “I think we have more than
enough, love.” He bit his tongue, but it was too late, he'd already said it. He chanced a look at Amelia, she looked frozen as if she didn't know what to say. He offered her a smile and gestured to the picnic hamper.
“You're right.” She walked over to him and deposited her apples into the hamper. “I think we have more than enough.”
“Just so. But when we run out, we can go visit Alex's orangery.” He winked at her.
She blushed like he hoped she might. “I look forward to it.”
“And what about having lunch with me?”
She walked over to the fallen log that extended out over the water and started making her way across. Halfway across, she stopped and flashed him a smile. “Hopefully I won't have to be looking forward to it much longer.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The picnic was wonderful with the tall shade tree, the cool water covering them to their ankles, the gentle breeze, the delicious food, and most importantly the company. Three days ago, she'd have never imagined they could be both friends and lovers. But last night had certainly changed her opinion of that. Her skin grew warm just thinking about it. Perhaps when they got inside, he'd hold up his earlier promise of 'later'.
Or perhaps not.
“Elijah, why isn't the glass on Mr. Henry Hirsute's cage?” she nearly shrieked, on the verge of hysterics as she entered the little cabin where they were staying.
“I didn't know it wasn't.” Elijah stepped around her and went to the cage. “Damn,” he muttered.
“Damn? Damn what? What are you damning, Elijah?”
He shot her his best smile. “It would appear Mr. Henry Hirsute has decided to go on another travel adventure.”
Amelia shrieked. She didn't give a hang if that made her a ninny. There was a fuzzy spider on the loose, and it could be anywhere! Screaming like a madwoman, she ran through the cabin to jump on the bed, stepping only on her tiptoes as she went. She wasn't going to put her whole foot on the floor until Mr. Henry Hirsute was back in his prison cell.
“You think being on the bed will keep you safe?”
Amelia shivered. “It won't?”
Elijah shrugged lazily. “I don't see why it would. He can crawl up just as easily as he can crawl across a flat surface.”
Amelia jumped to her feet. “Elijah, I swear if I see that filthy scoundrel, I'll kill him.”
Elijah chuckled and peered behind the bureau then under the wardrobe. “Must you call him a scoundrel? It's not as if he's the greatest debaucher in all of England.”
“No,” she said with a sniff. “He's worse.”
Shaking his head, Elijah lifted the overhanging bedsheets and searched underneath them for his errant pet.
“Why did you have to keep him?” Amelia asked again.
Elijah frowned. “I couldn't let him die, could I?”
“No, but you could have at least let his namesake adopt him.”
“You're in a rather humorous mood today, aren't you?” He lifted one of the bed pillows and looked underneath.
Amelia's skin crawled. If that dratted menace had shed even one hair in this bed, she'd be taking up residence in the main house. “Why can't you give him to Henry?”
Elijah heaved the loudest sigh she'd ever heard. “I don't think that's wise. What with how upset he was when Mr. Fuzzinelli died.”
“And just who was Mr. Fuzzinelli,” she asked though she doubted she really wanted to know.
Elijah placed his hands around her ankles, searing her skin straight through her stockings. “A distant relative of Mr. Henry Hirsute's.”
“Enough said.” She darted her gaze around the room to see if she spotted the soon-to-be dead visitor. “Why did you name him after your brother, anyway?” she asked, hoping conversation would distract her enough to calm her nerves.
“I thought to name him Harry Hirsute, but that seemed too redundant because hirsute already means hairy, So naming him Harry Hirsute seemed to put too much pressure on him to keep his hair. What if he were to start losing it?” He shook his head, his eyes wide as if he were feigning some sort of great outrage. “Besides, Harry by itself is just too popular of a name.”
“Yes, because everyone names their pet tarantula Harry,” she said on the verge of hysteria again. She hadn't spotted the vile creature anywhere which left two options: one, it was in the common room, or two, it was hiding and waiting to make its grand reappearance later—most likely at a time when Elijah wouldn't be present. “Elijah, I'm telling you now, if I see Mr. Henry Hirsute and he's not in his box, his new name will be Mr. Elijah Expired.”
“All right, but that means you have to come down here and help me look.”
Just then, something touched her calf and she squealed like the little ninny Elijah and Henry used to claim her to be. “Something touched me! Mr. Elijah Expired just crawled on my calf!”
“Hmm, I guess I'll have to look into that for you,” Elijah said cool as can be, slowly lifting her skirt. He handed her the fabric to hold and slowly skimmed his hands up her calves, his eyes never leaving hers.
Were the circumstances any different, she'd melt into a boneless heap at his touch. He slowly rolled down the top of her stocking, then leaned forward and placed a kiss just behind her knee. “Elijah, now isn't the time,” she choked. “Mr. Elijah Expired touched me. You have to find him now.”
“Yes, Mr. Elijah touched you,” he agreed, caressing her calves. “Mr. Elijah Banks, that is. Your friend Mr. Henry Hirsute has been safely curled up in the bottom of his box this whole time. I must not have shut the glass all the way, but he never got out.”
All the muscles in her body relaxed. “Why didn't you tell me that sooner?”
“I'd planned to.” He moved his hands up to rub her thighs, inching ever closer to where she ached to have him most. “But when I saw you stand up on the bed like this, I decided not to miss the chance to do this.” Just then, two of his strong fingers pressed against the sensitive flesh between her legs in the most delicious way.
She released her hold on her skirt and her hands flew to his shoulders for balance as his probing fingers continued their exploration, now adding a third to the fray. Her knees buckled and his strong hands moved to catch her.
“Lie down.”
She heeded his ragged command, too excited for his touch not to.
Elijah removed everything but his shirt and trousers then climbed in the bed next to her, his lips immediately finding hers. She kissed him back and gasped when his right hand covered her breast and began shaping it. Elijah took advantage of her parted lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth.
She sighed his name. She loved kissing him and exploring his body. He broke their kiss and brought his lips to the plane of her chest, his fingers frantically working to lower her bodice. Were it her own gown, she'd have demanded he rip the fabric and end her torment immediately. Instead, it excited her more that in his state of want and need, he wasn't quite as nimble as he'd been getting her into the gown.
Suddenly the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing rent the air. But Amelia didn't care, Elijah's kisses along the tops of her breasts put the thought straight out of her mind. He grabbed the top of her corset, and gently pulled it down below her breasts, which he then touched and kissed, leaving no part of them untouched.
He pulled his face away from her skin, his breathing heavy. He rolled onto his side and grabbed fistfuls of her heavy skirt, lifting it until the hem was halfway up her thighs, then slid his hand between her legs. She parted her thighs to give him better access—which he greedily took. His strong fingers picked up right where he'd left off a few minutes ago, gently massaging her tender flesh.
He found a particularly sensitive spot and her hips involuntarily bucked. Wretch that he was, he had a wolfish grin splitting his face. But she didn't care. Not when he was stirring these sensations inside of her with his deft touch.
He shifted his hand and slid two fingers inside her. Her gaze shot to his. What was he doing? Was he supposed to
touch her like that? As if sensing her unasked questions, he lowered his lashes and began moving his fingers in and out. At first, he moved slow, building a small series of contractions in the pit of her stomach. He thrust in again, a little faster and harder, sending a spray of fiery sparks through her. He did it again and her hips lifted to meet his thrust this time.
He shifted so he wasn't lying on top of her, leaving only his upper body covering hers as he continued his thrusts, which were growing more rapid and increasingly more addicting with each one. She was moving, too. Wanting to take every bit he had to give her, she moved her hips to match each of his thrusts. Something was mounting in her. Something hot and foreign, wild and exciting. Something she desperately wanted to discover.
Beads of sweat rolled down Elijah's face. But he didn't stop or slow his movements. Just then he dipped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, adding just enough fuel to her inner flame that she thought she might combust. And then she did. Waves of fiery pleasure washed over her, shattering her body into what felt like a thousand pieces that floated away.
Elijah slowed his thrusts in time with the slowing of the waves of euphoria overtaking her.
A moment later, she opened her eyes. Elijah had his head propped up on one hand looking down at her. She'd blush if he were anyone else seeing her thus. But for some reason seeing him look at her this way after they'd just shared such intimacy didn't feel embarrassing or shameful. She loved him and it was rather obvious he cared for her, too.
She licked her lips and rolled onto her side to face him. With the same torturous slowness he liked to use with her, she trailed her hand down his chest and abdomen to cup his erection.
He closed his blue eyes for an extended blink, then took her hand from where it rested and brought it to his lips. Kissing the tip of each of her fingers, he said, “Not now. That was for you.”
“What of you?” she questioned in what she hoped was a seductive voice.
He pressed a row of kisses across her knuckles. “Don't worry about me, just—”
***
Bang! Bang! BANG! “Elijah, open up! I need to talk to you now. It's urgent!”
