by Lucy Leroux
“Why did you say it was your fault?” he asked, aware he was holding his breath.
She frowned, her confusion apparent.
“I had your servants questioned,” he said, apologizing when her eyes flared. “When you found Martin’s body, you said it was your fault. That’s the reason I suspected you to begin with. Why would you say such a thing?”
Amelia’s lips parted, and she began to speak before hesitating and beginning again. “I don’t recall saying it…but I do know what I meant. You see, I have often thought those words since that day.”
She raised her eyes to his, the crystalline blue sparkling behind a pool of unshed tears. “If I hadn’t agreed to come back to England, Martin would be alive today. I didn’t want to return. This place—the peerage—had nothing but contempt for my father—a man who built a fortune out of nothing. My father was brilliant and kind. He had more nobility of spirit than any blue blood born to a title… but any fat slovenly lord thinks he can spit on his memory because he wasn’t titled. They’re not fit to even speak his name,” she hissed.
Gideon knew enough of the haute ton’s secrets to agree with her. He winced. “I know you may not believe this, given my recent ascension, but for some I’ve met, I am in complete agreement.”
Amelia snorted lightly and took a shaky breath. “My plan was to make our life in Italy near Isobel and her family. Although he missed England at times, Martin agreed. We were free on the continent in a way that simply wasn’t possible here. It was like I could breathe for the first time. He felt the same way…until he didn’t.”
“Because Martin met Lord Worthing,” he said, filling in the blanks. “And the viscount had to return home to attend to his estates. He convinced the two of you to come with him.”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. She squeezed his hand. “I know you don’t agree that what we saw is a demon, and maybe it isn’t, but whatever its true nature, it is evil. Perhaps there is a person behind all these incidents, but if so, then they are in league with something unnatural and occult.”
Oh dear. She really believed that…
It wasn’t her fault, of course; the villain had done his job too well. What Gideon had seen had made him question reality, too. But demons and mysticism was the realm of charlatans. “Whoever the culprit is, they are both ruthless and clever. But they are not magical—there are no supernatural forces at work here.”
One corner of her mouth turned down and he moved to sit down next to her, giving in to his impulse to hold her in his arms.
“I’m going to find this person, and I’m going to stop them. I promise you that.”
Gideon waited for her to agree with him, to express some faith in his ability to take care of her. He was still waiting when they arrived in London.
Chapter 19
Amelia watched in fascination as Gideon got down on his hands and knees.
“Was it here that you fell?”
She nodded mechanically, forgetting he couldn’t see her in his near-prone position on the floor of her salon.
“Yes,” she confirmed as he felt along the ornate floral pattern of the Aubusson carpet. He appeared determined to touch every fiber of the weave.
Gideon had already examined the shelves and moldings. She had explained that everything appeared to have shifted and warped, but all had been righted before she woke the following day. There was no sign of what happened save for a bit of tell-tale streaking in the windows she was sure hadn’t been there before.
The earl was not convinced by the glass, telling her that the expense of the house did not always correspond with the quality of its glazing. He was certain she had been drugged somehow.
Gideon had been determined to interrogate all the servants. He was convicted one of them had slipped her something, but she’d sworn she hadn’t taken a drop or eaten a bite after returning from the ball. He’d conceded poison by food or drink unlikely then, and instead began to look for toxic substances on every surface and in the individual threads of her carpet…
Crispin had been delivered to his townhouse by an attentive Mr. Clarke. Amelia had insisted on stopping there as well, so she could make the arrangements for his convalescence. She had been prepared to organize the servants and to send for Crispin’s family physician, only to find that Mr. Clarke had taken it upon himself to coordinate everything to the last detail.
By the time she and Gideon had arrived, Crispin was freshly bathed and dressed in his night rail. He had been deposited on a makeshift bed in the library, having expressed a strong preference to be surrounded by his books.
Mr. Clarke had acceded to each one of Crispin’s requests, fussing over him with such care and consideration that Amelia had felt superfluous when the doctor arrived. She had let Gideon usher her away, unaware he would start turning her home over the minute he walked into the door.
“Would you care for some refreshment?” she asked as he crawled across the carpet.
He grunted, his face inches from the floor. Amelia sighed. After standing there a moment longer, she went to the kitchen to ask for a cold collation to be sent to the salon. She was heading to the stairs when Gideon charged into the hallway, sweeping her into a tight embrace.
“Where did you go?”
“To the kitchen!” She gasped. “I was asking Cook to prepare us something to eat.”
Chagrined, Gideon winced and released her. “My apologies. I tend to get lost in my investigations.”
Despite the fright he had just given her, she had to suppress a smile. “I see… Does this mean you found something?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean there was nothing there. If someone coated one of your vases or the fabric of your settee with some toxin or hallucinogen, it is entirely possible that there would be no trace of it now. Many such substances would only be efficacious for a short while before losing potency.”
“Wouldn’t I have noticed such a thing?”
He shrugged “Even trace amounts of a liquid or a powder could have done the trick.”
Amelia nodded placatingly. She hadn’t expected him to find anything. She knew in her bones the attack had been occult in nature. But men like the earl required facts and evidence.
Would he be leaving now? Her heart constricted. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the inevitable parting. “Well, thank you for going to the trouble to look over the salon.”
Gideon’s mouth firmed. “Amelia, I haven’t finished. I intend on examining every inch of this house and garden. In between, I will speak to all the servants from the butler to the lowliest scullery maid. They may not have slipped something into your tea, but it doesn’t absolve them of this. It’s also possible one of them saw something relevant and is afraid to speak.”
Every inch of the house? He had just taken over an hour in the salon! How long was he planning on staying?
“But I was just about to retire to bed…” She trailed off as his expression softened.
“I promised to get to the bottom of this. Until I have, I’m not leaving you alone. I can sleep on the floor if you wish.”
“You can’t sleep on the floor.”
He scoffed. “Believe me, I’ve slept in more uncomfortable places.”
Feeling self-conscious, Amelia stared at him. He was so handsome, so protective…
Because of her marriage, she had denied her own needs and desires for so long it was now second nature. But last night with Gideon, she had a taste of nirvana—just enough to know there was more to feel and experience.
Feeling very warm and very daring, Amelia put her hand on his arm. “I think you should continue with your inquiries upstairs…in my bedroom.”
Gideon blinked. Clearly, she had caught him off guard with her blatant invitation. He leaned back. “Well, in that case, I think I can postpone my search of the rest of the house until the morrow.”
Amelia was tempted to giggle to cover her awkwardness but ended up gasping instead when
Gideon swept her into his arms and up the stairs.
There was no fire in the bedroom. She should have been cold, but Amelia didn’t feel the chill in the air. If anything, she was flushed and overheated.
The warmth came from within. It burned inside her as Gideon undressed her, removing her dress and stays until she was in nothing but her thin chemise.
“Take it off for me,” he whispered.
Grateful that there was only the moonlight to reveal her, she wriggled, pulling the almost transparent linen over her head.
Gideon sucked in a deep breath, his hand reaching out and touching the skin of her décolletage as if he couldn’t help himself. He ran his hand all the way down the side of her waist and over her backside, palming it and pulling her closer to him.
She would have complained that he was still dressed were it not for the explosion of sensation when her skin encountered the rough wool of his breeches.
He embraced her, lifting her off her toes and laying her gently on the mattress. He stripped off his boots and waistcoat, but only managed to open his shirt before giving in to the temptation of joining her on the bed.
Amelia opened her arms, hugging him to her, a move that made him laugh.
“I think you’ll enjoy it more if you let me move.”
She pressed a hot kiss to his neck, tugging off the cravat he’d been too impatient to remove. “I don’t think it can get better than this.”
Gideon raised his head, meeting her eyes with a hot intent gaze. “Oh, it will. I swear it.”
He pulled the rest of his clothing off and guided her legs around him, making her shiver as the delicate skin of her inner thighs met his hard hips. His mouth took possession of her, stroking her tongue with his own until she was mimicking him in perfect concert.
Though practically a novice, Amelia knew enough to realize she was in the hands of a master. Her misgivings and self-doubt disappeared as Gideon touched her, stroking every inch of her body and alternatively lathing and sucking the tips of her breasts.
Nearly insensible with lust, Amelia gave over control of her body, moving when Gideon moved, responding to his touch instinctively. She gloried in his touch, using her own hands to learn his body, the way he was hard and soft at the same time.
Licking a spot under his ear made him shiver, sending a shaft of satisfaction through her. Her victory was short-lived when Gideon pinned her wrists with one hand, urging her legs apart.
His hard staff rubbed against her, priming in her liquid heat. Consumed by hunger, she twisted and pulled him closer until he was pushing inside.
It wasn’t like their first joining. That had been so jarring and unexpected. This time, she was ready and eager for her body to become one with his. Amelia wanted to hold him inside her, to meld the very fabric of their beings.
An involuntary cry was ripped from her throat as his cock slowly forged inside, pushing to the hilt. Murmuring sweet nonsense, Gideon soothed her until she had absorbed the shock of his intrusion. He kissed and nibbled at her lips, one hand moving up to cradle her head as his hips moved with minute precision and Herculean patience.
His advance and retreat was carefully orchestrated—a dance that built in speed and tempo until she writhed, clinging breathlessly, with her arms wrapped around his chest. It was as if his member was coated in some magic elixir that turned friction into ecstasy.
Sensation built as he continued to pump in and out of her. She did her best to touch him back, using unfamiliar muscles in her channel to caress and gratify him in turn.
Amelia knew her campaign to give as much pleasure as she received was succeeding when Gideon’s breath hitched. His grip on her head tightened briefly before he shifted to brace his weight on his forearms. His chest pressed down against her breasts firmly as he closed the distance between them. The only space he allowed was the one required to withdraw, and only so he could surge forward with inexorable strength.
She could feel that about him—his power and potency. It was in the definition of arms and chest, and the lines of his body. He could use that vigor against her. In many other men, his strength would become a weapon. But as Gideon rocked into her, his deep pulsing rhythm stuttering as he finally began to lose control, she knew he would never hurt her.
Amelia gave him all she could, trusting him as she had no other. The deep twinges of pleasure coalesced, rolling on top of each other. Moaning, she rode the wave, her inner muscles fluttering rapidly with her climax.
Gideon gasped and threw his head back, pumping out of control until he was grinding against her. His staff firmed until it was impossibly hard, a velvet-covered stone phallus that jerked and pulsed as he spilled his seed at the entrance of her womb.
His breath ragged, Gideon collapsed to the side, pulling her on top of him so he wouldn’t lose the skin-to-skin contact as he recovered.
Wrung out and replete, Amelia rested her head just below Gideon’s chin.
She could barely move. Every muscle in her body was lax, save for the one still racing in her chest.
Sexual relations were supposed to be pleasurable, even gluttonous at times. Amelia knew that from watching others, the way lovers in first flush acted with one another. But she hadn’t expected it to be beautiful.
After long minutes, Gideon sighed drowsily. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too,” he whispered before slipping into a deep sleep.
It took her heart longer to calm than it should have after that. She hadn’t meant to tell him she loved him, but apparently that was what she had done. He had read the truth in her response to him, her every touch betraying her most deeply hidden secret.
She should have known better. Gideon had always been able to read her, to see straight through to her soul. Now he knew she loved him, that she probably always had.
But he just claimed to love you in return. Could she take him at his word?
Amelia knew the depth of Gideon’s honor. If he said he loved her, then he believed it. But what if it was simple infatuation—or worse? What if deep down, he felt obligated to return her affection because of their familial ties?
Yes, he desired her. But how often had a man confused lust with love? Her library shelves were full of such cautionary tales.
Like the snake in the garden, Gideon would offer Amelia her heart’s desire. Marriage. A life at his side. She knew him too well to believe it would be otherwise. As a husband, he would be faithful. His honor would demand no less. But honor was not the same as love.
Could she live with an imitation of her longest-held dream?
She lay awake many hours, trying to convince herself she could.
Chapter 20
Whispers dragged her from sleep. Still pleasantly weighted down by the effects of last night’s lovemaking, Amelia was reluctant to move. However, there was a rushed quality to the muted conversation taking place on the other side of the curtains that roused her to full wakefulness.
Why were the curtains around the bed drawn? “Gideon?”
The rapid buzz ceased and Gideon appeared at her side through the opening, holding her grey pelisse. He was already dressed save for his cravat.
“Finally awake! Good,” he exclaimed. “Come, come, I’m starving.”
He threw the pelisse over her nude body.
“What are you doing? Who is out there?” she asked, gesturing beyond the curtain.
“It’s only your maid Carlotta, going about her business.” He pulled her to the edge of the bed, trying to put one of her arms through the sleeve of the garment.
She struggled out of his hold. “Gideon, stop.”
He frowned. “Wouldn’t you rather be covered while we breakfast? Personally, I’d prefer your male servants didn’t get to see you like this, but I’m rather selfish that way.”
Amelia blushed. By now, the entire household staff must be aware of her overnight guest.
As a widow, she had every right to entertain a male like his lordship, but she wasn’t keen on parading hi
m before every footman and chambermaid.
“I think we should stay here and send for a tray.”
“But you have such a lovely morning room!” he protested. “Wouldn’t you like to eat there instead?”
Not content to wait for an affirmative answer, he tugged her out of bed with an eager air, ushering her to the bedroom door in only her pelisse.
“At least let me get dressed!”
If he was so concerned about modesty, then he could bloody well wait till Carlotta was free to help her don a proper morning gown. She pulled away from him, intent on asking her maid for assistance.
“Amelia, wait!”
But it was too late. In a few steps, she could see Carlotta on her hands and knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. Tears were streaming down her maid’s cheeks as she scrubbed at an enormous blood stain on the carpet.
Amelia’s breath stuttered to a stop.
“I—I left the window open,” Gideon broke in, rushing to her side to take her hand. “An injured bird flew in and died. I took it outside. Why don’t we go downstairs while Carlotta cleans in here?”
She put a horrified hand over her mouth before kneeling to take the distraught maid in her arms.
Amelia didn’t believe Gideon for a moment. The stain was too large for any bird or even a small animal. Only a big animal—or a person—could account for its size.
Wrapping her hands tighter, she pulled Carlotta in close enough to whisper in her ear. “Tell me quick, was it a person—a child?” she asked in Italian.
“No, un cane.” Carlotta sobbed.
“Carlotta!” Gideon scolded, hauling both to their feet.
“Don’t yell at her, Gideon. You should have known you could never hide such a thing from me,” she said, holding and comforting the other woman.
It was easier than dealing with the storm of emotion roiling in her breast.
Gideon rubbed his hands roughly over his face. “Of course, I apologize to you both. Carlotta, I’m sorry. Please, help your mistress to get dressed,” he said, giving them a little shove toward her wardrobe.
