The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance

by Trisha Telep

  “Only after they have produced the necessary heirs,” he said. “Surely you do not believe I would have gone to such effort to salvage my estates without the hope that we will one day pass them to our children?”

  “And because it is what you want my own desires are meaningless?”

  “On the contrary. Your . . .” He bent forwards to graze a soft kiss over her mouth. “Desires are of utmost importance. That much I can assure you.”

  For a dazzling moment her lips softened in ready pleasure and Justin swallowed a low groan. Christ. If she only knew how many nights he had lain awake, plagued by his craving to have her in his arms, or lying beneath him as he sheathed himself deep in her body. He vividly recalled the honeyed sweetness of her lips and her gratifying moans of encouragement as he had discovered how best to please her. Then his memories were shattered as her hands lifted to his chest, pushing him away with a small cry.

  “How dare you?”

  Justin struggled to leash his desire, pulling back to regard her with a brooding frown.

  “I have not forgotten how readily you responded to my kisses, to my touch,” he said, his voice thick. “You desired me. You still desire me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” His fingers tightened in her hair, his body clenched with frustrated hunger. “My God, I have missed you, Amelia. Do you know on how many occasions I started towards London only to return to Rosemount? Or how often I stood at the window and imagined you rushing up the drive and into my arms?”

  An indefinable emotion flared through her green eyes. “No doubt there were plenty of women to comfort you?”

  “Jealous, my love?”

  “Certainly not,” she muttered. “You are welcome to take as many lovers as you wish.”

  His eyes narrowed in warning. “I fear I cannot return the generous offer. If I were to discover another man in your bed I would kill him.”

  “You have no right.”

  “You are my wife.” He made no effort to hide the stark possession in his tone. “I have no intention of sharing what belongs to me.”

  She gave a wild shake of her head. “I must have been out of my wits to ever have believed that I—”

  They both stiffened as she abruptly cut off her words, their gazes clashing with the violent emotions that had never been resolved between them.

  “What?” he demanded softly. “That you loved me?”

  With a muttered curse, she yanked away from his grasp and slid off the bed. She wrapped her arms around her waist and nervously paced the floor. “Do not say that.”

  “There is no shame in offering me your heart,” he said, resisting the urge to hoist her back on to the bed. “I have sworn to protect it with my life.”

  She glared at him with smouldering resentment. “You have brought me nothing but shame from the moment you decided I was a gullible enough fool to believe a man such as you could ever truly care for me.”

  “A man such as me?”

  She waved an impatient hand. “Handsome. Elegant. Toasted by all of society. While I was a pathetic wallflower with nothing to recommend me but my grandfather’s wealth.”

  His brows snapped together, his temper flaring. Amelia could brand him as any sort of scoundrel, but he would not listen to her demean herself.

  “That is not true. I was fascinated by you from the moment we were introduced,” he gritted. “I had never met a female who I could truly converse with on important subjects rather than having to spend the evening exchanging shallow flirtations.”

  “And if I had not possessed a large dowry?”

  He flinched at the blunt question. “What would you have me say, Amelia?”

  “What you should have said from the first.” She moved with jerky steps to the window that overlooked the small rose garden below, her profile tense with the anguish that Justin knew could be laid at his feet. “That you never gave a damn about me and without my dowry you would never have taken me as your wife.”

  He clenched his hands, hating the knowledge he might very well have destroyed any hope of happiness with his wife.

  But what else could he have done?

  After several generations of reckless, devil-may-care Spauldings, the once impressive family fortune had been drained dry and the estates had slipped into ruin. By the time Justin had shouldered his inheritance, the lands had been deeply in debt and his tenants mired in shocking poverty. He could not allow them to continue to suffer.

  Or at least that was what he had told himself.

  It was not until he had been forced to watch the joy fade from Amelia’s eyes to be replaced with a bitter resignation that he realized that some sacrifices were too great. And that he should have carved out his own heart before wounding this beautiful, excessively fragile woman.

  “I have always cared for you,” he said.

  She absently straightened a Sèvres plate on the carved mantel, the tremble of her hand revealing she was not nearly so composed as she would have him believe.

  “No, if you had then you would have been honest with me about your need for an heiress.”

  “Even a gentleman in my position has his pride.” His smile was self-derisive. “I intended to reveal the ruin of my family fortunes in time.”

  “But only after you compromised me and ensured I would have no choice but to wed you or be publicly shunned.”

  Justin rose to his feet, his expression hardening. He had been blindly stupid for too long. Perhaps not astonishing. Mere hours after his hasty wedding, his wife had abandoned him in a painfully public fashion, and his steward had sent him a frantic note revealing that the roof of the long gallery at Rosemount had collapsed, injuring several servants and threatening to destroy what remained of his ancient home.

  He had done his best to concentrate on what he could mend rather than brooding on those troubles that seemed beyond his skill.

  Over the past weeks, however, he had devoted a significant amount of time to recalling the exact details of that fateful night and coming to a startling conclusion.

  “I did not force you to accompany me to Lady Granville’s conservatory that evening,” he pointed out in soft tones. “Nor did I force you to respond to my kisses.”

  Her cheeks flared with colour. “So it was my own fault that I was deceived and manipulated?”

  Crossing the Persian carpet, Justin grasped her hands. “We are neither to blame for what occurred in that conservatory.”

  “You expect me to believe that it was random fate that offered you the perfect opportunity to coerce me into marriage?”

  “Not fate.” He squarely met her accusing gaze. “Your mother.”

  Three

  “You . . .” Jerking her hands out of Justin’s grip, Amelia glared into his handsome face. “Bastard.”

  His lips twisted. “You can hurl any number of insults at me, but I most certainly am not a bastard.”

  With a toss of her head, she headed towards the door, more out of fear of being alone with Justin than his wild accusations. She could not think clearly when he was near. Not when her heart was pounding and her stomach fluttering with an unwelcome awareness.

  How could she still ache for the damnable man when he had so ruthlessly destroyed her?

  “I will not stay here and listen to you insult my mother.”

  She had nearly reached the door when Justin’s fingers closed around her upper arm and he turned her about to meet his burning gaze.

  “We can have this conversation in the midst of your friends, if that is what you prefer,” he drawled, “but make no mistake we will be finishing this discussion.”

  “I am no longer the innocent fool you wed, My Lord,” she said coldly. “You cannot lay your sins at the feet of another and assume I will blithely forgive you.”

  “I accept my numerous sins, but I will not be accused of seducing you in that conservatory and ensuring we would be discovered.”

  Amelia bit her bottom lip, the agonizing memory of that night seared
into her mind.

  The dazzling pleasure of strolling about the crowded ballroom on Justin’s arm, knowing she was the envy of every female in London. Preening beneath his bold glances of frustrated desire, and shivering when he had bent his head to whisper in her ear. And then he had urged her from the ballroom, leading her through the maze of hallways until at last they were alone in the perfumed shadows of the conservatory.

  She shivered, still able to feel the branding heat of his kisses and the intimate exploration of his hands. She had been so eager for him that she had not even considered the dangers of allowing him to peel away her God-awful dress. Her only thought was the shocking pleasure of his lips closing around the tip of her breast as he had suckled her with obvious skill.

  It was not until the door to the conservatory had been thrust open and the sound of shocked voices had shattered the illusion of privacy that she had realized just how stupid she had been.

  “Are you telling me that my mother urged you to lure me from the ballroom and remove my gown?” she gritted.

  “No.” His hooded gaze swept over her pale face. “But, I have never disguised the fact that I desired you from the moment I first held you in my arms and we waltzed across the floor of Almack’s. By the evening of Lady Granville’s ball I was nearly mad with my need to assuage my hunger for you.” As if to prove his point, Justin wrapped his arms around her and hauled her roughly against his aroused body. “And in all honesty, if we had not been interrupted, I am not entirely certain I could have halted my urge to take your innocence regardless of the discomforts of our surroundings, or the obvious danger of discovery.”

  Her mouth went dry at the potent feel of his erection pressed against her hip, his warm scent teasing at her senses. A melting heat flowed like lava through her veins, pooling in her lower stomach.

  “Then how can you possibly blame my mother?” she rasped.

  As if sensing her grudging reaction to his touch, Justin skimmed his hands down her back, his eyes darkening to molten gold. “If nothing else, your mother has always been a clever woman capable of taking advantage of any situation.”

  She could not argue the truth of his words. Her mother possessed a calculating mind and a ruthless lack of sentimentality when it came to using her daughter to achieve her own social ambitions.

  “My mother wanted me wed, not get involved in a scandal that might very well have ruined me,” she protested.

  “Correction, my love, she wanted you to capture a title. The greater the title the better.”

  “Why you . . .”

  He easily caught the hand she lifted to slap his face, pulling it to his mouth so he could press his lips to her palm.

  “Steady, Amelia,” he murmured.

  “Are you implying that my mother assumed that the only means for me to acquire a husband was by trapping him with public humiliation?” she hissed.

  “Calm down and listen to me.”

  “Have you not insulted me enough for one evening?”

  “I am well aware you had received any number of proposals before we were introduced.”

  She curled her lip in disdain. “Worthless fortune-hunters.”

  He ignored her insult. “And that you refused them all.”

  “I had a ridiculous hope that I might actually discover a gentleman who could care for more than my dowry. Stupid, of course.”

  He grimaced, as if her jab had struck a nerve, but his expression remained grimly determined. “It is my belief that your mother learned that my estates were heavily mortgaged and suspected that once you learned the truth of my need for . . .”

  “My money?” she sweetly supplied, startled by a small pang of regret as his cheekbones darkened with a humiliated flush.

  “For a loan,” he corrected in a raw tone. “Your mother no doubt feared that you would turn away my impending offer of marriage as well.”

  “As I most certainly would have.”

  “Consider, Amelia.” He peered deep into her eyes, as if willing her to believe his words. “Your mother was quite anxious for you to acquire a title and it was unlikely that there would be a nobleman greater than an earl to court you. Would she have meekly allowed such an opportunity to slip away without making an effort to push you into marriage?”

  Amelia frowned, suddenly recalling that it had been her mother who had first entered the conservatory and promptly screamed to ensure that everyone at the ball was aware of Amelia’s humiliation. She also recalled that her mother had not been nearly so shocked as she should have been when Amelia revealed Justin was a common fortune-hunter. Indeed, her mother had pressed even harder for a swift wedding.

  At the time, Amelia had assumed that her mother was motivated by her horror at having an unwed daughter who was tarnished goods. Now, she realized that it might very well have been an obsessive desire to have her daughter wed to an earl.

  “This is all conjecture,” she muttered. “You have no proof.”

  “No, I have no proof,” he readily agreed, “but I have spent many long nights recalling our brief courtship and the events leading up to our fateful tryst in the conservatory.”

  “Even if what you claim is true, it changes nothing.”

  “You are mistaken, Amelia, it changes everything.” With a smooth movement, he swept her in his arms and headed back to the bed. “You can no longer accuse me of deliberately causing our scandal. It was never my intent to force you into marriage.”

  Amelia felt a dangerous crack in the ice she had built around her heart. What if he spoke the truth? What if he had never led her into the conservatory to compromise her? What if he had been as overwhelmed as she by the heady passion that even now swirled through her body? What if . . .

  She shook her head. Damn him.

  “Did you ever intend to tell me the truth?” she demanded as he lowered her on to the mattress and stretched out beside her, his fingers tangling in her hair.

  “What truth?” he asked, a savage hunger tightening his features. “That you fascinated me from the moment we met? That I treasure our time spent together? That I desired you beyond all reason and that the thought of you carrying my child filled me with a need I could barely control?”

  His child? Amelia quivered at the compelling thought of Justin’s baby growing inside her.

  “The truth that you wed me for my dowry,” she forced herself to say, as much to remind herself of this man’s treachery as to continue the argument.

  His head lowered, his eyes blazing with sensual intent. “I wed you for many reasons, some of which I am still attempting to comprehend.”

  “Justin . . .”

  Her protest was ignored as he crushed her lips in a kiss that demanded her response.

  For a heartbeat Amelia stood poised on a precipice. She understood the significance of this moment. She could turn Justin away and continue with their cold, distant relationship. Or she could give in to her desires and risk opening herself to yet another betrayal.

  Perhaps sensing her fear, Justin lifted his head to reveal an expression of undisguised vulnerability. “Amelia, please,” he pleaded, his hand trembling as he brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I have hungered for you for so long.”

  His hunger could not be any greater than hers, Amelia acknowledged. But trust was a fragile thing.

  “Have you . . .” She bit her lip in embarrassment.

  “What? Ask me, my love,” he urged. “I swear I will tell you nothing but the truth.”

  “Have there been other women?” she demanded bluntly.

  “No, Amelia.” A dark, possessive expression settled on his beautiful face. “You are my wife. I want no other.”

  The remaining ice that encased her heart shattered at the soft words and, with a small moan, she lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck. She did not know what tomorrow might bring, but for this night she could not deny the desire that had plagued her for so long.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  As if the soft word was what h
e had been waiting for, Justin wrapped his arms about her and buried his head in the curve of her neck.

  “Amelia, if you do not want me to make love to you then you must tell me now,” he muttered. “Very soon I will be unable to halt.”

  Her arms tightened about his neck. “I want you, Justin.”

  The words had barely tumbled from her lips before he was pressing restless kisses over her face, his fingers tugging at the buttons that lined the back of her dress.

  “Thank God,” he rasped, then with a muttered curse he roughly tore the fabric.

  “Justin?”

  “You have no notion of how desperately I desire you,” he growled, pulling off the ripped gown and managing to tug down her corset and thin shift with exhilarating haste. Pulling back, he swept a smouldering gaze over her body that was now naked except for her silk stockings and slippers. “God, you are so beautiful.”

  Amelia blushed, but oddly she felt beautiful beneath the burning intensity of his gaze. Justin had always been capable of making her far more assured in his company than she had ever been before. It was the reason she had been so drawn to him from the moment they had met.

  Well . . . one of the reasons, she ruefully acknowledged, staring at the dark, beautiful face that had made her heart halt the moment she caught sight of him.

  Shuddering with an excitement she could no longer deny, she moaned as his hands impatiently traced her curves, his mouth trailing a path of fiery kisses down the line of her throat. She forgot about the guests who no doubt were questioning her strange disappearance and her servants who must be shocked by the sudden appearance of Lord Spaulding.

  In this moment nothing mattered but the feel of Justin as he gently cupped her breast and nuzzled her tightly furled nipple with shocking intimacy.

  “Dear Lord,” she muttered, stirring restlessly beneath his caresses.

  She needed something. Something only Justin could offer.

  As if sensing her impatience, he abruptly pushed himself upright, jerking off his attire with unsteady hands. Amelia watched in awed silence as he revealed his hard, muscular body. She had never seen a naked man before and she was astonished to discover the pleasure she found in the width of his chest lightly sprinkled with raven hair, the slender line of his waist and the powerful thrust of his legs.