by Trisha Telep
Then her breath tangled in her throat as she caught sight of the proud thrust of his arousal. She had assumed she would be frightened in this moment, but oddly she felt nothing but anticipation as he slowly moved to cover her with his warm body, her hands tentatively stroking down the curve of his back.
“I am not certain what to do,” she murmured.
“Just touch me, my love.” His breath brushed her cheek as he nuzzled a path of kisses to the hollow beneath her ear. “God almighty, the feel of your hands . . .”
Emboldened by his fierce reaction, Amelia skimmed her hands lower, groaning at the sensation of his rippling muscles that clenched beneath her fingers. He muttered a curse as she cupped his hips.
“It has been too long,” he rasped, abruptly grasping her hands and pinning them above her head.
Her lips parted to protest at having her tentative exploration brought to an end, but, before she could speak, Justin was covering her mouth in a kiss of searing need. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, realizing the restraint she had always felt in his touch was gone.
There was no uncertainty as he caressed her body with experienced ease, or as his lips brushed down her collarbone and latched on to the aching tip of her breast. Or as his leg thrust between her thighs to rub at her sensitive cleft.
Amelia gasped as she struggled to breathe, assaulted by a flood of astonishing sensations.
“What are you doing to me?” she breathed.
A low chuckle was wrenched from his throat, his lips nuzzling the curve of her breast.
“What I have been longing to do from the moment we first met.”
“Surely not the first moment,” she said, only partially teasing.
He pulled back to regard her with a burning gaze. “Regardless of what you may believe, Amelia, I have never lied about my feelings for you. Never.”
Her heart faltered at the harsh sincerity in his voice. “Make love to me, Justin,” she whispered, her fingers softly stroking the bronzed beauty of his countenance. “Make me your wife.”
He remained silent a long moment, his gaze searching her face for any hint of uncertainty before a slow smile curved his lips. “As you wish, Lady Spaulding.” He outlined her lips with the tip of his tongue. “My only desire is to please you.”
Without giving her time for second thoughts, Justin kissed her with an aching sweetness. She arched beneath him, pulling her hands free of his grip to shove her fingers in the satin strands of his raven hair. He moaned, moving his lips over her cheek, nipping gently at the line of her jaw and then down the curve of her neck. He lingered at the base of her throat to kiss the frantic pulse that beat there, his tongue teasing the spot before he was trailing ever lower.
Amelia forgot how to breathe. During the past year she had convinced herself that her memories of Justin’s kisses must be a part of her fevered imagination. After all, she had encountered any number of handsome gentlemen over the past year and none of them had stirred so much as a flutter.
Now she realized that his touch was even more exciting, even more achingly sensuous than she remembered. Dear heavens, she wanted to drown in the pleasure of his touch.
Scattering kisses over the curve of her breasts he gave each aching nipple a lick of his tongue before nibbling a path down to her stomach. Amelia arched her back, shocked by the urgent need that pulsed deep inside her.
“You taste of honey,” Justin murmured as he licked her belly button and then down the tense muscles of her thigh. “So sweet.”
“Good God.” Her hands clutched at his hair. “Justin . . .”
“Yes, my love?” he demanded, tugging her legs wider so he could slip between them.
“What are you doing?”
His chuckle brushed her skin as he lazily explored the length of her leg and the arch of her foot. “I have waited a year to claim my bride. I intend to savour you from head to toe.”
She choked back a moan as he tormented her toes before slowly making his way back up her leg. How could she survive such a delectable assault?
She was suddenly aware of a damp heat between her legs that seemed directly connected to Justin’s exquisite caresses and she squirmed in pleasure as he trailed his lips up the inside of her thigh.
Not even her dreams had prepared her for such astonishing sensations.
“Justin, please,” she pleaded, raising herself on to her elbows as he tugged her legs even further apart.
“Oh, I intend to please you,” he said, holding her gaze as he slid one slender finger through her damp heat. “I intend to hear you scream in pleasure.”
“What are you . . .” she began, only to have her words stolen as he shifted upwards and she felt his tongue part her tender flesh. “Oh Lord.”
Her elbows collapsed and she tumbled back on to the bed, her eyes squeezing shut at the intense pleasure.
His tongue was relentless as it teased and stroked her need to the very edge of bliss. There was something . . .
Something that beckoned just out of reach.
“Please . . . please . . .”
“Yes, my love.” With a lingering kiss upon her thigh, he slowly moved over her, his eyes smouldering with a hunger that echoed within her. “Forgive me.”
She frowned. “For what?”
In response, he settled more firmly between her spread legs and tilted his hips forwards. Amelia gasped as she felt him sliding into her body, stretching her with his steady thrust.
“Oh,” she breathed, her hands grasping the cover beneath her.
“You must relax, Amelia.” Justin kissed the tip of her nose. “Trust me.”
For a tense moment, their gazes clashed, Amelia’s heart missing a painful beat. Trust. Such a simple word. And yet such a very complicated emotion.
Then, lifting her hands, she framed his face and pulled him down to meet her soft kiss.
She was not yet prepared to make promises, but her heart was no longer filled with bitterness.
“Make me your wife,” she whispered against his lips.
“My wife,” he repeated, the words filled with a husky reverence that brought tears to her eyes. “My beautiful wife.”
He kissed her with a stark passion, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her sensitive nipples.
Slowly, Amelia began to relax, a soft moan tumbling from her lips. Justin’s thrusts fanned the flames of her desire from the embers.
Barely aware of it, she discovered her hips lifting in harmony with his rhythm as the pleasure coiled in the pit of her stomach.
Murmuring encouragement, she ran her hands restlessly up and down the curve of his back. Yes. Oh, yes. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips as he plunged deeper and deeper. This was what her body had ached for since that night in the conservatory.
“Christ . . . Amelia . . . I cannot . . .”
She dug her fingers into his hips, urging him to a quicker pace. “Please do not halt,” she pleaded.
His hands slipped beneath her hips, angling upwards, as he pushed ever deeper within. Amelia arched her back as her muscles clenched with a breathless anticipation. Then, her keening cry echoed through the room as she shattered in shocking delight.
“Justin,” she whispered, holding him tight as he shouted her name and poured into her welcoming body.
Four
Struggling to catch his breath, Justin rolled to the side, pulling his wife into his arms and pressing his lips to the top of her tousled hair.
His wife.
A surge of male satisfaction settled in his heart as he recalled the manner with which she had responded to his touch, and her startled cry as she had reached fulfilment.
Now she was well and truly his wife.
As she was meant to be.
Not that he was foolish enough to believe their troubles were at an end. After all, he had never questioned Amelia’s desire for him. She had been far too innocent to hide her ready awareness when he was near. And while making love to her had been an ear
th-shattering experience, it did not mean that she was prepared to accept him into her life.
As if to prove his point, Amelia abruptly stirred in his arms, pressing her hands against his chest as she attempted to wriggle from his grasp.
“Dear God . . .” she muttered.
His arms tightened around her, a scowl marring his brow as he met her panicked gaze. Bloody hell, did she regret having given her innocence to him?
No. What they had just shared was . . . extraordinary. Magical. He would not allow her to dismiss their lovemaking.
Or him.
“Where do you think you are going?” he demanded.
“I have guests awaiting me.”
“They can keep themselves entertained. We have not finished our conversation.”
She turned her head away, her tone petulant. “I thought you came to London to get me with child, not to converse.”
“Amelia, you know why I am here.” He cupped her face in his hand and gently forced her to meet his searching gaze. “I want us to live as man and wife. Together for now and all eternity.”
“Eternity?” She licked her lips, her expression heartbreakingly fragile. “So very long?”
“Do you want me to beg, my love?” he asked softly.
Her beautiful eyes softened in a desolate yearning that pierced Justin with an unbearable pain. Then, with another burst of panic, she battled her way out of his arms and off the bed.
“Please, can we discuss this tomorrow?” she asked in a ragged voice, her hands trembling as she tugged on the linen shift he had so recently removed from her exquisite body. “I must return downstairs and . . .”
“No, Amelia.” Indifferent to his lack of clothing, Justin surged off the mattress and grasped her shoulders in a tight grip. “I allowed you to flee from me once before. I cannot bear to watch you walk away again.”
“Justin . . .”
“I know that I hurt you and perhaps I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, interrupting her protest, his heart clenching at the beauty of her fiery curls tumbled about her pale face and her eyes shimmering like the finest emeralds. Christ, he had missed her. “But if you will give me the opportunity, I swear I will prove to you that I am worthy of your heart.”
She suddenly stilled, regarding him with an undisguised wariness. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“You have my dowry and we are both aware you have only to kiss me to have a place in my bed.” Her tone was flat, the very lack of emotion revealing just how important his answer was to her. “Why must you have my heart as well?”
His lips twisted. “I should think that obvious.”
“Humour me.”
Justin steeled his courage. This was the moment.
It had taken him months to accept the truth. Oh, he had known from the moment that he had been introduced to Amelia that she was special. She did not brazenly toss herself at his feet nor had she bored him with mindless chatter and shrill giggles. In fact, he had been enchanted by her clever comprehension of the bills being debated before the House of Lords and the inherent dangers of Spain’s political instability.
And, of course, he had not been fooled for a moment by her hideous gowns and frizzed hair. His discerning eye had easily recognized the lush beauty that set his body on fire.
Still, it was not until he was alone at Rosemount that he accepted that his feelings for Amelia ran far deeper than he had ever realized.
After all, he had what he wanted. With Amelia’s vast dowry his estates were swiftly being restored and even Rosemount had been rescued from ruin, although he had done no more than ensure the foundation was sound and a new roof and windows were installed. He was being toasted as a saviour by his tenants and, while he expected to feel guilt and perhaps even a measure of remorse, he was not prepared for the raw, aching need to have his wife at his side.
His estates were suddenly a burden that had cost him the only thing that truly mattered in his life.
Amelia.
“It is only fair that I have your heart when you have stolen mine,” he whispered.
The emerald eyes flared with an unexpected fury at his soft words. “No.”
Justin frowned. This was not precisely what he had expected when he had dreamed of telling his wife that he loved her. “Amelia?”
“If you wish to discuss our future together I am willing to listen without false promises,” she muttered, her voice thick with suppressed tears. “As you said, it is only to be expected you would wish an heir.”
“I do not give a damn about an heir,” he growled.
“But you said . . .”
“I knew that you would have me thrown out if I told you I was here because I loved you and I could not bear to spend another day without you,” he admitted without apology. He had many things to regret, but not his determination to earn his wife’s heart. “I had to have some excuse to be in London.”
She trembled, regarding him with wounded eyes. “You love me.”
“I believe that is what I just said,” he attempted to tease.
“No.” She shook her head. “It is impossible.”
“Surely I am allowed to know my own feelings?”
“If you loved me . . .”
“Sssh.” He bent his head to press a soft, aching kiss to her lips before pulling back with an expression of apology. “I am painfully aware I should have told you the truth of my financial troubles the moment we were introduced, Amelia, and if I could return in time I would do whatever necessary to avoid hurting you.”
“Allow me to finish, Justin,” she commanded.
His lips twitched with rueful amusement. The awkward wallflower was well and truly gone. And in her place was a woman who was in her full glory. His heart swelled with pride.
“If you loved me you would never have left me alone for the past year.”
His brows lifted at her rather unfair accusation. “There are those who would argue that you were the one to leave me, my sweet.”
She turned her head to reveal the tense line of her profile. “Because I was hurt. And . . .”
“And?”
“Scared.”
Justin flinched, feeling as if she had just shoved a dagger in his gut. In truth, he wished she had. That would certainly have been less painful.
“Scared of me?”
“Of having my heart broken again.”
“Never.” He buried his face in her satin curls, breathing deep of her sweet scent. “I swear, Amelia.”
A silence filled the room, and Justin battled back his agonizing need to plead for her to accept him as her husband. On this occasion she would not be pressured or coerced or seduced into her decision. Instead he simply held her, savouring just how perfect she felt pressed against him.
“Why did you stay away?” she at last demanded.
“As I said, I hoped that time would heal your wounds, but primarily because I feared that I had truly destroyed any feelings you might have possessed for me,” he admitted with stark honesty. “How could I force myself into your company if you hated me?”
She pulled back to meet his burning gaze. “So why did you come here tonight?”
He hesitated, knowing that he had to speak the truth, yet wise enough to realize Amelia was bound to be angered by his confession.
“In part because you remained a virgin.”
Her eyes widened with a horrified shock. “How did you . . .” She bit off her words as a blush rose to her cheeks. “Of course. My servants were spying upon me.”
Justin grimaced. “Do not blame them.”
“Oh, I don’t,” she said, her tone revealing precisely whom she did hold to blame. “Why were you so interested in my virginity, or need I bother asking?”
He gently framed her face in his hands, his thumb brushing the edge of her full lips. Against his will, his body began to stir with an urgent passion that was by no means sated. Hell, he doubted there would ever come a day when he was not consumed wi
th desire for his wife.
He brushed his lips over her furrowed brow. “I knew that if you no longer cared for me you would have found someone else to love.”
She trembled, her eyes darkening with an unconscious invitation. “You said that was part of the reason,” she reminded him, her voice thickening.
His lips skimmed down the length of her nose, then nuzzled the edge of her mouth. “Yes.”
She trembled, her body instinctively arching to press against him. “And the other part?”
He lifted his head to regard her with a sombre sincerity. “Quite simply, I could not stay away,” he breathed. “My life, my home, my heart . . . they are all empty without you. I love you.”
Tilting back her head, she studied him with a piercing intensity. As if hoping to see into his very soul.
And perhaps she was, he ruefully acknowledged. He had destroyed her trust once before. She would not easily offer it again.
Justin clenched his teeth, suddenly realizing what a man on trial must feel like just moments before his sentence is pronounced. Was he to be offered mercy or sent to the gallows?
Amelia’s lips parted, but before she could speak there was a tap on the door.
“Lady Spaulding?” a maid’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Your guests are concerned. Is everything all right?”
Justin frowned, but before he could order the servant to leave them in peace, Amelia had placed her hand over his mouth, her emerald eyes glowing with a happiness that nearly sent him to his knees in relief.
“Thank you, Mary, you may inform my guests that for the first time in my life, everything is absolutely perfect.”
Kindred Souls
Barbara Metzger
One
“‘He’s dead,’” she read.
Aunt Mary grabbed for the letter that dropped from Millie’s hand. “Dead? Who’s dead? When did he die?”
Aunt Mary held the page closer to her eyes, as if that would help her read the solicitor’s letter. It would not. Miss Marisol Cole was born of an age when women’s brains were considered too small to shelter facts or figures. What she lacked in education, however, Aunt Mary made up for in eccentricity. She turned to peer at her pets, three small sleeping canines of undetermined parentage and one ill-tempered tabby guarding the window seat: Finn, Quinn, Min and Grimalkin.
