She dropped her head back, gasping out pleasure. She gripped him through the crisis, continuing to ride, continuing to grind as the sensations rolled higher and higher.
He pounded faster, his neck straining, and then he let out a low groan of his own and she felt the heat of his release joining hers. She collapsed against his chest with a sigh of pleasure and his arms came around her, tucking her tightly against him as he slid kisses along her neck and her shoulders.
“And now you’re truly home,” he murmured.
She opened her eyes at that statement. Perhaps he meant it that their marriage was fully consummated, or that she truly belonged because she had been claimed in his house at last.
But there was something deeper to the words. Something that rang so true that it was terrifying. She felt like she was home. In his house, certainly. In his family, yes.
But mostly in his arms. Yet she had no idea what he wanted for their future, so it made his words terrifying, because they could lead her to heartbreak that could change her life forever.
Chapter Fifteen
Hugh could not believe how swiftly a week had passed since he and Amelia had arrived in Brighthollow. But the days had rolled away, filled with laughter and relaxation. The nights with unbridled and thus far unrelenting passion. In three days they would return to London, for he had things to attend to in the city and he found himself preoccupied over whether they could bring the charmed nature of their time on his estate with them.
It wasn’t that it had been perfect. There had been times when being with Amelia was almost painful. She was so lovely, and when he caught her looking off into the distance with a troubled expression, he was obsessed with her thoughts. Was she thinking of Walters? Wishing that her life were different? She was owed that desire, of course, but it still tore his heart to shreds.
He’d tried to run from it. Distance himself. But somehow Amelia always found him and drew him back, like a beacon in the darkness.
He shook his head as he pushed back from his desk and paced out of his study. He’d been working all morning, but now he wanted to see his wife. His wife, which was still a foreign and shocking concept.
He prowled the halls, searching for her like a lost dog seeking its master. But she seemed to be in no parlor, not in the library, not the music room. As he turned every corner, the keen desire just to look at her face grew sharper and more desperate.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” his housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, said as he poked his head into yet another room. She straightened from her work and tilted her head with a friendly smile.
Hugh focused on maintaining even a fraction of decorum and returned the expression. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams.”
“May I help you with anything?” she asked, watching as he looked around the room in what felt like lost distraction.
“Er, my wife,” he admitted, and hated how heat flooded his cheeks. “I cannot seem to find her. Do you know if she went for a walk?”
“She didn’t, sir,” the housekeeper said with a knowing expression, like she could see what he didn’t want to admit. “I think she and Lady Elizabeth were going to the ballroom.”
Hugh wrinkled his brow. “The—the ballroom?” he repeated in confusion. “Why would they do that?”
“Her Grace said something about practicing,” Mrs. Williams said. “I don’t know much more about their plans.”
Hugh’s warm desire to see Amelia faded a little at that statement. Practice. In the ballroom. His wife didn’t know his sister very well. Certainly, Lizzie had not shared her painful past. What Amelia was doing might trigger Lizzie’s bad memories. Her uncertainties.
“Thank you,” he muttered as he exited the room and strode down the long hall to the back of the house, where the massive ballroom was situated. The door was cracked as he approached and behind it, he heard the echoing voices of the two women.
They were…laughing.
He stopped in his place, stunned by that realization. Lizzie hated the ballroom—she avoided it at all costs—and yet he heard her giggles coming from behind the big, carved door. He hesitated, then pushed the door open just enough that he could see inside.
In the middle of the big, empty room, Amelia and Lizzie were facing each other. As he watched, Amelia executed a stiff, formal bow and Lizzie curtsied. Then Amelia held out her hand and they began the intricate steps of the quadrille, spinning round the room as they tried to maintain serious expressions.
It was a failure. Halfway through the sequence, Lizzie let out a laugh that echoed in the room, and Amelia followed suit until both of them were bent over at the waist.
After a moment, Amelia straightened, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. Lizzie clutched her stomach and Hugh could tell she was trying to control her laughter.
He was…stunned. Despite her warm welcome of Amelia, Lizzie had been shy, even before Aaron Walters had destroyed her world. She had chafed at the idea of dancing and had begged him to dismiss her dance teacher years ago. His presence made her nervous, she said. He had agreed, thinking he could hire someone new in time. But every time he brought up the subject, Lizzie blushed and demurred and pleaded with him not to make her exhibit so publicly.
But here she was, actually enjoying the lesson Amelia was teaching.
The two women regathered some tiny shred of composure, and Amelia smoothed an errant curl from her cheek before she said, “What about a waltz, Lizzie? It’s a bit slower? Certainly more romantic.”
Lizzie’s smile fell and she backed up a step. “Oh, no. Not the waltz. That is not…I don’t wish to…”
Amelia moved forward and caught her hand. “You are a lovely dancer, Lizzie. Very naturally graceful. You needn’t be nervous. A waltz can be very enjoyable.”
Lizzie ducked her head. “I cannot be a very good dancer. I haven’t had much practice.”
Hugh could see the confusion on Amelia’s face, and he knew why. Most young ladies, especially the ladies of Lizzie’s rank, were trained almost from the time they could walk to dance. They knew every song and turn of foot by heart by the time they were Elizabeth’s age and ready to come out to Society.
“I assure you,” Amelia said carefully. “When you come back to London with Hugh and me, you will be the belle of any ball. You needn’t worry yourself.”
All the color drained from Lizzie’s face, and Hugh could stand by no longer. He rushed into the room with a wide smile he hoped would distract Amelia from this topic of questioning.
“Good afternoon, ladies. I did not know there was a ball here today.”
Lizzie’s face brightened a little at the sight of him, and she rushed forward to take Hugh’s arm. He felt the slightest tremble to her grip as she curled her fingers around his bicep.
“Amelia was just teaching me a few dances,” she explained.
Amelia was watching them closely, and he could still see the troubled expression on her face. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Lizzie seemed so enraptured of my description of the first time you and I danced that I thought it might be fun for both of us. But I’m not very good at leading.”
Hugh caught her eye. “You seem very well equipped at doing so.”
She blushed immediately and he stifled a smile. At least distracting her was enjoyable. And it seemed to have worked, for she didn’t press further on the subject of why Lizzie didn’t like the dance.
“You are a very good dancer, Your Grace,” she said instead. “Perhaps I could play the pianoforte and you could help Lizzie with the steps yourself.”
Hugh blinked as he looked down at his sister. That was an option he hadn’t considered before. He’d simply did as she asked and sent her dance teacher away, but he’d never thought to teach her himself. It wasn’t the worst idea. He could go slowly if she required time and patience.
“Would you like to try?” he asked her softly.
Lizzie’s hesitation was plain on her face, but then she glanced over a
t Amelia. Clearly, she wanted to please her new sister-in-law. That drive seemed more powerful than her nervousness. With a tiny sigh, she nodded. “If you have the time.”
“I do,” he said, and smiled at Amelia as she walked to the pianoforte that was in the corner of the room. She settled into place and began to play.
For a moment he was stunned into silence. Ladies were taught so many skills. His sister, herself, was a fine musician and singer, though she had to be coaxed to show off her talents. He supposed he’d guessed that Amelia would be a proficient in some of those arts, too, but he hadn’t expected her playing to be so…beautiful. So passionate.
She stopped playing and laughed. “Is this a concert or a dance lesson? Go on, you two, spin!”
Hugh shook off his surprise and took Lizzie’s hand. They stepped out together, and as Amelia began the song over again, he spun his sister around the floor, taking his time as he walked her through the steps. At first, Lizzie was hesitant. She looked at her feet regularly and muttered beneath her breath with every missed step.
But as the song continued, he watched her confidence grow. It was a beautiful thing to behold, for so much of it had been crushed under Aaron Walter’s boot. To watch Lizzie flower, smile as she figured out the timing of a step…it warmed Hugh’s heart. That was the gift Amelia had given to him. To them.
As the song ended, Lizzie curtsied and then turned to Amelia with a nervous laugh. “How did I do?”
Amelia got up and came around the pianoforte to embrace his sister gently. “That was wonderful. A little more practice and no one will ever know that you didn’t feel comfortable.” She glanced at Hugh as she continued, “I have no idea why you didn’t learn to dance years ago, but you are a natural.”
Lizzie tensed, and Hugh smiled down at her. “Lizzie, I have a hankering for Mrs. Masters’ bread pudding before I leave. Do you think you might ask her very sweetly to put it on the menu for tonight or tomorrow? You know she’ll never refuse you.”
Lizzie nodded and hurried from the room. After she’d gone, Amelia turned to Hugh, her gaze narrowed. There was a beat of silence before she said, “You don’t want me to know anything, do you?”
He wrinkled his brow, feigning innocence when he knew exactly what she meant. “Don’t be foolish.”
Her glare darkened. “Don’t try to make me think I don’t see what is right in front of me.” Her voice shook with the power of her emotions. “I am only in this family of yours as far as you desire. That much is very clear.”
He folded his arms. “What are you talking about?”
Her expression transformed from one of just anger to a mixture of hurt. Seeing that there, knowing it was caused by him, he felt like an ass of the highest order.
“You will make me spell it out? Very well. The more I come to know Lizzie, the more I realize she is afraid of coming out. Afraid of London. I haven’t pressed her on that topic because I know she will tell me in time if she trusts me enough. But you don’t want me to know the truth. Not ever.”
Hugh stared at her a long moment. He had come to realize over the past few weeks just how wonderfully kind and accepting Amelia was. Under any other circumstance, he might have encouraged his sister to confide in her. Lizzie needed a friend.
But it wasn’t that simple. Amelia had been involved with the same young man who had crushed Lizzie. Once she knew that, Amelia was too clever not to put the pieces together of why Hugh had pursued her. Why he had said that Walters was a bastard.
He had no idea how she would react to that. How she would feel if his lies came out now, when they were still feeling out their relationship, their future.
Perhaps someday he would feel comfortable enough to tell her. But now? Now it felt like he could lose her if she knew.
Lose everything that had come to mean so much to him.
“She is my sister,” he said softly.
Amelia shook her head. “She wishes to be mine, as well. And if you don’t want that, then it makes me wonder, yet again, why I am here.”
“Because you are my wife,” he said, rushing forward, hands outstretched.
“Am I?” she whispered, her voice trembling once again. “I don’t feel like it.”
Her face crumpled as she turned and walked away. As she exited the room, Hugh had a flash of desire to call after her. To make her come back, to fall on his knees and tell her every painful part of his story from beginning to end. To give her what he had spent a lifetime trying to push away, not share.
But he wasn’t strong enough. So all he could do was stand in the middle of his ballroom and wish things were different.
Chapter Sixteen
Amelia sat at the desk in her study, writing a letter to her father. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She’d said that was what she was doing, she had a piece of paper in front of her with Dear Father scribbled across the top, but she was not writing. She was fuming, staring at the window toward the garden below and reliving her last conversation with Hugh.
Just as she had been doing since the previous afternoon.
Why his behavior bothered her, she could not say. After all, she had never wanted a marriage to this man. This frustrating, utterly handsome, completely irresistible man. If he wanted to lock her out and have a marriage that involved no true connection, why did it matter?
Except that it did. It mattered a great deal. Nothing had changed that. Not a feigned headache. Not a night alone in her chamber. Her emotions still bubbled inside her.
She pushed the letter aside and put her elbows on the desktop and her head in her hands. The walls in this house were driving her mad, that was all. She was too close to the problem, too close to the attraction. Perhaps when they returned to London, she would be able to detangle herself and gain some perspective.
There was a light knock on her door that adjoined their chambers, and she turned slightly. She frowned. Hugh stood in the entryway, watching her closely.
“Come in,” she said after what felt like an eternity had passed between them.
He did so and slowly closed the door behind himself. She tracked the movement, hating how her body warmed at the idea of being alone with him.
Traitor.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he said.
She arched a brow. “Why? It seems we have little to say.”
His expression tightened and she saw a flash of both frustration and pain in his gaze. He drew a long breath. “I missed you in my bed last night, Amelia.”
She rose and took a step toward him. “Then you do not wish to talk—this is about my body. I would not deny you. It seems I cannot, at any rate. I am a slave to the desires you have awakened in me. So take it.”
His gaze flowed over her, heated and focused, but then he shocked her by shaking his head. “No. No, that isn’t what I came for.”
“What did you come for, Hugh?” she whispered.
“To talk,” he said, moving forward. “To try to make you see.”
She backed away with a shake of her head. “But I already see.” Her anger made her voice tart, and it was bubbling up stronger and stronger in her chest. Emotions she had never been allowed to feel or express. “You are going to keep me on the outside, and that is where I’ve always been. My lot, it seems, is to almost be part of a family. To almost be loved and cared for. I thought I could have that with—”
She broke off and turned away, blinking at the tears that swelled in her eyes. She gripped her fists against the desk and tried to control the weakness that seemed to dictate everything in her body and soul.
“You thought you could have what you wanted with Aaron Walters,” he said, finishing her thought in a dull, empty tone.
She faced him slowly. “Yes,” she admitted softly. “And your hatred for him, for whatever reason you had it, took that away from me. Now you refuse to give me that desire here. So…I’m alone. In a house full of servants and people, I will always be alone.”
He
held her gaze, nostrils flaring, hands shaking at his sides. At first, she thought he was angry, pushed too far by her refusal of him, by her bluntness when she addressed their circumstance. But when he spoke, his voice wasn’t angry.
It was broken, laced with the same pain she felt.
“I know how that feels,” he said. “I know.”
“How could you?” she asked with a shuddering sigh that she couldn’t hold back for a moment more. The weight on her shoulders was too heavy to even try.
He hesitated, and then he reached out. “Will you come with me?”
She blinked at the hand, that hand that had brought her so much pleasure in the past. Attached to a man she did not fully trust or know.
“Why?”
He bent his head. “If you want to know me, if you want to be let in to my world, as you say, then please come with me.”
Her heart stuttered. Was he truly offering her a way into his mind or his soul? And did she really want that? To be connected with the man who had destroyed her hopes and dreams, who confused her and made her want to laugh and cry and surrender and scream all at once?
It seemed she did, at some base level, for she nodded slowly and took the proffered hand. “Very well. Lead the way, Your Grace.”
Hugh felt the weight of Amelia’s hand in his like it was a boulder. Her soft fingers pressed into his palm, and it made him question his plan with every step as they walked across the large estate together.
He didn’t want to do this. And yet he did. It was utterly confusing.
“The woods here are a bit thick, watch your footing.” It was the first thing he’d said in the past twenty minutes they’d been walking. Amelia hadn’t pressed, just moved beside him in silence, as if she understood he needed that silence to calm himself.
They exited the path and he slowly picked his way along what had once been a trail into the deepest part of the woods. He knew it like the back of his hand, despite the fact that it had been years, a decade, since he last came here.
The Duke Who Lied Page 15
