The Danice Allen Anthology

by Danice Allen

  Amanda felt John go stiff in her arms. He braced his hands on either side of her head and looked down at her with disbelief in his eyes. “You’ve … you’ve changed your mind … now?” he rasped. “My God, Amanda. You’re going to be the death of me.”

  As he rolled to the side and expelled a longsuffering sigh, Amanda realized that he’d misunderstood her. She grabbed his shoulders and choked out in a voice that was half-panicked, half-amused, “No, John. I don’t mean I’ve changed my mind about making love!”

  He stopped, confusion clearly written on his face. “Then what, love?”

  She felt her face flame with color. “My … my nightgown. I … I want it … off.”

  It was extremely gratifying watching John’s expression change from pained resignation to one of joyful relief and building excitement. He broke out in a delighted smile that quickly turned sly and sensual. “Well, my dear, that can be done in a trice.”

  But he didn’t do it in a trice. He kissed the gown off her inch by delicious, shivery inch. By the time she lay naked beneath him, she had lost all sense of anything beyond the circle of John’s arms. She was in a stupor of consuming pleasure, but with a sharp edge of need and anticipation that could only be assuaged by their ultimate joining.

  Amanda knew there was no turning back now, no changing her mind about anything. She was powerless to deny her need. She would take what he offered and keep it close to her heart for the rest of her life. She would cherish this night forever.

  Jack tried to go slow. He tried to be gentle. He wanted to be sure he’d urged Amanda to the limits of sensual pleasure before entering her. But as she lay beneath him, so tempting, so beautiful, he knew he couldn’t wait another second. He needed to possess her, to make her his … even if it was only for one night out of a lifetime.

  He lifted and entered the hot, weeping center of her slowly, sinuously, pacing himself so that the first jolt of pleasure wouldn’t send him reeling over the edge. But as his hard, aching flesh invaded her moist heat, his eyes opened in surprise, and he searched Amanda’s flushed face. There was a natural resistance … a barrier. She was a virgin!

  In that moment of revelation, every conclusion Jack had come to about Miss Amanda Jane Darlington bit the dust! He stilled in her arms, alarm, guilt, desire, and desperation racking his mind and body. He’d been wrong about her having an illegitimate child. He’d been dead wrong about that … and about how many other things?

  This woman with whom he was sharing the most intimate, the most beautiful of human communications, was still a mystery.

  She opened her eyes, staring at him through dusky lashes. Her need, her desire was startling. His own need still commanded his body. His desire for her surged through his bloodstream like a raging tempest.

  “John … now,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Who could resist such a plea? Not Jack. Her tight, sweet womanliness was wrapped around him, and it was as though he no longer controlled his destiny for the next few minutes or hours. He would consider the consequences later. Much later.

  “Darling,” he whispered, stroking her face, her hair. “It’s going to hurt a little at first.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I know.”

  “I’ll try to be gentle,” he promised, then bent his head to claim her mouth in a kiss, and with one quick thrust took her virginity. She tensed and made a small moaning sound, but he caressed her and kissed her till he felt her body relax beneath him again.

  “Are you all right, Amanda?”

  Amanda bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. The pain is gone.” And it was. It had only been fleeting, anyway, and was little enough to pay for the bliss of being in John’s arms. But when she’d thought she’d reached the heights of pleasure and could go no higher, John began to move. A new urgency blossomed within her.

  The feel of him inside her was like nothing she’d ever dreamed possible. The tender flesh of her woman’s core was pulsing with sensation. But she felt more than euphoric physical enjoyment…. He was filling her. Filling the emptiness of her life with a tender passion she’d never forget. She felt joy expanding her chest like sweet, fresh air on a spring morning. She was exhilarated, enraptured. She was in love….

  Dear God, she loved him!

  Amanda wrapped John in her legs, holding on for dear life as she began to soar on their shared desires. John plunged deeper, setting a rhythm Amanda matched with an abandoned enthusiasm.

  Then, suddenly, she felt a curious floating sensation, followed by a blinding flash. Amanda clutched John to her breasts and cried out his name as ripple after ripple of dizzying pleasure claimed her. John arched and found his own release, calling her name, too.

  With both hearts beating as if they were one, he held her till their breathing slowed, till their scattered, shattered senses were recalled to the here and now. Then John lifted his head, kissing her neck and face as he gently withdrew and slid to the bed beside her. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

  Amanda caught his hand and brought it to her lips, brushing a kiss across the warm skin. She kept her eyes shut, afraid to open them, willing time to freeze at this one moment of complete repletion and happiness. But already the seconds were ticking away, bringing tomorrow and hard, cold reality.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would wonder if this all had been a dream. Tomorrow John might remember his name … and forget hers. Tomorrow they would come and take him away.

  She moved in his embrace, thinking it best to initiate the separation early. She’d go to her own bed, forfeit the pleasure of feeling his hard, warm body against hers as he slept … and lie awake, thinking about him, loving him. But John foiled her plans with a few words.

  “Don’t go, Amanda. Stay, sweetheart.”

  Amanda opened her eyes as John shifted, turning her to face him. His eyes were deepest brown, the expression warm and loving. “The night’s not over yet,” he told her with a lazy, boyish grin. “Give me just a few minutes, and I’ll make love to you again.”

  How could Amanda resist? Tomorrow belonged to reality, but this one bright, beautiful night was theirs.

  Jack made love to her again.

  And again.

  In the morning, Jack awoke to a room filled with light, an empty bed, and a guilty conscience. Last night had been an earthly slice of heaven at the Angel Inn, and Jack would never forget it. But had he been right to take the ecstasy Amanda offered him so willingly?

  He had thought she was experienced, but she was a virgin. Never mind that he hadn’t found that out till he’d already compromised her beyond repair; the fact that she’d been an innocent maid before their lovemaking made all the difference in the world. At least after the first time they’d made love, he’d taken precautions against pregnancy. He knew he should have thought of that sooner. But odds were, one unprotected sexual act would not result in a pregnancy.

  What was her state of mind this morning? he wondered. Did she regret their lovemaking? He’d told her beforehand that he could offer her nothing in return, and she’d seemed to readily accept that fact, but Jack’s sense of honor was nagging at him like a fishwife. However, since he was already engaged to one woman—Charlotte—he wasn’t free to do the honorable thing by the other women—Amanda—even if he wanted to.

  Did he want to? Jack wasn’t sure what he wanted. He knew he had some rather extraordinary feelings for Amanda, but since he had only made her acquaintance three days ago, it would be idiotic to imagine himself in love with her.

  Wouldn’t it?

  Jack sat up, grimly amused by the tangled bedclothes. They hadn’t slept much. He’d been astounded by his stamina last night and the instant recurrence of arousal each time after they’d made love. And Amanda had returned his ardor with equal feeling. They’d both felt an urgency to make good use of the limited time they had together. It was as if they were on a one-night honeymoon.

  Jack sobered still more, wondering if he’d feel the same intensity of passi
on for Charlotte Batsford when he made her his bride and began his real honeymoon. He sighed, doubting it very much. He’d never felt so much passion for anyone as he had for Amanda last night, and he’d had more than his fair share of experience with voluptuous, skillful ladybirds.

  But he knew it wasn’t Amanda’s skill that made her so irresistible. Her passionate responses were innocent and instinctual, not learned. She was open and unguarded and eager. She made his heart soar with emotion when he made love to her. She made him feel as though the sexual act they shared was more than physical … that it was spiritual, too.

  Jack shook his head ruefully, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up. He needed to splash some cold water on his face before he’d talked himself into believing he was in love with Amanda Jane Darlington. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do because he couldn’t do anything about it even if he were in love with her.

  Jack washed up, shaved, got dressed, then knocked on the door between their rooms. When Amanda didn’t answer, he pulled his watch from a waistcoat pocket and checked the time. It was barely seven, so he was surprised that she’d left her room so early to take breakfast. And why hadn’t she awakened him?

  Jack frowned, unwelcome suspicions grabbing at him from all sides. She wouldn’t go on to Thorney Island without him, would she? She wouldn’t simply leave him behind … would she? But how could he possibly anticipate what Amanda would do? He’d made love to her, but he still didn’t know her.

  With his jaw set grimly, Jack opened the door and went into her chamber. Just as he feared, not a single personal article belonging to Amanda was left in the room. The wardrobe was empty, the dresser top was bare of brushes and hairpins. Amanda was gone.

  Seething with anger, Jack strode to the door and yanked it open. He took the narrow stairs two at a time, but when he gained the entrance hall, he wasn’t sure what to do, where to go. He heard Mr. Tebbs talking to someone in the parlor he and Amanda had used the night before, and he barged through the half-open door with a vengeance.

  He was stopped in his tracks, feeling foolish and embarrassed, when he found Amanda sitting at the table, quietly attending to her breakfast. Both she and Mr. Tebbs, who was serving her from a platter of ham, turned and looked at Jack with surprise on their faces at his abrupt entrance. He’d no doubt the fierce expression on his face was rather startling, too.

  “My lord!” said Mr. Tebbs, recovering first and pasting a pleasant, obsequious look on his face. “Er … didn’t you sleep well last night, my lord?”

  Jack collected his composure and subdued his unwarranted anger. Amanda hadn’t left him at all. It made him feel decidedly sheepish now to realize how upset he’d become at the very idea of her leaving him behind. And he wasn’t sure exactly why….

  There were a number of reasons, of course, why he wanted to continue on with her to Thorney Island, but he had a gut feeling his pained and desperate emotions at the very idea of her unannounced departure right after they’d spent the night making passionate love had their source in a more personal explanation. But he’d no time to analyze his half-crazed reaction and summoned all his sangfroid to try for a more dignified entrance.

  Jack gave his shirt cuffs a tug, lifted his chin, and endeavored to look nonchalant. Whenever he wanted to look very debonair and toplofty, he recalled Julian’s imperious manner and copied that. The result was never as daunting as his brother’s patrician mien, but it had helped him through some tight spots before.

  “I slept exceedingly well, thank you,” Jack informed Mr. Tebbs with a brilliant show of aristocratic teeth.

  Mr. Tebbs was reassured, chalking up his lordship’s initial look of extreme displeasure as morning ruminations on a pesky estate matter or some other quandary exclusive to the landed gentry. He pulled out Jack’s chair and bustled about, filling his plate with all sorts of savory-smelling breakfast courses. Mr. Tebbs was finally satisfied that his lordship would not swoon from hunger, and he bowed himself out, finally leaving Jack alone with Amanda.

  That lady was self-consciously cracking a boiled egg with her spoon when she apparently felt Jack’s eyes upon her and looked up, a becoming glow on her cheeks and in her eyes.

  “You look beautiful this morning, Amanda.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.”

  Jack stared at her for another lingering moment, tamping down a strong urge to leap to his feet, whisk the food and plateware off the table, and initiate Miss Darlington to the delights of morning sex. Instead, he snapped open his napkin and said, “You left the bed too soon, m’dear.”

  She blushed even deeper. “We’ve a busy day ahead, John,” was her only reply, said in her usual prim way.

  “Yes. On to Thorney Island.” He chuckled. “Do you know that when I got up and found you missing and your belongings all packed up and gone from your room, I thought you’d deserted me! I should have known you’d never do anything so shabby.”

  She gave him a quick, startled look and dropped her egg on the floor.

  “Never mind,” said Jack, dismissing the accident but wondering why Amanda seemed so nervous. He could only suppose she was feeling some natural awkwardness after last night. And some regret, maybe? “Mr. Sweeney gave me four eggs. I’ll never eat so many. You can have one of mine.”

  “But it’s such a mess,” she said in a distraught tone, staring down at the soft yolk making a yellow puddle on the carpet.

  “But it’s nothing to get all worked up about, m’dear,” John reasoned soothingly. “Mr. Sweeney has dealt with worse messes, I’m sure.” He rang the bell to summon someone to clean up the egg.

  When she continued to stare at the floor, John got up and knelt down beside her chair with napkin in hand. “I’ll dab it up; then the maids won’t have much to do to finish the job. Don’t fret, Amanda,” he said cheerfully.

  Jack cleaned up the egg as best he could. Then, while he was still on his knees, he looked up at Amanda and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Jack felt a strong contraction in his chest. He lifted his hand, stroked her cheek, then cupped her chin. “What’s the matter, Amanda?” he asked gently. “You’re not crying over this silly egg, are you?”

  “No,” she said, the tears streaming over her bottom lashes and coursing down her cheeks. “I’m feeling wretched, John, because I am deserting you!”

  Jack stiffened and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Suddenly the door opened, and two uniformed constables entered the room.

  Amanda’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh … no. Not yet,” she mumbled through her fingers. “He hasn’t even eaten his breakfast!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amanda couldn’t bear the accusing way John was glaring at her. “I had no choice, John,” she said with a beseeching look. “This is the best way to find out who you are.”

  “At any rate, it’s probably the fastest way,” John said grimly, as he stood up and threw his napkin on the table. “And since you’re itching to be rid of me, I ought not to be so very surprised to see these gentlemen here this morning.”

  Amanda stood up, too. She felt weak and trembling inside, not just because John was angry and hurt because he considered her involvement of the police a betrayal, but because she didn’t want him to go! Last night had been heavenly, and she could hardly bear the thought that she’d probably never see him again.

  Amanda wrenched her gaze from John and addressed the older of the two constables, a man with a shock of black hair, a bulbous nose, and a walruslike mustache. “I did not suppose you’d come so very early. He’s not even had his breakfast yet!”

  “I was just told to come this mornin’, miss,” said the constable, exuding stalwart authority. “And it seems the sooner this business is commenced, the better it’ll be for all concerned.”

  Behind the constables, Amanda noticed Mr. Tebbs’s anxious face looking in at the door and a couple of mobcapped maids.

  “You aren’t arresting me, are you?”
John demanded to know.

  “Not exactly, sir,” the constable said after a considering pause.

  John’s brows lifted. “Then by what authority and to what purpose do you intend to take me into custody? I certainly haven’t broken any laws.”

  The constable pointed to Amanda with his nightstick, making her feel even guiltier. “This here lady says that due to an accident, you’ve plum forgot who you are, sir. We can help you establish your identity.”

  “How Good Samaritan of you, to be sure,” John said caustically. “But what if I don’t need or want your help?” He stood straighter. “What if I refuse to willingly go with you?”

  The younger constable, a thin youth with a spotted face, shifted from foot to foot and glanced nervously at his superior.

  “Well,” began the senior constable, “first I’d figure that there’s something havey-cavey goin’ on if you don’t want to know who you are. I might conclude that you’re playin’ fast and loose with the law. Maybe you’re a wanted man … a smuggler or a thief gone incognito.”

  John smiled contemptuously. “You have an active imagination. I can assure you I’m neither of those things.”

  The constable shrugged. “If you’ve got nothin’ to hide, sir, by my reckoning there’s no logical reason why you wouldn’t want to know who you are.”

  “But I dislike your methods. Is there no other way to resolve this dilemma?”

  “As the lady is no longer willing to take responsibility for you, sir, and if you refuse our assistance, there’s only one alternative.”

  “And pray what is that?”

  “The hospital asylum, sir, for the mentally deranged.”

  John laughed. “I’m not mad. I’ve simply lost my memory!”

  Amanda began to wring her hands. She had not expected John to be so uncooperative, nor the police to be so stern and businesslike. And the very idea of John going to Bedlam or such was unthinkable! She’d take him to Thorney Island with her, and even Darlington Hall, before she’d let that happen.