by Danice Allen
Amanda was faced with a dilemma. She wasn’t sure if Jack had lost his memory again or not. She didn’t think he’d dare fake amnesia again, not after she’d got so furious with him over the last time … would he? If he had lost his memory, it was oddly selective. He certainly knew who she was … except for one very important misconception. He thought she was his wife.
Either way, whether Jack had genuinely lost his memory or. not, it was an opportunity for Amanda to steal one more precious night of lovemaking. With this mess with Rob, it might be a long time before things got back to normal. And even then, under the strictures of a “proper” courtship, they would have little opportunity to be alone like this.
“Amanda? What’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t you love me anymore?”
Amanda was recalled to the here and now by Jack’s teasing remark and sly wink. He had the most incredible eyelashes, too sinfully thick and black to belong to a man. But his other more than masculine assets made up for that apparent whim of nature. His firm, square jaw. The bold, sensuous curve of his lips. The dark stubble of beard that made her skin tingle on contact. The chiseled nose. The scar.
She reached forward and traced the scar on his cheek. It was proof of his reckless courage and his patriotism. It was just another reason to love him.
Jack raised a brow. “Sweetheart, you look so serious tonight. I think it’s time for a little slap and tickle, don’t you?” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down. With a squeal of surprise, Amanda tumbled onto the bed on top of Jack. His hard body beneath hers made her senses reel. It brought back all the memories, all the desire, all the desperate need to be possessed by the only man she’d ever love.
Their lips were inches apart. His lips were smiling; hers were trembling. Then he kissed her.
It was a warm, deep, thorough kiss. He kissed her as if he’d kissed her a thousand times before but would yet kiss her a thousand times more. It was a kiss like those between husbands and wives who still loved each other to distraction … familiar but steeped with excitement and pleasure.
As they kissed, his hands slid down the curve of her back to cup her buttocks. With the skill and confidence of a man sure of his wife’s response, he caressed and fondled her, then pressed her against his erection, rubbing himself against her till she moaned into his mouth.
Amanda lifted her head and gazed dazedly into Jack’s eyes. The expression there was still playful but with a brilliance that implied urgency.
His hands skimmed up her sides to cup her face. “Ah, Amanda,” he said, smiling. “You minx! After all this time, after all the lovemaking we’ve done, you still take my breath away.”
“You do the same to me, Jack,” Amanda whispered, caught up in the fantasy. “Every day I want you more and more.”
He traced her lips with his thumbs. “Then why, my love, are you still in your clothes, and your hair still up in that decorous little knot? You look fetching, but I still prefer you au naturel.”
She smiled timorously and moved to climb off the bed. He caught her waist and grinned up at her. “No, darling. Don’t go. Stay here where I can still feel you and touch you while you undress for me.”
Amanda was sitting astride Jack. The idea of disrobing with such a close observer made her cheeks bloom with warmth.
“You’re blushing!” he exclaimed, his dark-amber eyes bright with loving amusement. “Are you still shy with me, Amanda?”
She bit her lip and ducked her head. “Not with you, Jack,” she said quietly. “Never with you.”
Then, suddenly, Amanda became what she most wanted to be. Jack saw her as his wife, so she’d be his wife. She’d thrill and pleasure her husband to the best of her ability. She’d snow him, in every possible way, how much she loved him.
Amanda looked at Jack through eyes filled with desire. She lifted her arms and pulled her hairpins out slowly, allowing them to drop haphazardly over the bedclothes. He watched with sleepy pleasure in his eyes, a bemused half-smile on his lips. When the last pin was out, her hair cascaded down her shoulders, drifting to her waist. A tress fell across Jack’s chest, the pale gold looking startlingly erotic against his bronzed skin and the silky mat of dark hair.
As she began to undo the buttons and ribbons of her gown, she could feel his erection growing harder and hotter under the bedclothes that pressed against her woman’s core. She parted her lips and touched them with the tip of her tongue, her breath quicker and more shallow. She saw how his jaw tensed with longing, and felt a surge of womanly power. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She pulled her bodice and shift down and her breasts seemed to spring eagerly out of their bindings, her nipples turgid and erect and rosy. He stared at her and lifted his hips as if he were practicing or making provocative promises….
Layer by layer she pulled off her clothes till she was completely naked except for a squat little bustle that perched on the dip of her fanny. Her hands went to her waist to undo the ties that secured the bustle, but Jack stopped her.
“Leave it on for a while, Amanda. It’s kind of … er … interesting. If it gets in the way, we’ll take it off later.”
Amanda raised her brows. “You’re a devil, Jack,” she taunted him.
“And you love it,” he taunted back, reaching up to take both breasts in hand. Amanda gasped, and her eyes drifted shut. His hands on her body were the closest thing to heaven she could imagine. He kneaded and squeezed softly, luxuriously, then caught her taut nipples between thumb and forefinger and rolled them gently.
When she gave a soft cry, he encircled her waist with his large hands and lifted her, guiding her to his mouth. She balanced on her knees as he took each nipple in turn and suckled it. Spears of pleasure shot through her, making her womb weep with longing.
He kicked away the covers, then lowered her again. Her splayed thighs came down around his bare flanks, his erection pressed against her stomach. She pushed herself to a sitting position with her hands on his chest and stared down at him, softly panting.
She held his hot gaze as she undid what buttons remained fastened of his shirt, then parted the white material. Now she looked down. His torso was magnificent … fluid with muscle. She explored the length of him from chest to belly, her fingers tracing the fine, silky hair down the cleft of his abdomen to where it spread out coarsely. Then she wrapped her fingers around his erection. He was so hot, so firm. They both groaned together.
“I think it’s time, Amanda.”
She nodded eagerly.
He grinned. “Do you want to ride me, love?”
“R-ride you, Jack?”
“For the whole race, sweetheart. Over every stone fence and bubbling brook, right down the home stretch to the finish line.”
Amanda finally understood that Jack was making an analogy…. So, if she was the rider and he was the horse—Her eyes opened wide as she caught the vision.
“Yes, Jack,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t expose her ignorance. “Let’s … let’s race.”
He laughed and pulled her down for a quick, hard kiss. Sitting upright again, Amanda hoped Jack would show her what to do, how to mount, so to speak, because she didn’t have a clue how it was done.
“Lift up a little, love,” he said, and she obeyed. He positioned himself, then ordered, “Now, Amanda. Easy does it…”
As Amanda lowered herself, she watched Jack’s face. His jaw tensed and his eyes fluttered shut as he slid slowly into her. Then she, too, closed her eyes and savored the bliss of their joining.
At first her movements were tentative and awkward, but soon she caught the right rhythm, found the right angle. Jack let her set the pace, and the ride was long and filled with building intensity. The urgency in Amanda’s womb increased with each thrust, and she braced her splayed hands on his hard chest and pressed her thighs tightly against his hips.
She whispered his name over and over again as they soared higher and higher on a crest of pure pleasure. He, too, chanted her name like a
benediction.
Then came the explosion of senses Amanda remembered from before. She tensed and arched. Jack curved forward, caught her in his arms, and heart to fiercely beating heart, they found their release.
Later, curled together in the bed, they held each other tenderly. No words were spoken. The love between them was understood and deeply felt. Sated, they sank into sweet, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Jack woke up, he thought at first he must still be asleep and dreaming. He was lying on his side, completely naked, his arms wrapped around the ribs of a sleeping female who was also naked. His nose was buried in her fragrant hair. Her smooth white back was flush against his chest, and her curvaceous derriere was snuggled against his groin. But the best part, the most surprising and dreamlike aspect of this delightful scene, was the fact that the female was … Amanda!
Without disturbing her, he lifted his head and peered into the dim light that filtered around the edges of the closed curtains to take a quick perusal of the room. He felt fairly certain he’d never been in this particular chamber before. The plush and tasteful furnishings were immediate proof that it was no public inn but a private residence, and the feminine folderol scattered here and there indicated that it was a bedchamber belonging to a woman.
The truth hit him like a runaway gig. He was in Amanda’s house … Amanda’s bedchamber … Amanda’s own bed! But how on earth had he got there?
He craned his neck and made a few more discoveries. While his clothes were neatly folded and hanging over a nearby chair, Amanda’s clothes were in a rumpled puddle on the floor by the side of the bed. All the evidence pointed to the astonishing conclusion that he and Amanda had made love right there in her own bedchamber under the respectable auspices of her two resident aunts. But how was that possible? Maybe he’d climbed in through the window, he speculated wildly. Or perhaps Amanda had sneaked him into the house after the aunts were abed.
Jack concentrated hard. The last thing he remembered was sitting in some squalid pub in the seamy side of town getting drunk. He cudgeled his brain for more information, then recalled with painful vividness the reason for his drinking spree. When he’d come to offer his heart and hand in marriage to Amanda yesterday morning, she’d turned him away at the door! Or rather, she’d had Henchpenny turn him away. But if, as he recollected from her letter, she wanted nothing more to do with him, why was he in her bed?
Jack frowned. This appalling gap in his memory was worrisome. He’d thought his amnesia due to the accident was a thing of the past. But perhaps he’d had a setback, brought on by booze and emotional distress. Before getting himself engaged to the wrong woman and falling in love with the right woman, he’d hardly ever got more than mildly tipsy. He was going to have to find some other way to drown his sorrows besides getting cup-shot.
But did he have any sorrows left to drown? he wondered, settling into the pillows again and tightening his arms around Amanda. From where he stood … lay? … things didn’t look half bad. The worst part of this whole strange incident, of course, was the fact that he couldn’t remember making love to Amanda last night. He’d regret that lapse of memory till his dying day.
She stirred in his arms and gave a soft sigh. The slight movement of her body against his immediately aroused him. He began to contemplate the agreeable prospect of making new memories ….
No such luck. Jack heard voices and approaching footfalls outside the bedchamber door. It sounded like the nervous, high-pitched tones of Amanda’s Aunt Prissy and the lower, more reserved accents of her Aunt Nan.
Panicked, he considered making a mad dash for his clothes. Then he realized that he didn’t have time to get more than one leg in his trousers. He mentally pictured himself frozen in such an embarrassing position—balanced flamingolike on one bare leg with the Montgomery family jewels on full display—and he decided it was best to stay under the covers. He scooted to a sitting position and pulled the blankets over his chest, tucking them securely under both arms. Blissfully unaware, Amanda slept on.
The door opened, and three figures entered the room. Miss Priscilla, Miss Nancy, and … Julian. Prissy had been whispering something to Julian as they entered, but her words trailed into oblivion as her cataract-clouded eyes adjusted to the dim light and she surveyed the scene before her.
Shock appeared to have turned them all into statues … except for their heads, which swiveled in unison as they looked first at Jack, then at Amanda, then at the telltale pile of wantonly discarded clothes at the bedside, then back to Jack.
Finally the aunts reacted with startled wheezes and by pressing their hands, one on top of the other, to their bosoms. Julian took out his quizzing glass, attached it to his eye, and lifted his chin, staring down at Jack with quelling hauteur.
“Good Gawd, Jack,” Julian said, finally breaking the silence. “Is this how you repay Miss Priscilla and Miss Nancy for rescuing you from the gutters of Spitalfields, by compromising their niece … again?”
Jack shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Would it make some little restitution if I told you I don’t even remember doing the compromising?”
Amanda sighed and rolled over, nearly baring her breasts in the process. Jack hurriedly pulled the blankets up to her chin and said, “Wake up, Amanda. We’ve got company.”
Amanda blinked her eyes open, smiled up at Jack, and reached for him. Tactfully prying her arms from around his neck, Jack rolled his eyes toward the door. “Didn’t you hear me, sweetheart? I said we’ve got company.”
Amanda looked dazedly in the direction he indicated, then screamed and scrambled to a sitting position, clutching the bedclothes to her chest.
“Wh-what are you doing in here?” she stammered, her eyes as big as plum puddings, her pale hair in charming disarray about her shoulders.
“We might ask you the same thing,” Nan primly replied, clasping her hands together and holding them at waist level. She bent forward and asked in the tone of a reprimanding governess who’d caught her naughty charge with her fingers in the sugar bowl, “What are you doing in here, Amanda Jane?”
“I should say that’s perfectly obvious, Nan,” said Prissy. She sucked in her cheeks and tried to look stem and sour, but Jack could see how her eyes sparked with humor. She waggled a gnarled finger. “And, as we all know, this isn’t the first time for you two!”
“Nor the last, I’ll wager,” Julian observed dryly. He’d turned his back out of respect for Amanda’s modesty and was standing with his arms crossed, looking at the wall. “When’s the wedding to be, Jack?”
“Oh, but—” Amanda began.
“I’ve always fancied a Christmas wedding,” said Nan.
“Wouldn’t Amanda Jane look lovely all in white and holding a poinsettia bouquet?” Pris added dreamily.
The two aunts nodded at each other like a couple of hens.
“Christmas sounds perfect to me,” said Jack, throwing his arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “What do you think, sweetheart?”
Amanda turned stricken eyes to Jack. “But I can’t be your wife, Jack!” she choked out.
“What nonsense is this?” demanded Nan, scowling. “We know you love him. You can’t just bed the man indefinitely. You might conceive a child, for heaven’s sake!” She paused, scowling harder. “You do love him, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do,” sniffed Amanda, crushing the edge of the sheeting and dabbing her teary eyes. “But I can’t marry him. Not yet!”
Jack caught Amanda’s shoulders and turned her toward him. Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his. “You love me, Amanda, and I love you. And you definitely show no aversion to sharing my bed—”
“No, indeed!” Pris corroborated.
“—so would you mind telling me why you won’t marry me?”
Everyone stood stock still, waiting, as Amanda’s pained gaze drifted from one face to the other.
“Because Robert Hamilton thinks I’m going to marry him!” she finally blurted out. T
hen the rest came in a babble. “He’s … he’s blackmailing me, Jack!”
“What?” Jack was incredulous. “Rob’s blackmailing you? Why?”
“Jack’s friend is blackmailing Amanda Jane?” Pris repeated incredulously, turning a confused gaze toward Nan.
“If he’s a blackmailer, maybe we heard his name at the relief house in Spitalfields,” Nan speculated.
Julian turned. His pale eyes blazed silver-bright with anger. “Do you really have to ask why he’s blackmailing her, Jack? The little fiend needs the money. More to the point, how is he blackmailing you, Amanda?”
“He somehow found out about Sam, and he’s threatened to tell everyone she’s illegitimate! I couldn’t allow that, Jack. I couldn’t let him ruin her life once and for all. I had no choice but to promise to marry him, although I never intended—”
“The bloody bastard!” Forgetting he was naked, forgetting everything but his growing rage, Jack flung back the covers and stood up.
The aunts squealed and turned away, and Julian exclaimed, “Good Gawd, Jack! Show some decorum!”
“I beg your pardon, ladies … but to hell with decorum, Julian!” Jack spat, shoving his feet into his trousers. “How dare Rob threaten and coerce Amanda? You always said he was corrupt, but I never believed you. Now I have to kill the little sod!”
“Oh, this was just what I was afraid of!” cried Amanda, wrapping herself in a sheet and scooting to the edge of the bed. “This is why I didn’t tell you sooner! I was hoping I could keep things from getting violent. Oh, please, Jack, don’t do anything foolish! I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you!”
Jack buttoned his pants, then searched for his shirt. “Where the bloody hell—” He finally spied it wadded up on the rumpled bedclothes, grabbed it, and thrust his arms into the sleeves. He threw Amanda a furtive and tender glance. “You don’t understand, Amanda,” he told her. “What Rob has done is detestable. He has to answer for it. Not only has he tried to harm you and Sam, but he’s made a mockery out of our friendship.”
