Desire Me Always

by Tiffany Clare

  “Is that what the vicar had you believe? That you and he were alike? While I agree you both strongly resemble monsters better suited for hell, you are not alike unless you committed the same crimes as he.”

  Shauley made a face that said he abhorred the type of behavior in which the vicar participated.

  Brother John had somehow convinced Shauley of that. Had seized upon that opportunity to set up the cabin and keep the vicar away from the village and other boys to whom he could cause injury. Now, it didn’t seem like the vicar could do much damage to anyone except to himself. Everything was clear now, but none of it negated the fact that Shauley had to pay for his crimes and answer to the murder of Amelia’s brother.

  Nick felt nothing but pity for Shauley. Shauley had been easy prey to an older man’s constant abuse. And the worst of it was that Shauley—sick, twisted, and depraved Shauley—was the victim here. A victim molded by evil for so long that he had become evil.

  Brother John stepped forward. “Mr. Shauley—”

  The report of the pistol sent Nick flying into action before he even realized he’d thrown Amelia to the ground, covering her with his body. A second shot followed the first as Brother John fell to his knees, a bloom of red filling his forehead as his gaze dimmed and grew vacant.

  Shauley was reloading his pistol, and Nick knew he couldn’t give the man another chance to aim that weapon.

  Nick charged toward the horse and its rider without a second thought. Nick’s fist flew into Shauley’s face; the resounding crack of his jaw and the spray of blood that followed only fueled Nick’s newfound rage. He continued to pummel Shauley’s face, taking him right off the horse and to the dirt.

  “Your reign of terror is over.” Nick spit out the blood that had filled his own mouth. He must have knocked a tooth loose on his way back down to the ground.

  Huxley’s boots came into view, reminding Nick he wasn’t alone. With his knee pressed into Shauley’s chest, Nick held him down.

  His fist lowered, Nick surveyed the area around them. Amelia was where he’d thrown her onto the ground, tears washing down her face, eyes red and raw. The crook of her arm muffled her sobs where she held it over her face, but he read the relief in her eyes when their gazes clashed and stuck.

  They had a moment of thanks that they were both safe.

  Huxley held out a length of rope, which Nick took before roughly turning Shauley over and tying his hands behind his back. Huxley grabbed Shauley’s legs and bound them together.

  “I’ll tie him to the horse,” Huxley said, as if this were something they did with regularity.

  “I’ll see to my wife,” Nick said, without taking his eyes off his wife.

  She was heaving in great gulps of air when he approached. She didn’t look up at him; she stared at the spot where Brother John had fallen face forward onto the ground. Nick didn’t need to check the old man; he was dead with a shot between the eyes.

  Kneeling next to her, Nick pulled her into his arms and rubbed his hand over her hair. “Shh,” he said. “I have you now. We’re going to be all right. We have made it this far. We can make it through anything.”

  By the time Amelia and Nick arrived back at the inn, it was dark. He took her immediately up to their room. All Amelia could think was that an innocent man had died, and she had been helpless to stop it.

  Nick hadn’t left her side once Huxley tied up Shauley on his horse and headed back to the inn ahead of them. Nick was a constant she needed if she was going to make it through this ordeal with her sanity intact.

  And Shauley—right now, he was on his way back to London to be tried for his crimes. Huxley had accompanied the magistrate to ensure a smooth ride without hiccups along the way.

  She could hardly believe it was over. They’d been working toward this point, and in the blink of an eye, it was just over.

  Shauley would not be given a reprieve; he would hang, and Amelia knew that as sure as the sun rose each day. Shauley had confessed to his involvement in her brother’s death, allowing for closure on both her and Nick’s pasts. How odd that it came from the same source, when prior to Amelia’s coming to London, she and Nick had been worlds apart.

  “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

  Amelia looked toward the door. Light filtered in behind Nick. She must have been sitting in bed for some time. She hadn’t the energy to get up. Hadn’t the energy to even shed another tear.

  “I was lost in my thoughts,” she responded.

  “Care to share them?”

  She looked away from him. “I can barely make sense of them.”

  “Try.”

  “Brother John didn’t deserve what fate delivered him today.”

  This caused Nick to frown. “No more than your brother deserved to die, I suppose.”

  “Does it make me an awful person to be glad Brother John is dead and that you’re safe? That Shauley chose to shoot him before hurting you?”

  Tears trickled out of the corner of her eyes again. Guilt was eating her up. Guilt that someone had died in place of Nick being hurt again.

  Nick leaned over the table and lit a few candles, just enough for them to see by.

  “It doesn’t make you a bad person, Amelia. It makes you human.”

  “I could have lost you.” Her lips trembled.

  “You didn’t.” Nick kissed her forehead and urged her to stand. He helped her toward the washbasin. “Let me wash the dirt from your hands, Amelia. Let’s wash the day away. We likely won’t ever forget it, but together, we can move on.”

  Amelia stared down at her palms. Her hands had been tightly clasped in her lap for so long that she’d forgotten they were scraped nearly raw. Scratches dotted with bits of blood left streaks of red all over her.

  Before she could protest what Nick was doing, he sunk both her hands in the washbasin. She hissed in a breath.

  “I’m sorry. They need to be cleaned; then we’ll check the rest of you for injuries.”

  “I have none. Nick, I just want to climb into bed and lie with you. I can’t face anyone right now. I don’t even want to talk. I just want to close my eyes and be thankful we still have each other. I want your arms around me, keeping me safe.”

  Wrapping a linen around her hands, he dried her carefully, patting the water away. He removed her outer clothes, letting them fall on the floor. He didn’t remove her chemise or corset. There was nothing sexual about the way he handled her. He tucked her into bed, stripped out of his own clothes, and lay behind her, holding her in his arms, her back pressed to his chest. Neither said a word as they gently touched and caressed each other for what might have been hours.

  “Nick?” Amelia whispered.

  “Hmmm,” he mumbled sleepily.

  “I love you.”

  Nick moved the hair away from her neck, tucking it behind her ear, and kissed the soft curve of her neck. “You are my life, Amelia. Without you, I am nothing.”

  And she was nothing without him. Today, as tragic and awful as it was, had put them on the path to their future. After today, they could face any obstacle and become stronger together. But the key to that was always in trusting in each other, being honest, and respecting each other’s boundaries.

  Amelia fell asleep with that thought on her mind.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Two weeks later . . .

  Amelia looked down at the frills on the white- and blue-silk dress that left little to the imagination for her upper half, completely baring her shoulders and high décolletage. The width of the sleeves where it wrapped around the middle of her arm couldn’t be more than two finger-widths. The bustle gathered at her derrière had shots of burgundy silk woven through it, adding just a hint of color to the ensemble. The material was so fine and delicate she was afraid to wear it outside the house.

  “You are a sight to behold,” Nick said as he walked into their bedchamber from his dressing room.

  She got the shock of her life when she faced him. “You shaved your
beard!”

  “I needed a change.” He self-consciously rubbed his hand over his cheek and jaw.

  “I will have to beat off the other women.”

  He looked sharp in his evening tails. His eyes were piercing as he leveled them on her with a mix of hunger and appreciation.

  Nick smiled, and she nearly melted into the floor. He had dimples that would make every woman who saw them faint dead away.

  She walked toward him and kissed him, lingering and getting a sense of how different it felt with the scruff of his beard gone. “Won’t you tell me where we are going?”

  “I did; we are having dinner with Hart and a few friends.”

  “I feel overdressed.”

  “You’re not. This dress suits you and is perfect for the occasion.”

  Her eyes widened. “So you are keeping something from me. Tell me what the occasion is, please.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers in a brief kiss. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now, turn around.”

  Nick wrapped a cord around her neck. Amelia touched the soft velvet as Nick tied it in a bow at her nape and let the ends dangle down between her shoulder blades. He kissed the side of her neck, his breath hot on her pulse that sped up every second she remained in his embrace.

  “We will never leave the house if you continue doing that,” she said, turning and letting her arms rest over his shoulders.

  He lowered her wrist, kissing the delicate inside before swiping his tongue around the pulse that drummed in time with her heart. Amelia’s lips parted on a sigh. Nick moved abruptly back and tied a band of burgundy velvet around one wrist and then the other.

  “There is no other word for you but stunning,” he said, admiring her at arm’s length. He handed her gloves to her. “We’d better leave before we find ourselves decidedly underdressed and naked under the bedcovers.”

  She bit her cheek to keep from grinning, but it was useless. Nick’s good humor was intoxicating and consuming.

  “Perhaps that’s where I prefer to be.” She hated large functions. With a burning passion, she hated them. But she would do what Nick wanted, as they had done very few functions since their marriage had been announced.

  “Just wait until I get you in the carriage. You won’t be grinning; you’ll be moaning my name.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  His only answer was a wink before he took her hand and walked down the stairs with her.

  Their carriage pulled up in front of the Langtry, which was Hart’s hotel. When they didn’t head in the direction of the dining room, Amelia pulled Nick to a stop. “Nick, I know we planned this function, but I’m still nervous. We have seen so few of your friends and some not at all since we married. Tell me what to expect at the very least.”

  Nick kissed both her cheeks and her then her lips. “I cannot give away the surprise. But I promise it’s one you’ll relish.”

  They walked arm in arm up to the second level and entered a long hallway Amelia had never been down before. There were half a dozen doors, all painted in gold leaf; by all appearances, they were separate rooms in the hotel.

  They approached a set of double doors at the end of the hall, and Amelia felt her heart rate increase, and her palms grew sweaty beneath her lace gloves.

  “You look gorgeous, love. And whatever tonight brings, just know that you are my world. And I want to shower you in everything that is precious and perfect.”

  “You’re not helping matters any,” she said, her voice pitched higher than normal. She wasn’t sure she was cut out for surprises.

  Nick rapped on the doors, and they opened simultaneously to reveal . . .

  A small ensemble that played Strauss for no one. The room was small, and it looked like it served as a private dining hall when needed. The floor was a patterned hardwood that was heavily polished and gleamed under the crystal chandelier that hung above their heads. Windows flanked one wall in the room and were covered in golden velvet curtains.

  One of the serving staff came over with a tray of champagne flutes.

  “I thought we were meeting Hart and, I assumed, Lord and Lady Burley.”

  “After our first dance, they’ll join us.”

  “Why are we here?”

  Nick leaned in close to her ear and softly said, “Because I wanted you to have your very own ball.”

  “But there are no guests.”

  “Would you have preferred I invited half of London?”

  She shook her head. “How well you know me.”

  Nick held his arm out for her to take, which she did. He walked them forward. The ensemble of instruments took their cue from him.

  “Nick. Thank you for arranging this . . . ” Amelia’s voice came out wistful. It was turning into a magical night.

  “I had help,” was his response as he turned her about and bowed before her. “I believe the first dance is mine,” he said.

  She laughed, because he was the only person here with whom to dance. “It’s a good thing I don’t have eyes for any other man.”

  The music ensemble started a familiar tune that was lively and quick.

  It was the first song they’d ever danced to. The first time the boundaries between secretary and employer were irrevocably severed, and they became so much more; the beginning of what they were now.

  This was the song they’d danced to all those weeks ago in the absinthe café. A mazurka, she thought it was called. The steps were fast, the pace invigorating. She inhaled deeply as her husband took her hand and brought her closer to his body.

  “I believe you already know the steps to this particular piece.”

  She smiled up at him. “I believe I do.”

  The fast steps were exactly as she remembered as they trotted around the ballroom, laughing and holding each other. Making a ruckus for only two people. But she didn’t care.

  What Nick had done for her here . . .

  It was beyond all her imaginings.

  Amelia threw her arms around her husband’s shoulders as the song wound down to a finale. She wished they could lock themselves in this moment and not share it with anyone. And they could, in a way, but she had a feeling this couldn’t last all night, and not because she didn’t want it to but because she didn’t think her feet would stand for it.

  Nick grabbed her up, lifting her clear off her feet, and swung her around in a circle, her dress fanning out around them.

  Amelia arched back and let go of his shoulders, letting him hold her up, spinning her about. And she let herself be free for a single moment and laughed at the joy she felt bursting out from her heart.

  She didn’t care what kind of spectacle they made to the ensemble. What mattered was that their love could not be faked, could not be denied. They had found that place where they were both happy. And maybe that had been Nick’s intention in throwing this surprise for her. Maybe it hadn’t been. But in this moment, everything in her life was perfect, and it could never have been this way without Nick in her life.

  The revelation and realization was glorious and beautiful.

  “Thank you,” she said when he set her down. She stood in the middle of the room, looking at him through lowered lashes.

  “We missed celebrating our wedding. I won’t take the small things for granted. The things we can control in our lives we will enjoy to the fullest.”

  She felt herself blush from the tips of her toes all the way up to the roots of her hair.

  He kissed her hands and whispered, “I love you more than life itself, Amelia.”

  “You are the most wonderful husband in the world, Nicholas Riley, and I am honored to be your wife.”

  “And you are the most beautiful bride I could ask for.”

  She threw her arms around him. “I love you, Nick. Always and forever.”

  He returned the embrace and moved them easily into another dance, something slower, a song that allowed them to look into each other’s eyes. “And I love you more than words alone can offer. I will ende
avor to show you all the ways I love you as we grow old together, Amelia Riley.”

  EPILOGUE

  Highgate, London, 1883

  Amelia took Nick’s hand and carefully stepped down from the barouche. It was warm for September, and the heat fatigued her so quickly. Nick kissed her forehead, and rested his hand against her ever-growing belly.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Tired. But I’m excited to see the work that has been done on Caldon Manor.”

  Sera hopped down next to Amelia. “It’s marvelous, Nick,” his sister said. “It amazes me the amount of work that can be accomplished in the course of a year.”

  Amelia shielded her eyes against the sun and stared up at the house. Scaffolding still surrounded the building, but it would be coming down in a month’s time.

  The foreman approached them. “Mr. Riley,” he said.

  “Douglass.” Nick shook his hand. “The progress is astounding.”

  “We still have a lot to do on the interior, but she’s coming along nicely.”

  “I have a painter standing at the ready the moment you are ready.”

  “There’s some structural work to be done on the upper floors, relaying of the under-floor and fixing the plaster that’s deteriorated with time.”

  “Can we look inside?” Sera asked both men.

  The foreman wrung his hands around his hat and glanced quietly toward Amelia’s distended stomach.

  “It’s not a bother, Douglass,” Amelia said to ease his discomfort with the situation. “I need to walk some anyway. Being cramped up in a carriage that long makes for baby somersaults all evening.”

  Amelia kissed her husband’s smooth cheek and threaded her arm through Olive’s. Olive used to be the kitchen maid but was training to be a lady’s maid. She’d been in Nick’s employ since she was no more than a frightened child, afraid to even speak. With the loving care of Nick’s household, she’d eventually found her voice and had become a valued member of their home. Olive also made a wonderful companion and had been helpful during Amelia’s pregnancy, which had started with too many days of sickness to count. Thank goodness the illness had been short lived, lasting only a month.