Desire Me More

by Tiffany Clare

  With her thoughts maudlin and her good mood taking a turn for the worse, she slipped her hand from Nick’s grasp and pulled on her robe as she walked toward the washstand. The rustling of material behind her told her that Nick was donning his clothes too.

  When her brother had tried to kidnap her, Nick had been there to stop Jeremy. Amelia would never forget the rage that had filled Nick’s eyes as he punched and then threatened her brother if he dared try to get at Amelia again.

  The incident had been seen by enough prominent members of society that word had spread of Nick’s actions in less than a day. That had been a week ago. And while her brother hadn’t come back to the house, she was afraid he would try to get at her again.

  When she had run away from her childhood home, she’d promised she would no longer live in fear. But some things were hard to forget, some pasts never forgotten, and her brother hadn’t spared her a kind moment in her whole life.

  Being with Nick made her feel safe, and she wished she’d never have to leave his arms, but to admit such a thing would make Nick more protective. And really, how could she think that way when her feelings were torn by the fact that she knew so little about him?

  She poured water over the linen in the bowl and wrung it out between her shaking hands.

  “You’re thinking about him again,” Nick said, taking the cloth from her.

  “It’s difficult not to do. I don’t know if he has given up his pursuit of me and gone back to Berwick. What if he is waiting for another chance to get me alone?”

  Nick’s arms wrapped around her as he wiped the cool cloth between her legs, washing away their mingled fluids. Amelia pressed her back against his warm body. She held back a moan, knowing that if she let it slip past her lips, they would end up right back in bed.

  “If there’s one thing I can promise with certainty, it’s that your brother won’t come here again.”

  “I want to believe you. I do. But my doubts have a tendency to consume me at times.”

  When his finger brushed over her swollen clit, she turned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  “I might not leave the house and give my brother a chance to catch me unawares, but he knows Devlin lives here and runs errands for everyone.” Devlin was the housekeeper’s son, and he’d had a confrontation with Amelia’s brother that had resulted in a black eye for the poor boy. Amelia still felt immense guilt over that incident.

  “Can you promise me that everyone is safe from Jeremy’s wrath? I know what my brother is capable of. What lengths he will go to in the name of revenge. There is no decent bone in his body that would make me believe otherwise.”

  “And you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “You’re right. You know everything about me, and I know so little about you.” She searched his eyes as she admitted this out loud. That very fact had been bothering her for the better part of a week.

  Even through his short clipped beard, she could make out the tick high on his cheek. She ran her finger over the harsh line.

  “I’ve promised to protect everyone in this house,” he said, “and it’s not a promise I make lightly, Amelia. He will never hurt you again.”

  She wanted to believe him. Trust only in him. And even though she’d confessed her love to him, she had to remind herself that she didn’t really know much about Nicholas Riley.

  She knew where his business interests lay, that he had a sister he doted upon, that his staff was devoted wholly to him. She knew she felt safe and loved when she was in his arms. She knew he’d had a difficult childhood and that he fought hard to reach the position he had in life. Beyond that, she didn’t know anything about his past, or why he had the scars on his back. She wanted to know why he sometimes woke up in the grips of a nightmare, yelling incoherently, the words impossible to decipher. He was keeping the deeper parts of himself hidden. The parts that defined him as the man he was.

  She trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her, but she had more questions than answers where he was concerned.

  She pulled Nick’s face down to hers and kissed him full on the mouth. She didn’t slip her tongue between his lips, even though she wanted to. It was a parting kiss for the morning.

  When she let him go, she whispered against his mouth, “I’ll meet you in the study once I’m dressed.”

  Before she could get away, he hugged her hard against his tightly muscled body. She pressed her head to his chest, comforted by the steady beat of his heart.

  “I am reluctant to leave you when I know you’re mulling over something that has upset you.”

  “I have so many questions and worries.” She bit her lip to keep from saying more.

  “About your brother?” He rubbed her back in languorous strokes, drawing a sigh from her.

  “My questions are all about you.”

  “We are taking this one day at a time, Amelia. I have no intentions of letting you go.”

  But didn’t all men grow tired of their mistresses? If that were to come to pass, where would that leave her?

  She forced herself to take a step away from him. His gaze was searching.

  “We really do have to ready ourselves,” she said.

  He placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him. “This conversation is far from finished, Amelia.”

  “I know. And I’m glad for that. We have so much to discuss.”

  He placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. “You are giving too much thought to what’s between us.”

  “How can you suggest that?”

  “Isn’t it enough that we are madly, deeply in love with one another?” The seriousness was gone from his tone, and his words held a sternness that took her by surprise.

  “Yes and no.” Shaking her head, she ushered him toward the door. “You have to leave. I refuse to be caught in a compromising position.”

  “I’m sure everyone already knows I have thoroughly compromised you.”

  She laughed as she darted away from his attempt to pull her back into his arms. “You’re impossible.”

  “You like that about me.”

  “All right, I admit that to be true. Now, will you meet me in the study?”

  Nick winked at her as he slipped out the door and closed it softly behind him. Amelia slumped against the wall, thinking about his parting words. Had he really just promised to tell her more about his past? About him? She needed to get dressed immediately so she could ask him all the questions burning in her mind.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The knocker sounded at the front door as Nick came down the stairs. Huxley emerged from the lower level of the house, but Nick waved him away since he was here anyway. His brows pinched as he opened the door and assessed the uniformed man who stared back at him.

  The truncheon at his side and the chinstrap helmet tied just above his cleft chin identified him as a bobby. His coat was slightly rumpled and the buttons drew a crooked line down the center of his chest and tucked under a thick leather belt. The man looked as though he’d been up all night and was coming to the end of his shift.

  Nick knew most of the local bobbies, as there was a higher rate of crime near his warehouses on the Thames, but this man was new to him. Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “How can I help you, Constable?”

  “Inspector, actually. Inspector Laurie.”

  “Accept my apologies. What necessity has brought you to my door?” Nick really just wanted to ask what in hell the man was doing here but bit his tongue.

  “I’m here about a murder. And you were seen in a precarious situation with this particular man only last week.” The inspector produced a notebook from his jacket pocket and thumbed to an empty page. “Do you know the Earl of Berwick?”

  Nick nodded. “Only in passing. We were not acquainted.” This was perplexing . . . and disturbing that the inspector was asking Nick about his connection to Jeremy. “The earl is dead?”

  “Found him floating in the Thames this morning.” He scribbled something
down that Nick couldn’t make out. “Are you aware that he was residing in London?”

  Nick leaned against the doorframe. “What exactly are you asking me, Inspector?”

  “You were the last person reportedly seen with Lord Berwick.”

  Nick narrowed his eyes. “Are you accusing me of something? Because I can assure you I was here all evening. My man of affairs can confirm this if you’d like me to ring for him.”

  Nick had no intention of bringing Amelia into this. Huxley would vouch for his whereabouts. Though he’d still have to tell her the news about her brother.

  How in hell had Jeremy ended up dead? That fool brother of Amelia’s might have taken a beating by Nick’s hand, but Nick left him breathing—as much as he hadn’t wanted to. Did the inspector even have the right man? Something was off here. He needed to investigate this further on his own. Foremost in Nick’s thoughts was that it had been a week since he’d seen Amelia’s brother, and the inspector said no one had seen him since then. That didn’t ring true.

  “I’ll check with my source again; see if you have been mistaken for someone else. I just needed to ask before I finished my shift.”

  “If you require some sort of statement from my man of affairs, I can send him over to your headquarters later this morning.”

  The inspector scratched the side of his jaw where a night’s worth of stubble had grown. “No need. My apologies for disturbing you so early.”

  Nick didn’t believe the man, for some reason. He stepped away from the door, ready to say his good-byes, but paused. “Who precisely saw me last night?”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot divulge my source while we are actively investigating Lord Berwick’s murder.”

  Nick furrowed his brow. “I see. Good day, Inspector Laurie.”

  The man assessed him for a moment before he nodded and bounded down the stairs, belying the tiredness that enveloped him.

  When Nick closed the front door, a million questions came to mind. He headed to the lower level to find Huxley in the butler’s pantry, a small room next to the housekeeper’s office. Huxley’s room was stacked with rows of wooden crates on every wall, most filled with wine and spirits. There was a desk tucked into one corner where Huxley often came to escape the noise of the house.

  Nick closed the door behind him, drawing Huxley’s attention away from the inventory ledger he was reviewing. Nick had known Huxley for the better part of a decade, and credited much of his success to their friendship over the years. Nick trusted no one as much as he trusted Huxley.

  “Pretty early for visitors. What emergency had them calling so early in the morning?” Huxley asked.

  “Lord Berwick was murdered. An inspector came by inquiring about it. He wanted confirmation on my whereabouts last night. Though I don’t think it necessary, I said you might go down to his headquarters to say that we remained home last night.”

  “Berwick found himself some trouble, then.”

  Huxley didn’t question where Nick had been or if he was responsible for any wrongdoing. That kind of trust came from their years of working together. Regardless, Nick had nothing to do with Amelia’s brother’s murder. But someone would know something, and Nick planned to get to the bottom of it.

  “I’ll head down to the docks in an hour or so,” Huxley said. “I have to do the intake for a shipment transferred from Liverpool at the same time. Don’t expect I’ll be back before luncheon.”

  “That is fine. Be sure to talk to the man who watched Lord Berwick last night. He must have witnessed something peculiar.”

  “Already thinking that. Odd timing, considering you confronted him a week ago.”

  “I know. I plan to call on Landon this afternoon. If Lord Berwick was murdered, there will be rumors buzzing about Town and I want to know what everyone is saying.”

  Landon Price, the Earl of Burley, was a friend and business associate of Nick’s. He raised sheep in Scotland and had the wool shipped through Nick’s company to be sold in London. Landon was also one of the few people Nick trusted implicitly.

  “I’ll let Liam know we might both be out,” Huxley said. “He can watch after the house.” Liam, the footman, watched after the house whenever Nick and Huxley both had appointments to attend. “Can’t say I’m sorry her brother is dead. Not after the way he treated her, and after the threats he uttered against this house.”

  “I couldn’t agree more with that sentiment,” Nick said. “Don’t reveal anything about her brother to anyone. Amelia should be the first to know. But I can’t tell her anything until I have more information.”

  Huxley grunted in response.

  “I’ll let you get on with your day. We can meet tonight before dinner.”

  “I’ll be here,” Huxley assured him.

  Nick nodded and left the butler’s pantry. There was a niggling voice in the back of his mind asking, who was he to keep this news from Amelia?

  Nick scrubbed his hand over his face, wishing more than ever that he and Amelia had lazed about in bed all morning. While Amelia didn’t profess to love her brother and insisted she never wanted him in her life, Berwick’s murder would still wound her deeply. This put him in a moral quandary on keeping this secret from her at all, but his mind was made on the matter.

  To Amelia’s disappointment, Nick was not in the study when she finally made it downstairs. Perhaps he’d left the house to run errands after all. Although he was a pleasant diversion, she could do without his particular form of distraction for a few hours.

  Gathering the letters that had piled up in the front foyer, she resigned herself to responding to Nick’s correspondence, and then she would read through the purchase agreements of Lord Murray’s lands. They had met with Murray on a few occasions to discuss the sale of his property in Highgate, and it was likely to be transferred to Nick’s name over the next few weeks.

  The housekeeper entered the study, drawing Amelia’s attention away from her scribblings. “Good morning, Mrs. Coleman. How may I assist you?”

  “Lord Murray is here with his secretary.”

  “Mr. Riley isn’t here.”

  “Mr. Riley’s occupied in Huxley’s office. I told Lord Murray he wasn’t available, but he refuses to leave without speaking to Mr. Riley.”

  Amelia briefly contemplated how best to handle the situation. “I would hate to be the cause of a misunderstanding or for Lord Murray to find someone else to purchase his property. This deal is important to Mr. Riley. Send Lord Murray in here, and let Mr. Riley know I am entertaining Lord Murray until he can join us.”

  Mrs. Coleman nodded and returned with one very irate-looking Lord Murray. His face was red, and his bushy brows were screwed together tightly in what looked like a permanent scowl. A tall, polished man entered the room with Lord Murray; Amelia assumed this was the secretary. He wore a decent tan coat with waistcoat and dark trousers. His blond hair was neatly parted and pomaded; his green eyes were sharp and focused on her.

  Amelia stood to greet them, giving a slight curtsey when she stood before them. “Lord Murray. Shall I have tea brought up while you wait for Mr. Riley? He shouldn’t be but a moment.”

  “That is not necessary,” Lord Murray responded. Amelia motioned toward the leather chairs that flanked Nick’s desk, but Lord Murray didn’t seem inclined to sit.

  Since Lord Murray didn’t introduce the other man, Amelia took it upon herself to do so. “I’m sorry; we haven’t been introduced. I’m Mr. Riley’s secretary, Miss Grant.”

  “Mr. Shauley.” His accent was thick, his eyes assessing as he looked her up and down as though she were . . . lacking. What an odd feeling to have on first meeting someone. “I preside over Lord Murray’s business affairs.”

  Lord Murray didn’t exactly have any business other than owning a few lots of land and sitting in the House of Lords.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shauley.” She smiled, but he didn’t return the gesture; if anything, a frown drew his eyes down and put creases along his f
orehead.

  Mr. Shauley stepped closer to her—too close. Lord Murray was pacing the floor, ignoring them both as he flipped his pocketwatch open, only to snap it shut over and over again.

  “What happened to Huxley?” Mr. Shauley inquired.

  It was a question she should be used to. And though the question did not precisely bother her, it was the way in which Mr. Shauley said Huxley’s name that had her hackles rising.

  “Huxley takes care of Mr. Riley’s businesses more directly now. I am responsible for the administrative tasks Mr. Riley has, keeping his appointments straight and such.”

  “I always thought Huxley was a man who could do it all,” Mr. Shauley said.

  “He most certainly is.” She laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. She didn’t like the feeling of being cross-examined by a man she did not know.

  “What is it you do, Mr. Shauley? I did not realize Lord Murray was a businessman.”

  “I manage his estates. And I have done everything in my power to advise against selling Highgate for such a disadvantageous price, but his mind is set.”

  “Oh?” She was genuinely curious.

  “It is worth more. The land alone should be sold at double Riley’s offer.”

  “Then why is Lord Murray selling Highgate?”

  As Mr. Shauley took another step toward her, she decided that this particular man was no better than Jeremy, trying to use his presence and taller frame to intimidate her. She held her ground and looked him in the eye. She refused to be cowed by such a man.

  Mr. Shauley’s nostrils flared for the briefest moment and then he said, “Unfortunately, the house must be sold regardless of whether I agree with the price. Upkeep alone is more than the worth, so it’s rotting and in ruins for the most part.”

  “I hadn’t realized.” She remembered Nick mentioning that he planned to restore the manor house. But if it was in such a poor state as Mr. Shauley indicated, why go to the trouble?

  “Of course not, Miss Grant.” He looked at her quizzically. “You’re from significantly farther reaches of England. The north, I’d say.”