by Cheryl Holt
He spilled himself, then rocked them to the end, never seeming to get there, but definitely reveling in the journey. With a groan of pleasure, he collapsed onto her, and they started giggling again. He rolled onto his side, and she rolled too.
“Miss Boyle,” he teasingly said, “it appears you invited me here for immoral purposes.”
“You work constantly, Captain Hastings. How else could I convince you to leave your horses for a few minutes?”
“You figured out the exact way.”
He shifted onto his back and stared at the ceiling, and he pulled her close so she was draped across his chest.
“How did you sneak away from Victoria?” he asked. “What lie did you tell about where you were going?”
“I told her the truth: that I was coming to see you.”
“She didn’t try to stop you?”
“Oh, she tried, but she didn’t succeed.”
“I’m glad. How long can you stay?”
“Not long.”
She cuddled with him, and the silence was companionable. In the gossip she’d heard from other women about the physical side of a relationship, none of them had mentioned the sweet languor afterward. It was her favorite part.
When his breathing lagged, she worried he’d fall asleep, and she could never bear to wake him. He toiled away so hard, and his energy was never high due to his wounds, but she couldn’t have him napping.
He didn’t seem to comprehend that time was ticking by, that they had vital issues to address. She had to ask some questions, and he had to supply some answers, so she would have a clue as to what would happen next.
“You can’t doze off.”
“Yes, I can. Let’s loaf for awhile.”
“No, I have to get back.” She dawdled for another minute, listening to his heart beat, then she drew away and sat up. “Help me make myself decent, then you can walk me home.”
“May I kiss you in the moonlight?”
“I’ll consider it—if you’re very, very nice to me on the way.”
“Then I promise to be on my absolute best behavior.”
She crawled over him and balanced her hips on the edge of the mattress. She straightened her gown and hair, as he lounged behind her like an imperious lion.
“Get up, you indolent beast,” she told him.
“All right, all right.” Still, he tarried. “Are you certain we have to go?”
“Yes.”
He sighed with feigned aggravation. “You’re good at manipulating me. I can’t ever refuse you.”
“Yes, my dear captain, I have you wrapped around my little finger.”
“Don’t you dare tell anyone.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
He snorted with annoyance, then climbed to the floor. He moved slowly, dressed slowly, making the moment last.
As he tugged his shirt over his head, she asked, “Where do you imagine your sister is?”
“My half-sister, don’t you mean? I believe I was clear on that point the day I met you. Didn’t I apprise you early on that she’d be trouble?”
“I seem to remember that.”
“I have no idea where she went, but I figured out who she left with.”
“She wasn’t alone?”
“No. I’m betting she’s with that Conte Corpetto fellow.”
“Oh, no. Why would you think that?”
“He’s vanished too, and I heard some men talking. Everyone assumed he was a nobleman, so all the local merchants extended credit when he rented the villa. They furnished wine and food and servants, but he fled in the middle of the night and didn’t pay a penny toward his bills.”
“He swindled the whole town?”
“Just about.”
“Are the authorities looking for him?”
“Yes, but who can guess if they’ll ever find him?”
“And Brinley is probably with him,” Amelia murmured.
“It’s my opinion that she is.”
“Will you chase after her?”
The question stunned him. “Me? Chase after Brinley? Are you mad?”
“Well, she is your sister.”
“Not really, and she was adamant that I wasn’t in charge of her. Even if I knew where to search, and I brought her back to Gibraltar, what would I do with her?”
“You could travel to England and open Denby Manor. If that was your destination, she’d be happy to accompany you. She might even behave for a change.”
He scoffed. “I’m never opening Denby Manor, and if by some bizarre chance it ever occurred, she is the very last person I would invite to live there with me.”
“I spoke to the Conte at the villa,” she said. “Did I tell you?”
His back had been to her, and he whipped around and glowered. “No, you didn’t tell me. Didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t?”
“I didn’t listen.”
“It’s the story of my life with women.”
He was so vexed that she laughed. “I was correct that night at the ball. He’s not an Italian count. He’s the man who proposed to me, then never showed up when I was trying to elope.”
“He admitted his identity to you?”
“He didn’t even attempt to hide it. He enjoyed boasting about how cunning he is with his tricks.”
“What sort of fiend would boast about it? I’m sure he and Brinley deserve each other.”
“Don’t say that,” she scolded. “I’m concerned about her.”
“I’m not, and after he spends a week or two with her, he’ll likely send her back to me. I wonder if I should track him down and bribe him to keep her. Would that work?”
She tsked with exasperation. “You are horrid.”
“I know. I always have been.” He gestured to the door. “Are you ready? Victoria will be pacing and fretting like a mother hen.”
Amelia was still seated on the edge of the bed, and he was standing in the middle of the floor. Dusk hadn’t completely faded away, so the sky was a deep lavender color. With the window behind him, he was perfectly silhouetted.
She gazed at him, the silence playing out, then she pointed to the room’s only chair. “Would you sit for a minute? I have to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh. This sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Have I upset you? Please tell me I haven’t. I never want to distress you.”
There was a decanter of brandy on the dresser, and he poured himself a tall glass, then sat as she’d requested. She allowed herself a few more seconds to relish the moment before it was altered forever.
Then without preamble, she announced, “I’m going home.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
“My goodness. It’s in two days. How did you find a captain to accept you on such short notice?”
“I’m using the berth you had booked for Brinley. It doesn’t appear as if she’ll need it.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I’m taking Victoria with me.”
“That’s big of you.”
“She’s been a true friend. I can’t leave her here where she’d have to roam the social events and beg soldiers to marry her.”
“I understand.”
“I’m taking Laura too.”
“Oh.”
“Unless you’d like her to remain with you?”
“With me?” At the notion, he was aghast.
“She’s so fond of you, and she shares your love of horses. You could build a satisfying life with her.”
“How would I care for her, Amelia? You’ve seen what my schedule is like. It’s just not possible.”
“I figured that would be your response. It’s why I decided I’d keep her instead.”
“Do you need some money to defray her expenses? I can chip in.”
“No, I don’t need you to chip in.”
“Are you sure about her? It might be difficult, managing her. She has a t
on of problems.”
“She doesn’t have problems, James. She’s sad, and she’s been brutalized by what she endured under your sister’s vicious thumb. She merely has to realize she’s safe for a change, then she’ll be fine.”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t believe anyone ever wanted her before, but I want her. Victoria too.”
“I’m glad for Laura. I’m glad for her and for you.”
She waited for him to speak, anxious for him to seize control of the conversation, but apparently, he didn’t grasp that he had to step up.
Finally, she sighed with resignation. “So…I’m departing. What do you think about that?”
“I think I’m devastated.”
She cocked her head and studied him. Devastated? He wasn’t exhibiting any emotion. He simply looked weary and bored.
“Are you devastated?” she asked. “What is causing you such despair? Explain yourself. Will you miss me?”
“Of course.”
“How much?”
His focus narrowed as if it was a trick question. “What are you asking me exactly?”
Could he really not know? He was an obtuse male, but clearly, she hadn’t recognized just how oblivious he could actually be.
“I’m asking if you’d marry me and come to England with me.”
“Marry you?”
He pronounced the word marry as if it might be an epithet.
“Yes. Would you? The woman isn’t supposed to propose—the man is—but I’m out of time, and I’m eager to hear your opinion.”
He stared at the floor, leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. He appeared lonely and tormented, and from his posture, she deduced that the discussion wouldn’t end as she’d hoped, but perhaps it would end precisely as she’d expected.
Eventually, he said, “I’m afraid, however I reply, I’ll sound stupid and callous.”
“Why would you assume that? Don’t you want to wed me? Is the prospect that repugnant to you?”
“I’d have to leave the army. That’s at the root of what you’re suggesting.”
“I guess I am, but is your career more important to you than me?” He didn’t answer, and she added, “If that’s how you feel, just admit it.”
“What if you stayed in Gibraltar?”
“As your what?”
Evidently, the position of wife didn’t occur to him because he didn’t voice it. Instead, he said, “We’ve been carrying on in a good way, haven’t we? You’ve been happy.”
“I’ve been happy enough, but I’m not the sort of person who engages in frivolous amours, and I shouldn’t have engaged in this one.”
“You think it was frivolous?”
“No, but I have to go home now. Evan needs me.”
“What if I need you more?”
“Do you?” The query hung in the air between them, and she braced for his response. It didn’t arrive, and she demanded, “Prove how much I matter to you. Get down on one knee. Propose. I’ll accept. I swear.”
He groaned with frustration. “Why would you want me for a husband, Amelia? I’m vain and awful, and I have so many problems. My health issues alone are exhausting. I’d never inflict myself on you.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind dealing with your problems. Maybe I’m in love with you.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
It was a harsh, cold comment, but she ignored it and forged on.
“Too late, James Hastings. The damage is already done. I love you.” And wasn’t that the truth? She should have dropped the entire subject, but she wouldn’t give up on him quite so easily. “What if I’m increasing?”
“With a…a…baby?”
His gaze dipped to her belly, and on observing his horrified expression, she laughed—but miserably.
“Yes, with a baby, you thick oaf. When two people misbehave as we have, babies are frequently the result.”
“I can’t sire a child,” he claimed.
“Why would you imagine that? Are you a god who can control procreation?”
“No, but I’ve never been the most conscientious man. I’ve had my share of paramours, and I haven’t been caught yet.”
“What if I’m the first?”
“You won’t be.”
The worst wave of melancholy swept over her. She drank him in with her eyes, keen to always recollect how handsome and anguished he looked so she’d never forget what it had been like to be with him so intimately and privately.
She yearned to snuggle on his lap, to hug him or shake him or rail at him, but she remained where she was. They were separated by only a few feet, but he might have been on the other side of the ocean. He seemed that far away.
“Can you let me go, James?” she asked.
“I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Then fight for me! Please! Keep me with you. Come home with me.”
“To do what?”
“To live? To love? To build a family together? To be happy until our dying day?”
He frowned. “I don’t know how to make any of that happen.”
“It’s just life, James. You don’t make it happen. It just does. It would be so grand, and we could create something remarkable. I’m certain of it.”
She could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He was struggling mightily, but in the end, he said, “I don’t want to be a husband. I never have.”
“Not even mine?”
“Not even yours.”
“You’d be a terrific father.”
He gave a mock shudder. “If you’d ever met my sire, you wouldn’t think that. He was my prime example of parenting, and he painted a very frightening picture. I’d be too afraid I’d act just like him.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“There’s no way to be sure—except to not risk it.”
“Will it be enough for you, your horses and your fellow soldiers and your male army barracks?”
“It always has been in the past. Once you’re gone, I’ll calm down. I’ll be fine.”
She doubted it, but why bicker?
“Has there been any news about your transfer to India?” she asked.
“I should hear any day.”
“What if it isn’t granted?”
“I’ll tarry in Gibraltar until they send me somewhere else.”
“Will you grow old and die in the army?”
“Yes.”
It was the saddest statement ever. In her view, military service was a young man’s sport. Gradually, his injuries would become too much to bear, and he simply wouldn’t be able to continue with the hard living that was required. What would he do then?
Well, it would never be her issue to worry about.
“All right then,” she murmured, and she pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll just be off.”
“It’s getting dark. I’ll walk you.”
“I don’t want you to walk me.”
He scowled, his aggravation clear. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“We should say goodbye now. The next two days will be very hectic, and I can’t have the drama of our farewell dangling out there between us.”
“This can’t be goodbye. I don’t agree to that.”
“James! Pay attention. I’m leaving for England immediately. You won’t come with me, and I understand your position. I’ve tried to talk you out of it, but it’s impossible to persuade you, so there’s no reason to hash it out any further.”
“I’d be a horrid husband,” he fumed, “and I have no desire to ever be a father. Why won’t you listen?”
“I’m listening, I’m listening. I heard every word you uttered.”
“Stop making me feel so guilty!”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. I was hoping—after we discussed this—that I could convince you to travel a different road, but I can’t.”
He looked stunned, and she thought, once she departed, he would bitterly regret i
t. It was difficult to bond, then sever ties. Grief was agonizing. Anguish was painful, and he wasn’t very adept at dealing with his emotions.
She considered telling him, should he ever change his mind, to contact her. She wouldn’t marry anyone else. After she’d loved him so desperately, what other man could ever compare? She’d be home, in her quiet house in London, a spinster who lived simply to take care of her dear brother.
But if she told him to contact her, she’d be tossing the notion out into the universe. She’d incessantly wonder if he was about to arrive. She’d drive herself mad with needless, futile anticipation.
She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth.
“I’ll miss you forever,” she said.
“Don’t go! Stay with me.”
“I can’t.” She smiled, but dejectedly. “In the future, I’ll read the military news in the papers. I’ll watch for information about your transfer. I know how important it is to you, and I’ll pray for it.”
“I can’t imagine why the army would announce such a trivial event.”
“And if you ever finally become Lord Denby, I’ll see that news too. I’ll celebrate.”
“Amelia! Why are you being so stubborn?”
He was growing irked. He never liked to have his opinions ignored, and he was so pompous about having his way. For once, he’d reached a spot where he couldn’t bark commands to glean the result he craved.
“Don’t come to the docks on Thursday,” she said. “I’d like it to end here.”
“You’re being absurd. We should spend every minute together before you leave.”
“I’ll be very busy. There won’t be any time for you.”
She was on the verge of weeping, which she’d sworn she wouldn’t do. It was why she’d wanted this private goodbye. If they said goodbye in public, she’d likely collapse with sorrow.
She stepped away and ran out of the room and down the stairs and out of the house. He called her name over and over, but he wasn’t the type of man to chase a woman down the street, so he didn’t follow her.
She kept on to the cottage, and she didn’t glance over her shoulder to check if he was approaching. There was no need to look.
As she staggered in—appearing frantic and desperate—Victoria caught her and rocked her while she cried.
Victoria had been very clear about how he’d act. She’d warned Amelia not to expect a viable conclusion. She’d been right on every count, and she was much too kind to say, I told you so…
