It Started at Waterloo

by Lynne Connolly

  “We should take our leave, my lord. I fear we may not see you for a time, since I will be taking Mary into the country. She is fatigued by recent events.” When he smiled down at her sister, Amelia understood why she’d wanted him. Love would have its way, however prepossessing or otherwise the object of affection was.

  Mary’s returning smile was as warm, then she turned to Amelia, the trace of warmth still in her eyes. “You are always welcome with us, Amelia. You might not find it quite as grand as this, but our welcome will be heartfelt.”

  “Thank you.” Amelia forced a returning smile. They were leaving her with her husband. Whatever he said in public, he might act completely differently in private.

  Had he believed her? She might, in a fit of bravado, declare she didn’t care. But the truth was, she cared more than she wanted to, more than she’d thought possible.

  Nevertheless, she wanted them gone. But her sister’s kindness touched her deeply. Mary had stood by when she thought Amelia might be taking the man she loved, and that was because of the way their mother controlled her. Amelia had escaped through her work. Mary had not been so lucky. But she had her wish.

  Lady Hartwell made a fuss of getting to her feet, fiddling with her skirts and then pushing against the sofa, as if she needed a cane to help her walk. She had not finished, but Will was cutting her short.

  “I regret your misconstruction of my remarks, sir,” she said, when she was finally upright.

  “I doubt I did that,” he said. “I daresay Amelia will wish to call on you in the future, and she might wish to invite you to any gathering we may hold. I shall leave the decision entirely up to her.”

  Glad for his support, Amelia let him guide her hand on to his arm. “Thank you for calling, Mama. I will indeed call on you.”

  “Your father should secure a position with the War Office,” Lady Hartwell said. “So we will probably remain at the house for the time being.”

  Had she not accepted that she was not moving in to Grosvenor Square? Could she not take a direct challenge, much less a gentle hint?

  Amelia let the footman see them to the door.

  Chapter Ten

  When they were private, Amelia tried to pull away, but Will wouldn’t let her. First he trapped her hand between his arm and the heat of his body. Then he turned and snaked his free hand around her waist, so she could not escape. “You should not let her say such things.”

  “I-I’m sorry. I had no idea they were visiting.”

  “Next time, you can tell them you are not at home.”

  “Is that an order?”

  He shook his head. “A suggestion.”

  “I was in the bookroom. They would have seen the footman come into the room.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I will not have you distressed in that way.” This close, his eyes were brilliant blue, the ring of darker blue around the iris more apparent. “How much of what she said was true?”

  He heart sank. She swallowed. He would not believe her, but she had to try. “None of it. At least, none that I knew of.”

  “She could have taken you home and nobody any the wiser. You could have said you slept elsewhere and people would have thought nothing of it.”

  “Yes, but—” She had been ready to do exactly that. “I never meant to trap you, Will, I swear it.”

  He gazed at her, deep into her eyes. She couldn’t look away. “I know.”

  Those two words meant everything to her. She shook her head, as if to clear it. “You do?”

  “Of course. Nobody who went to the lengths you did would have done it merely to trap a Mr. Kennaway. You had no thought of anything of the kind. When I picked you up and took you to my tent, you were barely conscious. When I undressed you, you moved like an automaton, obeying my instructions to lift your arms or turn around.”

  When she would have spoken, he lifted his hand and touched his fingers to her lips. “No, let me speak. Then you. I didn’t need to know any of that, Amelia. Because I know you. I got to know you over the years we worked together. I noticed you from the first, but you kept away from me. Then, when you were forced into closer proximity, you kept our relationship about the work. Nothing else. You’re honest and true.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away. All except one, which crept free and trickled down the side of her face. “I felt sure you would believe what she said.”

  “Why would I do that? To believe her over you? I have no good opinion of your mother. She has worn your father down, so should I allow her to do the same to you? So many times I wanted to say something, but I had no right. However, I never believed you were cut from the same cloth.”

  She blinked hard and tried to smile, but feared it came through weakly. “I thought, once you heard—”

  “I heard her trying to bully you, and I could not stop myself. I should have waited, let you intervene. I knew you would. But I could not stand by and let her do that to you. She would assume she had reared you following her example.”

  Amelia hated to believe the worst about the woman who had borne her. “But she has five daughters to settle. Had, I mean. Now she still has two.”

  “I don’t doubt she will connive to have them married off also. Many women find themselves in the same position, but not all are as sly in the way they go about it. She might well have allowed you to come to the hospital. Had she not, you would have found another way to help, wouldn’t you?”

  “I couldn’t just watch.”

  “Of course you could not. I told you, Amelia, I know you.”

  He spoke softly, intimately, and she had a strong urge to rest her head on his chest, but she did not. She still didn’t know if she would be welcome. He was speaking of her character, not her person, and she had no idea how the minds of men worked.

  Could not a man admire a woman’s character without desiring her body?

  “Thank you, Will. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  He watched her, but made no effort to release her from his hold. Hesitantly, she rested her hands on his waist. He still did not move away. “I would have taken you had you been Mr. Kennaway. In fact, I would rather you had been so.”

  “So do I, sweetheart. The trouble is, I am the earl and I can no longer run away from that fact. However much I might wish to.”

  She concentrated on that one word. “You called me that once before.”

  His voice softened. “Yes, I did, and I meant it. You are my sweetheart. I should have said something years ago. Instead, to my eternal shame, I did not. I persuaded myself that all that mattered was my work. I was wrong. I am only just realizing exactly how wrong.”

  He bent his head and kissed her. Slow and deep, but now she knew how to respond. She opened her mouth to him and he surged in, licking into her hungrily, with a passion only matched by her own.

  A slight breeze on her left side told her someone had opened the door, but she didn’t stop. The door closed again with a quiet click.

  Will drew away, his mouth full and wet. “The servants must accustom themselves to seeing me kissing you, I fear. I want you, Amelia. Will you come to bed with me?”

  “We should—don’t we have an engagement?”

  “A gathering, which we will miss. I’ll send our apologies later. Unless you have a desire to see the latest soprano to grace the stage caroling her arias in Lady Bennett’s drawing room? If you do, then I will escort you, but prepare yourself, my lady. I have no intention of leaving you tonight.”

  “No.” When his brows drew together in a frown, she added, “I mean no, I don’t have a deep desire to see La Allodola sing tonight.” Her heart quickened and her breath shortened. “You want me?”

  Groaning, he cinched her close. “Yes!”

  He kept his arm around her waist as they left the room and mounted the stairs to her bedroom. When her maid came in, Will dismissed her with a careless wave of his hand. She left without comment.

  Amelia barely spared her a glance, but turned h
er attention back to her husband, who was doing exactly the same. Sliding his hands up her back, he unfastened the hooks and eyes with deft precision. Then he undid the bow at the top, loosening the laces beneath, watching as the gown loosened. He slid it off her shoulders.

  This time Amelia felt nothing but pleasurable anticipation. Joy filled her. He wanted her. He really did. She saw it in the darkened pupils and the way his lips reddened, seeming fuller than normal.

  He released her to shrug off his coat and let it fall, unheeded to the ground, as if it had been as well-worn as his old surgeon’s coats. He followed with his waistcoat, dropping that to reveal his fine lawn shirt.

  His arms were easily discernible beneath the thin fabric. “I want to feel your skin against mine,” he said. “I want to touch every part of you. Do you know how seductive you look now? You have no idea, do you?”

  Circling her tenderly with his arms, he bent to kiss her.

  Amelia stretched up on tiptoe, eagerly meeting his lips. Although relatively inexperienced, she let her instincts guide her. She touched him, flattening her hands on his broad chest and smoothing her palms over the expanse of male pulchritude.

  His kiss took her into a new world, somewhere they belonged to alone. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, plunged within and devoured her. No gentleness remained in his fierce embrace. Amelia gave herself to him completely. She wanted this, and more.

  He roamed her body with his hands, unpinning and untucking, releasing the bow of her petticoat, then up to her stays. He plucked at the laces until the garment loosened and fell down her body to the floor. Hands at her waist, he lifted her free of encumbrances. She kicked off her little leather slippers, eager to meet his bare skin with her own.

  Finishing the kiss with a tender touch to her lips, Will drew away and gazed at her. “That shift reveals more than it conceals.”

  “My new ones are made from fine lawn. Very comfortable.” Almost like silk. She had some of those too by now, but the lawn ones were even finer, almost gauze-like in transparency.

  Will growled low in his throat. “Oh, I like this.” Smoothing his hand down her body, he found the hem and drew it up. Shamelessly, she held up her arms so he could whisk it off over her head. “I like this better,” he said, returning to kiss her.

  The heat of his powerful form pressed against her, and she squirmed, just for the pleasure of feeling him against her. His muscles were so very different from hers, although she had considered herself strong for her sex.

  With a smile, never taking his gaze from her, he lifted her, as easily as if he were lifting a feather. He took her to the bed and dropped her on the mattress. “Very provocative,” he said.

  Amelia had rarely seen her husband so carefree. His eyes glinted, his mouth was curved in a smile of sheer, unshadowed happiness. Much as she felt. While he rid himself of his remaining garments, she untied her garters and stripped off her stockings, discarding them as if they were worthless.

  Then, naked, he fell on top of her, catching his weight on his forearms as he hit the mattress. They bounced and laughed, their bodies finally in full contact.

  “You’re hot,” she commented, running her hand down the smooth lines of his back.

  “So are you.” He laughed, making the sound wickedly decadent and rolled, so she was on top of him. “Time to prove your worth, Lady Rothwell. Show me how well you ride astride.”

  In the field Amelia had sometimes hitched up her skirts and ridden horses man-style, even worn breeches when there was a dearth of sidesaddles. So he knew she could. But not like this.

  She gazed at his erect penis and swallowed. “It’s very big.”

  “The words every man wants to hear,” he said, his eyes dancing.

  He slid his hands under her, into her wet cleft, and worked in, sliding down to her opening, where she was wettest. Inserting a finger, he curled it somehow and touched a spot inside Amelia that made her shiver.

  “Oh!”

  “Yes, oh!” Watching her closely, he added another, and gently stretched her. It felt wonderful, having him inside her, exploring her so intimately. He watched her face, then his attention turned to his hand between her legs. “You are beautiful here,” he said.

  “I never thought of it as beautiful before.” Her voice had somehow turned husky. “It feels wonderful.”

  “It feels that way to me, too.” He worked her, concentrating on her and her alone.

  His attention made her feel beautiful, wanted, emotions she had never associated with herself before. “Will—I want you.”

  “Where do you want me?”

  She gazed down at his shaft—his cock, the soldiers called it. A bead of clear, wet fluid emerged from the opening at the tip. She claimed it for her own, swiping a finger over the end and bringing her digit to her lips, licking it as if tasting a rare treat.

  His groan set up vibrations right through her. “Will!”

  “Sweetheart, I’m here.”

  That word again. Taking her courage firmly in hand, she leaned forward, bracketing his body, and levered herself up. His fingers slipped out of her and she felt empty, but not for long.

  He watched her intently. “Take me inside you, Amelia. Do it.”

  Tentatively, she touched his cock. The skin covering it was so delicate, but she would not hurt it. He had blessed her with more of that liquid. She spread it over the tip, exploring his texture as she had his taste.

  She lifted up again, using her knees this time, and grasped the base of his shaft, working it down until it reached her entrance.

  “Slowly now, my sweet. Let me feel every inch of you around me as you take me.”

  His words had an effect. She was wetter than she had thought she could be, easing his way inside her. The head slid inside, the ring of muscle around her entrance clasping him, claiming him.

  Will sucked in a breath between his teeth. Amelia concentrated on lowering her body, keeping her movement smooth and steady. He forged a path within her, deeper as the seconds passed.

  At last, she had him completely inside her. She was sitting on him. He kept his hands by his sides, but he’d clenched his fists, and the knuckles were white.

  “Now what do I do?” she said, temporarily at a loss.

  “Whatever you want.”

  Taking him at his word, she moved, first to one side, then to the other. After that she tried circling, drawing in a sharp breath when his cock nudged that spot he had touched with his fingers earlier.

  “Again,” he demanded.

  She did, and once more. Each contact made her more sensitive, pushing her higher, urging her body into sensitivity.

  Finally he lifted his hands and clasped her hips. “Up,” he said, lifting. She obeyed, until his erection had nearly left her body and on “Down,” she did likewise.

  His gaze swept her, from where they joined to her face. He was flushed, his eyes febrile-bright. “Now ride,” he said, growling the words.

  Gripping his sides with her thighs, akin to the way she held herself on a horse, she continued the motion. Up and down, and again. She leaned forward, planting her hands by his shoulders, staring into his eyes, and she rode.

  Finding her rhythm helped her to keep her impetus when thrills coursed through her body, each deep plunge driving her higher. He kept his hands on her hips, holding her steady rather than controlling her, giving her free rein.

  Harder and higher she went, galloping free, angling her body so that his cock grazed the wonderfully sensitive place inside her. She had to lift high, since the place wasn’t far inside her. She gained the best effect when his cockhead touched it each time she came down on him.

  Her breath caught as the thrills coalesced, came to a peak and then blossomed, spilling into her. She threw back her head and cried his name, hearing his groaned response.

  He pulsed as her passage clenched him tight in its grip, and exploded, releasing his seed deep inside her. His ball sac tightened under her and he gasped, exhaling
in staccato bursts.

  Amelia tumbled into the arms of her husband. He clasped her as if afraid she would escape, and rolled them to their sides, tucking her close, despite the heat of their bodies. Cupping his hand behind her head, his fingers threading into her hair, he kissed her, as passionate as she could ever have wished for.

  She responded, tasting ardor on his tongue when he thrust it into her mouth. If anyone had asked her what that tasted like, she would have told them in one word. Will.

  Exactly why had he left it so long to reclaim his wife into his bed? Will castigated himself for an idiot. Holding Amelia warmly in his arms, he could wish for nothing more. He had everything he needed.

  When he peppered her face with tiny kisses, she laughed, a sound he’d heard all too rarely. He would give her more to laugh about, he vowed.

  “I will never sleep alone after today,” he said, smiling at her. How could he not? Her flushed features and sparkling eyes pleased him.

  She smiled back, her eyes unshadowed for the first time in—he couldn’t remember when. They danced, crystal-bright. “I thought you—” She lowered her lids. “I thought you did not want me. That I had done something wrong in some way.”

  “What?” Startled, he tightened his hold on her. “How could you think that?”

  But he knew how. He had left her alone too long. “I should have told you. After our wedding night, I couldn’t—couldn’t touch you without wanting you, but I knew you needed to rest. Time to recover. Losing her maidenhead can come as a shock to a carefully nurtured lady.”

  She raised one slim, dark brow. “How can you think that way? You know my mother—what about her attitude made you think I was carefully nurtured?” She bit her lip. “Although I have to admit, after our first night, I did need a little time to recover. But only physically. I would have done it again immediately, had you wanted.”

  “It takes a man more time to recover.” At her crestfallen expression, he laughed. “But only about twenty minutes. Perhaps not even that,” he added as his cock twitched, pressing into her soft stomach. “Your skin is addictive.” To prove it, he stroked her, as he might a cat, with a similar effect. She arched and purred low in her throat.