Danice Allen (40 page)

Sam had been ordered to retire an hour ago, but the aunts stood at the foot of the bed like two grandmotherly sentinels and shook their heads dolefully.

“I don’t understand, Amanda Jane, why you wouldn’t let us notify Julian,” said Nan.

“And it certainly wouldn’t have hurt to get a doctor’s opinion on Jack’s condition,” Prissy added accusingly.

“He’s not injured,” said Amanda, “he’s only drunk. He’ll sleep it off. There’s no need to alarm his brother or get a doctor in here poking about unnecessarily.”

Amanda wasn’t entirely sure Jack was only drunk, but she’d had a great deal of experience nursing him, and he did not appear to have any of the alarming symptoms he’d had during his initial head injury. His heart rate was slow and steady, his color was good, and his eyes weren’t dilated.

As she glanced at her still doubtful aunts, she reached down and brushed a pitch-black lock of hair off Jack’s forehead. “Anyway, he hates doctors,” she said. She remembered the first time she’d touched him like this, so full of virginal awe. She was no longer a virgin, but Jack still affected her the same way. She adored him.

Under other circumstances, she’d have had a doctor in to be absolutely positive Jack was all right, but she didn’t want to take the chance of Rob finding out Jack was in her house … in her bed.

“He’s not just drunk. He’s lost his memory again, Amanda Jane,” Nan insisted.

“If that’s true—which I doubt—it’s probably just a temporary relapse. Once the liquor’s out of his system, he’ll remember everything … except, perhaps, how he got so drunk.”

“But don’t you think Julian should be told?”

Amanda straightened and looked sternly at her aunts. “I don’t want anyone to know Jack’s here. Tomorrow, after he’s gone, I don’t want anyone to know he’s
been
here, either. It has to be kept a secret.” If Robert Hamilton heard about this, he might consider it a breach of their agreement. She was supposed to avoid Jack and here he was … in her bed! Despite the danger of the situation, she felt a thrill go through her. In her
bed!

“I don’t understand, Amanda Jane,” Nan persisted.

“I can’t explain. You must trust me on this one, Aunt Nan, and …
please
… just do as I ask.”

“Why was he drinking, do you think?” Pris ventured. “Was he … er … celebrating, Amanda Jane?”

Amanda sighed. “I know what you’re trying to find out, and you might as well know now as later …. I refused to see Jack this morning.”

The aunts exchanged horrified glances, then exclaimed in unison, “But he was going to
propose
!”

“Yes, I think so, too,” Amanda admitted sadly. “That’s why I couldn’t see him.”

Pris moved closer and laid her hand on Amanda’s arm. “What’s wrong with you, Amanda Jane? You’re not acting yourself. If you’d only let me send for Julian—”

“Don’t keep at me like this, Aunt Prissy!” Amanda snapped, closing her eyes in frustration. “I won’t allow you to send for anyone, do you hear?”

Prissy jumped back and took up her former station by Nan. They both stared at Amanda as if she’d grown cloven hoofs and a forked tail. Ashamed, Amanda moved to the end of the bed and put her arms around them in a warm embrace. They hugged her back, and when she pulled free they looked at her with tender concern.

“I’m sorry, aunts,” she said contritely. “I’m a bit on edge. Can we talk more in the morning?”

“Henchpenny said you had a visitor after breakfast, Amanda Jane,” said Pris, her brows furrowed. “A man named Robert Hamilton. Nan and I were talking, and it occurred to us that we’ve heard that name before … but we just can’t remember where.”

“Henchpenny said that after this man left you stayed locked in your room for hours, right up till we came home,” said Nan, joining the interrogation. “Who is Robert Hamilton? What did he want? And why does his name sound so familiar to us?”

“He’s Jack’s friend, aunts,” Amanda replied lightly. “I’m sure that’s where you’ve heard his name.”

“But why did you stay in your room all afternoon?”

“I had a headache, that’s all,” Amanda lied. “And I think it’s coming back. I need to rest.”

“Dear, dear,” tsked Nan. “But where will you sleep, Amanda Jane?”

“I doubt I’ll sleep at all tonight. I’ll lie down on the chaise longue if I get tired. But I want to be near Jack in case he wakes and needs me.”

The aunts seemed to readily understand these sentiments and were finally coaxed to go to their own bedchambers. Sound sleepers, once abed they’d not make another peep till morning.

As the door closed behind them, Amanda moved to stand at the end of the bed, just as she used to do at the Inn of the Three Nuns at Horsham when Jack was first laid up with a head injury and amnesia. She shook her head and smiled disbelievingly.
It was dejà vu all over again
, Amanda thought to herself, repeating Aunt Prissy’s favorite redundancy.

The whole thing was uncanny. What were the odds of Jack stumbling in front of her carriage again? Thank goodness, this time he wasn’t injured, he wasn’t in a coma, and … despite what the aunts thought … she didn’t think his memory had been affected. But once again here he was in need of watching over, and once again she was the reluctant nurse. Only this time, she was in love with him.

After another uneventful hour passed, Amanda observed that Jack still slept soundly, so she lay down on the chaise and closed her eyes. She dozed off but was soon stirred from sleep by someone calling her name. She sat up and blinked in the direction of the bed. The room was softly lit by a brace of candles on the mantel and a single slender taper on a bedside table. Jack was sitting up in bed and looking at her.

“Jack, you’re awake,” she said, swinging her legs to the floor and standing up. She moved toward the bed. He had pushed up against the plump pillows and, with his elbows locked, was leaning back on his hands. His hair was a sexy tumble, and his white shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing a delicious peek of brown skin and a light matting of dark hair. She remembered how it felt touching him there. Sheer heaven. She swallowed hard. “How … how do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” he admitted in a raspy voice and with a lopsided grin. “Got a slight headache, too. Have I been drinking?”

Amanda handed him a glass of water. “Don’t you remember?”

He frowned. “Details a bit fuzzy.” He chuckled. “Daresay, if you’d not called me by name, I wouldn’t even know I was a Jack!”

Amanda watched warily as Jack took a long drink of water, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then returned the glass with a rakish smile. “Thank you, darling. Coming to bed? I promise not to snore. Was that why you were sleeping on the chaise?”

“Jack, are you playing another farce with me?” she demanded suspiciously.

“Playing a farce?” he repeated, looking genuinely perplexed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart. Too sleepy, though, to get into it tonight. Are you coming to bed or not?”

Amanda nervously licked her lips. “Shall I send for Julian?”

Jack grimaced and shifted in the bed till he was on his side, facing Amanda, with his jaw propped in his hand. “Who the devil is Julian? And why would I want you to send for whoever the fellow is at
this
hour?”

“Jack!” Amanda exclaimed, backing up a step. “Don’t you know who Julian is?”

“Don’t know and don’t care,” he replied glibly, grabbing her skirt with his free hand and tugging her closer. “The butcher? The baker? The candlestick maker?” he teased. “You can tell me in the morning, Amanda. Right now all I want is my wife to come to bed.”

“Your
wife?”
Amanda nearly dropped the glass she was still holding.

Jack laughed and took the glass, placing it safely on the bedside table. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten you’re my wife, ‘Manda, darling? My thinking’s a bit fuzzy tonight, but if there’s one thing I could never forget, it’s my better half.”

He paused and eyed her appreciatively, his gleaming gaze lingering on the swell of her bodice. “You look luscious in that color, my dear. Makes your skin glow like sweet cream.” He smiled wickedly. “Come to bed and I’ll play cat and do a little lapping.”

Amanda broke out in gooseflesh all over. “I thought you were sleepy, Jack,” she said weakly.

“Not anymore. Randy as a goat, sweetheart. Now, are you coming to bed, or am I going to have to wrestle you to the floor in order to have my wicked way with you?”

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.