His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (32 page)

“
Genuine,” he said, coming to sit next to her. He pulled her
trembling body onto his lap.

“
Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“
The simple truth is, I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't
know until tonight it was your brother who was
involved—”

Amelia pressed her lips to his in a
quick kiss. “Not that part.”

“
Then which part?”

“
The part about you wanting to marry me and what you said in
your missive.”

“
That I love you?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

She nodded. It was all she could do.
Was this a romantic love or one of friendship like it seemed his
marriage proposal might have been inspired by the latter,
considering she was to marry Lord Friar.

“
Because I didn't want to hurt you—”

She lifted her finger to halt his
nonsense, but he stayed her hand.

“—
No, listen. I couldn't have anything to do with you before
because I didn't want you to get hurt because of my job. If someone
I was after found out how I felt about you, they might try to hurt
you, and I could never live with myself if they did. I love you too
much for that. And I'd hoped—” he swallowed convulsively— “I'd
hoped once I was done I could convince you to love me,
too.”

“
You had, had you?”

He nodded once, his jaw locked and a
muscle in his cheek ticked.

“
And just how much do you love me?”

A hooded expression came over his
face. “I have a feeling I've just been asked to incriminate myself
and I don't like it.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Incriminate
yourself, sir.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

She wanted him to incriminate himself,
did she?

That, he could do.

He shifted her in his arms until she
was almost lying in his lap, then bent forward and brushed his lips
over hers. Her response would have hardened him in an instant if he
wasn't already. He licked the seam of her mouth, seeking entry. She
granted it. As his tongue explored her mouth, his fingers reached
for her hair, sliding out each pin one by one until the mass of her
thick, silken tresses were down.

He pulled his mouth from hers and ran
his fingers through her hair, an action he'd only dreamed of doing
for far too long. He removed those hideous feathers and ran his
hands through it again, then leaned her back against the pillows
and stood to remove his clothes.

Her grey eyes roamed over his naked
body. He'd stand in the firelight as long as she wanted to look. He
walked toward her, her upturned face with the sensuous lips his
target. He wanted her. Craved her. And now that everything was
exposed, he could enjoy her and not wrestle with guilt
afterwards.

Elijah climbed into bed and rolled
onto his side. He propped his head up with his left hand and used
his right to untie the bow at the top of her bodice. It wouldn't
afford him much access, but it'd be a start.

She watched his face as he went about
freeing her breasts from their confines. He'd never tire of seeing
them. Never. Slowly, almost reverently, he cupped one, tamping down
his own desire at the look of hunger and desire on her face. She
wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Her right hand closed around his
erection, startling him in the best way. He knew she was bold, but
had never imagined she'd touch him there by her own volition. He
moved closer, hoping—nay praying—she'd continue her
caresses.

“
Do you like this?”

“
You know that I do.”

A siren's smile spread her lips as she
pushed him over onto his back, then rolled onto her side, her bare
breasts mere inches from his chest. That wouldn't do. Keeping his
position because it'd be a shame if she stopped, he reached one
hand behind her and started untying the row of knots that went down
the back of her dress. “No corset,” he remarked as each knot he
undid loosened her gown that much more, allowing it to fall away
from her body and giving him a beautiful sight to feast his eyes
upon.

“
No,” she confirmed. “I was allowed to breathe
tonight.”

He would have chuckled if not for her
nearly killing him with pleasure as she moved her hand up and down
his shaft with a slowness that could rival that of waiting for a
volcano to erupt.

She moved her dainty hand all the way
to the tip of his erection, then stopped.

“
You're torturing me,” he commented.

“
Perhaps.” She gave him a quick squeeze. “Perhaps
not.”

“
You minx,” he said through gritted teeth. He fumbled with the
remaining ties on the back of her gown, making it completely fall
open in the front.

Her hand tightened a fraction on him,
then she slid it back down to the base.

He groaned and she repeated the
gesture while his hands worked to remove her gown, a task much
easier done when not being both pleasured and tortured at the same
time.

Inside him, excitement mounted. He
shot his hand out to stay hers.

They locked eyes, but neither of them
said anything. They didn't have to. It wasn't just twins who had
the ability to know what the other was thinking without saying a
word, the same could also be said for that other extension of
oneself. The one that wasn't bound to you by blood or family
history but by love.

With no other words, he rolled her
onto her back. His lips and hands roamed aimlessly over her body
and her lips and hands roamed just the same way over his. He
squeezed and shaped, touched and caressed every inch of her skin
that he could.

He loved the way her soft body molded
so well around him and how her legs parted just the right amount
for him to fit between—a better place on earth he had yet to
discover. Scattering slow kisses over her chest, he reached for
that apex between her legs, touching her most intimate
flesh.

She arched her hips up toward his
hand. “Please.”

It was such a simple word, but one
that almost pushed him to his limit. She was asking him for a
pleasure he'd given her only once and was trusting him with her
body that he'd do it again. And he had no intention of letting her
down.

Shifting his weight onto his left
elbow, he moved his fingers over his wife's silky folds. Her
breathing grew labored, as did his. He had no idea which of them
was more excited: her, as pleasure built within, or him, knowing it
was him who could give her such pleasure.

He slid two fingers inside her warm,
slick passage, eliciting the sweetest sigh he'd ever heard. “Is
this what you wanted?” he whispered, moving in and out.

“
Y-yes.”

“
Shh,” he crooned as he increased his pace. “Don't speak. Just
feel.”

She gasped for air, her eyelids
growing heavy and her face turning pinker. He dropped kisses on
each of her partially closed eyelids, then her mouth, then down the
column of her throat to her chest. Her breathing was shallow, more
of a desperate pant than anything else, as he placed openmouthed
kisses over her breasts. She was close. So very close.

He stopped his movements and
withdrew.

She choked on a sound of distress as
her eyes fluttered open.

“
Just a second,” he panted, sliding his erection into
her.

She bit her lip and her hands gripped
his shoulders. Hard. Their eyes locked and she matched his thrusts
with equal intensity, creating a fierier passion in him than the
first time they'd made love. Perhaps some might say it was this way
because it wasn't both of their first times and they knew what to
do. But he knew better. There was nothing between them to keep them
apart. No lies. No secrets. Not even uncertainty.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. It
wouldn't be long for either of them now.

“
I love you, Amelia,” he said in a rough voice he barely
recognized as his own.

Just then, her wide, grey eyes looked
straight into his as inner muscles squeezed around him in a
response more powerful than if she'd said the words with her lips
instead of with her body, triggering his own release.

Gasping, he collapsed on top of her,
then rolled them over where she was laying on his chest.

“
I meant it,” he said sometime later.

She looked up at him. “Meant
what?”

“
That I love you.” He ran his fingers through her silky hair.
“I wasn't just writing it so I could lock you in that
room.”

“
I believe you.” She inched her fingers toward his waist. “The
part about you loving me, that is,” she said, closing her hand
around his thickening member. “I might still need some convincing
about the other.”

“
You're mine now,” he growled, rolling her back onto the
pillows.

“
I've always been yours.”

Epilogue

Watson Estate

July 1819

“
I daresay, you had more fun traveling through Italy on our
wedding trip than I did,” Amelia teased as their carriage rolled
down the drive to Watson Estate.

Elijah shrugged. “I know I'd already
been there a time or two, but never just to go and enjoy the
city.”

“
What do you think has happened while we've been
away?”

“
Nothing too terribly interesting, I wouldn't
think.”

Amelia lifted a single
eyebrow. “You wouldn't think? And what do you suggest
that
is?”

Elijah turned to see what had caught
Amelia's attention outside the carriage. “Well, I
never...”

“
Never what? Thought your brother was capable of courting a
girl or thought said girl would actually be smiling in his
presence?”

“
Either,” Elijah admitted, dumbfounded. They were a good
thirty feet away—and in a moving carriage—from where Henry was
escorting a young lady down the lane from the dowagers cottage, but
he'd swear she looked familiar. That was impossible, any young lady
who already knew Henry wouldn't be interested in him that way. He
was certain of it.

“
They look happy together,” Amelia commented, drawing his
attention back to her.

Elijah lifted her hand and brought it
to her lips. “Not as happy as we are, I'd wager.”

“
No. Most decidedly not.” She peeked at the couple again. “At
least not yet.”

“
Then you think there's hope?”

“
Of course. I think there's hope for everyone and everything.
It might have taken you almost two decades longer than it took me
to fall in love, but you did, didn't you?”

“
As usual, I concede.” He dipped his head as if he were bowing
to her. “Your boon, my lady.”

“
I think I shall finally collect on that slice of cake you
still owe me.”

He grinned. “I love you, did you
know?”

“
I did know.” She leaned her head up and kissed his lips. “But
I'll never tire of hearing you say it.”

“
Nor will I ever tire of saying it.”

“
And what of hearing it?” she asked before kissing him
again.

“
Never.”

“
Good, because I loved you when we first met, I love you now,
I'll love you forever, and I'll never stop saying it. I love you. I
love you. I love you.”

Coming Soon by Rose
Gordon

Coming Soon—BANKS BROTHERS
BRIDES

His Contract
Bride
—Edward Banks has always known that
one day he'd marry Regina Harris. Unfortunately nobody thought to
inform her of this; and when she finds that her “love match” was
actually arranged by her father long ago in an effort to further
his social standing, it falls to a science-loving, blunt-speaking
baron to win her trust.

His Yankee
Bride
—John Banks has no idea what—or
who—waits for him on the other side of the ocean... Carolina Ellis
has longed to meet a man whom she can love, so when she glimpses
such a man, she's determined to do whatever it takes to have
him—Southern aristocracy be damned.

His Jilted
Bride—
Elijah Banks
cannot
sit still a moment longer as
the gossip continues to fly about one of his childhood playmates,
who just so happens to still be in her bridal chamber, waiting for
her groom to arrive. Thinking to save her the public humiliation of
being jilted at the altar, Elijah convinces her to run away with
him, replacing one scandal with one far more forgiving. But when a
secret she keeps is threatened to be exposed, it falls to Elijah to
save her again by revealing a few of his own...