Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (14 page)

“Say them, Amelia.  Say the words.”

“I can’t.”

He stared at her for several long seconds, then his eyes lit with determination.  For the first time, he touched her.  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.  She tried not to respond, but found it useless.  Where he led, she followed mindlessly.  His lips parted and his tongue probed, gliding against hers.  More, her body screamed.  She pressed herself against him, only slightly aware of her actions, and kissed him back.

He pulled away from her.  Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.  Eyes full of hunger.  Instead of pulling her back into his arms, as she hoped, as she feared, he turned around and left the room.

Amelia stared at the closed door.  Her lips swollen, her body a tight bow string ready to snap at any second.  She crossed her arms and sank down on to the floor.  Defeat lay heavy in her bosom, for she knew it wouldn’t be long before she gave in.

A tear sneaked down her cheek.  She just hoped she’d survive when he left.

CHAPTER 14

He was in bloody, God damned agony.

Since leaving Amelia’s chambers yesterday, Julian remained in a constant state of arousal.  He had the deuce of a time, finding it more than inconvenient, to walk about half-hard.

He took a sip of his wine and scowled at Amelia’s bedroom door.  She lay in there, probably sound asleep.  Her body curled up on the bed, wearing naught but a thin…

Swearing out loud, Julian set the wineglass down with a thump and rose from his chair.  Turning to her door, he jerked it open and marched through.

The room was dark and quiet.  A balmy breeze slinked through the open window.  Then the moon moved from a cloud and bathed the room in a silvery-blue glow.  Julian could see Amelia lying on the bed, one small, shapely foot peeking out of the blanket.

He cursed inwardly, perturbed that just the sight of her foot could drive him mad with lust, and moved to her side.

A sound must have penetrated her sleep.  She flinched and came awake.

“Relax, it’s just me,” he said so she wouldn’t raise the roof with a scream.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes.  “What are you doing here?”  She glanced past him then back quickly.  “It’s not Alex, is it?”

“No.  Alex is fine.”

Her shoulders relaxed.  Her hair spilled over her shoulders in dark waves, framing her pale face.  She was so damn beautiful.

Something must have revealed his aroused state because Amelia gasped, then rolled onto her feet, keeping the bed between them.  “You can leave now, Julian,” she said, her eyes wide with panic.

He moved his head from side to side, his eyes fixed on her.  Then he began in her direction, his mind racing with all the things he would do to her once he caught her.

She let out a yelp, then jumped onto the bed, trying to avoid getting caught.  But he’d been expecting her to do just that.  Before rounding the foot of the bed, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of her night rail and yanked her into his arms.

“Let me go.” She squirmed against his chest.

Paying no heed to her request, Julian breathed in her vanilla-scented hair, his lust mounting as she grated her body against his in a futile attempt at escape.  He looked down at her.  “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, wife.”

“Your pretty words won’t—”

He silenced her with a kiss. 

It didn’t take long to coax a response out of her.  Seduction had always been easy for him.  He simply found what a woman liked and gave it to her.  Reading body language had been a hobby for him since his first romp at fourteen, knowing different things pleased different women.  Some things could even drive a woman wild, where she’d do anything he asked.  He also found that pleasing the woman intensified his own pleasure.

When Amelia no longer tried to break his embrace, when her body relaxed against him and her lips parted to his seeking tongue, Julian delved in.  He filled her mouth, tasting her rising desire, and moved his solid length slowly against her.  She pressed closer, her arms rising to twine around his neck, and grazed her tongue against his.

The contact brought a powerful bolt of need.  He wanted to release his manhood and press it into her at that very moment.  But he didn’t.  Startled with the small slip of control, Julian concentrated on taking Amelia over the edge of mind-numbing bliss, where she’d beg him to take her.  Damn it, he had to hear her speak the words.  His sense of honor demanded it.  He continued the assault until she trembled in his arms, then he maneuvered them on the bed, shedding his night robe along the way.

She would beg him, he vowed.  Soon.

When he’d unfastened most of her nightgown’s small white buttons, he lifted it over her head, catching a glimpse of her shapely body in the moonlight.  His lips settled back over hers.  He wouldn’t give her one second to back out.  Kissing her deeply, he moved his hand between her legs. Her moan altered to a choked gasp when his finger grazed her heated, wet pedals.  Instead of retreating, he pressed just a little deeper, but only a little, and felt her resistance melting away.

When Amelia was almost sobbed in want, Julian positioned his quivering shaft at her entrance and halted.  He gritted his teeth to keep himself from pressing forward.  “Do you want me to continue?” he whispered, nuzzling her neck, and rubbed himself against her slick folds.

“Please.”  She wiggled beneath him.

His strength ebbed away, but he had to hear her say the words.  “Do you want me, Amelia?”

She groaned.  “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

She focused on him, her eyes wracked with passion.  “I want you, Julian.”

That was all he needed to hear.  He moved his hips forward and gradually sank in.  He didn’t expect her to be so tight.  If she hadn’t been so wet, he was certain he would have hurt her.  Questions piled up in his mind, but they were soon pushed back as his body grew greedy for more pleasure.

Moving back and forth, sinking a bit further with each thrust, Julian could not recall anything ever feeling so good.  Then she moved with him, increasing his pleasure, driving him insane with the need for fulfillment.

Plundering her mouth with his tongue, his hips making long, smooth strokes, Julian used every ounce of his willpower to hold back his release.  Amelia first.  As he inched his hand down between their bodies, sweat broke out on his forehead.  He found the small, slick bud nestled between her curls and stroked it.

She gasped, her fingers biting into his shoulders, and went completely still.  Her inner muscles squeezed his shaft and he knew the end of his restraint.  With a massive groan, he gave one last thrust and spewed his seed deep into her, marveling at how long his release lasted.  And how completely satisfying it was.

But he would do much, much more to his wife before the night was over.  Yes, indeed.  He intended to release his passion as never before so that never again would she resist him.  That was important.  He wanted Amelia to want him.  Always.

As his heart slowed, Julian reached for Amelia, his lips settling down over hers.  This time, he intended to go slow.  Very slow.  And find dozens of ways to pleasure her.

When the nerves in his body stopped twitching several hours later, Julian rolled to the side of the bed.  His body so sated, he thought he would float on a cloud.  With a sigh, he turned his head to gauge Amelia’s reaction, and found her eyes drooping.  They closed and her breathing grew deep and even.

Tenderness welled up within him, warming his heart.  Julian reached over and moved a lock of hair from her face.  His finger lingered on her soft, warm skin for several seconds.  “What am I to do with you, Pixie?” he whispered.  The moment he’d given her the pet name filled his mind, making him frown.  It had been the very night Jeremy had placed that damned wager all those years ago.

For months afterward, he had set out to seduce Amelia.  And when she returned to the country with Diana, he thought he’d failed for the first time ever.  Oh, how Jeremy had gloated.  Then, bored with the London roués, he received an invitation to a special party.  One of Diana’s special parties.  And that’s when it had happened.  That’s when Amelia had come to him in the middle of the night.  He’d been caught off guard, but very pleased.  As he carried a slumbering Amelia to her bedchamber afterward, he’d been delighted when Jeremy caught them in the hallway.  His friend had not been at all happy to have lost another bet.

Hearing the clock ring the four o’clock hour, Julian pushed aside those memories and rose from the bed, careful not to rouse Amelia.  He slipped into his discarded robe then leaned down and grazed her cool brow with his lips.  “Rest well, Pixie,” he whispered before turning toward the door and leaving the room.  Although he wanted nothing more than to stay, something told him Amelia would want him gone when she woke.  He knew they would probably quarrel, but he was fully prepared to repeat his very pleasurable form of persuasion.

Actually, he was quite looking forward to more such nights.

****

Amelia woke to two thick slabs of sunlight streaming in through the windows.  She watched the dust motes dance gaily in the blinding yellow light for several seconds before memory seized her.

With a strangled gasp, she sat up, looking wildly around the room, the memory of what had happened the night before confirmed by the throbbing soreness between her legs.  She dragged in a weary breath and found Julian’s musky scent still lingering in the air.  Stifling a groan, she turned, expecting to see his smug face grinning in triumph at her.  Instead, she found him gone.

Shoving the hair from her face with a trembling hand, Amelia didn’t know whether to be relieved or exasperated.  What she felt deep down, however, was a twinge of disappointment.  Disappointment that he hadn’t stayed.  And it angered her.  Damn it, she couldn’t let it happen again.  She couldn’t let Julian hurt her a second time.

It nearly destroyed her.

The door opened, drawing Amelia’s attention.  She held the bedding more securely against her chest.  A young maid with carrot-red hair entered, grinning like a fool.  “Good mornin’, milady.”  She lowered the tray she held to the table beside the bed.  Her tilted green eyes twinkled with good humor.  “His lordship says you need your nourishment.”

Amelia squinted up to the maid.  “Nourishment?”

The maid nodded eagerly, then left promising to have some heated water sent up for her bath.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Amelia sighed.  A most delicious aroma met her nose and she glanced at the tray.  Removing the domed lid, her mouth watered at the scrumptious-looking fare.  Beside the silver pot of chocolate sat a heaping plate of buttered eggs, toast and thin slices of ham.  And a single red rose lay beside the plate.

With a smile, she lifted the rose to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent.  Her fanciful side imagined Julian clipping the flower from the bush himself, then she shook her head.  A marquess, to be sure, would not do such a thing.

Her stomach growled.  She turned back to the tray and managed to polish off the entire plate of food and most of the chocolate.

“Well done, my lady,” Ruth praised, entering the room with a large bucket of steaming water.  Several maids followed, carrying similar buckets and disappeared into the dressing room.  Still wrapped in the blanket, Amelia rose from the bed and followed after them.

She found the maids pouring the heated water into a huge marble tub permanently installed in the room.

“There now,” Ruth said after the last bucket had been emptied.  She walked up to Amelia.  “Shall I assist you with your bath, ladyship?”

Amelia took a quick step back.  “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Ruth just smiled.  “Then I’ll go and unpack your new gowns.”

“New gowns?”

The maid turned, her eyes wide.  “Oh, I had no idea it was a surprise.”  She shook her head.  “Please, my lady, do forgive me for speaking out of turn.”

Amelia smiled.  “It’s all right, Ruth.”

“I’ll go and unpack.”

Watching the maid leave, Amelia didn’t have the heart to tell her not to bother.  Instead, she slid the blanket from her shoulders and sank down into the scented hot water.  Ah, what bliss.

As she lay there with her head resting against the back of the tub feeling the warmth seeping deep into her skin, Amelia tried desperately not to think of her cursed husband.  But no matter how hard she tried, Julian’s image kept forming behind her closed eyelids.  She remembered last night and a bolt of fiery sensation shot up from her womb directly to her breasts and back.  Her body tingled as she recalled the feel of his slightly rough hands against her skin.  The tips of her breasts tightened when she thought of how his hot wet tongue had grazed them.  The place between her legs pulsated and ached with the memory of him inching into her.

Amelia jerked upright, a small cry escaping her lips.  No, no, no!  She could not allow this to continue; she could not allow Julian this sort of hold over her.  To do so would be disastrous.  She would be vulnerable to him.

And once vulnerable to Julian, Amelia knew he would tear her heart to shreds.  Just like before.

“No,” Amelia whispered, “I will not let that happen again.”

****

Julian sat staring at the same ledger page for over an hour before he realized he hadn’t so much as read one bloody word.  Instead of focusing on estate matters, his mind continued to be filled with thoughts of Amelia and memories of last night.

The bloody wench.  Did she have to be so damn irresistible?

Shaking his head, Julian wondered why she captivated him so.  He’d certainly had his fair share of more beautiful women, though he hadn’t given any of them another thought after a good romp or two.

Julian glanced up from the ledger.  Perhaps that was it.  Perhaps all he needed to do was have a few good romps with Amelia and she would be out of his system.  And then the bloody wench wouldn’t fill his thoughts so completely, nor keep his body in such a constant state of arousal.

He grazed his thumb over his sore finger and looked down.  The little puncture caused from a rather large thorn on the rose stem he’d picked earlier throbbed something awful.  He sighed, bringing the wounded finger to his mouth.  Would Amelia guess that the rose on her tray had come from him?  He bloody well hoped so.