Desire Me More (16 page)

She tried twisting in his hold, but Nick's hands tightened around her hips, practically lifting her knees from the mattress every time he pumped into her. His pace grew wild, and his motions robbed her of the remainder of her troubles.

Nick surrounded her, and sanity fled as they edged toward a second peak together. Nick leaned over her, covering her back like an animal in rut. His hand slid around her hip and over her stomach, inching those expert fingers of his closer to the folds of her sex. When he reached the bud, he flicked one finger over the sensitive nerve endings of her clitoris. Biting the blanket, Amelia moaned around that material stuffing her mouth.

Nick scissored his fingers around her clitoris, slicking through her folds with every shove of his pelvis against her backside. With a lazy awakening, her orgasm washed through her like waves slapping against the beach, subtler this time but not less powerful. As it ebbed, Nick slammed into her one last time and held deep, rotating and grinding against her core as he came. Every pulse of his cock was swallowed up by the clench and flex of her sheath.

Replete, he slumped over her, pulling them both to their sides, his cock slipping from her and leaving a wet trail along her thigh. His arms wrapped around her waist, one of his hands cupping her breast as he held her close to his chest.

She turned in his arms, putting one arm over his shoulder; the other she curled on the pillow and rested her head in the crook of her elbow.

“I refuse to lie in bed all day,” she said to break the silence that descended once their breathing leveled out.

Without missing a beat or giving in to her, he responded, “Then we will stay here all
morning
.”

She shook her head. “You know that is impossible . . . You know
why
we can't.”

Mostly, she knew she'd ask him too many questions if she allowed herself to stay in his company for the day. Would he reject that curiosity, or reward it after all they'd been through in these past few days?

“Nick?”

Like a lion well fed, his eyes lazily focused on her. “Amelia.”

“I mean it.” She pushed playfully at his shoulder. “We don't need to give the members of this household more fodder for their whisperings of what's going on between us.”

“I don't give a damn what anyone thinks.”

Amelia pushed off the bed and started pulling out fresh clothes for the day. “Well, I do.”

And Nick looked for all the world like he didn't give a damn. He lay on her bed, hands tucked behind his head, his nudity on full display. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't tempting to climb over him and straddle his thighs for a third round.

“Come back to bed.”

“Absolutely not. They'll think me the whore of Babylon. Oh, hell. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. I've shamed myself.”

Nick pulled himself up and sat on the edge of her bed, watching her in his contemplative way. He caught her arm and pulled her closer when she walked by him for the tenth time, trying to tie her corset. He turned her around and tightened the strings for her.

“Calm yourself, Amelia. Your first mistake is thinking anyone under this roof would judge what happens in private between us.”

“You're a man; you can think that way. They won't care how you behave; you're the master of this house. I have to act above reproach if I want to be valued and respected.”

After wrapping the long strings around her front and looping them in a bow at the back, Nick turned her around in the circle of his arms. “I don't agree. You have changed me for the better, Amelia. Everyone here will see that.”

She placed her palms against his cheeks. “You haven't changed to me. You've let me into your life. Given me a part of yourself. I don't know any other Nick than the one sitting in front of me.”

Her gaze dropped to his lap. He was still semi-erect. She breathed deeply and looked up at Nick's cocky expression before he turned serious again.

“You're the only person I've allowed this close.”

“What about Victoria?” Why had she mentioned his ex-lover? She hated herself for having thrown that between them. Nick and Victoria had broken off a while ago, before Amelia had ever come across Nick. “I'm sorry. I don't have the right to ask that.”

“That's where you are wrong. You want me to be honest, so I'll be as honest as I can. Victoria is my friend. And she knows nearly as much as you because she grew up in St. Giles, living the life my mother lived. Actually, she was a friend of Sera's growing up.”

This revelation surprised Amelia, and she felt a twinge of sympathy toward the woman. “She's made a grand name for herself. Half the women in London would give anything to be in her shoes.”

“That wasn't always the case.”

Amelia reached around his shoulders, smoothing her fingers along the scars that marred his back. “Tell me how you got these.”

He pulled her arms away and gathered her hands in his. “That's a story for another day.”

Amelia pinched her lips together. “I'll be patient, but you'll have to tell how it happened. I'd like to wring the neck of whoever caused you so much pain.”

“You're my little champion. But it happened a long time ago.”

“And the person responsible?” Had he never been caught? Amelia suddenly had a hundred questions she wanted to ask. But they had to take this one step at a time.

“He will have his day of judgment, Amelia. It's not something you can fix. It's something I live with and will deal with in my own time.”

“How old you were when it happened?”

“You're inquisitive this morning.”

“I usually am when you're not busy avoiding having a real conversation with me.”

Nick's mouth tilted up into the smallest of smiles. So small, she thought she was reading it wrong.

“I was eleven,” he admitted, breaking her gaze as he did so.

Amelia felt her lips tremble and anchored her teeth into the lower one to still them. How could anyone do that to a child? She bit back a slew of curses building on her tongue. She would not ruin this moment. Nick had given her so much today.

Pulling out of his hold, she changed the topic to something neutral. “So what did we have planned for today?”

“Scheduling our trip to Highgate. As soon as the purchase closes, we'll be headed out there for a week or two; get a feel of the land and the tenants. We should be leaving by week's end.”

“We? I hadn't thought Lady Burley was serious that we would all spend time in Highgate.”

“I told you I wasn't letting you out of my sight. And we'll be gone at least a week; that's too long a time to be without you.”

“And where will we stay?” There was an underlying implausibility about this proposal.

“There's an inn outside of Highgate. A mere horse's ride away. Have you been in the saddle before?”

“I have.” Not since she was a child, but she'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

“Landon and his wife will be joining us. My sister will come out a few days later. She hasn't seen the house yet or the state of the land. I want to have a good look around before she arrives. Come up with a preliminary plan for construction.”

“Shall I make everyone's arrangements at the inn when I send word of our arrival?”

She hoped Nick intended to reserve two rooms for them. In fact, she'd make those arrangements herself the moment they knew when they were going.

Amelia buckled the bustle around her waist, needing anything to distract her from where her thoughts were going. For anyone to discover what they were up to outside the house . . . she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

Nick stood behind her, naked and distracting. He lifted the skirts over her head and settled them around her waist to tie them in place. “You can work out those details with Landon's wife.” His hands skimmed over her arms, and the warmth of his touch had her sighing and pressing back against him.

“You're wicked.”

“Am I?” He kissed her earlobe and then worked his way down her neck. The scratch of his beard was sure to leave a mark, but she didn't care. She tilted her head to the side to give him free access. It was so tempting to fall back into bed with him.

“Very wicked.”

“Tell me how to keep you here.”

She cleared her throat, coming back to herself. She walked out of his embrace and picked up his pocketwatch from her vanity. “It's half eleven now. We can make luncheon if we hurry.”

Turning to face him so she could ward him off, she pulled on the outer shell of her bodice. It buttoned in the front so she wasn't forced to ask for his assistance.

“Break your fast with me in the library,” he said.

More time alone wasn't a good idea. They seemed to get into all kinds of naked trouble when there was no one else about.

“I don't think that's wise. Besides, there's plenty to do since we slept the morning away. I'm liable to have a stack of correspondence to go through, and Huxley's probably wondering where you've disappeared.”

“He'll think I'm out on errands.” He tugged the end of her braid, pulling her closer. “There's no one to interrupt us.”

“You think no one will wonder where I'm hiding?” She laughed and drew her braid free from his grasp. Unwinding it, she pulled it back and twisted it into a chignon at her nape and pinned it in place, all the while having to stay out of Nick's reach. He seemed quite determined to get her back in bed.

“You're insatiable.” She kissed him on the mouth and headed for the door, practically skipping to stay out of his hold. “I'll see you in the study.”

She opened the door enough that she could slip out and so no one would see Nick in her room, standing naked as the day he was born, with his cock deliciously erect and ready for another tumble. Amelia ignored the twinge of regret at leaving him in that state. She also ignored the fact that her lower regions clenched with want. Nick was turning out to be a very bad influence.

M
rs. Coleman smiled at Amelia as she came down the stairs. Before they could offer good mornings, there was a summons at the front door. Amelia hurried into the study and busied herself with going through the correspondence. Perhaps she could make it look as though she'd been at this all morning—though she knew Mrs. Coleman and Huxley would have already been through this room. And she couldn't think up one good excuse for her absence.

Anything was worth a try, she supposed.

Amelia looked up when there was a knock on the study door. Mrs. Coleman came in, her face red and flustered.

“Miss Grant,” the housekeeper said stiffly, “there's an inspector here to see you. Shall I show him to the parlor?”

“Yes, please,” Amelia said loud enough that the visitor in the hall could hear her response. “Come back in here once that's done, please,” she said in a softer tone, giving Mrs. Coleman a curious look. Mrs. Coleman shrugged her shoulders, just as baffled by the man's presence as Amelia.

Why would an inspector want to see her? It was obvious this had to do with her brother. Nick said an inspector had visited him the day before he'd told her of Jeremy's death. Amelia's hands shook, so she clasped them together and took a steadying breath. If this was the same inspector, why had he come back? Had he found news? Did he know who the murderer was?

Mrs. Coleman came back into the study, shutting the door behind her so they weren't heard. “I don't know this one, Amelia.”

That comment caught her off guard. “Do you know many?”

“Nick deals with so many down at the docks and throughout St. Giles. Some are better than others. But I don't know this one, and he's specifically asked for you.”

Amelia squeezed Mrs. Coleman's arm companionably. “Could you please find Mr. Riley? Let him know there is an inspector here?”

“Of course, Miss Grant.”

Amelia released Mrs. Coleman and headed toward the parlor.

If her steps were slower than normal, it was because she had to prepare carefully what she would say. Surely he was here to see her because he knew of her association with Jeremy, knew they were brother and sister.

She shut down those thoughts the moment she stepped over the threshold of the parlor. The inspector was a tall man. His rounded hat sat firmly on his head, with the strap slung across his chin. His long black coat was neatly pressed and buttoned from his Adam's apple down to his knees.

Amelia folded her hands in front of her and dipped her head in greeting. “Good morning, Inspector. How may I assist you?”

“Inspector Laurie,” he filled in. “Miss Grant, I presume?”

“I am Miss Grant. Mrs. Coleman said you asked to speak directly with me. With what may I assist you, Inspector Laurie?”

“This is about your brother, Miss
Grant.
Did you know that he was murdered?”

Amelia dug her nails into her palm. So the inspector knew of their relation. “I did. My brother had a lot of enemies, Inspector Laurie. Is this some sort of interrogation on where I was on a particular night in question? Or have you found the responsible party?”

“You're quick. I haven't found anything yet. But I do need to ask about the last time you saw your brother.”

“It was more than a month ago. He . . . he wasn't well.” She didn't dare give this man the particulars of that incident. Something about him seemed off. Untrustworthy. And unlike the last few times she'd ignored her discomfort toward certain men, she trusted her instincts on the inspector. The less he knew, the better.

“Why did he seek you out?”

Without missing a beat, she knew the truth would help her here. “He wanted money. I didn't have any to give him.”

“Surely a man of Mr. Riley's status could assist.”

She bit her tongue on giving him a million reasons why that couldn't be so. It was a crass suggestion, and the inspector knew it.

“It wouldn't have done my brother any good. And as Mr. Riley is my employer, I wasn't in a position to ask such a thing without risking my job. Jeremy had a habit of spending money on the wrong things.” Amelia walked around the chairs and invited the inspector to sit. He waved her off, which meant he must not be planning to stay long. Perfect. “What information do you require from me, Inspector Laurie?”

“I'm simply trying to solve a crime that resulted in the Earl of Berwick's death.” The inspector gave her pink day dress an up-and-down with his too-assessing eyes. “Considering you are his last relation and his sister, your lack of mourning brings a lot of questions to mind.”

“My brother and I had been estranged for some time. We were not close, so while I admit I'm saddened to hear of his death, I have no desire to mourn his passing. If you are investigating me, Inspector, perhaps you should also look into Jeremy's past. You will not find clean ties anywhere. He had a habit of making more enemies than friends.”

“I see. I'll keep that in mind. I still need to ask where you were one week after the incident in the street with your brother and Mr. Riley.”

“That was a month ago, Inspector. I will have to check my diary.”

“By all means.” He motioned toward the door. “Why don't you fetch that schedule now.”

Amelia tucked her hands behind her back and curled them into fists. This man was infuriating. What was the inspector hoping to find? She didn't have anything to do with her brother's death, and she couldn't even guess who would have killed him. It was exactly as she had said—he had a lot of enemies.

“Of course.” Amelia held her head high as she faced the inspector she was fast disliking. “If you'll give me a few minutes, I can verify the schedule.”

“If you don't mind, I'll go with you.”

How could she say no? Wouldn't that look suspicious? “Yes, if you will follow me.”

Amelia led the way to the study. Once there, she pulled out the book from the previous month. “For what day did you require information?”

“The last Thursday in October. If you could copy it out, I would appreciate it.”

Amelia flipped through the pages, looking for the date. When she found it, she was almost relieved to see a list of places and appointments Nick had throughout the day, two of which she'd attended.

“This was the day Mr. Riley was finalizing the paperwork with his solicitor on a purchase he was making. Do you require the whole day's events? Or just a particular time?”

The inspector stood over her shoulder, reading off the ledger and taking notes on a small pad of paper he had pulled from his pocket. “I'll take what I need. Were you at this meeting?” He pointed to the line for two in the afternoon that indicated tea at the Langley with Hart and Nick. “I was.”

“And after?”

“I was home by dinner, which is served at half six. After that, I spent time going through Mr. Riley's correspondence and preparing replies.”

“And when did your day end?”

“I can't say for sure. I usually wait for Mr. Riley to get home, which is around eight or nine, depending on the next day's schedule.”

He closed his notebook with a snap and straightened his shoulders. Something about his presence had her taking a step away from him.

“Thank you, Miss Grant . . . though I have one more question.”

“Yes?” she asked, just wanting rid of him.

“Why did you change your name?”

She folded her hands in front of her. That was not an easy answer, and the closest she could come to the truth would be better. “Very few people would have hired Lady Amelia Somerset. I found the change of my name gave me a better opportunity at landing a job once I moved to London. A job that was more challenging than acting as a companion to an aged dowager.”

And it gave me a clean slate
, she thought, but she didn't say that out loud, knowing it would only bring forth new questions.

“You're a plucky woman, Miss
Grant.
” He gave a slight bow. “I'll see myself out and let you know if I require further information.”

“Inspector . . . ” When he turned back toward her, she asked, “Have you found any leads or details on what happened to Lord Berwick?”

“I'm working off a tip that named you an accomplice. Just haven't found the kind of clues I like in this instance—or a motive, for that matter.”

“Me? I had no reason to want my brother dead.”

“And what of Mr. Riley?”

The inspector's reference was obvious. Nick had beaten her brother to a bloody pulp and threatened him in front of every man and woman on the street, shortly before he'd turned up dead. All Nick had been trying to do was protect her. To stop her brother from dragging her away to marry the man he'd sold her to in the name of making good on his debts.

“Mr. Riley didn't personally know my brother. And I can't imagine he'd want such an outcome for anyone.”

“Perhaps. That still brings questions forth on his actions toward your brother the week before he was found dead and tossed in the Thames.”

The image with which he filled her head had her pressing her lips together. Every bruise and cut on her brother's body was burned into her brain, but to have that small tidbit of information made her sick to her stomach and had bile burning the back of her throat.

“Unfortunately, I don't have those answers. I can only say that a gentleman seeing a woman hauled away against her will is likely to act any way he sees fit.” She walked toward the door, hoping to usher him out quickly. She suddenly didn't want to be in his company. She wanted him gone from the house, though she had a feeling she wouldn't be so lucky as to not see him again.

As luck—or bad luck—would have it, Nick walked into the study just as they exited. The smile was suddenly wiped from his face. “Inspector,” he said.

“Mr. Riley. A pleasure to see you again.” The inspector's voice was anything but friendly, and his tone was cold enough that it stole the warmth from the room as the men eyed each other up and down.

“Mr. Riley.” Amelia cut through the tension by walking ahead of both men. “I was just showing Inspector Laurie out.”

“Why are you here?” Nick asked, completely ignoring Amelia. In fact, both men were still glaring at each other as if the person who stared longest would be the winner of some manly game.

“I had some questions on Miss
Grant's
whereabouts the night of her brother's murder.”

“She's under my employ. You didn't think you should ask my permission to speak with her?”

“I like to get down to the truth of the matter. You're a tricky one, and something's not quite right about this whole scenario. I'll uncover the truth, find out that you killed Berwick, and have you hanged for murder.”

“You dare come into my home and threaten me with false accusations? I could have your job for this, Inspector.”

“Prove me wrong and it won't be a problem.” The inspector gave a smug smile.

“Get out of my house, and don't come back without sending a card.”

“My line of work doesn't require me to send word ahead of time. It's hard to catch a criminal in the act if I'm going to advise him of my arrival.”

“I'll make sure to spell out my directions to Superintendent Jackson.”

“Now who's threatening whom?” the man said before whipping past Amelia in a fury and slamming the door in his wake.

Amelia shrank against the wall, thinking she'd done something wrong. She wasn't sure how to explain what had happened between the two men.

Nick was watching her closely, visibly reining in his frustration at the encounter. “Come into the study.”

She felt like a dog with her tail tucked between her legs as she crossed into the next room. Nick left the door open as he entered behind her and walked over to his desk, perching himself on the edge, as he usually did when he was about to interrogate someone.

“What questions did he ask you?”

“He wanted to know my whereabouts on the day Jeremy was murdered.”

She looked at the swirling design of the floor rug, so unsure of what had happened and of how she'd handled the situation. There was something she'd missed in dealing with the inspector. Perhaps she should have sent him away without speaking to him.

Nick took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. “If he comes around again, don't give him an opportunity to ask you any other questions. I will find another way to handle him.”

“What do you mean?” She rushed toward him, at odds with whether she wanted to shake him so he explained himself clearly or hold him close and tell him it didn't matter. “Do you plan to handle this the same way you handled my last employer, who thought taking advantage of me was included in my job duties? You can't solve every problem with your fists, Nick. If you're angry with me, that's fine, but don't speak cryptically of your intentions, because it leaves me wondering . . . ”

She didn't believe for one second that Nick had arranged for her brother's murder, but what would happen if the inspector turned up bloody and broken? Nick would find himself in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

“Wonder what? If I killed your brother? Is that what you're asking me?”

“No. Nick . . . ”

“Are you afraid of me?”

She inhaled deeply. Wasn't it only this morning that they'd come to an understanding of where their relationship was headed, that they could work through his secrets one step at a time without her demanding more? Well, this time she
needed
more than his evasive answers.

“I'm not afraid.” Her voice was firm. And left no room for interpretation. “Why do you push me away for something that relates to me?”

“Because right now, you are questioning whether or not I had a hand in your brother's death.”