Undressed by the Earl (24 page)

But when she adjusted her head back upon his lap, she grew aware that her husband was not at all immune to the kiss.

His body was tense, his fists clenched as he stared out the window. It was as if she’d upset him somehow, and she wasn’t certain if it was the prospect of driving through the night…or a physical frustration.

To test her theory, she adjusted her head against his lap, and he let out a slight hiss of air. From the blunt thickness of his erection, he still wanted her.

Amelia tilted her face up to look at him. It was dark, and only the faint flare of the oil lantern outside let her glimpse his face.

“You’re hurting,” she whispered. “And I don’t know why.”

He remained quiet for a while. “It’s nothing you should worry about.”

Her hand moved to touch his rigid flesh. “Is it because we didn’t—”

“Yes.” He took her hand away from his lap and muttered, “Now go to sleep.”

That
was impossible. Though she knew almost nothing about joining with a man, she thought again about Toria’s advice. Frowning in the darkness, she thought about the challenge of what to do. Her mind conjured up the forbidden image of the night when she’d sat atop him in the chair. Though he’d only touched her, it was possible to do more in that position.

Her imagination went wild, and at the thought of taking command, she started to grow moist between her legs. She thought of his hands touching her breasts, and without asking, she took his palm in hers and brought it to one erect nipple.

David obeyed her unspoken request, stroking her breast and lightly pinching the nipple with his fingers. An echoing ache clenched deep inside, and she longed for so much more.

He was tempting her, arousing her so much, she lifted her head from his lap. What she was about to do was brazen, unthinkable for a lady. But she was past the point of obeying the rules. She wanted her husband inside her, and there were hours before they would arrive anywhere.

“Don’t speak,” she ordered, kissing him deeply. She reached for his trousers and began to unfasten the buttons, one by one. It took only seconds to unfasten his drawers and free his hot length from the small clothes. Somehow, in the darkness, it was easier to be bold. Though she was still intimidated by this, the thought of him being in pain was worse. Especially when she could do something about it.

She straddled his lap, hitching her skirts up. Her heart was pounding fiercely, but she wrapped her hand around his thick length, stroking from the base to the tip.

He caught his breath, and it encouraged her to try it again. Her hand grew slick with his heat, and she guided the head of him into her wet entrance.

The earl shocked her when he pressed his hips upward, holding her bottom. “Feeling impatient, are you?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she confessed. The sensation of being filled so deeply was both thrilling and frightening. “I was afraid you would refuse. But I know you need this.”

He held her waist and lifted her slightly before giving a shallow thrust. “I do, yes.” His voice was deep, and in the darkness, it was overwhelming to be this intimate with him. “But I wasn’t going to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother,” she whispered, gasping as she felt the thickness of him invading and withdrawing once again. “It’s my duty, as your wife.”

“Like buying me waistcoats?” he said, while his shaft was embedded within her. The coach rumbled along the road, and the motion of the vehicle created subtle vibrations. She could feel her breathing transforming, growing more shallow. His hands moved up to her breasts, caressing the tips, and she found herself moving against him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Nothing more than that.”

It was such a lie, but she didn’t want him to think she was falling in love with him. If he believed this meant nothing, then perhaps he would one day see her as a wife instead of a stepmother for his daughter. His heart belonged to someone else, and she didn’t know if he would ever let go of Katherine.

She rose up on her knees, sinking down, and was rewarded when he thrust deeply. It was a new sensation, but he kept holding her down, forcing her to endure the tremors of the rocking coach.

A wildness rose up in her blood, and she was hardly able to bear it. She gripped his hair, finding the rhythm she wanted, and he countered by reaching below her skirts to touch the fold of flesh that had brought her such pleasure earlier.

Her body was arching higher, shuddering with the intensity, but he would not let her go. Instead, he pumped against her, forcing her to ride him faster. The explosive force of her release made her cry out, and he drove himself in and out, gripping her hips while he took his own pleasure.

She was drowning in lust, unable to do anything but surrender to him. And then, at last, his breathing shifted, and he let out a harsh breath as he found his own climax.

Her hair was still undone, her body weak. But he didn’t force her to get up right away. Instead, he held her close, and she felt the wild beat of his pulse when she rested her fingertips against his throat.

Henry Andrews was at a loss for what to do. His wife had hardly emerged from her room in the past two weeks. She’d barely touched her food, and misery lined her face.

Because of Margaret, who was still missing.

Today was Beatrice’s birthday, and he wanted to give her something that would make her smile. It had taken help from Charlotte, but he’d learned that she had kept the sapphire bracelet, giving Beatrice money from her own funds.

He’d paid her back, and now the bracelet was in a velvet pouch, tucked in his waistcoat pocket. He wanted to surprise Beatrice with it, to bring a smile back. After knocking on her door, she called out for him to enter.

“Is there any news?” she asked, when he closed the door to her bedroom.

He shook his head. “My men have searched all the major roads, but after they found the wreckage of the coach, there was no sign of them. They must have gone forward on foot.”

“I can’t believe this happened,” Beatrice said, staring out the window. “I don’t want to imagine that she’s dead. I can’t even think of it in my mind, though I know it’s possible.”

“I sent other men to Scotland, to speak with Sinclair’s family. If he took her somewhere—”

“No, he’d have given his own life to protect Margaret.” Beatrice shook her head. “He’d never harm a hair on her head.”

But the fact remained that his daughter was stranded in northern England with a man who was not her husband.

“She’s ruined,” he told his wife. “Even if she’s found—”

“Do you think I
care
about that anymore, Henry? I don’t even care if he’s made her pregnant. I just want to know that my daughter is alive.”

The tears streamed down her face, and she gripped her hands together. He wished now that he hadn’t said anything.

A heaviness centered over his mood, and he offered, “I won’t stop searching for her. No matter how long it takes.”

He moved forward, trying to guide her into his arms, but Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t want to be touched right now, Henry. I just want to be alone.”

The sapphire bracelet remained in his pocket, like a guilty conscience. He tried again. “I asked our housekeeper to prepare a cake today. For your birthday.”

She didn’t smile but stared out the window. “I have no reason to celebrate being another year older. Not when my daughter is missing.”

He fingered the velvet pouch, but his throat tightened. This was not the time to give her the gift. She was so tormented by thoughts of Margaret, nothing would break through her grief.

And so, he kept the velvet pouch in his pocket.

“Papa!” A young girl flew into the earl’s arms while Amelia walked alongside him, entering the foyer of Castledon. Christine’s dark hair was braided and pinned up like a young lady’s, although she was far too young to be wearing it in that fashion. She wore a sea-green silk frock that reminded Amelia of something a mermaid might wear.

David embraced his daughter warmly, and in that fleeting moment, Amelia saw that he truly did love the girl. There was a different air about him, as if a part of his heart were filled up, just by being home again. “I’ve brought you the mother you requested.” He stepped back and led Amelia forward to meet her. “This is Amelia, the new Lady Castledon.”

Christine frowned, but dutifully curtseyed. Amelia kept a smile upon her face, though she saw the wariness in the girl’s eyes. It seemed that her new stepdaughter wasn’t at all pleased to see her, despite her good manners.

“I’m glad to meet you,” Amelia said, pretending as if she didn’t notice Christine’s reaction. But inwardly she knew this was not going to be easy for either of them.

“Christine, how would you like to take your new mother on a tour of the house, while I have our belongings sent upstairs?”

His daughter hesitated, as if she didn’t want to. But she responded, “Yes, Papa.”

“I would like that very much,” Amelia said. “It will give us the chance to become better acquainted. And your father can join us in a few moments.”

It was a subtle means of asking the earl to save them both, in case the first meeting didn’t go well. Amelia wasn’t at all optimistic, given the girl’s reluctance.

“Follow me,” Christine offered, and Amelia accompanied the girl upstairs. She led her a little farther, until they were out of the earl’s earshot. Immediately, she said, “My father wasn’t supposed to marry you.”

This wasn’t exactly news to Amelia, but she decided to tread carefully. “What do you mean by that?”

“He was supposed to marry my governess, Miss Grant. I had it all arranged.”

And you spoiled everything
, her eyes seemed to say.

Amelia knew she had to choose her words carefully. “I’m sorry to have disrupted your plans. You must be very close to your governess.” Or perhaps the woman had allowed the girl to do anything she pleased.

“I was.” The young girl’s face went sullen. “But Miss Grant left to marry someone else a few weeks ago. She wasn’t supposed to—I wanted her to marry my father.”

Amelia said nothing, knowing that silence was her best ally at the moment.

“My father is not going to love you,” Christine insisted. “You might as well understand that.”

The girl’s dramatic proclamation wasn’t unexpected. Even so, it was dismaying that Christine had already decided that Amelia was unworthy to be her stepmother after they had known each other only two minutes.

Amelia took a steady breath and kept her voice calm. “Whether or not the earl loves me doesn’t matter. I am his wife, and that won’t change. As for you and I, we will come to our own understanding.”

“You won’t tell me what to do,” Christine warned. “I can promise you that.” In the girl’s eyes was the promise of trouble with a capital
T
.

Amelia had no desire to be enemies, but at the same time, she would not let herself be bullied by an eleven-year-old. “I think we should have a talk and draw up an agreement between us.” A truce, as it were.

Christine’s expression appeared wary, as if she had no desire to come to any sort of compromise. It didn’t bode well for either of them. Fortunately, Amelia was spared any further conversation when Lord Castledon joined them.

His daughter immediately linked her arm in his, drawing him forward so that Amelia was left behind. The message was quite clear:
You aren’t wanted.

Amelia imagined she was supposed to be heartbroken by this. Perhaps the girl wanted her to cajole or coax her, spoiling her in the hopes of gaining her love. Not so. Amelia had earned the title of Unruly Daughter at an early age and was well acquainted with manipulating others to get what she wanted. Lady Christine would not be granted her every desire simply because she wanted it so.

Her new stepdaughter’s machinations were quite obvious, and whether or not Lord Castledon believed them didn’t matter a whit.

When Amelia turned the corner, she found them waiting for her. Her husband offered his other arm. “I lost you for a moment there.”

“I thought you might want a little time with Christine,” she said, ignoring the girl’s glare while she took the earl’s opposite arm. “You haven’t seen her in a while.”