Page 47 of His Spirited Lady
A shadow loomed in the corner of his eye. Keeping Amelia close, he shielded her from Raymond’s hard eyes. “We’ll be along in a moment.”
Richard didn’t know if Raymond slunk or stalked. He didn’t know if he grumbled or growled. He only knew the odious bastard was gone and the day was the better for it.
Richard tipped Amelia’s chin and brought her lips to his. The sweetness made him hungry, and he happily surrendered to it, sweeping his tongue against hers. Her gasp made his lungs swell, and her fingers in his hair made his knees wobble.
He came up for air, but the world kept spinning, and when he focused on her, he realized he was in danger of more than falling over.
“I forgot…” He was doing that a lot lately. He cleared his throat. “We should go before anyone thinks I’ve compromised you.”
Just saying it made him think of little else. He backed away and took her hand, tugging her behind him when she didn’t move quickly enough.
“Isn’t that the point?” she half-giggled. “To make sure I’m on the shelf?”
She wasn’t helping matters. “Amelia—”
“Fine.” She anchored her feet and tightened her arm. “But you aren’t going to ruin my enjoyment of finally telling that man what I thought of him.” She yanked her hand free. “And you aren’t going to drag me back to the house like I’m an errant child.”
Standing there, one eyebrow arched, one hand on her hip, telling him off, she was…adorable. And though Richard’s brain told him to run the other direction as fast as he could, his body fell into place beside her. His elbow waited for her hand. His feet fell into step.
“And you aren’t going to dampen the thrill of kissing you,” Amelia sighed. “I can’t wait for Fiona Allen to tease me again. She’s going to get an earful.”
Chuckling, Richard looked skyward and silently prayed for mercy. “What am I going to do with you?”
*
Amelia let herselfinto the distillery and stood in the doorway, shaking the rain from her hat and cloak. The barrel room was dark and cool even on the brightest days, but tonight, the weather and the lack of moonlight gave it a gloomy, cold air. The barrels hulked in the shadows like great beasts waiting to drag passersby—
Enough of this imagination. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble already.
Dry fingers brushed her ankles, startling a shriek and inspiring her to fumble for the matches and candle that always waited by the door. As the flame sputtered to life, the hand reached for her again, and she shrank into a corner until Caspar’s purr rumbled against her feet.
“Silly girl,” Amelia chided herself as she bent to stroke the cat’s short orange fur. He was fatter than last month, which hopefully meant he was doing his job rather than begging for the children’s breakfasts. “Incorrigible creature.”
She straightened and lifted the candle high, showing the path between stacked wine casks. Sweet oak and dust tickled her nose until she sneezed. The sound echoed back to her.
“Bless you.” The dark rumble paired with an even blacker shadow in the doorway, tall and ominous.
“Who’s there?” Amelia hated the shake in her voice, but her heart was in her throat. She raised the candle higher, and relaxed only when it glinted off the pattern of Drake’s waistcoat. “Oh, it’s you.”
He reached for her hand and led her through the path and toward the still room. “What’s frightened you?”
How could Amelia explain that having Ethan tower over her and carp about his expectations had been unnerving? His harsh face and hard eyes had made him almost unrecognizable. She’d fought back out of self-defense as much as anger, though she’d found it liberating to be honest in her opinions. “It has been a long day, and the ride was far darker than normal.”
It had been a relief when Richard had arrived and played co-conspirator.
For that’s what he was, though it was difficult to remember at times. Especially when he befriended her father and spoke of France as though he was focused on keeping her near her family, even when he knew she’d never be leaving.
All afternoon, the thought had chafed much like a pebble in her boot. She’d always thought in terms of fighting to stay in Norfolk, in Thetford, near to Oakdale. She’d wanted control of her own life and her own future. Today, listening to Annabel’s story of her father’s losses, Amelia saw that control meant risking failure and poverty.
If she failed, she wouldn’tgetto stay here. She’d bestuckhere. On the outskirts of everyone else’s life.
“Richard should be with you,” Drake said as he lit a lantern.
The soft glow burnished the copper giants, which were waiting for a task. Tonight, rather than creativity, they inspired exhaustion. But if this is what control looked like, she’d seize it. No matter the work involved.
She would not be a spectator in her own life.
“You do realize our betrothal is a ruse?” she asked as she climbed the stairs to the loft, her boots heavy against the treads.
