Page 73 of His Spirited Lady
“An orphan girl who becomes a governess and goes to work for a mysterious man, teaching his ward.” She cast a sideways glance. “And yours?”
“A man who is wrongly sent to a dreadful prison for the remainder of his life and his quest for revenge.” Richard closed the book. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
Amelia nodded and marked her place. “The circle took a chance on me. I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“You won’t.” He wrapped his fingers around her delicate wrist and gave in to the temptation to stroke her silky skin. “What you have created is as unique as you are. You should be proud to show it off.”
“Drake says I should expect questions about our engagement.”
Of course her lenders would have questions. She’d just started a business that any marriage would require her to leave, but if she told them the truth in front of Oliver and Thea, there would be hell to pay at home. “We’ll deal with it.” He knelt in front of her.
“I wish you’d asked me instead of assuming,” she said.
Her large blue eyes drew him forward. “I wish you’d trust me to help.” Her lavender and geranium scented skirts were soft on his palms as he made room between her thighs.
“Richard.” Her gasp caressed his skin as her lashes dropped over her eyes.
The moment their lips joined, his body surged forward, demanding the sweetness on her tongue until she whimpered in need, and then he ate that too, nibbling her lips as he untied her wrapper. “Christ, Amelia.” Her neck smelled of flowers and tasted of the fairy floss he’d had once at the fair.
The more he tasted, the more she offered. Her salty collarbone led to her caramel-textured sternum and then to the sinful flavor along the swell of her breast. Amelia arched just enough to put the mound in his hand, and his fingers flexed on instinct, caressing her through the cotton, rolling her nipple until it begged for his mouth and then answering the plea. The starchy fabric was dry against his tongue for a moment, but it was easy to imagine the fruit beneath, especially as the nightshirt fabric softened. Richard pulled away enough to breathe across it and watch her skin draw tighter.
Amelia’s nails scraped his scalp, pulling him to her as her heels grazed his spine. Her kiss was as demanding as his had been, and Richard groaned in frustration as his erect shaft grazed the front of her chair. All he had to was shift—
He couldn’t take her. She wasn’t his. And a child, should there be one… Ignoring every cell in his body, he stopped and looked into her hazy, hungry eyes.
“You can’t leave me like this.” Her hands slid from his hair, across his shoulders and down his arms, so warm it was easy to imagine he was naked. “Please, Richard.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,ma belle.” She couldn’t guess how difficult it was to put two rational thoughts together when he was blind with need and drowning in the scent of her.
Her hand left his arm to lay flat on her stomach. “It’s like craving strawberries at Christmas.”
The insides of her knees were like velvet, and he was losing his mind.
“I won’t leave you hungry.” Her thighs were like silk. “But you have to be quiet,chéri.” His thumb brushed her mound and came away wet as she trembled beneath him. On his second pass, he rotated the digit across her bud and watched her eyes fly wide. Leaning as close as he dared in his condition, he sealed his lips over hers and captured her sensitive flesh between a finger and thumb, rolling it as he’d done her nipple.
Amelia came apart beneath him as she groaned against his tongue.
Richard could have stopped there, but when he backed away, she was exposed to him, her sweet body wet from his touch. His mouth watered like a man at an oasis, and he was drinking from her before he knew what had happened, his fingers coaxing her body to give him what he needed, her knees over his shoulders as her heels bruised his back.
He would have felt like a bastard, but every time he moved away, she dragged him back, her fingers in his hair as she arched upward. Her wanton cries vibrated from his palm to his elbow as he fought to keep this their secret.
Eventually, she nudged him away from a body that trembled without his touch. Richard eased her legs from his shoulders and straightened her skirts with shaky fingers. He lifted her into his arms, intending to help her to her feet, but he fell backward against the wall.
“So that’s what can happen in ten minutes when we’re alone in a library.” Amelia’s sleepy giggle tickled his chest, and her hair swept across his cheek.
The squeaky hackney had stopped its rounds. Their candles had gone out, leaving them in darkness save for the dim fire and the glow from the streetlamps. Their books had tumbled to the floor.
Richard crossed his arms over Amelia’s back to keep her warm, ignoring the mess, the hard floor, and his even harder body. He kissed the top of her head and then rested his cheek over the spot, sealing in the affection.
Maybe, if he was lucky, Oliver would find them like this and force him to marry her.
Chapter Nineteen
Amelia had enteredOctavia Foster’s home two years ago and been awed by the number of successful women in the room. Now, she was one of them.
“Welcome back, Lady Amelia,” the butler said as he took her cloak and hat.
“Thank you, Martin.” She resisted the impulse to curtsey to a man more regal than most she’d met in London ballrooms. Instead, she presented him with the bottles she’d carried from Thetford in her luggage, carefully wrapped in her softest clothes. “Would you see these get poured for our meeting today, please?”
