Page 89 of His Spirited Lady
“Thank God more women don’t know of his prowess,” Jasper teased as he signed the agreement. “The men in London would find the world on its head.”
“It’s not such a bad feeling.” Richard joined them. He put one hand on her back as he took the quill and signed his name. Then he gave it to her.
By law, it had the same meaning as an inkblot in the margin. For Amelia, it meant everything. After her father’s death, she and Richard would own Oakdale together. It would be their home, in name as well as in action. She returned the quill to Jasper. “Grandfather will raise a fuss.”
“Which is why I don’t plan to tell him.” Her cousin blotted the ink, folded the paper, and slid it inside his coat.
Richard’s fingers curved to her waist. “The funds should reach your bank—”
“They already have.” Jasper took his drink in one hand and offered Richard the other. “It seems odd that I’m the one getting the gift on your wedding day.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Richard’s thumb swept an arc from her spine to her waist, dragging heat in its wake. On the return trip, he flicked the tie at the end of her laces.
“We shouldn’t keep you from the dance,” Amelia said. “Who knows? You might find a marriage-minded miss of your own.”
“Ye gods.” Jasper shuddered as he plucked his half-full glass from the desk. “That’s a reason to avoid a party if I’ve ever heard one.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I wish you every happiness, Amelia. I cannot think of a better family to care for this lovely home.”
He shook Richard’s hand again and, though they didn’t speak, a long stare and a sharp nod passed between them.
Then Amelia was alone with her husband. “He’s really not a bad sort, but I wish he wouldn’t drink so much.”
“Says the best distiller in England.” Richard brushed his nose along the curve of her ear, and his breath set her aflame.
“He has gin in his hand from breakfast until bedtime. Surely—”
“It isn’t gin.” His words danced along her shoulder before his tongue chased them away. He pulled her to him, so her back was against his chest. “And I don’t wish to talk about your cousin, wife.”
His mouth on her skin turned her muscles to water and threatened to char her bones to ash. All week, he’d kissed her senseless, but he’d stopped there. Even when they were alone, he’d stayed his hands. She and Mother had a vague and embarrassing conversation about martial duties which, combined with their tryst in London, had left Amelia more confused than ever.
Thankfully, Lillian Graves had been more direct, though no less embarrassing. “We will talk about this once, because I don’t wish for you to be ignorant or alarmed after your wedding.”
Contrary to those worries, Amelia wasn’t alarmed. She couldn’t wait for what happened next. “Would you prefer to read?”
Richard froze, his hands on her shoulders. “What?”
She smothered her giggle as best she could. “I noticed you scanning the shelves.”
His laughter shook them both as he turned her. “I was trying not to molest you in front of your cousin.”
Their kiss at the wedding breakfast had been but a hint of this one. Richard’s tongue danced with hers, stroking and retreating in a pattern much more scandalous than a waltz, especially when his body mimicked the movement, pressing into hers. His knee coaxed her thighs apart, and then he was there. Nothing between them but their clothes, his hardness against her stomach.
Other parts of her ached for him, and she took his hips in her hands to move him.
“Christ, Amelia,” he groaned. “Stay still, or they’ll hear you screaming over the orchestra.”
That didn’t sound like such a bad thing.
“Honestly, I was hoping for a hidden staircase behind a shelf.” Richard looked down at her, both eyebrows raised. “I’d prefer no one see me carrying you upstairs to ravish you.”
Beyond the door, the orchestra was playing a lively dance. Everyone would be in a gallopade. “They’ll never notice.” She took his hand and led him to the door.
They raced down the entry hall to the stairs, him half-pushing and her half-running, careful to keep in his shadows so her gold dress didn’t shimmer in the light.
Her heart was pounding as they reached the top of the stairs, and her feet flew down the carpet to their newly redecorated suite of rooms. Richard closed the door behind them and gathered her into his arms, but only to reach for the laces at her back. “Finally.”
“Miss?”
The squeaky voice froze them in time. Richard’s lips quirked in a most endearing way.
