Page 130 of The Lyon Whisperer
She washed her face. Cleaned her teeth. Brushed her hair ’til it gleamed in the candlelight. Surely he and her father had concluded their conversation by now?
When an hour passed with no sign of him, her heart sank. Her father had implied the evening was a disaster. Chase’s silent treatment confirmed he felt the same.
She snuffed the candles and crawled into bed. She punched the pillows on her cavernously empty bed and pinched her eyes closed.
Sleep evaded her. Hurt and anger over his cowardly method of communicating his displeasure warred with soul-wrenching remorse for how she’d so mismanaged the flow of conversation. She tried to quiet her thoughts, but scenes from the evening kept unfolding before her mind’s eye.
She had no idea how long she lay there, awake and miserable.
Finally, she tossed back the covers, grabbed up her wrapper, slid her feet into her night slippers and tromped to the door, not bothering to soften her steps. If she woke him from a sound sleep, more was the pity.
She tripped lightly down the stairs and navigated the dark passageway to the kitchens by memory.
Her murmured hello woke the puppies from a sound sleep. Yawning and stretching their gangly, growing limbs, they rolled off of each other, then stood, their tales wagging with joy at the sight of her.
She removed the barrier and freed them from the drying room. “Shall we have a wander by moonlight?”
Fergus and Rose raced each other to the back door.
Amelia opened it for them before noticing Roddy had charged in the opposite direction.
“Bloody hell,” she murmured under her breath. She’d grown careless about closing the door to the manse as the three dogs had shown no interest in exploring inside.
With a sigh, she retrieved Fergus and Rose and shut them back into their designated space, then went in search of Roddy. She found him whining and pawing at the closed door to Chase’s den. A thin beam of golden light shone beneath the door.
She glared at the beam. So he’d opted to work, had he, not even bothering to say goodnight? She sniffed and bent to scoop up the wriggling dog.
As she rose, the door swung open.
Chase, looking as disheveled as she’d ever seen him, filled the doorway. Limned by the firelight glowing in the grate, she could not make out his expression clearly, but she could not miss that his usually neat hair looked as if he’d raked his hands through it several times.
He still wore his shirt sleeves, arms rolled up to his elbows, though he’d removed his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat.
A strong scent emanated from him. She sniffed. Spirits, she realized.
“Amelia,” he murmured gruffly. Then he reached for her, heedless of the dog in her arms, and dragged her across the threshold.
Chapter Thirty
It was asif he’d conjured her from thin air.
The small whimper of need she made when he reached for her was like throwing dry kindling atop the fire of need raging through him. A need he’d fought with a combination of willpower and brandy for the last hour.
He held her soft, lithe body against him, his nose pressed into her rose-scented hair.
Athump-thump-thumpsounded at his feet.
He relaxed his hold long enough to squint at the curly-haired, one-eyed mongrel laying on his back near his feet. The dog’s muscular tail whacked the carpet in a steady beat.
“Roderick, what are you doing here, m’boy?”
Amelia fisted her small hands in his shirt and pressed her face into his chest. “I couldn’t sleep. I went to visit the puppies. He escaped through the open door and ran straight here. Yet another of my foibles to add to tonight’s long list. Are you terribly angry?”
He crooked a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “Angry? Over this?”
“Not only this, as you very well know.” Her voice was thin with emotion. “All you ever asked of me was to behave like a proper lady. I…tried my best not to embarrass you, to behave exactly as you would have me behave. And then, it all fell apart.”
Tears welled in her eyes, compounding his own guilt.
