Page 41 of A Delicate Deception
Amelia had the distinct impression that Sydney was not about to finish that sentence withbrother-in-law. Well, not for nothing had she been schooled in the art of putting people at their ease. “The world is filled with former acquaintances and former lovers and all manner of people one used to know. I spent a season kissing a French poetess at every opportunity, and if today she summoned me across the country I certainly wouldn’t go.” There. She had put that out in the open, established equal footing, and done it in two concise sentences. This, she felt certain, was the best use she had ever found for her mother’s teachings.
He had his back against the stone wall of the terrace. As she spoke, she walked towards him, until now they were almost standing chest-to-chest. She traced a finger down the length of his sleeve, appreciating the bulk of his arm, even beneath the wool of his coat. Just when she was wondering if she had misjudged the situation, he put a hand on her hip, letting out a sigh as if the contact came as a relief to him.
“I’ve wanted to touch you too,” she said. “It’s like my body forgot we were quarreling.”
“Can we agree that it was only a quarrel, Amelia? Not a rupture?”
Her instinct was to reassure him that everything was fine, to deny to both him and herself that she felt anything at all. “I hope so,” she answered instead. But what did it mean if they really did put the past two weeks behind them? Where did that leave them? Their time together had been almost anonymous, entirely free of cares and responsibilities, and she didn’t think they could go back to that. Now they knew one another’s weaknesses. They knew one another, full stop, and continuing would bring about something irrevocable. She closed her eyes and remembered that this was how she could expand her world from the inside.
“We’re quite in the shadows,” she said conversationally.
The corner of his mouth turned up in that lopsided smile that she was starting to regard as her favorite expression in the world. “I’m beginning to think you just like kissing strange men out of doors,” he murmured, then bent his head. He brushed his lips across hers, but even at that slight touch, she knew they had done something new and different, and there was no going back. What had come before, out on the hills and in the open, had been lovely and fine, but it hadn’t been real. Or maybe it had been real, but it had been something they could deny, something they could walk away from. They nearly had, come to that. But this, this was new. Sydney saw her now, he saw the real her. She wasn’t invisible to him, and that was terrifying.
She took a moment to relish the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, solid and secure. Then she pressed up onto her toes and kissed him again, deeper and with intent. He groaned and hauled her even closer. This must be what it was like to dive into a lake from a great height, or to jump fences on a horse. Her heart was racing and every inch of her skin felt alive with exhilaration. One hand on his shoulder, she pressed her other palm into the stone wall behind him. Remembering the last time they had kissed, that time she with the wall at her back and Sydney at her chest, she pressed her hips into him and felt the hard length of him against her belly. His grip on her waist tightened. And then, slowly, he gentled his kiss and put a little distance between them. He eased her down from that precipice, stroking her back and whispering nonsense until the desire she felt for him wasn’t an all-consuming thing. What was left was a tenderness, a warmth, that was somehow even more forceful. And when she looked up at him, she saw him gazing down at her with a dazed and adoring expression that she knew mirrored her own.
“We could have gone upstairs,” Amelia said, leaning against the wall beside him. The only place they touched was where their hands clasped, but he could still feel the echoes of her hands, her lips. “There seem to be quite a few unoccupied bedrooms.”
Sydney snorted. “They’re filled with hedgehogs and spiders. Which you probably find very titillating, what with your mania for doing lewd things in the great outdoors.” He could not believe he was jesting about this. It was a serious matter, the fact that he was on the verge of giving his heart away to this woman, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
“You know, Sydney, I intend to collect on that deflowering you owe me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
He made a noise that was definitely not a whimper, then cleared his throat. “No worries. I’m a man of my word.”
“What will you do?” she asked. “That you didn’t do already, I mean.”
He was about to explain that he’d be sure not to hurt her, instead of throwing her against walls like some kind of brute, but then he turned his head and saw the glint in her eye and understood what she was really asking. She wanted to play one of her games of make-believe. He swallowed. “First, I’d kiss you. Very softly.”
“No tongue?” she asked in a tone of academic curiosity.
“No tongue,” he affirmed somberly. “Only delicate brushes of my lips over yours.”
“Because I’d be utterly inexperienced and you wouldn’t want to shock me.”
“If you’re going to take issue with how I’d pretend to deflower you, why don’t you take the reins? If you’re such an expert at deflowerings,” he said in mock annoyance.
“Fine. You’d very tentatively touch my breasts.” She mimicked the action herself, bringing pale hands to cover the green silk of her bodice. “But I’d like it and you’d be able to tell, so you’d begin to unfasten my dress.”
“Would I? I work fast.”
“In this scenario, I’m impatient, so you’d better.” She was still caressing her breast, and he didn’t even bother to pretend that he wasn’t watching intently. She had on a corset and likely a couple layers of petticoats and a chemise, but he imagined that she was focusing her attention on her hardened nipples.
“Then what do I do?” His voice was hoarse.
“You slide my gown down my shoulders just enough to lick—”
“Stop,” he groaned. “I can’t take it.” He was hard in his trousers and if he ever wanted to go back inside he needed to get some control over himself. “Look, I’d take your gown off and, well, I’d fold it and put it someplace safe because it looks expensive.” God help him, had ever a man been less skilled at this. He tried again. “Then I’d get my mouth all over you. And I’d be ready to die from the need, but I wouldn’t try to make love to you until you were ready. I’d go slow and make sure I didn’t hurt you. I’d make sure you liked it. Because I care an awful lot about you and I can’t pretend otherwise, Amelia.” She looked up at him with an unreadable expression, probably because this was probably the least successful bedroom talk anyone had ever attempted.
“I wouldn’t undo that first time together, not for anything,” she said after staring at him for a moment. “Because it was lovely and you were lovely.” She squeezed his hand. “And we were lovely together.”
He swallowed. “What are we doing here, Amelia? I don’t think this is a passing fancy for either of us.”
“I don’t think you’ve had a passing fancy even once in your life, Sydney Goddard. And no, it’s not that for me either.”
Sydney ought to be pleased to hear that, surely. Instead his heart raced, his stomach turned—he was terrified. He had an insane urge to tell her that she must be mistaken, to present her with all manner of compelling arguments that she was not particularly fond of him after all. He had barely enough sense not to do so. “What does this mean?” he asked. “In any other circumstance I’d have already asked you to marry me.” Knowing her as he did, he couldn’t even consider asking her to come with him to a city that could be as disastrous to her as London had been. “But, I ought to tell you, the only reason I’ve been able to spend this much time away from Manchester is that I haven’t yet been appointed head engineer. Once construction starts, I’ll be lucky if I can get away for more than a day at a time.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “I understand if you want to keep your distance when you return. In the interest of avoiding heartbreak.”
He made a sound that was in between a cough and a laugh. “No, Amelia, that’s not what I meant. I haven’t the faintest interest in keeping my distance. As for heartbreak, I think we’ve already done that.” He lifted her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them. “At least I have. What I mean is that if we try to mend this”—oh, God help him, he was about to launch into an extended engineering metaphor—“we need to make sure it’s, um, structurally sound. Better than before. No gaps in knowledge or intent.”
