“Yes, you.” She tilted her head slightly. “I cannot imagine the towering, intimidating Duke as a young boy. What was your childhood like?”
The question was innocent enough. Gideon could see the genuine curiosity in Amelia’s eyes and found that he didn’t have the strength to end the conversation.
“It was… like any others,” he answered noncommittally.
Amelia’s brows furrowed. “Like any others? That is quite the ambiguous response.”
“Well, that is because there is not much to tell. I was brought up in a particularly wealthy household with the knowledge that I will one day inherit my father’s title.”
“And you consider that like any other childhood?” Amelia asked with a light giggle.
“Is it not?” he replied, feigning ignorance. Amelia tilted her head back with a peal of laughter.
“I do not mean to take your words as jest,” she said, attempting to stifle her titters. “I’m just trying to imagine a young Gideon, solemn and dutiful, with eyes only for his future dukedom. Did you not have any friends?”
“I had only the one, the Earl of Janesbury. Though back then, he was the second son of his father, and so, free from the heavy expectations I faced. I could never relate of course. I still remember the day he confessed to me about how he dreamt of becoming a private investigator. Can you believe the nerve of him?”
“Oh, the audacity to dream outside one’s station!” Amelia played along, eliciting a genuine smile from Gideon. “When next I see him, I shall have to give him a piece of my mind.”
“You mean you shall defend my honor?”
“I shall defend the honor of the young Gideon Terrell who did not dare to dream.”
Gideon pushed aside the somber thoughts of the dreams he’d once harbored as a child, dreams that had been lost along with the passing of his younger brother. For now, he wanted to soak in the present and cherish the peace and pleasure he felt in Amelia’s company.
“But I must ask, Gideon,” she went on, sobering up. Gideon felt the lovely moment begin to fray—as if her next words might shatter it entirely. “What would your family think if they learned that you moonlighted as someone as contemptible as the Masked Rogue?”
The slow pleasure and anticipation that had been subtly weaving through him dissolved into fury. Finished with the first course, the maids drifted into focus to remove the dishes and replace them with the second. Another few moments passed by as they exited the room once more. Gideon seized all the time given to quell his anger but it only grew as the seconds went by.
She didn’t know anything about him. Out of pure ignorance, she truly dared to question and pass judgment over him? What if he revealed the truth of his motivations to her? That, had it not been for the cowards that he so relentlessly pursued now, his father and brother would still be alive? Why did he feel so tempted to expose his deepest wounds just so that she might understand him better?
His frustration mounting, Gideon made a grab for the knife, intending to stab into the roasted duck before him. In his haste, he misjudged the distance and sliced his finger instead.
“Gideon!”
Amelia sprang from her chair faster than he could grasp what had just happened. She gently cradled his hand, now bleeding profusely, worry stark on her face.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” she said urgently, sinking to her knees before him. Without any hesitation, she seized the hem of her skirt and ruthlessly ripped the fabric’s seams before wrapping it around his bleeding hand. Gideon’s eyes fell to her now-exposed legs.
“Is it painful?” she asked, lifting her gaze to meet his. Genuine concern shone up at him. Gideon couldn’t recall the last time someone had shown such genuine care for him and it swiftly dissipated any lingering annoyance he might have had.
She didn’t know. She was blissfully unaware of the turmoil she was stirring within him. Gideon opened his mouth, knowing that he was supposed to give a response of some sort. But his throat went dry, and his gaze was drawn to the enticing curve of her décolletage.
“Gideon…” The whisper of his name was what undid him in the end. Acting on impulse, he leaned in and captured her lips with his own.
For a second, she went breathless. But then, Amelia responded with a soft moan, her passion mirroring his own desperation. Only then did he realize that she had been craving this almost as much as he did, that her body had been longing for his touchthe way his had longed for hers. He tugged on her elbow, gently coaxing her onto his lap. She willingly obliged, looping her arms around his neck, her lips moving against his with a clumsiness that belied her lack of experience.
But he led and she followed. He teased her lips apart with his tongue and then wrestled with hers, his yearning consuming him whole. He didn’t care about the meal at this point, didn’t care about her inciting words. Gideon’s only need was to feel her, to claim her entirely as his own.
She matched his fervor, though there remained a hint of coyness behind her actions. Unknowingly—or perhaps quite deliberately—she shifted her hips against his lap, and his arousal all but tore through his breeches.
He had to have her. He had to have her now.
With a surge of desperation, he got to his feet, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. She was surprisingly light, and he carried her to a bare section of the table with ease. He gently set her down on the white tablecloth, all the while keeping their lips locked in a passionate embrace. Amelia’s hands roved, one cradling his face, the other tangled in his hair. Yet Gideon found himself unable to restrain his own hands from exploring every inch of her soft body.
He artfully hooked a finger under the neckline of her gown and tugged lightly. One breast bared, revealing her pert nipple. Amelia gasped, jerking away from him in surprise.
Her eyelids were heavy with lust as she lay vulnerable on the table. Spurred on by the sight, Gideon closed the distance between them and gently lowered his head to lavish attention on her breasts. His gaze remained locked on hers, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty or fear. If he spotted even a sliver of hesitation, he would back away, no matter how difficult it might prove.
