A moment of hesitation, then he took her hand where it had settled around his flesh. He guided her fingers along the shaft, trembling in pleasure. Amelia intuited the rest, watching in the fragments of light available to her as her ministrations disarmed him until he was left a panting mess.
Bringing his arms around her, he held her close against him. He moaned low into her ear as she continued the pattern he had shown her. She relished every moment, had no idea she could want him more than she already did, that he could relinquish himself to her in return.
Minutes passed as she worked him, and he held onto her tighter.
Until suddenly, his body seized.
He gave a low cry into the pillow beside her, and the sound ignited something dark and carnal inside her. His breath was hot on her neck as something warm and wet spilled into her hand.
Amelia, surprised, continued until he stopped her.
“Enough,” he sighed. “Stop, that’s… enough.”
He pulled back to look at her, then pressed his forehead against hers. Remaining there a while in silence, she worried she had done something wrong.
“Amelia…” he whispered, sorrowful and repentant. “Every moment I have known you has tested me more than the last… But I regret none of them. Not this one, not…”
He trailed off, shaking his head.
“I know,” she murmured. “I know.”
The curtains had been parted, and the room glowed with weary moonlight after the storm. Nicholas tucked a strand of hair behind Amelia’s ear where it had fallen free, softening as she pressed her face into his hand, continuing to tell him what she remembered about her late father.
The night had worn on since he had arrived in her room. Recalling the moments after that little death with her, he could not remember why he had stayed. He had dressed again, helped her clean in the washbasin, and so had she. It had been the greatest challenge of his life not to show her more of what they could do together when she asked.
But some things we will not recover from,he thought as she continued her story.Some things will bind us for life. And tempting as that may be now, dawn must break eventually.
“He was not always so melancholy,” Amelia whispered with a sad smile, redirecting Nicholas’s attention to her. “Freddyassures me that my father was the happiest man in England before I was born. Uncle Benjamin says much the same.”
“Before you were born?”
“That was when the trouble started with Mother.” She paused, looked up at him. “I do not blame myself. It was time… It was only time that made things become what they did.”
“As it is wont to do.”
“From what I gather, Father rarely left Bright Corner after Mother… Well, once her illness became severe.” She shrugged, and her bravery astounded him. “Do you think it is likely your mother and father met my father before things changed?”
Nicholas concealed his surprise, having not anticipated she would ask about his parents. “Father? I imagine he must have met the late Viscount Tate, yes.”
“But not your mother…?” She inched closer, tightening the coverlet around her shoulders. “You said weeks ago that you and Samuel do not share the same mother. May I ask what happened to her?”
He smirked. “Was this your long-winded way of getting me to talk about her?”
“I did say I wanted to know you.” She laughed softly. “But no. I was just curious.”
“It is not a particularly interesting story.”
He glanced toward the window. The grounds stood still outdoors.
“She absconded when I was very young,” he admitted. “Abandoned my father…us,and fled for France. She died a few months into her exile, from what I believe was consumption.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“You should not be. I do not mourn her. The only recollection I have of her face is contained in the miniatures she left behind. Father remarried shortly after we received news of her death. Theirs was never a match made of love. He found… some joy with Samuel’s mother. It was as you said. Time makes of things what it will.”
There was more he could have said.
How the betrayal of his mother’s departure had lodged somewhere deep in his chest with little chance of being unearthed. How he had, as a boy, imagined her returning for years, convinced she had not really died.
