Stephen stayed where he was, staring out the window, and did not bother to respond. He traced two raindrops on their journey down the glass, making a wager with himself as to which one would reach the bottom first.
In the end, he did not manage to find out which of the raindrops was the winner. There was a rustle of fabric, and he caught a glimpse of Amelia’s reflection in the window, just by his shoulder.
“I do not think that you are a monster,” she mumbled, her eyes downcast. “Truly, I do not. I have seen how you treat my sisters, how you treatme, and I… I have no complaints to make.”
“Except that you think I am trying to make you my mistress.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He shrugged. “I am not the one trying to seduce you, Amelia. Time and again,youhave come tome.”
Her reflection blushed. “That is not true.”
He straightened and turned around slowly. A too-sharp movement might scare her away.
“Are you entirely sure about that?” he whispered, catching her gaze and holding it.
Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with desire. He lifted a hand, cupping her soft chin, and tilted her face up to his. She leaned into him just a little, butenough.
He thought about kissing her, but before he could do so, her tongue darted out, swiping across her lower lip. It left a glossy sheen in its wake.
“When this is over,” she managed, her voice trembling, “and I take my sisters and go home, you will not give a fig what happens to me. You will forget about me as if I were never here. That’s the thing about nobles. Your lives are so full that you can distract yourself with ease, but for us poorer folks, some things are not easily forgotten.”
“I’ll forget, will I?” he murmured, entranced by the sheen on her lip. “You are wrong about that, Amelia. You are wrong aboutme.”
He felther throat work as she swallowed, and the last of his restraint broke, like a dam collapsing under the weight of too much water.
He leaned in, crashing his lips against hers. She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing a little too tightly. In his mind, he recalled the softness of her wrists when he pinned them against the bedsheets, and a pang of desire rolled through him, so powerful it made him stagger.
She pulled back, her lips red and glistening, and stared up at him, her eyes wide. “Th-The door,” she stammered. “Is it still locked?”
It was an effort to release her and step back toward the door, but Stephen did it. He tried the door, but it would not budge.
“Yes,” he rasped.
She wet her lips, staggering back a step or two toward the window seat. “Then… then come here.”
CHAPTER 21
Amelia let out a muffled cry as he snatched her around the waist, pulling her against him hard.
His chest was firm beneath the layers of his clothing, and she found herself remembering how his chest had glistened in the bathwater, drops trickling down a firm, sculpted abdomen.
He kissed her again, his tongue slipping over her bottom lip and darting into her mouth. It left a wave of heat in its wake, and the feeling did not recede. Instead, it grew stronger, a prickling sensation in her gut that pulsed harder with every passing moment.
She could feel something hard poking her hip, and it took her a few moments before she understood what it was.
That was a little terrifying, the evidence of his desire for her. Terrifying and thrilling.
She hated how it thrilled her. Male desire was not a good thing; every woman knew that. It was a slippery slope, leading directly to danger and perhaps even death one day. Women died in childbirth, women died in poverty, leaving behind illegitimate children. Even married women were not safe.
There was a beat of silence, and Stephen pulled back, staring down into her face. His eyes were slitted, heavy with desire, yet a hint of wariness lingered, too.
“You are uncertain,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.
She swallowed hard. His hand, curled around the nape of her neck, inched until the pads of his fingers rested against the side of her throat. She imagined he could feel her blood rushing under her skin and the bob of her throat as she swallowed.
“I have no wish for bastards of my own,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. The desire hadn’t slipped away. In fact, it had intensified, but there was a pulse of fear there, too. “I know how hard life can be.”
