Her body was arching higher, shuddering with the intensity, but he would not let her go. Instead, he pumped against her, forcing her to ride him faster. The explosive force of her release made her cry out, and he drove himself in and out, gripping her hips while he took his own pleasure.
She was drowning in lust, unable to do anything but surrender to him. And then, at last, his breathing shifted, and he let out a harsh breath as he found his own climax.
Her hair was still undone, her body weak. But he didn’t force her to get up right away. Instead, he held her close, and she felt the wild beat of his pulse when she rested her fingertips against his throat.
Henry Andrews was at a loss for what to do. His wife had hardly emerged from her room in the past two weeks. She’d barely touched her food, and misery lined her face.
Because of Margaret, who was still missing.
Today was Beatrice’s birthday, and he wanted to give her something that would make her smile. It had taken help from Charlotte, but he’d learned that she had kept the sapphire bracelet, giving Beatrice money from her own funds.
He’d paid her back, and now the bracelet was in a velvet pouch, tucked in his waistcoat pocket. He wanted to surprise Beatrice with it, to bring a smile back. After knocking on her door, she called out for him to enter.
“Is there any news?” she asked, when he closed the door to her bedroom.
He shook his head. “My men have searched all the major roads, but after they found the wreckage of the coach, there was no sign of them. They must have gone forward on foot.”
“I can’t believe this happened,” Beatrice said, staring out the window. “I don’t want to imagine that she’s dead. I can’t even think of it in my mind, though I know it’s possible.”
“I sent other men to Scotland, to speak with Sinclair’s family. If he took her somewhere—”
“No, he’d have given his own life to protect Margaret.” Beatrice shook her head. “He’d never harm a hair on her head.”
But the fact remained that his daughter was stranded in northern England with a man who was not her husband.
“She’s ruined,” he told his wife. “Even if she’s found—”
“Do you think Icareabout that anymore, Henry? I don’t even care if he’s made her pregnant. I just want to know that my daughter is alive.”
The tears streamed down her face, and she gripped her hands together. He wished now that he hadn’t said anything.
A heaviness centered over his mood, and he offered, “I won’t stop searching for her. No matter how long it takes.”
He moved forward, trying to guide her into his arms, but Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t want to be touched right now, Henry. I just want to be alone.”
The sapphire bracelet remained in his pocket, like a guilty conscience. He tried again. “I asked our housekeeper to prepare a cake today. For your birthday.”
She didn’t smile but stared out the window. “I have no reason to celebrate being another year older. Not when my daughter is missing.”
He fingered the velvet pouch, but his throat tightened. This was not the time to give her the gift. She was so tormented by thoughts of Margaret, nothing would break through her grief.
And so, he kept the velvet pouch in his pocket.
“Papa!” A young girl flew into the earl’s arms while Amelia walked alongside him, entering the foyer of Castledon. Christine’s dark hair was braided and pinned up like a young lady’s, although she was fartoo young to be wearing it in that fashion. She wore a sea-green silk frock that reminded Amelia of something a mermaid might wear.
David embraced his daughter warmly, and in that fleeting moment, Amelia saw that he truly did love the girl. There was a different air about him, as if a part of his heart were filled up, just by being home again. “I’ve brought you the mother you requested.” He stepped back and led Amelia forward to meet her. “This is Amelia, the new Lady Castledon.”
Christine frowned, but dutifully curtseyed. Amelia kept a smile upon her face, though she saw the wariness in the girl’s eyes. It seemed that her new stepdaughter wasn’t at all pleased to see her, despite her good manners.
“I’m glad to meet you,” Amelia said, pretending as if she didn’t notice Christine’s reaction. But inwardly she knew this was not going to be easy for either of them.
“Christine, how would you like to take your new mother on a tour of the house, while I have our belongings sent upstairs?”
His daughter hesitated, as if she didn’t want to. But she responded, “Yes, Papa.”
“I would like that very much,” Amelia said. “It will give us the chance to become better acquainted. And your father can join us in a few moments.”
It was a subtle means of asking the earl to save them both, in case the first meeting didn’t go well. Amelia wasn’t at all optimistic, given the girl’s reluctance.
