Surprised, she stopped to look at him, not only at his physical presence, but at the details of his face. His eyes were muted, the usual spark there reduced to a simmer. His skin had turned the palest shade she’d ever seen on him. It made him look sickly, which prompted her to move toward him.
“Are you ill?” A thought struck her. “Is Jeremy all right? I hope nothing has—”
“He is fine.”
“And your mother?”
“She is also well.” He stepped closer to her, reminding her of his much larger size and of the pull that invariably brought them together. She’d made a tactical error when she’d approached him, for there was no longer time for her to flee. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles before turning the palm against his cheek. “I am the only one afflicted.”
Her heart shook with the tremor his words evoked. “Afflicted?” He nodded, his eyes meeting hers. “By what?”
“Love.” Turning his head, he placed a kiss against her wrist. The effect was as dizzying as his words.
“Love?” She could not credit it, nor could she avoid the buzz of joy that spiraled through her as his meaning took hold of her senses.
“I love you, Amelia.” Tentatively, he glanced at her. “I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”
She could feel tears pressing against her eyes. Her throat tightened around the words she wished to speak. All she could do was nod while her lips trembled against the sob she was trying to swallow.
His thumb brushed her cheek. “I hope these are tears of joy and not sorrow.”
She nodded again. “Joy,” she managed to say. One word that brought her into his arms.
Winding one arm around her waist, he held her to him. His fingers nudged at her chin, tilting it upward until their eyes met. His were warm shades of chocolate swirling with tender amazement. It was a look she would not soon forget—a look that expanded her chest and made her feel cherished.
“I love you too. Did I tell you that?”
He shook his head. “Not until now. In fact, considering your resistance to marriage, I feared you might not feel the same way at all.”
A tremulous laugh pushed its way past her lips. “How very wrong you are, Thomas, for I have loved you since the very first time we danced. And as much as I wanted to stop loving you at times, my heart refused to allow it.”
Smiling, he dipped his head toward hers. “I am glad, so very glad indeed.” His mouth met hers, tentatively at first and then with greater assurance. She felt his hand move to the back of her head, holding her steady. A hot burst of tremors swept through her body, beckoning her to surrender, and surrender she did. Her arms went around his neck as she arched against his solid form, pressing to him for greater purchase. He responded with a hungry groan that had her lips parting and granting him entry.
What followed was hot and decadent; a meeting of unrestrained feverish passion. It set Amelia’s world on fire, burning along every limb and turning her body to liquid. She wanted his hands to move and to touch, yet they remained infuriatingly still.
“Thomas,” she murmured when she managed a breath.
He responded by capturing her lip between his teeth and giving that plump piece of flesh a careful nibble. “I want more, as well,” he told her, reading her mind. He placed a kiss upon her cheek, then kissed his way along her jaw until he could whisper in her ear, “But we are in your brother’s house with the door to this room wide open.” His hand stroked upward in a teasing caress. “I will not go any further than this at the moment,” he added, “but once we are married and alone in our bedchamber, you may be certain that I will have you in every wicked way I can possibly imagine.”
The effect of his comment was nothing short of scandalous. It evoked a sigh of longing she could not hold back, tightening the air around them to a heady crackle.
“Amelia, the things you do to me...” He shook his head as if confounded. “Let us plan this wedding with haste, my love. The sooner we get it done, the sooner I can see to your pleasure.”
“Not only mine,” she said, daring herself to be bold, “but yours, as well,Your Grace.”
The heat that ignited his eyes was intense. “I can scarcely wait.”
Neither could she, and yet they had no choice but to do precisely that. It would be at least three weeks until their vows would be spoken because of the banns that would have to be cried in church. As she kissed him once more before pulling away, she wondered how she would ever survive the wait.
Unfortunately, three weeks turned into four because of a delay ordering the fabric for Amelia’s wedding gown. She’d gotten so exasperated over the matter that she’d suggested wearing another one of her dresses, but Thomas had wanted the day to be perfect for her, so he had suggested postponing the service until everything was completely ready—a suggestion he’d made between gritted teeth right before excusing himself and leaving her company. It had been one of many signs of his growing agitation.
She herself wasn’t faring much better. Her days were filled with errands pertaining to the wedding and her nights with thoughts of what would transpire between herself and Thomas when they were finally alone as husband and wife.
Finally, when she’d begun to wonder if her wedding day would ever arrive, it did. Gabriella and Juliette attended to her along with her maid before departing for the church. When Amelia descended the stairs to where Raphe stood waiting for her, the depth of emotion that shone in his eyes tightened her heart. In that moment, she was glad she and Thomas had forgone a hasty marriage by special license. Her brother had earned the honor of giving her away properly, of seeing her settled, and she would have regretted not giving him that.
Raphe bent to place a kiss upon her cheek. “You look stunning,” he told her sincerely. “I still can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“Neither can I,” she assured him. “It is a miracle, is it not?”
