She flinched and averted her gaze. Her eyes slid shut as if she were in pain. After a long, slow exhalation, she said, “I know you were.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze, the green pools shiny with the threat of tears. “It is long overdue, but I shouldhave apologized for the scene I created—for the scandal you endured after.”
Dorian’s heart battered against his ribcage as she spoke words he’d never thought to hear from her lips.
“I am sorry for handling the situation as I did and for the damage it caused you. Until that night, you’d only ever treated me with respect and kindness far outweighing what I had been taught to expect. Perhaps it is because you created such a standard that your betrayal stung me so greatly as to make me lose all sense of decorum and decency.”
“You could have allowed me the opportunity to explain,” he ground out. While some of the weight in his heart had been lifted by her recognition of the part she’d played in the scorching of his reputation, there were still more issues between them. If she’d thought so highly of him, then why couldn’t she have afforded him that much?
“And you could have avoided the arms of another woman when you were already betrothed to me!” Amelia snapped. “I can continue to apologize for the way I handled things so publicly, but I cannot absolve you of the sins you did commit—no matter how you want me to.
“Clearly, Clara was correct about your fragile pride. I’ve a mind to ask you a question my younger self always wanted to know, but my wizened self already knows the answer. You were driven away by the thought of spending your life with a girl like me. You hated me for what I was and the shackles I represented.”
She shook her head. “No good can come of us being shut away together in this castle. There is too much history, too much pain. I’ve long ago realized that most women might have overlooked your behavior. And you’ve hated me ever since…because I am not most women.”
“No!” Dorian finally cut her off, his rage having roared past his breaking point. He stalked toward her as he spoke. “I loved youbecauseyou aren’t most women; I hated only what it did tous.” He was just as shocked as Amelia by the raw sincerity of his words, the gravel in his pain-laced tone. “I still admire you for your decisiveness.” He’d backed her against the door; it was rattling against Faye’s more urgent scratching. “And, damn my eyes, I still bloody-well desire you. So help me, I never stopped.”
He claimed her lips, crushing his mouth to hers in an almost bruising contact. Amelia froze against the onslaught with her arms still hanging lost in the air. Dorian felt the war inside of her—would she fight or surrender?
When she touched his biceps with her hands, he braced himself to be thrown off and condemned for the monstrous brute he knew he was embodying.
Instead, she gripped him and surrendered with a sigh.
Chapter Five
Kempton had beenthe first man to steal a kiss from Amelia shortly after they’d been introduced. Several other men had tried before then, but none had succeeded. He wore down her defenses with his charm and kindness, his willingness to please while retaining a strong, masculine air. When he’d stolen that first kiss in a hedge maze at a garden party, she’d been elated. They’d shared several other stolen embraces throughout the duration of their courtship; each had made her giddy. He’d made her entire body tingle with a newfound awareness.
Nothing compared to this kiss.
This was desperate. It was urgent. She could taste the need on his tongue as it pillaged her mouth, tangling with hers. It stole her breath and made her knees so weak she had to grip his arms to remain upright.
All the years of pent-up frustration and lost desires poured through them, shared and transferred as if through absorption. His hands roved hungrily as if to relearn her every feature. They moved from her face to her neck, pressing gently against her skipping pulse. One came to wrap around her back, holding her so tightly to his chest that her breasts were compressed and her panting breaths were further restricted. The other cradled her hip, his long fingers gracing the swell of her buttocks in a nearly bruising grip. His knee pressed between her thighs.
She should have felt ravaged and frightened by his touch and the clear depth of his need; instead, she was excited, aroused to the point of mindlessness. All she could think of, as she wrapped her arms around Kempton’s neck, was the ache and damp hollowness at the crux of her thighs, the way her body demanded satisfaction as it hadn’t in what felt like forever.
Were she to allow Kempton into her bed, she knew from this kiss that it would be explosive. The thought made her tremble. Their relationship was volatile. Apparently, they could go from bickering to kissing in a matter of seconds. Never since she’d chosen to end the betrothal had she ever imagined being in Kempton’s arms. Never, ever would she have believed she’d enjoy it again.
One of his wandering hands paused at the side of her breast. There was a question there; one Amelia wasn’t certain she was clear-thinking enough to answer.
The door rattled against her spine, accompanied by an urgent whine.
Kempton’s silent inquiry was answered for her when a voice spoke to Faye in the hallway behind her, and the doorknob rattled. Kempton caught Amelia against him and pulled them back away from the door. He released her to the charge of her own unsteady knees just as the door opened to reveal the confused face of one of the maids.
Amelia quickly swiped at her mouth and straightened her gown, hoping the dim light hid her dishabille. Faye burst into the room and came between Amelia and Dorian, nuzzling her palm, reassuring herself that her mistress was well.
“Apologies fer the intrusion!” the maid said hastily with a quick curtsey. “I was only wanton’ to see what’s gotten Faye so worked up; she’s bin scratchin’ up the door near beyond repair.”
Amelia cleared her throat, and she straightened her spine. “I was just taking my leave. We will not be partaking in after-dinner entertainment this evening. Please have Mary sent to my chambers in an hour to assist me in preparing for bed. Now, I am going to see my son.” With that, Amelia took her leave without sparing Kempton a glance, even though she could feel his searing gaze watching her every movement as she left the room.
Amelia took the long walk to the nursery to cool her roiling emotions. As she stood outside the door, she closed her eyes and pressed a palm to her abdomen, taking as deep a breath as her gown would allow. Sensing her unease, Faye gently bumped into her hand. Amelia cupped the dog’s head and took solace in her warm presence. She smiled down at her companion, noticing not for the first time the grey liberally coating her snout, the milkiness that had begun to cloud her once-bright chestnut eyes.
Their excursions had become shorter, and there were some occasions when Faye’s joints ached so terribly that they weren’t able to go out on their runs. On those days, Faye’s eyes would be filled with apology, and Amelia would do her best to reassure her constant companion. Faye was nearing ten years of age—old for a dog of her size—but she refused to relinquish her watch over her mistress. Amelia scratched her ears and let them into the nursery.
The room was large—intended to house a passel of bairns and the other younger members of the lord’s family, but it had only ever housed Archie. James had been shipped off to England for his education when he was but a child himself. Amelia had always been worried her son would grow lonely in such a large space with no siblings, which is why she’d never objected to his making friends with the children of the servants, and why she always made a point to take time from her day to reassure him that he was well and truly loved. She knew what it was like to grow up as an only child in a cavernous household, and she refused to allow him to feel the same loneliness she had.
The size of the nursery made her ache when she saw the tiny beds with Archie as their only occupant, accompanied by his nurse as she told him a story. Amelia had often considered how badly she’d longed to fill the nursery, but she and James had…come to a mutual agreement that no further procreation was necessary after it was determined that the heir she’d produced was hale and hearty. The arrangement had suited them both well enough. Her husband had never inspired a fiery passion beneath her skin; she’d never felt as if she might combust from his touch.
Unlike when Kempton held her…
Archie perked up when he saw her, and Faye left her side to lope over to him. The nurse stood and curtseyed.
