“I would like to read to my son before he sleeps,” said Amelia. With a nod, the nurse retreated to the far end of the room to tidy up.
Amelia pulled her son into her lap, savoring the feel of his small frame against her. It wouldn’t be too long before he outgrew these embraces, both in size and maturity, so she vowed to savor every moment—especially since she doubted she’d ever have the chance to experience it all over again.
“Will Clara come to say goodnight as well?” Archie asked with a yawn.
“Likely not tonight, my darling.” Before he could pout, she offered him a comforting smile. “How about a story?”
“A new one?”
“Not an old favorite? The boy and the dragon? The boy and the lost treasure?”
Archie giggled. “You always tell those stories. I want a new one.” He burrowed into her side and sighed contentedly.
“Very well.” Amelia paused to think. “How about the boy and the black knight?” Gradually, her voice lulled him into a compliant sleep as Faye dozed at their feet. There, in that cozycocoon of peace, Amelia could almost forget the infuriating man beneath her roof.
Restless and frustrated,Dorian paced his abhorrent bedchamber. The flicker of the waning flames in the hearth was the only light guiding his repetitive path. He cursed the enclosed space of the smaller chamber and, out of habit, glanced around for a sideboard with which to slake his thirst and dampen the fire in his loins. This, however, was a woman’s bedchamber, and the dainty vanity was frustratingly barren.
He dropped onto the edge of the bed with a heavy grunt. It was probably for the best that he’d been unable to obtain a drink; it wouldn’t do to backslide in his habits, and that was exactly where his mental state would take him—back into a very dangerous place. He raked his hands through his hair and flopped back onto the mattress. He stared up at the garish tufted canopy, seeing only Amelia’s passion-clouded eyes.
Palming his insistent arousal through his breeches, he groaned deeply. It had been a mistake to believe he could remain as composed with Amelia as he was with other women…that he could separate their history and what they’d once meant to one another from what they were now.
Dorian was finally forced to admit to himself that he doubted he’d ever stop wanting her.
Badly.
Earlier, she had made it absolutely clear that she was still injured over the perceived betrayal a decade earlier. She didn’t trust him; however, she still possessed a measure of desire for him. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to push the image of her from his mind’s eye. He had to remain collected. The desire he’d felt earlier in their kiss had nothing to do with him and everything to do with his goal of finding a way to get her out of his system so he could move on with his life, once and for all.
Sitting up, he stripped off the rest of his clothing and climbed naked beneath the coverlet. He lay awake for several hours considering his next move with Amelia.
He also knew he had to speak with Clara.
His sister was one to hold grudges, so it was likely that she’d not forgive him until he’d performed the proper amount of groveling. It was something he knew he needed to do since she was the only family he had left.
The next morning,Dorian dressed and broke his fast in solitude in his rooms while skimming a couple of letters which had been forwarded by his stewards.
“Has Lady Coylton’s horse had his shoe replaced yet?” he asked his valet.
“I heard that the local blacksmith is visiting a neighboring village, but he should return tomorrow.”
This meant Amelia would not be riding that morning.
Dorian took the opportunity to slip from the castle and ride Maximus hard and fast, hoping to exhaust them both. He needed the exertion to clear his head and calm himself before he went to see his sister. He should not have spoken to her as he had at supper the previous evening, and he needed to make amends. He’d been filled with both rage and fear when she’d threatened to reveal the truth Amelia had never bothered to request, but that was no excuse. He told himself he would make things right after his outing.
The castle had been situated perfectly to survey the surrounding lands, which meant it was not difficult for Dorian to ride without losing sight of it. While he’d ridden out with Amelia the day before, he was far from familiar with the lay of the land; he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it was entirely possible that he might become lost. The land was wild and beautiful; sometimes green and lush, rocky and rugged inother places. The more he explored, the more he understood how someone might fall in love with Scotland.
By the time he returned to the castle, sweaty and pleasantly winded, he was pleased to note the hour had arrived when Clara should have risen for the day. A quick survey of the more public rooms indicated there was no sign of the lady of the house or her canine shadow. Dorian did not know if he was disappointed or relieved that he would not have to face Amelia just yet, but it certainly made things simpler when he had to deal with the ire of one female at a time.
Returning to his chamber, he cleaned himself up and changed from his riding clothes into a deep red coat, honey gold waistcoat, and buff breeches before making his way to Clara’s chamber. He knocked with two sharp raps of his knuckle.
“Enter,” came Clara’s quietly cheerful voice.
Dorian stepped into the room to find Clara lounging on a chaise in a pale pink morning dress, and he smiled in greeting to his sister. However, he hadn’t expected to find Amelia in a similar position across from her. She reclined among a swath of sky-blue embroidered fabric, her fingers holding her place in a tiny leather-bound tome in her lap. Faye rose to her feet at full attention upon his entrance, one corner of her mouth twisted in a silent growl. She clearly hadn’t forgotten how he’d separated her from Amelia the night before; the quick flicker in Amelia’s eyes told him she hadn’t either.
Amelia uttered a small sound, and the well-trained beast immediately sat, though her wary eyes made Dorian be sure to keep his distance. He met Amelia’s gaze, certain she could feel the same heat that instantly suffused him in her presence and held it until she looked away.
“I was hoping to speak with my sister,” he said to the room. His tone was neither rude nor demanding, but it conveyed authority, nonetheless.
Clara, ever her defiant self, said, “You may say whatever you need to in front of Amelia. She and I have no secrets.” She settled into her seat more fully.
