She lifted her head. “No—I mean…” She sighed roughly. She knew only one question on her mind. It had the potential to destroy them and this peace they’d found…but she had to know. “Why were you with that other woman right before we were supposed to wed?”
The stillness and silence in the room were so complete that she would have believed herself alone had she not felt the heavy pounding of Dorian’s heart against her back or his arms—once tender—stiffly enfolding her.
Dorian’s voice was dangerously low when he finally did speak. “You ask the wrong question.”
She turned in his arms. “How can that be the wrong question?” she demanded. “I think I have the right to know. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” He started shaking his head. “Please, Dorian. No more games. What happened that night?” That seemed to be the correct question—no accusations of guilt, just a request for the truth—because he inclined his head and began to tell her how the grave misunderstanding had come to pass.
When he was done, the full weight of her quick temper and her youthful unwillingness to go to him for the truth came crashing down upon her. It was so much worse than creating a scene and causing a very public scandal that destroyed his respectable reputation…it had all happened for no reason. She swiped at her tears. Oh, God… She’d made a terrible mistake. “This is what Clara was trying to tell me? That I did not know the truth? How did she learn of it?”
“Because Clara has always been a nosey little brat.” Dorian tried to make a joke, but there was weariness in his voice.
“But why didn’t you tell me?” she begged him.
“You broke my heart, Amelia,” he said, more harshly than he intended. “You destroyed me when you did not give me a chance, when you fled rather than come to me. The man you professedto love.” The raw pain she witnessed in his eyes created fresh fissures in her heart.
“Oh, Dorian…” Her vision clouded with tears. “I did love you. I am so sorry.”
He crushed her in his arms and pressed his face to her hair, apologizing, his own voice cracking as he did so. “And I am sorry. I should never have held your pain against you as I did. I should have taken the time to understand how hurtful such a thing could be to you.” He leaned back and cupped her tear-streaked face in his large hands. She became lost in the fathomless pools of his eyes, the pain and relief swirling there. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you…how agonizing it was to think that I might never hold you again.” His thumb traced the pillow of her lower lip. “That I might never kiss these lips or hear your laughter. You haunted my dreams, Amelia, and now you are here…and I never wish to wake.”
Reaching up, Amelia tugged his head down to hers and melded their mouths together. Very quickly, the years of pain and loss collided as they clung to one another, the act of consolation melting into passion.
This time when they made love, it was a mixture of tenderness and mindless need. Amelia rode him slowly and sweetly until Dorian’s control snapped. She was just as happy—if not more—to be pressed into the soft mattress and claimed over and over by his deep, possessive thrusts as he simultaneously stroked her with those enchanted fingers of his.
They came apart together in a cacophony of elated cries and desperate groans, holding one another’s sweat-slicked bodies close until they slept.
Dorian and Ameliawoke early in the morning at nearly the same instant. She’d been curled in the crook of his arm like a kitten, and stretched with her entire body just like one, too.
All those wasted years…
He must have still been somewhat sleep-addled, because he voiced something that had been sitting in the back of his mind for longer than he cared to admit. “At least tell me that your husband treated you well.” Her eyes widened, and she froze in the act of brushing her wild hair from her face. He felt the sudden need to elaborate now that the thought was in the open. “I couldn’t bear it if you’d landed in a poor situation after our betrothal was terminated.”
She gnawed on her lips before responding. “James was a good man and a good father.”
Dorian could tell she wasn’t revealing the whole truth, and it made his heart pound more forcefully. “Did he treat you well?”
“He was kind and generous.”
Recalling what Archie had said, Dorian asked, “More of a friend than a lover?”
She seemed startled by his question. “How did you know?”
“Archie may have said something.”
“But it is impossible for him to know the full extent.”
“Oh?”
“He could not know that his father preferred men to women.” Amelia averted her eyes and tucked a tangled lock of hair behind her ear at Dorian’s exclamation of shock.
“You mean…he…” Dorian raked a hand through his ruffled hair, confusion edging his tone. “But, you have a son.”
“James befriended me shortly after the dissolution of our betrothal. I think he saw a kindred spirit in me because he, too, was tainted by gossip—albeit of a different sort.” She lifted a bare shoulder in half a shrug, but it only slightly distracted Dorian. “We took some time to know one another and, only when he felt safe, he offered to marry me. He would give me a title and security; I would do the same, in a way. I would give him a son and the guise of a proper marriage.” He could tell she felt eventhen that she was betraying her late husband’s trust, and he admired that about her. He offered her his hand, and she took it without hesitation. “He told me he preferred men to women, though he knew he must do his duty and produce an heir. At the time, I’d been so angry with you—with London Society—that I rationalized that I did not need or desire a physical relationship, so I accepted what James offered. He remained faithful, and we lay together until I conceived Archie. Once he had his heir, he and I were both free to…pursue our own pastimes. He gained the outward appearance of normalcy and a son to carry on his name and title. I gained the refuge of marriage and the protection of his title.”
“And he paraded his companions before you?” Regardless of their arrangement, Dorian found that possibility most distasteful—not because of who those lovers would have been, but because it took a special sort of callousness to do so before one’s spouse.
“It was all handled very well,” she explained calmly. “I never asked how many others there were, and I met only one. James respected and appreciated me enough to advise me ahead of time and ask my permission to allow him to stay at our home. I was, as he liked to remind me, the one who’d done him the greatest favor, and the last thing James ever wished to do was hurt me. Throughout our time together, he took care of me, and he adored Archie. He allowed me room to grow and ensured I never wanted for anything. When he saw I had a knack for organization and numbers, he showed me how to help manage the estate. He encouraged my love of riding, he filled the library with more wonderful books than I could ever hope to read, he never forced me to participate in the parts of Society that held no interest for me, and he helped me heal.”
“He gave you everything except for a proper bedmate—a proper marriage.”
