“I thought all Foreign Office spies were versed in…”
“Well, some are.” Her gold-tipped lashes lowered. “But it wasn’t my forte. I was better at being the shopgirl you never noticed, or the wallflower.”
“You underestimate your charms, Amelia, as you’d have me babbling like a brook.”
She bit her lip. “But also… I-I could not run the risk of being with child. Not just because of my employment but…but because…”
Beef-witted, clod-skulled, thoughtless addlepate.
And dolt.
Because of her upbringing. Because she would never want a child to feel as disparaged as she herself had felt.
“Amelia…” And he stroked a curl from her forehead. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.” Her lashes flitted up. “Completely.”
“Then trust me this night through.” And he swept her into his arms, ignored her squawk, stalked to the door, fumbled for the handle, strode down the corridor, kicked open his bedchamberdoor, and then, only then, did he allow her body to slide down his with maddening slowness.
He grabbed her hand. “Forgive such audacity but…” And slid it over his aching manhood. To show her his need. “I want you, Amelia. You are the woman who makes my skin shiver and heart thud. The woman I have no intention of letting go until dawn searches us out. Until you are thoroughly ruined. Until we are breathless and sated. Until you beg me for rest.”
“And if I don’t,” she whispered with a shy twist to her mouth.
A groan escaped him as her hand flexed. “Let us see, shall we?”
Amelia nigh whimperedas Hugh kissed his way down her throat, murmuring how exquisite she was, how silken soft, and she would defy any woman not to believe his words.
This man made her feel beautiful and desired as his hands skimmed her hips and drew her so close, she could feel every taut sinew.
His hands were tugging at her laces, lips insistent, words compelling and…and he’d walloped the Duke of Swanford for her.
No one had ever sought to avenge her, to protect her.
And she wanted him so, this fierce defender and droll scoundrel. This warrior of the night and gentleman of the day.
But was it really that simple?
She lifted her hand, cupped his clean-shaven cheek and brought his eyes to hers. “Hugh…” Yet she had no words.
His features were bathed in golden light from two lit candles while a low fire glowed in the grate.
“Amelia…” His blue eyes burned.
And she realised itwasthat simple.
“Show me,” she whispered.
His lips curved, almost feral, and she trailed her hands down his chest, pushed off his jacket and unfastened the remaining buttons of his waistcoat. He stood motionless as she yanked at the cravat which, having been afore dishevelled, unknotted quicker than she’d feared, let it drop to the floor and then pulled the shirt from his pantaloons.
“For a woman who claims to have no experience,” he said huskily, “you are doing most admirably.” He leaned near. “You nigh unman me, Amelia.”
Nigh?She’d see about that and so smoothed hands over his rippling stomach, began shoving his shirt aloft. “I’m a quick learner,” she said breathlessly. “Although it was easier when you were tied up.”
A deep chuckle singed her ear. “Any time you wish.”
And words were lost as he wrenched the shirt over his head to expose his magnificent chest in the candlelight – marred, to be sure, but with wiry muscle and a dusting of golden hair.
She kissed his scarred shoulder; he shuddered.
