Amelia stretched in lassitude. Could see it in her mind’s eye. Could see him relishing the freedom. “Sounds beautiful…”
“I’d return to the house where Mrs Pugh the housekeeper there has prepared me a breakfast of egg, bacon, toast and butter so golden you can taste the scant Welsh sunshine.”
A smile curved her lips. Men and their stomachs.
Hugh closedhis eyes to feel the peacefulness. “I’d walk to the nearby cove with my two cousins for a swim, feel the cold saltwater invigorating me, healing me, cleansing my soul. We’d dress and perhaps play cricket on the sands, gulls circling in the soft sky. Then we’d look up to the cliffs and sight three ladies weaving their way down the stone steps cut into them. They’d be chatting with one another, skirts swirling, picnic baskets clasped in their hands. We men would all stand motionless, breath caught, possession and passion searing like dragon’s fire in our veins.” Hugh paused, breathed. “Two of the ladies would be the wives of my cousins, and the third… She is laughing, without fears, flaxen hair blown loose by the mischievous fingers of the Welsh wind, verdant green skirts swaying above bare feet. She looks up also. Our eyes meet and I feel such pride. Because she… She is mine.”
He stilled, waited.
Waited for Amelia perhaps to ask…
The coal crackled.
Gentle breath flowed from her.
Amelia’s head lolled.
Sound asleep.
With a sigh, he stared to the ancient, beamed ceiling that must have witnessed so many lives unfold beneath it, observed struggle and valour, time a meaningless concept.
It could wait, he knew, wait until they were free from the menace, free from danger and lies.
But he vowed that one day…
One day he’d somehow make Amelia’s dreams real.
A light pitter-patterof rain woke Amelia to…
Darkness. Warmth. Cinnamon. And Hugh.
She blinked and wriggled, her eyes adjusting to find a chamber tinged with the crimson glow of a coal fire somewhere. Dawn seemed far off as no light seeped but she could just make out a small bedside table, a vase of roses atop, and she appeared to be lying upon the most enormous bed known to womankind.
Her eyes drifted upwards. A four-poster, its drapes and coverlets were green with paisley gold detail and the wood frame a polished oak brown. Surely the house had been built around the bed for it would never fit up a staircase.
Somewhere downstairs, a clock chimed two and with a bottomless sigh of contentment, Amelia stretched her toes and then realised she only wore a chemise. Not even her stockings had been left in place.
Never had she slept so profoundly but then never had she been in possession of a personal bed furnace.
For behind her, woven to her back, was Hugh.
She wriggled again and–
A broad hand slid over her shoulder, down her arm and to her hip, lips nibbling her earlobe, suckling on the skin and kindling that damn flame within her.
She arched as a sensual need seeped through her like the spill of molten iron, her buttocks encountering firm loins and naked skin, and she twisted her head to kiss him, not caring about the awkward tilt of her neck or the clumsiness of her kiss.
Then all of a sudden and with a scold of himself, he was gone, and Amelia could not think of a single man so caring, who’d recalled her concerns and would allay them without fuss.
Within a moment, he’d returned, woven to her back, and if the first night had been impatient desire, this was measured seduction, intoxicating touch as his hand roved, cupped her breast over the chemise, teasing the nipple.
His mouth shifted, lips brushing her nape, and her head lolled as his teeth grazed her skin, shivers of longing besieging her. The dark lent her boldness and her own hand swept where it could – his naked waist, slender hips – as their bodies began to move as one, curving back and forth, that flame fanning.
Palms hoicked her chemise, hips grinding against her, breaths now gasping and swift.
With little preamble, her thigh was clasped and drawn back, chemise riding up further. Her ankle locked with his shin, open to his exploring palm, his jutting manhood.
This arrangement might have felt awkward yet it felt so right and she pushed back…then gasped as he slid inside her – fitted and unique.
