“All I see,” he murmured, “is you.”
Amber eyes flitted to his – courageous and caring, and all he’d thought his chosen life would never allow him.
His head lowered without thought, lips so near, breaths mingling.
Amelia’s lashes fluttered shut and it was she who closed the gap.
Brushing at first. No rush.
All was leisure and aching adoration.
As one, they drew closer.
Her robe was thin as paper, his shirt a flimsy piece of naught and he could feel her breasts, her very heartbeat, lips warm and lush, her scent of roses and gunpowder addling his wits – that blend of beauty and danger.
Unbidden, his palm slid down her throat, down her décolletage, and cupped her breast, thumb skimming the tip.
A low moan escaped her – impassioned and wanting – and Hugh wished to lay her upon this sofa, peel the robe from her skin, kiss every fingerbreadth exposed and then do it all again. He wished to watch as she cried her pleasure; he wished to sink deep. He wished to lose himself in astute beautiful Amelia until they were overwhelmed, joined, groaning and mindless.
Yet…
Those damnable wishes…
For it felt wrong.
Hearing her tale, she deserved so much more.
In the aftermath of the fight, emotions were heightened, desire tending to rush, and yet…even as he told himself all this, he was aware that something was different.
When a past mission had not gone well, he’d return home dejected at man’s depravity or jaded at betrayal, but Amelia brought truth and pleasure and grace and belief.
Feelings surged and his noggin attempted to make sense of them – not just desire but protectiveness, longing, respect, need.
And he would not ruin it for a quick tup.
So, he softened his caress, drew away and kissed her cheek. “Amelia, I could kiss you all night but…”
“You’re bleeding again,” she said huskily.
He hadn’t even noticed. “Yes. And besides, we need our rest for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I would say for Aunt Enid who is due at the hour of eleven but also…” He stretched. “Now the Ravens know my identity, although heaven knows how as I told no one at all I was going to the meeting, we are solely reliant on Rainham’s man for information from them.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But what the Ravens did do tonight was raise their tankards to a Lady T.”
Amelia rubbed her arms. “So Phoebe’s father was right. That list of ladies’ names.”
“Precisely. So we must turn to discovering who she is. I must have missed something amongst those names, or there is another lady we have yet to find. And then of course, there is Lady Twyford.” He grimaced. “And unfortunately, there is only one person I can think of who’d have the nefarious means to acquire this essential underhand information on all these upper-class ladies of theTon.”
“Oh, no.” Amelia’s eyes widened. “Not…”
A grim nod. “The Prince.”
