Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Milo found no rest that night.
Sleep tugged at him for brief moments, only to abandon him the instant Amelia breathed too deeply beside him or shifted against him in her sleep.
He was constantly aware of her warm, supple body pressed along the length of his, the gentle curve of her back fitting perfectly against his chest, as if she had been fashioned to lie there beside him all along.
In the half-light of pre-dawn, Milo was bewitched by a woman he’d never expected to captivate him so thoroughly. He’d found his match in passion, and more, with Amelia by his side.
He gave up pretending he could sleep entirely and eased away from her again. Amelia grumbled a half-complaint and finally rolled away. She was soon breathing deeply again, and he struggled not to smile.
He had exhausted her last night. They had made love as if there was nothing in the world more important than pleasuring each other. Each touch hadn’t seemed enough for him.
That troubled him now.
He eased out of bed, careful not to wake her, and threw on a robe. He paused beside the bed a moment longer, watching Amelia sleep soundly, pale hair tumbling over the pillow, and sighed.
She was a dangerous woman.
She made him forget who they had promised to be to each other.
The intense pleasure they’d shared…he had not expected it to exist. Nor for her to respond so eagerly. Demanding that he enjoy her.
None of it.
He drew closer as she moved again, revealing her breast. His hand was reaching out and he made himself cover her, tuck the sheet around her body so she would not become chilled.
It was a privilege to take care of Amelia as no one else in her life ever had.
He was lucky to have won her hand in marriage.
She had refused to consider marriage at first. Several times.
He dragged a hand over his jaw, realizing what he would have missed if he’d not offered what her heart desired most…children to care for.
He had come second in her thoughts at the time they’d married. That filled him with unease now. He was not the most important person in her thoughts even now after all they’d shared and he wanted to be. Amelia would forever be the most important woman in his life.
I should not want more.
Wanting a wife was dangerous. Wanting had made him weak once before. It made him feel things he had sworn never to feel again—things he’d felt for his first wife.
Yet all he had to do was look at Amelia, even asleep, and the vow to maintain a distance frayed a little more each day.
He drew back, unsettled and uncertain of what to do.
He quietly dressed in fresh clothing but could not find his pocket watch.
Fearing it had been lost during their rushed return upstairs, he slipped from the room and retraced his steps.
He walked the silent corridors of Stapleton Manor looking carefully, thankful that the servants had not stirred yet.
He reached the Refuge without meeting anyone.
He slipped inside and drew in a deep breath.
The chaise lounge where he’d lain Amelia bare and pleasured her all night long made his breath catch.
The feel of Amelia’s hands on him, her breathless pleas for more, the way she’d ridden him with a hunger that had undone him more than once.
He had never felt so out of control with a woman.
Nor as free.
The depths of her passion unbalanced him even now.
He found his pocket watch under the chaise, tangled with one of Amelia’s silk stockings. His hands trembled as he separated them, gulping back a curse.
He was still not in control of his desires completely. And he hadn’t the faintest urge to fight the feeling as he held Amelia’s stocking against his cheek. He wanted her in the worst way even now…and they had agreed that desire wouldn’t be denied between them.
Milo returned directly to their chamber to wake her with a kiss and then perhaps breakfast later. He was impatient to see her again, touch her again, taste—
He entered the room, only to find the bedding turned back on a rumpled and empty bed. The sheets, when he ran his hand across them, were still warm, and he could smell the scent Amelia wore.
He trembled anew and rushed to the window and looked out upon the grounds. Amelia’s habit of rising early would apparently deny him the opportunity to wake her with kisses. He should never have left her side.
But he was in luck. She sat on a stone bench below, cloak wrapped tightly around her, face lifted to the sun. Morning sunlight covered her in soft golden light, highlighting her hair and the gentle slope of her slender shoulders. He should have known she’d be out on the grounds early again.
But right now, she was…simply too far away.
Milo fled the room, rushed downstairs, and went to her at once.
When she heard his steps, she quickly stood and turned. “Good morning, my lord.”
He nearly tripped over his feet as she cast a blinding smile in his direction.
“Lady Chatham.” He hesitated, unsure how to behave after the excesses of last night. “May I join you?”
“Of course,” she said warmly enough, though the tiredness around her eyes betrayed the exertions of the evening before. She resumed her seat and he sat beside her, hands folded in his lap, unsure where to place them.
He hated this ever-present uncertainty between them after intimacy. Last night she had opened herself to him—her body, her trust, her desire—and he had responded like a man with no control whatsoever.
He’d reacted like a man in love.
Milo gulped. “How are you this morning?”
Her voice was soft but steady. “I am well, thank you.”
He could not stand to dance around the truth a moment longer. “About last night,” he started. “We must speak of it. This morning, I—”
She shook her head quickly. “There is no need. I don’t know what came over me to behave so boldly last night. It will not happen again.”
He inhaled sharply. His stomach twisted a little to hear that. Did she not believe all their nights together could all be so erotic? “I feel—”
“I understand. Truly.” But the faint flush in her cheeks, the way she couldn’t hold his gaze, told him she was embarrassed.
“I’m not sure you do.”
She shook her head again. “It would be easier if there was another chamber available for me to retire to. You would not feel driven to escape. To leave your own room because of me.”
Milo had never imagined he would feel protective fury over such a belief—but there it was.
He immediately inched closer to her. “I left because I wanted your sleep to be undisturbed by my restlessness,” he growled.
“That is the only reason I left before you woke. I could not sleep for wanting to touch you.”
Her eyes widened.
He lowered his voice. “Last night was unusual. It was…” He dragged in a breath. “It was more than I anticipated again. But I…I do not think it was wrong.”
She blinked, startled. “It wasn’t?”
“No.” He stood abruptly, unable to sit still. “Damn it, woman!” He raked a hand through his hair. “When I am with you, it is not like it has ever been with anyone else. With you, I feel…too much.”
Slowly, cautiously, she stood as well.
“And that part is wrong?” she asked softly.
“No,” he promised.
“But surely—”
“I am affected by your passions.”
“Should we stop.”
“No!” he said immediately. What he wanted was to hold her tightly in his arms and never let her go. He wanted what every man wanted. To feel desired. To feel…
He shied away from that next awful progression.
He hardly knew Amelia. But the desire to be with her every moment of the day and night consumed him. To pull her close. Kiss her. Punish every person who had ever done her wrong. Spoil her.
He let out a shaky breath. Striving for control and slowly reclaiming his composure.
“I want…” He swallowed. “To be with you, now…” He lifted her hand and put it upon his chest.
Her breath caught.
“And here,” he added hoarsely. “In the garden.”
Her gaze drifted to his mouth. “No,” she whispered.
“Yes, here—and I don’t care if we are seen,” he whispered.
Her lips parted. His restraint shattered when a shuddering sigh escaped her lips.
The words, danger of discovery, it all excited her. It had last night, too, he would wager.
He drew closer to her and whispered, “Being wicked with me excites you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered immediately, her face lifting toward his.
He tugged her against him hard, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was hot and unrestrained.
She pressed against him, her hands sliding under his coat, around to his back as she clutched him close. Her lips parted, giving him access to the soft warmth within, and he relished the taste of her with a groan.
He broke the kiss and, after a second, more rational thought about her reputation prevailed, and he dragged her off to find a private corner of the garden where they could be alone.
Once ensconced in a greenhouse, he locked the door and pressed her back against the nearest bench, hands skimming down to seize her hips. Amelia gasped as he lifted her slightly, the movement urgent and designed to excite her.
“Milo,” she breathed.
The sound of his name on her lips undid him.
He slid his thigh between hers, feeling the heat of her through her gown, and she rocked against him instinctively, her breath catching in a sharp, trembling moan. He kissed her throat, nipped gently, then soothed with his tongue.
“You make me forget myself,” he whispered against her skin. “No woman has ever done that.”
Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly. “Then do not try,” she whispered back. “Just be with me. Be yourself.”
He growled softly, lips trailing lower as he cupped her small breasts through her gown, thumbs circling slowly over the peaks. She arched into his touch, her breath warm and quick against his cheek.
“If we continue,” he warned, voice frayed with desire, “I will take you here.”
“Take me,” she whispered fiercely. “I want—”
“Papa!” The shrill call cut through his frenzy.
Lucy.