Chapter 20 #2
She shook her head. “That is the point, Cliff, I cannot stay here. I want to go home and start my business immediately.”
He had to grip the back of a chair as he stared at her, incapable of understanding her now. “Was it Dulcea? Did she say something to you last night? Although you do not seem stricken with hurt…”
Amanda interrupted. “I spoke to her. She wanted me to live with her at Belford House, among other things.”
He tensed. “But instead, you are running away to the island?”
She lifted her head. “I am not running away! And I am not leaving because of Dulcea. I did not particularly like her and I don’t care if I ever see her again.
I am not going to argue with you, although I wish you could understand.
You rescued a child in Spanishtown. I am a woman now.
You can’t take care of me this way indefinitely.
It is time I took care of myself.” Her gaze was moist.
“Why can’t I take care of you,” he tried. “It is a pleasant task.”
“It defeats the purpose of my becoming independent.”
He stared, at a loss. Why did she wish to be independent now, when he was so deeply in love?
Women were not independent! “If you really wish to go back to the island, I will take you.” This seemed to be a solution for them both.
“If you want to open up a shop, I will gladly loan you the funds. As for shipping—”
“No!”
He stopped, shocked. “You do not want my help anymore?”
“You do not understand,” she cried softly. “I wish to do this alone! I must do this alone! “
He was now aghast. Was he going to lose her? And he knew he could not. He would do whatever he had to so that he won her heart all over again. “Why? I simply cannot understand what is happening here.”
She bit her lip, finally tearing her gaze away from him.
She smiled so sadly again. With real dread, he watched her slowly pace toward the fireplace.
The transformation, he realized, was complete.
He had thought her changed last night, but no, he saw the true difference now, in that moment, with her telling him she had no wish to be dependant on anyone, not even on him.
An elegant lady was slowly taking a turn about the room, choosing her words with care, and they were words of rejection.
He was realizing that now. She finally faced him. “Do not be so upset.”
“I cannot turn my back on you. Please, don’t ask me to do so.” He was begging, he realized.
“I am not asking you to do so. I am asking you to set me free.”
He was horrified. “Is that how you feel?”
She was white, but she somehow nodded.
And finally he understood. Until this season, society had always made him feel like a caged animal, and he would have to leave, rushing to make sail, rushing to be free.
Of course she felt that way. She had spent two months in town, and she’d had enough.
Beneath the stunning and genteel facade, La Sauvage still lived.
As frightened as he was, he was also fiercely glad.
“I will take you home,” he said. And he would watch her make over her life from the shadows, because whether she wanted it or not, he would always be her protector and her guardian.
For the first time in his life, he would deny his virile interests and he would wait as long as it took to woo her back to him.
He went over to her and clasped her small hands in both of his. “I brought you here to set you free,” he whispered roughly, “not to imprison you in society’s cell.”
“I know.”
“Do you regret the wardrobe, the reading lessons, the waltz?”
“Of course not! You don’t understand.” She touched his face. “I am not going home as La Sauvage, I am going home as Miss Carre. I do miss the wind in my hair, but it isn’t society I must escape. I have to go home because I can’t be your ward anymore.”
She had just stabbed him in the heart. He dropped her hands. “I thought I understood. You wish to run from me?”
“I can only tell you again, I must make my own way now, without a husband, without a guardian—without you. But we will always be friends, won’t we?”
He turned away. Was she rejecting him? He tried to think, but his heart was screaming at him.
Nothing made sense anymore. This couldn’t be happening.
He could not be losing the only woman he had ever loved.
If she had been running from society, he would have let her go and followed and waited for her.
But if she was running from him, he could not let her go.
He slowly faced her.
“I have hurt you!” she cried. She clasped her hands to her face, which was starkly pale, in spite of two bright spots of crimson.
“Cliff, you have been the best champion a woman could ever have! In my heart, you will always be my champion. And one day, when I am wealthy and respected, I will call on you at Windsong and we will reminisce over these times!”
“Like hell,” he said.
“And I am going to pay you back for every cent you have spent on me. Finally, I am making you a promise!”
“I don’t want to be repaid, not one cent,” he cried. “This is about what happened at Ashford Hall!” he accused, pointing at her. His hand was shaking.
She backed up, gasping, and he knew he was right. “I don’t know what you mean!”
He stalked her, recalling her attempt at seduction and his brutal rejection of her. How he wished he had taken her then, entirely. “I rejected you.”
She flushed. “You are a man of honor. You were right—my advances were wrong!”
“And this is why you run.” Triumph began, but it was predatory and savage.
She shook her head. “No!”
He trapped her against the wall. “You said you made these plans while I was in Holland. I went to Holland because my desire for you was beyond all control. I went abroad so I would not take what you were offering. And while I was gone, you decided to leave…me.”
She inhaled. “Yes.”
Relief began and his emotions, just slightly, eased. The rest of his body, already battle ready and fiercely aroused, escalated its tension. His loins engorged fully. “Now you are being honest with me,” he whispered, sliding his hand to her cheek.
She gasped, comprehension filling her eyes, but she cried, “What are you doing?”
He had wanted her insanely that night, and even months ago, on his ship, when she was untutored and naive. His heart thundered. He leaned closer. “You know what I am doing.”
For one moment, Amanda stared, realizing he was going to give in to his desires, at last. “Cliff,” she breathed, reaching for his shoulders.
He pulled her into his arms, against his massive chest, his mouth covering hers.
He had intended a savage, possessive, demanding kiss. But the moment he felt her lips, he softened, the anger, the fear, the savagery vanishing. This woman he loved. And he needed her now and forever.
He touched her mouth softly with his lips, again and again, coaxing them to open wide and wider still. She gasped and he entered her, thrilling, and she began kissing him back, their passion slowly and surely increasing.
Cliff thrust his tongue deep, pressed her more firmly against the wall, and shifted his loins against her hip, already wanting to explode in his release. Amanda wept, clinging to his arms.
He pulled away, gripping her hand. “Come with me,” he said flatly, and before she could speak they were crossing the room.
The hall was empty. He glanced into the dining room, but Tyrell was hidden by his newspaper. He gave Amanda a look, one which spoke of all of his intentions, and he saw her nod, her eyes huge. They ran up the stairs.
The moment they were in her bedroom he released her, slamming the door and locking it. He threw off his jacket, meeting her gaze. She stood near the bed, as still as a doe paralyzed by an oncoming light. But she was breathing hard, almost as hard as he.
He approached, taking her in his arms. “I want to make you happy, Amanda,” he said thickly. He stroked her cheek. He wasn’t sure how much control he could exercise now.
She nodded. “Cliff…hurry.”
He hadn’t been sure she wouldn’t think to refuse him in the end.
He cried out, carrying her to the bed while she flung her arms around him, kissing his neck, his jaw, his cheek.
He laughed exultantly, because nothing was more important than taking this woman—his woman—now, and giving her more pleasure than any one woman had a right to.
He laid her down, tearing at the buttons on the back of her dress. They popped and scattered across the rug.
She smiled breathlessly and tore his shirt open, too, more buttons spewing. Then she inhaled, laying her palms on his chest. Her hands were shaking wildly.
He thrilled at her admiration, and flung his shirt aside. She gasped, ogling his chest and arms and he laughed, somehow shrugging her gown off. All laughter died. Sexual tension thrummed in the room. They fell to the bed in a swirl of pillows, sheets, petticoats.
He took her mouth again while fumbling with her chemise and corset, trying not to grind himself between her thighs. He was going to embarrass himself, he realized, as he had no self-control left.
She seized his belt and opened it, and their eyes met while she fumbled with his breeches. Every caress caused his loins to grow. He had to smile. “Darling, I am trying to be a gentleman—”
“Do not bother!” She gasped, setting him free.
He went still, poised above her, as she fumbled with his manhood, stroking it. He gave up, arching into her hand, crying out, shaking but somehow controlling himself.
He flung his arms around her, spread her legs and slid up against slick, wet heat. Amanda writhed against him. “Cliff, I cannot wait,” she gasped, nipping his jaw urgently.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed, pressing into her. “I want to pleasure you.”
“Oh!” Her eyes grew wide and startled.
But he was still, as stunned as she was by the intense beginning of their union, her flesh seizing his. “Hold on, darling, my love,” he whispered, and slowly, inch by inch, he made his way home.