Chapter 17
Stephen kissed her as if he wanted to eat her, his lips moving against hers with urgency. He traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and her jaw slackened before she realized it. He delved inside, and heat feathered its way down her spine, prickling her skin.
Hands slid around her waist, long-fingered and warm. He pulled her against him, and she went willingly, clutching his shoulders to keep her balance. His skin was damp from the bath, still sticky-warm, and the remaining steam enveloped them both.
The desire returned, a hard knot at the base of her spine that ached and throbbed and sent heat through her gut, plunging down between her legs. She ached down there, a more determined version of the twinges of desire she’d felt before.
She wasn’t even aware that he had backed her out of the washroom until the soft edge of the bed bumped against the back of her legs. With a squeak, Amelia tumbled backward, landing on her back.
He remained standing over her, looking. Watching. Always watching, wasn’t he?
Really, Amelia should not have felt vulnerable.
She was, after all, fully clothed. And while he stood and she lay, he had only that towel around his hips, held in place by a rapidly loosening knot.
And judging by his cool, almost thoughtful expression, he could not possibly be wrangling with the desperate, almost panicked waves of desire that flooded her body, simmering just under her skin.
In an attempt to regain a little dignity, Amelia scrambled up onto her elbows. Her feet did not quite touch the floor.
“Leaving so soon?” Stephen asked, his voice a rasping growl. “We have barely begun.”
There was no moisture in her mouth. Amelia licked her lips, and he traced the movement again with his eyes.
“You may leave,” he continued, when she didn’t speak. “If you wish. I shan’t chase you this time.”
She believed him. She could scramble off the bed and make a beeline for the door, and he wouldn’t take a single step in her direction. She could let herself out, scurry downstairs, and make whatever excuse she thought Letitia would believe. That would be the end of it.
But Amelia didn’t scramble away. She simply lay there, her shoulders aching from the position she had them in, her elbows digging into the too-soft mattress. She stared at him, and he stared right back.
The silence could only have lasted a handful of seconds. Not long, not really, but in the moment, it seemed to last forever.
Then Stephen leaned down, his clenched fists pressing into the mattress on either side of her hips, and oh so gently pressed his lips against hers. The hunger and desperation were gone—although perhaps she’d only been tasting her own—and she almost missed them for a moment.
“The joy of the hunt,” he breathed, his lips moving away from hers but only by a hair’s breadth, enough to let them both breathe. “Is in the catch, is it not?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Amelia answered, the first coherent words she’d managed in what felt like an eternity. “I don’t hunt.”
He gave a low chuckle. It came from the center of his chest, loud and deep enough for Amelia to feel it juddering through her body.
“Are you sure?” he rasped.
Before she could ask what he meant, he kissed her again.
This time, her arms came up of their own accord, looping around his shoulders. Supple, hot skin flinched under her fingertips, and she let one hand skate up the back of his neck toward the damp tangle of hair.
She barely touched it before hands closed around her wrists and pulled them down, none-too-gently. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes flew open.
Stephen loomed over her, haloed by candlelight, and there was a strange look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He pressed her wrists into the rumpled blankets on either side of her head. He didn’t hold her tight enough to bruise, of course, but the pressure sent a clear message.
Don’t touch.
“You lost this round, remember?” he grunted.
She gulped. It sounded far too loud in the quiet space. “Round? Is this a hunt or a game? Make up your mind.”
“So sharp-tongued,” he whispered, voice silver-smooth. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
He leaned down, and Amelia assumed that he meant to kiss her again. She tilted up her chin and closed her eyes, but his lips landed on the side of her neck instead. The skin there shivered under the onslaught. She felt a graze of teeth and gasped loudly.
Stephen moved, sliding downward. She watched with wide-eyed shock as he shuffled back until he could place his feet on the floor again.
“So lovely,” he breathed, so quietly that she barely heard him, and wondered briefly if that comment was meant for her. “No time, I’m afraid.”
No time? What does that mean?
He placed a flat hand on her collar, his palm hot, his fingertips oh-so-gently pressing into her skin, and let it slide downward.
Her breath hitched as his palm moved over the curve of one breast. His mouth twitched at the corner, as if holding back a smile.
His touch didn’t slow, sliding purposefully over her stomach.
Then he cupped her hips firmerly, and the heat that had been pooling in her gut flared bright and sharp.
His questing hands tickled their way down the outside of her thighs, and she realized with an uncomfortable jolt that she wanted him to touch her properly.
The light caress was all very well, but the sensation only danced at the edge of what she wanted.
Should I tell him? Would it break the spell? Should I—
The thought was interrupted when Stephen curled his hands around her knees and jerked, hauling her effortlessly toward the end of the bed.
Amelia couldn’t help it—she squeaked, flailing as the blankets twisted tighter around her.
Her hips hit the edge of the mattress, leaving her perched there, decidedly uncomfortable.
Is this it, then? Is this when I give up my virtue without so much as a flicker of resistance? Oh, Mama would be furious.
But then, I suppose Mama was not a pinnacle of virtue, either.
She squeezed her eyes shut, until a rustle of fabric caught her attention.
Cool air ghosted over her knees, and she realized with a jolt that he had lifted her skirts, the material crumpling around her waist. She lifted her head, still not quite daring to move her hands from where Stephen had placed them so pointedly.
He glanced up at the same moment she glanced down, and their eyes met. Heat simmered behind his lashes, more intense than she could have imagined. It made her gasp raggedly, and he surged forward, catching her lips with his own.
The kiss, if it could be called a kiss, lasted a heartbeat. Then he was gone again, trailing down her body. This time, when he caught her gaze, he sank slowly to his knees, pushing her thighs apart with deliberate slowness.
Amelia opened her mouth, whether to request an update or voice her concerns, she did not know.
At any rate, she never did manage to speak.
Warm fingers slid up the inside of her thighs, the pressure more determined now.
Higher and higher they went until they reached the spot between her legs.
When his fingertips brushed against her wet heat, she had a sudden and vivid impression of a flint striking, sparks glowing in the darkness.
This touch—Stephen’s touch—was languid but assured, sliding against her and tracing out a line. He repeated the motion in the same unhurried way, and a ragged gasp tore from her throat.
Faster, she wanted to urge him. If you could only move faster, it would… I would…
She would what, exactly? The sensations were new, all of them. She had no idea where all of this was going, but Stephen certainly did seem to know.
I should stop it, warned a sour little voice at the back of her mind. This is how women find themselves heavy with child and nowhere to go.
She silenced the voice with determination. Stephen’s touches ceased, and she fought the desire to voice her disappointment.
Then his tongue—his tongue—licked a slow and deliberate path through her folds.
Amelia jolted at that, her breath stuttering. He chuckled, actually chuckled, and the reverberations echoed through her body. His lips moved against her, just as assured as before, and this time she began to feel something building inside her, something new.
Why couldn’t she touch him? He’d said no, to be sure, but what if she disobeyed? What if she slid her hands down her body and touched only the top of his head, where all that soft hair tangled, still half-wet, over his forehead?
Arms shaking, she pushed herself up on her elbows, her breath coming hard, strangled moans fighting their way out of her throat. She could not quite believe it was her making those sounds, but then everything seemed very far away for some reason.
He glanced up, his cool dark eyes meeting hers, and the movement of his tongue and lips quickened, his fingers sliding against her, too. She felt the tip of his finger press against her entrance, circling as if considering, and it was too much, too much.
She dropped onto her back again because her arms could not hold her up for much longer. Climax tore through her, enough to make her stomach clench and her fingers curl into the blankets around her.
The world went small, then large, then she was back in herself, and Stephen had ceased his ministrations. He stood up—the wretched drying sheet had not dislodged itself, although it was certainly sagging lower over his hips than before—and leaned over her.
“Well,” he said, and there was a hoarseness in his voice that had not been there before. “Might I congratulate myself on a job well done?”
That brought her down to earth a little more sharply.
Amelia scrambled up into a half-sitting position. Her skirts had tangled around her legs, and Stephen carelessly grabbed the hem, tugging it down effortlessly. It was rather thoughtful of him, she had to admit.
She cleared her throat. “I… That was extremely pleasant.”
The glow that had swept through her was beginning to fade.
What have I done? Oh, that was worse than a kiss.
“Extremely pleasant,” Stephen repeated, rolling the words over his tongue.
Thoughts of his tongue made heat sweep through her one more time.
No, no, no!
“Um, yes.”
He snorted. “Every man yearns to hear those words.”
Color dusted her cheeks. “I did not mean to be impolite.”
“You were not impolite. I could tell by your moans how much you enjoyed our activities.”
Oh, heavens. She had moaned, hadn’t she? Loudly, with no care for who might hear.
“It was a mistake,” she whispered.
His gaze sharpened. “My dear, I gave you every opportunity to escape.”
“Escape? No, I do not blame you. I… I blame myself,” she stammered, scrambling to the other end of the bed.
Now that the mattress was between her and Stephen, she felt a little more clear-headed.
Stephen eyed her, crossing his arms over his chest. The motion made his biceps bulge, and she quickly looked away.
“I hope you do not intend to act as though you were an unwilling participant, my dear.”
“Unwilling? No, no, you do not understand why I am distressed.”
He smothered a yawn. “Nobody comes to my rooms unless I summon them. Except for you, of course. You need not fear discovery.”
“Discovery always comes,” she answered instantly. “Mama endured the threat of discovery for years, but in the end, we were exposed. Women do not get to hide from the consequences of such… such choices, not like men do.”
“I am not given to hiding. In case you weren’t aware, I feel something of a fondness for you, my dear Amelia.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, like my father was fond of my mother. Look where that got us all. Look where it got her. No, I cannot do this. I’ll never be a man’s mistress. This has already… already gone entirely too far.”
He watched her carefully, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “I could say that it is part of your punishment.”
“Is it part of my punishment?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If you wish it to be.”
Amelia turned away from him, shaking out her skirts and frantically smoothing the creases. She could not possibly go change her dress before going down to see Letitia. The woman would notice and ask questions. Her absence had surely already raised questions.
And I don’t have the wretched guest list.
“I shall tell your grandmother that you’re going to think about the guest list,” she said. “That we kept changing the list, and that you’ll speak to her about it tomorrow.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “In truth, I’d forgotten about that list. I’d rather you didn’t change the subject.”
“Change the subject? From what?” Her head snapped up.
“You may take as many mistresses as you like. You may have a handful of other families, one in each port if you like. You are a man and a duke. But I have seen firsthand what happens to women who let themselves fall. No matter how much they want it, no matter whether their hearts are engaged. Children never meet their fathers. Families slip into poverty, forgotten and unwanted, and considered shameful. Women who occasion disgust wherever they go, children considered abominations, bastards. No, I have seen this before. I’m familiar with the outcome.
I… You… This cannot happen again. It must not happen again, and it must stop here. ”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable.
Was he angry? She didn’t think so, but he wasn’t arguing with her or begging her to kiss him again or to stay.
I am just a distraction, she thought, a lump forming in her throat. A plaything. I daresay he is bored.
“I don’t intend to release you early from our agreement, if that is what you are asking,” he drawled. His voice was cool and unconcerned, but a muscle ticked in his jaw.
Amelia patted her hair, relieved to discover that it had not come loose.
A few tendrils had escaped, hanging around her neck, but she tucked them behind her ears and would try her best to tidy them up once she could find a mirror.
There was probably one in here somewhere, but she did not intend to trundle around looking for it.
“I will repay my debt to you,” she said. “Through my labor. As a companion to Letitia, as we agreed. You cannot change the terms of our agreement now.”
“No, I suppose I cannot,” he murmured.
She turned to go, already thinking of what she would say to Letitia when she saw her. The key was to stay light and casual, not showing a hint of guilt.
“Not every man is like your father and brother, you know,” Stephen remarked, stopping her in her tracks.
Amelia gave him a tired smile. “And yet no man I know has proven to be otherwise,” she responded quietly.
He said nothing, and she finally slipped out of the room. He did not come after her.