Chapter Seven #3
Her tongue met his, and a moment later, she was on his lap while he kissed her hard. His body was rigid, her kiss never ending. He hardly cared that they were in a carriage on a long journey back to London.
She was giving back everything he gave to her. The physical lust raged through him with the need to command and conquer. He’d never been this close to the edge of violence, and when she gave a sudden cry, he realized that she was as aroused as he was.
He broke away, his breathing ragged.
And she knew, without him speaking a single word, that a marriage between them was more than unwise. It was dangerous.
It was late in the morning when they arrived back in London. Neither of them had spoken during the past few hours, and Amelia wasn’t certain she was capable of coherent conversation. The kiss she’d shared with the earl had knocked her senseless.
He’d been right. She’d had no idea what there was between a man and a woman, but he’d given her a glimpse of it.
Dear God in Heaven. He’d shattered her girlish beliefs, and the physical hunger he’d awakened had been nothing short of terrifying.
The kiss had not been a gentleman’s kiss.
No, this one was carnal, meant to show her how foolish she was.
How young and na?ve she’d been to think that they could consummate the marriage and only remain friends.
He’d overwhelmed her, and when she’d sat upon his lap to get closer, she’d been fully aware of his arousal. The hardness of his body had nestled against her, until she’d grown wet, wanting to feel his bare skin against hers.
The wanton desires had flowed through her, and when his tongue had entered her mouth, she’d felt an echoing ache between her legs.
But now they were home, and the previous night seemed surreal.
When he helped her out of the coach, weariness overcame her. Amelia’s knees buckled beneath her, and she was hardly aware of anything. There were voices calling out, servants rushing forward to help them, and eventually her mother and father came out to greet her.
The Earl of Castledon remained behind her, an unlikely savior. He held her grounded in the mass of confusion around her. His piercing blue eyes caught hers, and she drank in this last sight of him.
I’m in love with him, she realized. This man, whose heart had been stolen by his first wife, would lead her into nothing but heartache. But beneath his invisible barrier, she suspected that there was a man worth marrying.
She went inside with her mother while her father went to speak privately with the earl.
Her head was spinning with fear and confusion.
Before long, the servants helped her upstairs and into bed.
Only when they were alone did her mother take her hand.
“I know you’ve been through a terrible night, my darling.
But I must know, did any harm come to you? ”
Amelia shook her head. “I am still untouched.”
“Thank God,” her mother said, squeezing her palm tightly. “And what of Margaret? Will she be back soon?”
“I never saw Margaret,” she said. “It was Lord Castledon who found me.”
There was a line of tension across the baroness’s face, but Beatrice masked it. “Then she doesn’t know that you were rescued?”
Amelia shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I suppose she’ll return soon enough.” Beatrice tried to smile, but Amelia didn’t miss the worry there.
“She didn’t go alone, did she?” The thought of her sister being out all night, still searching for her, was horrifying. She didn’t want to imagine all the harm that could come to Margaret.
Her mother didn’t answer. “She’ll be back,” she repeated. “I believe that.”
Amelia closed her eyes, letting herself fall into a desperate sleep.
Her thoughts tangled up into troubling dreams, not only of her sister, who was still missing—but she also dreamed of the earl and of the way she’d responded to his devastating kiss.
She wanted to wed him, even knowing that he had no intention of feeling anything for her.
If she became his wife, he wanted her to look after his daughter. Nothing more.
She knew that. And yet, she wanted to believe that behind his grief lay a man worth fighting for. The opportunity was here. But she didn’t know what would happen if she dared to reach for it.
“I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you’ve brought Amelia home to us,” Lord Lanfordshire began.
“I’m glad I found her before any harm was done.” David joined the baron in the small library and sat across from Amelia’s father. Inwardly, he was on edge, knowing what would come next.
“There is another problem,” Lord Lanfordshire admitted.
“Margaret has not returned.” The man rubbed at his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept at all.
In that moment, David saw a man like himself—a father who worried about his daughter.
If anything ever happened to Christine, he didn’t know how he would get over the loss.
To have two daughters go missing in one night…
it was enough to take years off a man’s life.
“What about Sinclair?” he asked. “Last night, Margaret went to speak to him. She wanted him to help track Amelia down.”
The baron straightened in his chair, his face tight with tension. “Do you think she went with him?”
David hesitated, not knowing whether the baron was aware of Margaret’s interest in the Highlander. But there was no sense in hiding anything.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Miss Andrews was terrified for Amelia last night. Though she said something about sending a footman, I strongly believe she went to Sinclair, asking him to go with her.”
“Where do you think they are now?” the baron demanded.
David described the route where Margaret had planned to go. Lord Lanfordshire listened intently, and when he’d finished, David offered, “She wasn’t certain if Lisford would stay on the main roads or not.”
“I don’t know why Margaret would take it upon herself to go after Amelia, but I’ll send men to begin searching immediately.
” The baron stood, but before David could depart, the man added, “There is still the matter of Amelia and you. Even though I am immensely grateful for what you did, people will talk.”
David didn’t deny it. He knew what was coming next, and he prepared himself for the marital demands that would happen.
“I respect you very highly, Lord Castledon, and more so after what you’ve done this night.
To have Amelia back, unharmed…it’s more than any father could hope for.
” The baron squared his shoulders and faced him.
“I know that I, as well as most of the London ton, would look very highly upon you as a potential husband for Amelia. Particularly after this act of heroism.”
Before he could say anything, the baron continued, “She must marry. And she must do so quickly, to silence any further talk. I would—I would feel better knowing that someone like you was looking after her. Especially when I don’t know about…Margaret.” There was a pained expression on his face.
David sobered. If he ever lost Christine, he would be going out of his mind with worry. When he met Lanfordshire’s gaze, he saw the mirror of himself in a dozen years.
He didn’t know how to tell him that another man would be a better choice for Amelia. Her marriage shouldn’t be like this. She deserved so much more than a man like him.
“Would you consider it?” the baron prompted. The man didn’t press him, nor did he demand acquiescence.
David thought of Amelia’s bright spirit. Undoubtedly, Christine would adore her, once they became acquainted. Amelia was brimming with life and excitement. She embraced adventure, and last night she’d kept her courage in the face of danger.
Amelia was not a young woman who would disappear meekly into the background. Not after the way she’d kissed him back. The memory of her innocent embrace was enough to pull apart common sense.
“If you choose not to wed her, I’ll have no alternative but to give her to someone else,” the baron said. “And that isn’t what I want.”
Therein lay the problem. The thought of another man claiming her was enough to draw David’s frustration tighter. He wanted no man to touch her, much less to hear her broken sigh when she was well kissed.
He’d watched over her these past years, seeing the warmhearted girl transform into a woman who stole his senses. She was life and breath to his barren existence.
“I’ll wed her,” he heard himself say. And though the baron smiled with relief, it felt like a terrible thing to do, imprisoning her bright spirit in a world scarred by death.
Henry was relieved that Lord Castledon had agreed to the marriage with his daughter, but Beatrice seemed less enthused about the idea.
“I don’t like this.” His wife paced across his bedroom, her hands clenched together.
“I know the earl seems like a decent fellow. But for Amelia to be forced into marriage makes me want to have that horrid viscount put on a ship bound for New Holland. With no food or water,” she added. “Scotland is too good for him.”
“Lord Castledon will take care of her,” he responded. “And he knows Amelia has a sensitive heart.”
His youngest daughter had always held a special place for Henry.
When he’d gone off to war, she’d given him a pencil drawing of him and herself holding hands.
The limbs had resembled sticks, but the love was there.
She never knew how he’d folded that paper inside his shirt, wearing it into battle beneath his uniform.
No, he didn’t want Amelia forced into marriage any more than his wife did.
“That may be,” Beatrice agreed, “but he’s always so serious. I always thought that Lord Castledon was a better match for Margaret.”
The mention of his older daughter brought another pang of worry. Henry had sent dozens of men to search for Margaret, but the underlying fear, that they wouldn’t find her, hadn’t stopped lurking. He pushed the thought from his mind, trying to believe that it would all end well.