A Taste of Desire(111)
“Then I will see Amelia to her bedchambers. Good night, Mother.”
“Good night, Lady Armstrong.” Amelia was rather cognizant of the speculative look in the viscountess’s eyes.
Thomas proceeded to escort her up the stairs, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back and his eyes surveying her with a possessiveness that thrilled her. His whole manner screamed to the world theirs would be more than an affair. More than lovers meeting behind closed doors with curtained windows, brimming with heat and passion. He’d been treating her as if he was courting her. He’d graced her with flowers, chocolates, and books, many novels, since he’d learned how much she loved them. Amelia didn’t think she had felt so near bursting with happiness in her entire life.
At her chamber door she faced him, her tongue sweeping her lips in sweet anticipation of the good-night kiss.
He drew a harsh breath and took a step back. “If I kiss you now, I won’t stop. I simply don’t know how to have you in doses anymore.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” Her breath emerged a faint rasp. She promptly closed the distance between them, her hands lifting to encircle his neck.
“Amelia.” He groaned and clamped her arms back down to her sides. “My mother and sisters are in residence.”
“Then let’s go to your room.”
“We can’t,” Thomas said, but his eyes said he very much wanted to.
“Why not? You certainly displayed no such reticence at your sister’s home,” she whispered, reaching up to nuzzle his throat. She loved the feel of his bristled jaw against her flesh.
His eyes closed briefly as he let out another groan. “Believe me, I’m beyond tempted.” Grasping her hips in his hands, he brought her hard against the ridge of his erection.
Liquid heat coiled low in her belly as a dampness formed between her thighs. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she had him last, yet here she was rubbing against his hardness like a female in heat.
“Missy was no innocent when she wed Rutherford, and as much as I care for Charlotte and Catherine, they’re not my sisters. So out of respect for my mother and my innocent sisters, we truly should not.” Thomas’s voice wavered on the last four words.
Amelia knew she could press her advantage if she chose. It was clear he was just as vulnerable as she to what flared hot between them, but his reasons managed to do what a bucket of cold water could not—prick her conscience. His actions spoke of high integrity and morals while her lack of thought to his family indicated the true wanton she’d become.
Slowly, she stepped away from the solid warmth of his body. His hands lingered at her waist, as if reluctant to let her go, before dropping to his sides.
“Then I shall see you in the morning,” she said softly.
His eyes darkened and he clenched his hands in a fist. For a moment it appeared he might change his mind. Instead, he stroked the crest of her cheek with his thumb. “Dream of me,” he murmured darkly.
That was like directing a fish to swim or a bird to fly. Dreaming of him was inevitable, as if preordained before the beginning of time. All Amelia could do was nod. She cast him one final longing glance before entering her bedchamber and closing the door, leaving her greatest temptation standing silent and still on the other side.
Chapter 28
The day after their arrival back at Stoneridge Hall and only one month since the first occurrence, Thomas found himself in the unenviable situation of being forced to deal with Louisa once again. (He’d thank his mother for that later, as she could have turned the duchess’s footman away at the door). Appearing at his home unannounced breached all levels of decency and respect. The woman’s audacity knew no bounds.
They adjourned to the library, and he chose to remain standing, regarding her without the veil of societal politeness. Louisa, who appeared the picture of tranquility, took a seat in a blue balloon chair near the fireplace.
“You have precisely ten minutes of my time.” He was in love and soon to be married. He could afford to be generous as Amelia was currently occupied in the morning room with his sisters, listening to Emily practice the piano.
“My, you have become so cold. Please don’t tell me I am responsible for your lack of manners.” She wore the smile of a woman who truly thought much too much of herself and her vaunted appeal to the opposite sex. Why hadn’t he seen that tendency in her seven years ago?
“Don’t flatter yourself as nothing could be further from the truth. Just be happy I granted you an audience.” He turned and strode over to the sideboard. With a sharp tug, he uncorked the top from the crystal decanter, then snagged a glass and poured himself a drink. One it was apparent he would require to get through the next ten minutes.