A Taste of Desire(56)

Thomas knew he’d just been insulted but didn’t care. His body had yet to recover from the feel of her. His hands ached to snatch her back into his arms and continue where they’d left off. Heavy with arousal, all he could think about was locking the door and taking her up against the wall, the floor, the desk, the rug in front of the fireplace. Sliding into her slick heat. Driving into her repeatedly until she didn’t know her own name and he could claim only a passing acquaintance with civility.

“I understand that what I said at the ball injured your pride,” she continued evenly. “But as you can see, my response to you has proven me wrong. There, I’ve conceded to your superior sexual prowess. Now, will you leave me alone?”

Thomas could barely comprehend what he was hearing. He’d not anticipated her admission would come quite like this. The shattering climax had her saying it with more humility as she begged him to end her torment and take her. Of course, that’s when he would deny her. Nowhere in the script was she supposed to admit she was wrong and then calmly ask him to leave her alone.

“Given what you’ve just confessed, are you certain that’s what you want?”

Amelia looked away and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Yes.”

Later he’d tell himself it was all for the best. He’d made a discovery of his own: that he no longer wanted to be party to his game of seduction. She’d made him feel petty and small, and he’d be exactly that if he had continued on his course. So it was done, the game officially over. Now he must act the role intended for him. Her guardian cum employer. Which meant he must leave … now.

“Then it shall be as you wish,” he said solemnly.

Her gaze shot back to him as if she feared duplicity.

“I will leave you to your tasks. Tomorrow, you can take the day to pack for our departure on Friday.” With a swift bow, he was gone.


The instant the vis—Thomas disappeared through the doorway, Amelia sank back into her chair, inhaling a lungful of air. The man had had his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breast, and parts of him knew parts of her almost as intimately as she knew herself. She could scarcely think of him so formally anymore.

Dear Lord, what had possessed her to kiss him like that? All she knew was that when he had pulled away and left her still wanting, she couldn’t see anything beyond the hypocrisy of his actions. How she’d wanted to prove to him that the powerful pull of their physical attraction wasn’t confined to her alone. But knowing didn’t make things better; in fact, it could make things a far cry worse.

How vastly different he was from Lord Clayborough. The baron didn’t elicit even a fraction of the physical reaction in her that the viscount did. But that was all it was, merely a physical response to an attractive—stunningly beautiful—man. What she shared with Lord Clayborough was more important than that. Which was why his lack of response to the three letters she’d posted since her arrival was so troubling. He’d always been overly solicitous of her, so his behavior now was very much out of character. Something was wrong. And to add to her problems, she was now expected to travel to London with Thomas and his family.

Just as she was beginning to despair that things could not possibly get worse, she remembered that Lord Clayborough was in London. She made the connection with the staggering relief one would feel in finding solid ground in a bed of quicksand, as opposed to the giddy excitement a woman might have at the prospect of seeing her betrothed. But her feelings were immaterial here. The only thing that mattered was that after over a month, she and Lord Clayborough would finally have a good chance to meet. The viscount couldn’t possibly know the gift he’d just given her. One she intended to utilize to the utmost.





Chapter 15



The trip to London was uneventful. Their arrival at the viscountess’s residence in Mayfair occurred at precisely two o’clock in the afternoon. And as Amelia should have expected, her argument with Thomas occurred an hour later, five minutes after the viscountess and her daughters exited the townhouse.

Amelia faced him across the expanse of his mother’s drawing room. As if by tacit agreement, they both now gave one another a wide berth when circumstances demanded they be in each other’s company.

“Your mother invited me to go with her and your sisters. I should like to have gone.”

“Your father didn’t send you to me so you could traipse about enjoying the pleasures of the city.”