A Taste of Desire(72)

“Good, glad to hear. I hadn’t pegged you as one to judge me solely by the company I keep.” He smiled a slow, thoroughly engaging smile. “Given a chance, I can be charming and agreeable—or so I’m told.”

Amelia chuckled softly despite the cold penetrating the thick wool of her cloak and beginning to seep into her flesh. She imagined he was everything he claimed and more with his silver-grey eyes and his dimpled chin. Thankfully, Lord Alex didn’t affect her senses as his friend did.

She emitted a pained gasp as another shooting pain nearly doubled her over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

Amelia briefly closed her eyes to fight the dizziness threatening to engulf her. “No-no, I’m fine. I must not have gotten enough sleep.” The last thing she needed was his sympathy.

Lord Alex was immediately at her side, concern etching his features. “Is it your stomach? You look ready to keel over.”

“I-I’m fine.” Then to make a complete liar of her, she clutched the sleeve of his jacket, his forearm steady and hard beneath her gloved hand. “I can’t imagine what could be the matter,” she murmured as another dizzy spell sent her head into a spin.

Amelia closed her eyes against the weakness in her limbs. Lord Alex swiftly removed the glove from his hand and pressed his palm to her forehead.

“Good Lord, you’re burning up,” he said, his voice raised in alarm.

“I think I may be ill,” she said faintly.

“Oh really?” he asked, a touch wryly. “Come, let’s get you back to the house.”

The house was about fifty yards away, but she began panting at the prospect of the walk.

She started forward, resting more of her weight on his arm than she intended. With a swiftness that left her gasping, he hoisted her up in his arms, high against his chest.

“No,” she said—a feeble protest a man with any sense of gallantry and the strength to carry eight stone would ignore. “Please put me down, I can walk just fine on my own.” Another roll of her belly had her promptly dropping her head back on his shoulder as her entire body contracted sharply against the breath-stealing pain.

“You don’t even have the strength to hold up your head and you think I will permit you to walk. What you need is your bed and a physician.”

Amelia closed her eyes and inhaled the frosty air. She had never been particularly fond of physicians. Hélène was apt to take better care of her. But her protests would be futile. Much like his friend, Lord Alex looked like a man rarely refused anything. Both men carried themselves with an inherent arrogance, but could command goodwill without a word.

It took him only a few minutes to cover the required distance, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all. They entered the house through the rear and were immediately enveloped in its warmth.

“You can put me down now,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open.

“I will put you down when—”

“What is going on?”

In unison, their heads jerked in the direction of the viscount’s steely quiet tones. He loomed just outside the billiard room, his expression containing all the outrage of a husband catching his wife with her lover.

“Send for a physician. Lady Amelia is ill.”

At his friend’s barked command, Thomas strode swiftly toward them, placing himself in the direct path to the staircase.

Lord Alex’s black brows drew over narrowed grey eyes. “Move aside, man. I’m taking her to her chamber.”


Thomas’s gaze flew to take in Amelia’s wan visage. Her eyes fluttered, the spread of dark lashes fanned above the crest of her cheekbones.

“Give her to me,” he demanded, his hands already reaching for her.

Cartwright’s mouth formed a tight, displeased line as he pulled her tighter against his chest. “Damn it, man, I have her. Just direct me to her bedchamber.”

What bloody gall! And damn if he needed Cartwright’s permission. Amelia was his. His guest, he quickly corrected. He and he alone was responsible for her. “I will take her.” His words came out a growl. And since Cartwright remained unwilling to give Amelia to him, Thomas took her, extricating her smoothly from his friend’s arms.

Cartwright relinquished her without another word of protest. He did one better. He watched him, all sober-faced and assessing.

With Amelia securely in his arms, Thomas studiously ignored him and headed for the stairs. He ascended to the first floor with swift, sure steps.