Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways #1)(71)

"You can take care of them"—she squirmed to the side to set the ring on the bedside table?all by yourself."

Cam moved with her obligingly. "It's much more satisfying when you're involved."

As he reached to retrieve the ring, his body shifted higher in hers. She tensed in surprise. He felt harder inside her, thicker, his desire gaining new momentum. "Cam," she protested, glancing at the closed door. She grabbed for his wrist, trying to keep his hand away from the ring. He grappled with her playfully, turning until they had completed a full revolution across the mattress and she was under him again.

He was rampantly aroused now, teasing her with slow lunges. Twisting beneath him, Amelia pushed at his dark head as he began to kiss her br**sts. "But... we just finished?

Cam lifted his head. "Roma," he said, as if by way of explanation, and settled back over her. If there was a hint of apology in his tone, there was none in the insistent rhythm of his thrusts, deep caresses that invaded and soothed, and before long her protests had melted into purring moans.

Amelia wrapped her arms around him, her legs, trying to contain all that hard male flesh, while the steady, rocking pace of his thrusts brought her to the edge of release. But he withdrew before she could reach it, and turned her over, and for an agonizing moment she thought he had decided to stop. Covering her with his body, Cam used his knees to push hers wide. He muttered in a mixture of English and Romany, enough for her to understand that he wouldn't hurt her, this would be easier for her, and she whispered yes, yes, and then he was sliding impossibly deep, his hands steadying her h*ps as she backed up instinctively.

Her head dropped, her gasps muffled against the linen-covered mattress. His hand slid to her sex, fingers spreading the furrowed silk. Pleasure shimmered through her in waves, each one stronger, higher, until she was shuddering, drowning, sighing. Cam's sudden withdrawal was a shock of unwelcome emptiness as he made his last thrust against the sheets and groaned. Stunned and disoriented, Amelia remained with her h*ps propped high, her flesh pulsing and smarting with the need to have him back inside. His hand came to her bu**ocks, rubbing in a warm circle before he pushed her back down.

"You'll have me," Cam whispered. "You'll have me, hummingbird. I'm your fate—even if you won't admit it yet."

Chapter Eighteen

After Cam had gone, Amelia found herself wandering despondently through the large manor.

It was quiet in the house, everyone having retired to their rooms for afternoon naps. Preparations were being made for the earl and countess, and Lord and Lady St. Vincent, to leave for Bristol in the morning. They would stay at the home of Lillian's sister and brother-in-law, Daisy and Matthew Swift, for the last fortnight of Daisy's confinement.

Lillian was anxious to see her younger sister, with whom she was extremely close. "She's been in splendid health through the whole thing," Lillian had told Amelia, with obvious pride. "Daisy's healthy as a horse. But she's very small. And her husband is quite large," she added darkly, "which means any babies of his will probably be oversized, as well."

"One can't fault him for being tall," Lord Westcliff, who was sitting beside his wife, had pointed out laconically.

"I didn't say it was his fault," Lillian protested.

"You were thinking it," the earl murmured, and she raised a pillow as if to hurl it at him. The effect of marital strife was spoiled, however, as they grinned at each other affectionately.

Lillian turned her attention to Amelia. "Will you and the others be all right in our absence? I hate to leave with things so unsettled, and Mr. Merripen under the weather."

"I expect Merripen will heal very quickly," Amelia said with utter confidence. Other than the time he had first come to them, he had never been ill. "He has a robust constitution."

"I've requested the doctor to visit daily," Westcliff said. "And if you have any difficulties, send word to Bristol. It isn't that far, and I'll come at once."

Heaven knew how they had been fortunate enough to have Lillian and Westcliff as neighbors.

Now, as Amelia made her way through the art gallery, her gaze moving over paintings and sculptures, she became aware of a terrible hollowness inside. She couldn't think how to make it go away. It wasn't hunger, fear, or anger, it wasn't exhaustion or dread.

It was loneliness.

Nonsense, she scolded herself, striding to a long row of windows that overlooked a side garden. It had begun to rain, a cold soaking glitter that fell steadily over the grounds and rushed in muddy streams toward the bluff and the river. You can't be lonely. He hasn't even been gone for half a day. And there's no reason for it when your entire family is here.

It was the first time she had ever felt the kind of loneliness that couldn't be cured with just any available company.

Sighing, she pressed her nose against the cold surface of a windowpane, while thunder sent vibrations through the glass.

Her brother's voice came from the other side of the gallery. "Mother always said that would flatten your nose."

Pulling back, Amelia smiled as Leo approached her. "She only said that because she didn't want me to make smudges on the glass."

Her brother looked drawn and hollow-eyed, the pastiness of his complexion a striking contrast to Cam Rohan's clover-honey tan. Leo was dressed in borrowed clothes, these so fine and precisely tailored, they must have been donated by Lord St. Vincent. But instead of hanging gracefully as they did on St. Vincent's elegantly spare frame, the garments strained over Leo's bloated waist and puffy neck.