One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(39)

She nodded.

“Then know this.” Lifting his hand from her thigh, he trailed his fingertips over her collarbone, dipping to trace the neckline of her shift. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you all damned day.”

The words alone left her breathless. And then his mouth took hers in a dizzying kiss.

She kissed him back. Imprudently. Wantonly. Foolishly. Passionately.

This was exactly the paradox that had landed her in this situation. She never would have consented to marry him, if not for this kiss. Whenever he spoke, he used that wide, sensuous mouth to dismiss and insult her. But when his lips met hers, he became a different man. Solicitous, considerate. He afforded her respect, never overpowering her with his strength. He encouraged her cooperation with gentle sweeps of his tongue.

And he made it far too easy to imagine there was something besides mere lust behind this kiss.

Don’t think it, she told herself. In his own words, this was a business transaction. Her security for his heir.

But as he deepened the kiss, she sighed. Her hand went up to clasp his neck.

She teased her bare fingertips through his damp, luxuriant curls, and he rewarded her with a guttural moan that echoed and swelled in her most feminine places. Her aching br**sts. The damp cleft between her legs. Her heart.

He could claim them all, far too easily. She knew herself too well to believe otherwise. Already her blood pounded with lust for him, with the bone-jarring force of an army marching out to war. With the slightest encouragement, her affection would no doubt traipse blithely behind, like the village idiot. As the only woman in a family of five brothers, unreasoned devotion to undeserving men came all too naturally to her.

The enormity of the day’s events struck home with sudden force. She’d married a virtual stranger. Given him license to possess her body, but taken no precautions to safeguard her soul. With a twenty-seven-hour betrothal, she simply hadn’t had time to prepare. To draw the boundaries that would protect her in this cold, impersonal bargain they’d struck. Within these borders lies the essential Amelia: You may come this far, and no further.

“Amelia.” He breathed her name against her ear. “I must have you.”

She began to tremble, and a whimper caught in the back of her throat.

The sound gave him a start. He pulled away and stared hard at the slope of her shoulder, where her flesh quivered under his touch. “You are truly frightened.”

“Yes,” she said honestly. “You frighten me.”

“Damn it, I didn’t kill anyone. You’ve no reason to fear me.”

“Oh, I do. I have every reason.” And none of those reasons had a whit to do with Leo’s death. Her fears were originated right here, in the heat between them and the veiled emotion in his eyes. Could she dare put them into words?

I’m afraid of imagining you feel more for me than you do. Afraid of wanting too much, needing you more than you’ll ever have a use for me. I’m terrified that there’s more to you than I suspected, but you’ll never let me see it all. That I’ll give you everything I have, and you won’t even offer a few answers in return. And I need some time—just a little time—to learn how to offer you my body without risking my foolish, fragile heart.

“Leo’s token,” she whispered. “When it’s found, I’ll know you’re blameless.”

His eyes hardened as he withdrew his hand. “Very well. While Leo’s killers walk free, I’ll not come to you. But once that token is recovered and I am proved innocent, there will be no further delay. And when I do take you, I will have all of you. Touch all of you. Taste all of you. You’ll deny me nothing.”

She stared up at him, paralyzed with longing and fear.

“Say yes, Amelia.”

“Yes,” she managed. What a devil’s bargain she’d just sealed.

He rose to his feet and made to leave the bedchamber. Amelia fell back against the pillows and pressed her thighs together, attempting to ease the sweet, maddening ache in her womb.

At the door, he stopped. “And Amelia? Even though I’ve pledged not to come to you, there’s nothing to keep you from coming to me.” With one last burning glance, he reached for the door handle. “The door’s unlocked, if there’s anything you need.”

Chapter Nine

Juno’s hooves danced under him as Spencer eased into the saddle. He exchanged a nod with his outrider. The groom had been walking her for most of the morning, but now the mare had reached the end of her patience. As had he. A good, hard ride was what they both needed. They’d outpace the carriages for this last leg of the day’s travel and he’d see about procuring rooms at the inn.

At Juno’s impatient whicker, he nudged the mare into a canter. As the horse found her pace, a fresh breeze whipped through his hair—a refreshing burst of coolness on this warm afternoon. He ought to have been taking in the pleasant countryside, Spencer supposed, but instead all he saw was Amelia, as she’d appeared last night. The soft gold of her unbound hair, burnished by firelight. The enticing pink curves of her flesh, covered by the sheerest white muslin.

Her clear blue eyes, filled with fear.

Devil take it. That fear had come as a stab to the heart. Her courage and sensible nature were what attracted him to her in the first place. From her teasing during that that cursed waltz, to the kiss she’d demanded before accepting his proposal—she infuriated, intrigued, and aroused him, all because she refused to be intimidated. Just as she’d said that morning after Leo’s death, in the carriage: When they were alone, they were just a woman and a man.