Suddenly You(83)

His teeth flashed in a wicked grin. “I’ll give you release, madam.” He bent lower, his mouth nearly touching hers. “Say it again,” he whispered close to her lips.

She tugged at her imprisoned hands, and struggled playfully to free herself. Jack allowed her to writhe beneath him until his robe had parted, the sheet had been kicked away, and their na**d loins were enjoined. The blazing heat of his sex pulsed against her, and her body throbbed in response. Breathing heavily, she opened her knees, widening herself for him. He kissed her br**sts, the wet heat of his mouth surrounded by the scratchiness of an early-morning beard.

“Tell me,” he muttered. “Tell me.”

She surrendered with a moan, too inflamed to care how foolish she might sound. “I am beautiful,” she said through gritted teeth. “Oh, Jack—”

“Beautiful enough to wear a necklace made for an empress.”

“Yes. Yes. Oh, God—”

He slid inside her, making her whimper, making her body flex in wrenching pleasure. She clutched him with her arms and legs, her h*ps tilting urgently to match each downward plunge. She stared at the face above hers. Jack’s eyes narrowed to intense blue slits. His hands covered the sides of her head in a gentle clasp, and he made love to her until she groaned in release. He shuddered and spent his own passion, pulsing violently inside her warm body. When he finally caught his breath, he smiled and nudged his now-softened sex deeper inside her. “That will teach you not to refuse my gifts.” He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured with pretend meekness, and he grinned as he gave her bu**ocks a pat of approval.

As Amanda became acquainted with her husband’s many projects, she took a particular interest in an ailing journal called the Coventry Quarterly Review. It had been suffering for some time from Jack’s benign neglect, and consisted of review essays that examined recent developments in literature and history. It was clear to Amanda that the Review would do splendidly if only it had an editor who was strong enough to shape it, and give the publication some intellectual weight.

Filled with ideas on what should be done with the journal, Amanda wrote a prospectus that included suggestions of possible topics, contributors, and books to review, as well as an outline of the general direction it should follow. The Review should be remade into a progressive and unsentimental publication, she proposed, favorable to reform and social change. On the other hand, it should retain a tolerance for existing systems and structures, and seek to refine them rather than tear them down, so as to preserve the best features of society while weeding out the worst…

“It’s good,” Jack pronounced after reading the prospectus, his gaze distant as his mind clicked with a multitude of thoughts. “Very good.” They sat together in the outdoor conservatory of their home. Jack sat in one chair and propped his feet up, while Amanda curled up on the cushions of a small settee with a cup of hot tea cradled in her hands. A cool afternoon breeze wafted in through the open archways.

Seeming to come to a decision, Jack regarded Amanda with keen blue eyes. “You’ve set out the perfect course for the Review. Now I need an editor available who would be willing or able to handle such a project.”

“Perhaps Mr. Fretwell?” she suggested.

Jack shook his head immediately. “No, Fretwell is too damned busy, and I doubt he would take an interest in this. It’s a touch more intellectual than he would prefer.”

“Well, you’ve got to find someone,” Amanda insisted, regarding him over the rim of her cup. “You can’t simply let the Review wither on the vine!”

“I have found someone. You. If you’re willing to take it on.”

Amanda laughed ruefully, certain that he was teasing her. “You know that is impossible.”

“Why?”

She pulled distractedly at a stray curl that dangled over her forehead. “No one would read such a publication if it were known that a woman was in charge. No respected writers would even want to contribute to it. Oh, it would be a different case if it were a fashion publication or a light journal for ladies’ entertainment, but something as weighty as the Review…” She shook her head at the thought.

A look came over his face, the one she had come to recognize as his enjoyment of a seemingly impossible challenge. “What if we set up Fretwell as a mere figurehead?” he suggested. “We’ll appoint you as his ‘assistant editor,’ when in reality you’ll be in charge of everything.”

“Sooner or later the truth will come out.”

“Yes, but by then you’ll have established such credibility and done such a damned fine job that no one would dare suggest replacing you.” He stood and paced around the conservatory, his enthusiasm gaining momentum. He shot her a glance filled with challenge and pride. “You, the first woman editor of a major magazine…by God, I’d like to see that.”

Amanda regarded him with alarm. “You’re being ridiculous. I’ve done nothing to merit such responsibility. And even if I did well, no one would ever approve.”

Jack smiled at that. “If you gave a damn about others’ approval, you would never have married me instead of Charles Hartley.”

“Yes, but this…it is outrageous.” She could not seem to wrap her mind around the idea of herself as a magazine editor. “Besides,” she added with a frown, “I barely have enough time to work as it is.”