Thank God, Amelia appeared to be an exception.
“Please…” He groaned as she licked him again. “I want you.”
She released his cock and sat up, her gaze steady on his face as she straddled his hips and lowered herself down over him. This time, he thought he would die as she rode him so slowly that he was arching off the bed with the need to make her go faster.
“Amelia,” he managed to grind out her name. “Come down here.”
“Why?”
“So that I can beg you to take me faster.”
“But I like this. I like owning you.”
With a growl, he wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled her underneath him. She looked up at him, her eyes widening as he pounded into her, holding his gaze, showing him how much she liked what he was doing to her, showing him himself…
This time, he had more control and managed to pull out earlier, but he still hated it, all his instincts telling him to burrow in deeper, hold her locked tight to him and spill his seed into her welcoming tight heat.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift a little, only to be served the memory of an unknown female riding his shackled body.
He went still while a cold wave of dread washed through him.
“Marco? I mean Marcus? What is wrong?”
He forced the memory away and turned back to the woman who lay beside him, her face flushed from their lovemaking, her grey eyes wide with concern for him.
“Just an inconvenient memory.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s gone now.”
“Marcus,” Amelia whispered. “Marcus, you need to wake up. Dotty will be down in the kitchen soon, and she cannot find you in my bed.”
He slowly opened his eyes and studied her. “Hmm?”
She smiled. “You need to go.”
She gave into the impulse to kiss him and instantly regretted it as his hand curved around her hip, drawing her tight against his morning erection. She pretended to frown at him. “We do not have time for that.”
“Are you sure?” he murmured. “I’ll be quick.”
She made herself laugh and moved away from him. “If you won’t get up, I will so that I can divert Dotty’s attention when you clatter down the stairs. In fact—” She scooted out of the bed. “—I’ll go and rumple the bed in your old room so that if she sees you, she’ll think that’s where you stayed.” As she spoke, Amelia washed rapidly in the cold water from the jug on her nightstand, using some of her favorite lavender soap.
“Amelia.”
She kept her back turned to the bed as she tidied her hair and pulled on her clothes. “Yes, Marcus?” She put on her stockings and slippers.
“Please don’t run away from me like this.”
“I have to go. I can hear Dotty.” She whisked herself out of the room and down the stairs. What more could she say to him? He’d given her exactly what she’d asked for, and she refused to regret a single moment of it. All she needed now was a moment to compose her wayward emotions and all would be well.
There was no sign of Dotty, mainly because Amelia had lied and it was Dotty’s late morning start. She stoked the fire in the stove, put the kettle on to boil and set the ham to cook. When she’d run out of things to do, she sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head in her hands.
How could she have forgotten that sharing one’s body with another person was so…
intimate
? How could she ever look at Marcus again and not imagine him moving inside of her, remember the way his expression tightened as he climaxed, the way he held onto her as if he was drowning. But she wouldn’t have to look at him again after this morning, would she?
Taking a deep breath, she raised her head. The solution was quite simple. He was leaving to return to his life and she was… she was leaving, too. She wasn’t a child and she’d gone into this liaison with her eyes open. When he came down the stairs, all he would see was her usual calm face and pleasant manner.
The hiss of the kettle boiling made her jump. She brewed tea for Betty and took it up to her aunt and returned to the kitchen to find Marcus standing at the stove competently flipping slices of ham out onto a plate. For a second her heart stuttered, and she reached for her hard won composure.
“Thank you for rescuing the ham. I had quite forgotten about it.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, his face unsmiling. “I didn’t want it to burn. Where is Dotty?”
“Oh, she’s not arrived yet. I must have been mistaken.” Amelia smoothed her apron down with hands that shook. “Would you like some eggs with your ham?”
“No, thank you.”
She poured them both a cup of tea and put a thick loaf of bread and some butter out with a jar of Betty’s best chutney. He set the plate of ham on the table and sat opposite her. She noticed he hadn’t yet brushed his dark hair and his shirt was open at the neck, showing a small red mark where she must have bitten him.
Flustered, she dropped her knife and it fell to the floor. They both bent to retrieve it, almost bumping heads in the process.
“May I ask how matters went with your husband’s brother?” Marcus said.
“Oh, that has been settled quite satisfactorily. Aunt Betty will have tenancy here for the rest of her life.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He finished his ham. “Are you going to continue to ignore what happened between us last night?”
She met his stare head on. “I have no wish to ignore what happened, sir. I don’t regret a single moment.”
There was a long silence as he studied her. “Are you quite sure about that?”
“Yes.”” She found herself glaring at him. “Are you suggesting I should be ashamed of myself? That I would have regrets? I don’t.” She pushed her plate away. “You gave me exactly what I asked for. It was wonderful, and I suppose I should say thank you.”
“I’m not asking for your gratitude.” He sat back, his blue gaze assessing. “You’re quite certain that everything is fine?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.” He hesitated. “Amelia, what is it, love?”
“Don’t call me that.” She shot to her feet, brushing crumbs from her apron. “What time do you have to leave?”
He sighed. “The coach departs at eleven.”
“Good.” She smiled brightly at him and moved briskly toward the door. Apparently calmness and dignity were quite beyond her this morning. She would have to rely on her other strengths. If she could only remember what they were.
“Mrs. Smith. If there are any consequences from our night together, you will inform me of them.”
There was an autocratic note of command in his voice that reminded her of her father.
“How can I do that, when I have no idea where you will be?”
“You can write to Mr. Brown at Stultz again.”
“Ah, yes.”
“If I don’t hear from you within the next month or so, I will visit you again to ascertain if you are in good health.” He paused. “If you don’t wish to see me, then write that letter.”
She curtsied to him. “Yes, Major.” She would not forget. His appearance at Dove Cottage after she had gone would only complicate matters unnecessarily. “Now I must get on.” She glanced at the clock. “It is almost nine, and I have a lot to do before Dotty arrives.”
Marcus shaved and dressed in his old room and then went down to the kitchen again. There was no sign of Amelia, and he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for that or not. He hesitated by the kitchen table, wishing he could just be Marco and sit down and be part of the family. But he couldn’t go back. He knew his name, and he knew whom he needed to speak to before he confronted his family—and certain other gentlemen of his acquaintance.
Until he had sorted out the past, he had no right to contemplate a future with anyone, particularly someone who had declared quite emphatically that she didn’t need him. The kitchen door banged, and Amelia came in, her auburn hair blown by the wind and her cheeks pink. She stopped when she saw him and put on her social smile.
“Are you leaving, Marcus?”
“Yes, I believe I am.”
“Do you wish me to tell Betty that you recovered your memory, or shall I keep it a secret?”
“I’d rather you kept it between us at the moment. There are several matters regarding my existence that have yet to be worked out.”
She placed the eggs she had gathered in her apron carefully on the table. “Were you away that long?”
“It was believed I had perished several years ago in Spain.”
“Then your family will be both surprised and delighted to have you return to them.”
“We’ll see about that.” He picked up his hat and buttoned his coat. “I had better go. I hear Betty calling you.”
She opened the kitchen door, and he followed her out into the garden. The roar of the sea was loud today, and the wind was whipping through the trees, bending them into impossible angles. As she turned toward him, he cupped her chin, crowding her against the back door.
“Good bye, Mrs. Smith.”
“Good bye, Marcus.”
“Thank you for everything.” He held her gaze. “Promise me that you will write.”
She blinked slowly. “I promise.”
“I…” He kissed her salty lips. “Amelia, I don’t want to go.”
Her hands came up between them, pressing on his chest, creating a barrier he bitterly resented. “You must. You have a life to retrieve.”
“I wish I didn’t.” He swallowed hard. “I wish I was just Marco and could stay here with you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes what we did together more complicated.”
“I gave you what you asked for, Mrs. Smith. One night.”
“Which was all you had to give because you were leaving.”
He smoothed his thumb over her cheek and then helplessly over her lush lower lip. “I gave you what
you
wanted. You haven’t asked me what I want.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “Please don’t do this.”
“Why not? Why haven’t you asked me to come back to you after I’ve settled my affairs?”
“Because I am tired of watching men I—men walk away from me and never return. I can’t do that again, Marco. I just can’t sit and wait and hope for something that will never come true. I’d rather let you go now.”
He let out his breath and found the strength to let her go in return. “I understand.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Godspeed, Mrs. Smith.”
He turned and walked away, his gaze fixed firmly on the path in front of him even as it blurred before his eyes. He had a purpose, and he might not live to see justice served. Amelia Smith would never have to wait in vain for him to return to her. It was the least he could do to thank her for all her care.
It was the only gift he could give her.
Near Covent Garden, London
Ignoring the protests of the landlord, Marcus shoved a coin into the man’s hand and shut the door firmly in his face. The room was dark, damp and filthy and stirred up far too many memories in Marcus’s head to make him ever feel at ease there. He had no choice but to stay and await the return of the current occupant.
There was a bed with a single louse-ridden blanket on it and an empty fireplace. Marcus chose to stand and pace the bare floorboards as the house settled down for the night. He’d managed to remember the name of his family solicitors and had made an appointment to speak to them on the morrow. He jiggled the few coins he had left in his pocket and smiled grimly into the darkness. It had taken him quite a while to locate the premises. The necessity of his visit to Mrs. Smith had delayed his chance to find the occupant of the room and now he was wondering whether he’d left it too late.
The landlord had insisted that the man named Jack who had lived in the room had paid up and left, but Marcus wanted to make sure. It had taken him too long to find out even this basic information, and he was anxious to move on.
Behind him the door opened. He spun around, wishing he had his sword or pistol to hand.
“Major Stortford.”
There was no surprise in the man’s voice, but it definitely wasn’t Jack speaking. Jack had a distinctive Welsh lilt to his upper-class drawl.
“How do you know my name?” Marcus demanded.
“How could I not? You cost me a pretty penny to find and bring back to our shores.”
Marcus took a step closer. “Who the devil are you?
“A friend of Jack Llewellyn’s.”
“Then you are no friend of mine.”
The man laughed. There was something familiar about him, but Marcus had no idea what it was. “Been listening to gossip have you? You might be surprised about what is truth, and what the lie.”
“Just tell me how to find him.”
“You won’t find Jack in London. He’s busy elsewhere.” The man paused, his face concealed by the brim of his hat and the shadows. “But there is someone you should speak to.”
“And who might that be?”
“The Duke of Diable Delamere. Tell him I sent you.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Good night, Major Stortford. If you don’t wish to meet my men outside, may I suggest you wait for another quarter of an hour before you leave this space?”
“But who
are
you?”
“Captain Fury. Tell the duke I sent you.”
The door shut and Marcus, having no pocket watch of his own, slowly counted down the minutes before he was free to leave.
Amelia fixed a bright smile to her face and went to find Betty in the front parlor.
“Aunt, I have just received a letter from an old friend of mine.” She sat opposite Betty, who tried to pretend she hadn’t just woken up from a nap. “She wants me to come and teach at her school. It is a
wonderful
opportunity for me.”
“You want to leave me?” Betty’s lip trembled. “But what shall I do without you, Amelia?”
“You will have Jonathan and his family to support you, remember? They are moving in next week.” She took Betty’s hand and squeezed it encouragingly. “This offer couldn’t have come at a better time, could it?”
“I suppose not, but are you quite sure about this?
Teaching,
Amelia? I hardly think Matthew would approve of you working for your living.”
“He is no longer here to advise me, Aunt, and I must do what seems right for all of us. Jonathan will appreciate the extra space, and I will be paid to do something that I love.”
She hadn’t actually been offered a position at the school yet. But Matilda had asked her to come and stay to see whether she might like the idea.