Jane Goodger (25 page)

“I shall endeavor to make it so,” Amelia said with a wink.

It took her only a few minutes to find Boone outside, staring glumly toward the well-kept lawns of Meremont, even though it was far too dark to see much of anything. It was cool, but the air felt wonderful after the heat of the ballroom.

“I’m sorry I spent so much time dancing,” Amelia said.

“I don’t mind.”

Amelia’s shoulders slumped. He should mind. A man who loved his wife certainly would have minded. “I’ve never danced with so many men in one evening,” she gushed, watching his expression carefully for even one sign of jealousy. Even though that had not been her intent while dancing, a small sign of jealousy would have been heartening. “During my first Season, I had to be more careful with whom I danced, but as a married woman, I can dance with anyone I please.”

“Except me.”

Was that a glimmer of anger? Good. “Yes, but you don’t mind. There aren’t too many husbands who would be so completely understanding. I’m so very lucky.”

“Lady Hollings mentioned a Christmas Ball.”

“The Rotherham Ball,” Amelia said, a feeling of dread hitting her. She would most certainly be invited, but would certainly not go. It was at that ball one year ago that she’d made such a fool of herself with Carson. It was at that ball she’d convinced herself she was falling in love. She absolutely would not attend. “I think we should send our regrets if we do receive an invitation.”

“I want to go.”

Amelia looked at Boone with complete surprise. “It’s a terrible crush and not at all fun. The people who attend are old and…and boring. And there’s dancing all night. Dancing and more dancing. I’m afraid I won’t see you all night if we attend.”

“I want to go,” he repeated, this time with such steel in his voice, Amelia was startled. “I enjoy watching you dance.”

She let out a rather unladylike snort of disbelief. “I’ve had my fill of dancing. Some of the people who go to such balls aren’t very nice,” she said, feeling desperate to somehow convince him that she did not want to attend without telling him the real reason why. “It’s not like in Texas where everyone accepts everyone else. It’s different here.”

“Are you saying you’re ashamed of me?” For some reason, Boone seemed to be purposely antagonizing her, which was completely unlike him. He was being ridiculous, and she told him so.

“If you must know, last year I made a spectacle of myself at the ball.”

“Oh?”

“It’s of no consequence now,” she said, thinking it was better not to bring Carson into their conversation when Boone was already acting so jealous. “I’d just rather not attend such an event. I’m not part of that world any more.”

“Then you
are
ashamed of me.” He’d been looking out to the gardens, but he faced her, his expression stony.

“No, you ninny, I’m ashamed of myself.”

“You have to face them sometime,” he pointed out with maddening, cold logic.

“People can be cruel, especially members of the ton. They delight in other’s failures,” she said. “Why, some women I thought were my friends hinted that I wouldn’t be welcomed in the same circles simply because you don’t have a title or means. There are some people who think less of me for marrying you and are rather delighted by my fall. That’s all. I told you it was silly.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

“Honestly, Boone, right now I think I should punch you in the eye for being so completely stupid.” Instead, she punched him in the chest, then stalked off.

In two steps, he caught her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. She stared at his hand holding her arm.

“Well, at least you’re touching me,” she said scathingly.

He dropped her arm as if scalded, his cheeks turning ruddy.

“Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve touched me?” she asked. “Do you?” She shook her head, horrified at the pleading tone of her voice. “I know you didn’t want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry you. But we
are
married.”

He reared back slightly as if she’d hit him again. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be,” he said with dead calm.

She gasped, and he looked incredulously at her, as if surprised that she would even react to such a cruel statement. “Do you mean that?” she whispered, her heart aching in her chest.

“Why can’t you tell me the real reason you don’t want to go to that ball?” he asked with deceptive softness. “Why can’t you tell me that it’s where you met and fell in love with Carson?” He stepped away from her, his gray eyes as cold as the Irish Sea on a stormy night. “I’m an idiot. I fully admit it. And I’m jealous; I’m crazy with it. I don’t like men dancing with you, and I don’t like that you met Carson at that damned ball. I don’t like the fact that he kissed you, touched you, before I did. I don’t like the fact that you’re probably thinking of him when I touch you.”

Amelia winced and made a sound of denial and Boone stepped forward, some madness consuming him. Maybe it was watching his wife in the arms of other men all night, maybe it was the way she smiled up at them, maybe it was the way they stared down at her, their eyes filled with unguarded lust. Maybe it was that he knew he wasn’t good enough for her, and never would be.

You piece of shit. You little piece of shit
.

Maybe it was that he loved her and knew she would never love him. He didn’t know what drove him at the moment, only that he couldn’t stand the thought she didn’t love him, couldn’t take one more false smile, one more touch that meant nothing beyond the satisfaction of some carnal need. She was backed against the wall, looking up at him as if she’d never seen him before. She looked frightened, and he reveled in that fear. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted her to feel something, anything for him other than pity or gratitude.

“Boone, don’t.”

He put his hand on her throat, gently. So gently he shook from it. His other hand braced the cold stone, and he curled it into a fist, scraping his fingertips on it until they hurt, a voice screaming in his head:
Love me, love me. Please God, make her love me.

“You’re scaring me.” He felt her swallow against his hand, felt her fear.

He blinked and dropped his hand, pushing harshly away from the wall. My God, what was wrong with him?

“I have to go,” he said half to himself. “Somewhere.”

Amelia was silent, staring at him, tears coursing down her face. She had cried before, but she’d never cried because of him, because of his cruelty. He took a step toward her and she winced.

“I don’t know where to go,” he mumbled.

“Just go away,” she said, turning her face from him. “Just go away.”

Amelia pressed herself against the wall, shivering, tears streaming down her face. How had everything gone so wrong? She’d never seen him so angry, never seen his gray eyes so cold. She dashed away the tears and took a deep, shaky breath, her heart slamming against her chest when she heard the French door to the terrace open.

“Amelia?”

“Oh, Edward,” she said, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

“What’s wrong? I just saw Boone and he looked like death. Did he hurt you?”

Amelia shook her head, still clutching her brother’s lapel. “No. But we had a terrible row and he said awful things to me. He actually said that we shouldn’t have gotten married at all. He was cruel and Boone is the kindest man I’ve never met. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“All couples fight,” Edward said, patting her on her back.

“Not like that. I think he’s leaving me. I told him to go. Oh, Edward,” she sobbed. “I have to find him. He was so unlike himself. I don’t know what to do.”

“For now, you have to get yourself together. Chin up, right? You can’t let everyone at the ball see how upset you are.”

Edward handed Amelia a handkerchief and that almost made her start crying all over again, for it only brought back memories of how kind Boone had been to her when Carson had broken her heart. She’d dampened more than one of Boone’s handkerchiefs. She dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose with gusto.

“Just leave it out here for now. We’ll retrieve it in the morning,” Edward said, looking at the sodden cloth warily.

Amelia nodded and gave him a brave, watery smile. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve had a terrible row with your husband,” Edward said dryly. “But if you smile enough, people may overlook your red eyes. I’ll escort you around the perimeter and get you to your room. Then I’ll look for Boone once everyone clears out. It’s nearly three, so I imagine some have already left.”

When they returned to the ballroom, it was clear that many of the guests had already departed, for which Amelia was grateful. She smiled and nodded and clung to her brother’s arm, nearly collapsing from released tension when they finally reached the hall that led to Meremont’s guest suites.

“I’ll find him for you. Don’t worry.” He kissed Amelia’s forehead, before turning down the hall to Boone’s room, ready to choke the life out of the man who’d made his little sister cry.

But Boone wasn’t in his rooms. He wasn’t in the house at all.

Boone sat on the floor in the cottage and watched the sky lighten, his entire body numb. It was a blessing, finally, to stop feeling. To stop wishing that someone could love him. He sat like a child would, legs slightly splayed, his back against one wall, his palms facing up as his hands rested on his thighs. When Edward knocked on the door, he didn’t answer, simply shifted his eyes to the door and waited. He was so damned tired.

When Edward entered the room, he stared at his brother-in-law without interest, and if Edward decided that Boone needed a beating for frightening his sister, he’d just take it. Just let him pummel him over and over like a ragdoll. He didn’t care.

“You look like hell,” Edward said, coming over to where he sat. He dragged a nearby chair closer and took a seat. “Amelia’s quite upset. What happened?”

“I think we both realized this was a mistake.”

“What is a mistake?”

“Forcing Amelia to marry me. Thinking I could make her happy. I can’t. And she deserves to be happy, to be with a man who can make her happy. I thought it would be enough, me loving her. It’s not. It’s killing me. Eating me up inside. Driving me crazy, making me say and do things I shouldn’t.” His hands curled into fists. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Edward let out a chuckle and Boone glared at him. “You are an idiot, I will give you that,” Edward said. “The first time I proposed to my wife, she said no. And I would have died for her. For a long time, it hurt like hell. When you believe the person you love most in this world doesn’t love you, it is hell. So, yes, I understand.” Edward pulled out a flask and offered it to Boone, shrugging when the other man shook his head. He took a drink, then capped the flask. “Do you know for certain Amelia doesn’t love you?”

“Yes,” he said tiredly. “I’m sure.”

Edward smiled and shook his head. “I’ll let the two of you figure it all out. I just wanted to make sure you were still in England. I’ll tell my sister you’re here, if you don’t mind.”

“Please don’t.”

Edward let out an impatient breath. “You don’t strike me as a particularly stupid man, but I’ve been wrong before.” With that, Edward sat up and left the house without another word. Boone didn’t move, just followed his brother-in-law’s departure with eyes that burned from weariness.

Amelia was waiting for her brother when he returned, and rushed at him the moment he walked through the door, pulling him into the privacy of his library. “Did you find him? Is he all right? Is he planning to leave? Oh, for goodness sake, Edward, tell me.”

“May I take a breath?”

“Edward.”

“He’s at your cottage. He’s fine. And I don’t know if he’s planning to leave or not,” he said.

“Oh.” She walked over to the nearest chair and slumped into it, completely deflated. “Is he really fine?”

“Actually, no,” Edward said, and Amelia’s heart wrenched. “Let me give you some brotherly advice. Go to him, Amelia. Tell him how you feel. Please, for God’s sake, end the poor man’s suffering.”

Amelia stood up and began pacing. “If I tell him I love him and he doesn’t love me, then I’ll be devastated, Edward. Truly devastated.”

Edward busied himself at his desk for a time. “Bring him food,” he said, without looking up from his work. “He looked hungry and there’s not a morsel to eat in that house. If you don’t return today, I won’t be alarmed.”

“Then you think…”

“Just go, Amelia.”

Amelia grinned and hurried to the kitchens to see what the cook could gather up for them. Running to her rooms, she fetched a warm cloak, and ran back down the stairs to the kitchens to pick up a basket filled with food. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Morrison,” she said, and fairly skipped out of the kitchen.

He loved her. He must love her. Else why would he get so jealous of her dancing, why would the thought of Carson kissing her make him angry? As she walked, she repeated over and over those words, he loves me, he loves me. But when she reached the cottage, she stopped, her heart pounding in her chest. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was still angry? What if the man she loved didn’t love her?

She opened the door without knocking, almost expecting him to be there waiting for her. She could hear a banging noise coming from the kitchen and followed it. “Hello? Boone?”

The banging stopped and he emerged from the back of the house looking so disheveled, so utterly, breathtakingly handsome, that Amelia actually felt her knees weaken.

“Hello.” She lifted the basket. “I’ve brought food.”

He stared at her, his eyes shifting briefly to the basket, before coming back to her face. He was still in the same clothes from the ball, but they bore little resemblance to the elegant suit he’d been wearing. He wore only the shirt, with collar removed and cuffs rolled up, and slightly untucked from his trousers. A smudge of dirt marred the now-wrinkled shirt. He looked completely exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow.

“May we talk?” Amelia asked softly, even as her heart pounded painfully.

He let out a long breath and nodded, silently walking over to a sofa and taking the protective cloth from it, folding it neatly before sitting, making Amelia smile. She placed the basket on a table, then sat at the opposite side of the sofa, as if they were a newly courting couple observing proper etiquette.

Amelia took a deep breath, feeling that all-too-familiar sensation of a burning throat that indicated tears were far too close. She swallowed and steeled herself for what she had to say. She would not cry, no matter what he said. No matter what he forced her to say. She lifted her chin and clutched her hands together almost painfully.

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?” she asked, as if she were asking him what he’d like for lunch.

He looked at her sharply, disbelievingly, then looked away as if he were angry. But Amelia would not stop now. She would come and say what she had to say. Then, if he didn’t love her, she would leave. “It was after Julia died and you hung all those little bits of glass. I remember thinking that there was not another man on earth who would have done that. That’s when it happened.”

Amelia stared at Boone’s stony profile, watching as the muscles in his jaw worked, over and over, as his hands clenched, as his breathing became oddly harsh. Finally, he looked at her, his eyes so tortured, Amelia nearly let out a sound of dismay.

“What?” he growled. “What did you say?”

“You were not listening?” Amelia asked, baffled and slightly miffed, having just laid her heart at his feet.

“Say it again,” he said, and that’s when Amelia saw that his eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Say it again,” he whispered, his voice shaking with raw emotion.

“I love you. With all my heart.”

The tension suddenly left his body and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands against them. “Again,” he said.

Amelia let out a watery laugh, tears now falling freely down her face. “I love you. I love you,” she said, moving next to him and pulling him close. “I love you, Boone Kitteridge. I love you. I love you.”

He laughed, his face transformed. “Again,” he said, laughing and kissing her.

“Not until I hear it from you,” Amelia said, between kisses.

“I fell in love with you the day you walked into my store wearing that fancy yellow dress and looking like moonbeams were shooting from your hair.”

“Oh, Boone.”

He kissed her then, a rare, beautiful kiss, filled with anguish and relief and all the love he’d been holding back for months. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her chin, as if to make up for every time he’d wanted to kiss her but had held himself back. Amelia felt that wonderful, familiar warmth growing, making her body languid and alive.

“Shall we try out our new bed?” she asked with an impish smile.

He gave her one last drugging kiss, his tongue moving against hers, as she let out a whimper of need.

“Come on,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. And then he ran for the stairs, all signs of exhaustion gone, tugging her along behind him as he took the steps two at a time, Amelia giggling breathlessly as she tried to keep up.

He dove for the bed, taking her with him, landing on his back and pulling her down on top of him. “Say it again,” he said, smiling and looking so boyish Amelia laughed aloud.

“Are you going to be a pest about this, Boone? I do hope I don’t regret telling you.”

“Say it,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a clue what you can mean.”

He pulled her down for a long kiss that stole her breath, moving his hands to her backside and pulling her hard against his arousal. “Amelia,” he said with a warning tone.

“I love you,” she said, kissing him between each word. “I love that you are the kindest man I’ve ever met. I love that you never, ever think of yourself first. I love that your hair curls when it rains. I love that your eyes look blue when you wear blue, and gray when you wear everything else. I love that you folded that sheet before sitting down on the couch. I even love that you scowl whenever I’m being extraordinarily nice to you. Like now.” She moved her hand and stroked the length of him. “Why are you scowling?”

He smiled. “I’m just not used to it.”

“I shall endeavor to be so nice to you that you will get used to it,” she said pertly. She sat up on him and began to undo her buttons, loving the way his eyes followed her progress, the way his hands lay restlessly at her waist, the way every once in a while he moved his hips upward as if he couldn’t take one more second of not having her.

She turned her back just enough so he could unlace her stays while she unhooked her chemise, letting out a sigh of pleasure when he kissed her neck and moved his hands to her breasts, eliciting such intense pleasure, she cried out. “I do like that,” she breathed, moving against him, feeling a strange power when his erection grew even harder.

He turned her to face him, and he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling, sending such intense exquisite sensations between her legs she thought she might reach release at that moment. Amelia, her dress still gathered at her waist, moved against Boone in an almost involuntary way, as if driven by a carnal need she could not control. She wanted release. Wanted it. Now.

“Touch me,” she said. “Oh, God, Boone, please.”

In one movement, she was on her back and Boone was struggling to take off the rest of her clothes, cursing at her shoes, pulling off her drawers and underthings until she was naked before him. For some reason, she felt even more wanton lying there naked while he was still fully clothed.

“Touch me,” she repeated, unnecessarily. For he was lost in her, drinking her in, touching her at the apex of her thighs, moving against the slick heat of her. “Oh, touch me, touch me,” she said, over and over, even as he did, even as he put a finger inside her, moved a thumb against her. Kissed her.

Amelia, panting, lost in a haze of arousal, looked down to see Boone kiss her there, between her legs. Felt his tongue, oh, goodness, his tongue.
There
. “Yes,” she said, moving her hips uncontrollably, feeling herself losing her grip on reality, feeling her body shake with intense pleasure. She convulsed around his finger, against his mouth, letting out a scream, and was still pulsing with her release when he put himself inside her. Amelia nearly giggled when she realized that one of Boone’s pant legs was still on. He shucked it off even as he mouthed one nipple, as if impatient beyond reason to have her.

He moved against her, then stopped. Suddenly. “Say it,” he said, grinning down at her.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He moved again, his face straining to hold back his release. “Again,” he groaned.