The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell (6 page)

“What is it about Michelangelo’s
David
that captivates ye so?”

This time, she remained by his side, her dance card forgotten. Tempting her to disobey
her mother and using King David to do it was likely a sin, but Edmund would repent
of it later.

“He was the perfect man.”

“Ye know much about him.”

“I read the scriptures,” she told him, picking up her steps again and following him
toward the garden doors. “He was fearless and faithful, and…” Her voice trailed off
and she blushed again. “Tonight I dreamed that he came to life.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I am nothing like him.”

“Oh?” Leaning her back against the wall, she tossed him a look filled with whimsy.
“Ye don’t go about slaying giants then?”

“As a matter of fact”—he leaned in closer, tempted to kiss the smile from her lips—“I’m
hunting a giant right now.”

When she giggled, he decided not to let her go tonight. To hell with her dance card.
Wanting to be alone with her, he swept her out of the hall and into the garden. Concern
marred her brow for only an instant before it was replaced by moonlight.

“We should not be alone.”

“We’re not alone, my lady. Yer champion is but a few mere feet away.”

She looked over her shoulder at the statue of
David
, then turned to him when he took her in his arms. He didn’t try to kiss her, though
the battle was not easily won. Music from inside wafted through the windows and blended
with the song of the crickets and Edmund wanted to dance with her. He held her gently,
indecently according to the day’s standard way of dancing. He didn’t learn these steps
in any nobleman’s hall, but in the brothels spanning Scotland. She didn’t object,
but breathed rapidly against him when he swayed with the melody.

“What form of dancing is this? ’Tis scandalous.” She didn’t sound offended.

He grinned, loosening his hold to look at her. “’Tis the new dance of Spain.”

She gave him a doubtful smile. “Heads would roll if people danced like this in Spain.”

“France, then.” He laughed when she gave him a playful shove.

“I should scream.”

“Why?” He leaned down, smiling. “Does what we’re doing feel dangerous?”

She laughed softly against him. “Aye, it does. With me, every day is dangerous. Tempting
fate by stealing these moments with ye will likely end in some kind of catastrophe.”

“Then why do ye do it?”

“Do ye truly wish to know?”

He did and he nodded.

“Because these moments are fanciful and fleeting. Ye remind me of the dreams I had
as a child, the ones that sometimes still haunt me. I would risk stealing them, but
nothing more. I am no longer a child.”

“So fancy is only fer children then?”

She shrugged her delicate shoulders and then laughed with him.

Edmund accomplished his goal of keeping her to himself for the night. They danced
long into the hours and with each moment he spent with Miss Amelia Bell, he knew that
if she wasn’t the duke’s niece, the chancellor’s future wife, and a treaty supporter,
she could be something meaningful in his life. He had to be extremely careful with
her and not let her anywhere near his heart.

W
hat did I tell ye about the Scots? They’re a virile lot.”

Amelia felt the blood rush to her cheeks at what else Sarah had told her about them.

They sat on Sarah’s bed, careless of the lumps in the thin mattress poking into their
backsides, or the dim light of the single candle obscuring their vision. They had
eagerly awaited the end of the night, when they could shed their positions in society,
be themselves, and share their secrets, although Sarah’s were far more titillating.

“But Edmund is not Scottish.”

“Accordin’ to his friend Lord Huntley, yer Edmund was raised in Scotland. So he might
as well be a Scot.”

Whatever he was, he was the most divine man Amelia had ever laid eyes on. She closed
her eyes, wanting to shout and dance and twirl with joy atop Sarah’s rickety bed.
She wasn’t sleepy or weary, though she’d spent most of the night dancing with Edmund
alone in the garden. She’d told him that her dance card was full, but it wasn’t. In
fact, there were no names on it at all. At first, she hadn’t cared that no one wanted
to dance with her, but she felt mortified to let Edmund know that. That, and she hadn’t
thought it the best idea to spend the entire night dancing with him when he suggested
it. A full dance card should have chased him off, but it hadn’t.

In the end, she was glad it hadn’t. She was grateful to him for stealing her away
so cleverly, for being a gentleman and keeping his word. One of them, at least. He
hadn’t tried to kiss her. She wished he had, but was glad he hadn’t. She wasn’t under
any illusions that there could ever be something with Edmund Dearly of Essex. She
was to wed Walter. She hadn’t forgotten her duty. Nothing had changed. She wasn’t
free to marry whom she wanted, but she could think about it. She could pretend for
just one night that things were different, that they
could
be different. And what a magical night it had been. Edmund made her laugh and he
asked her questions that made her think instead of constantly trying to make her blush
with flowery words he might or might not mean. Heavens, but he didn’t need words.
Not when he looked at her like he was hungry for more of her. Not something his eyes
could behold, but something deeper. No other man had ever looked at her like that.

She’d wanted to kiss him. Oh, but she ached with a desire to be held in his arms,
kissed until she lost her breath, and her logic. She’d been spending a lot of time
contemplating her wedding night with Walter. Now those images were replaced with Edmund.
And they came alive and heated her belly. So, she was fanciful. The only one who disapproved
was her mother, and tonight, just tonight, Amelia didn’t care what her mother thought
of her.

Her dreamy smile vanished and she opened her eyes.

“Ye didn’t take Lord Huntley to bed, did ye?”

Sarah rolled her eyes at her. “Honestly, Amelia, I just met him this night.”

“Did ye?”

“Nae.” Sarah shook her head. “He chased Lizbeth Cameron and her gigantic bosoms around
most of the night. I think I even saw him flirtin’ with the duke’s wife. When he did
speak to me, his friend Mr. Lucan Campbell kept appearin’ at our sides to discuss
some piece of artwork, which, of course, I knew nothin’ about. I confess that one
frightens me a bit with those piercin’ wolf-colored eyes. I found them on me fer most
of the night. He has a look about him like he’s eager and able to spill blood, and
a lot of it. But enough about the others. Tell me of yer Edmund! Och, Amelia, he
is
handsome. Ye were certainly correct about that. Was he terribly upset about findin’
ye unchaperoned in the garden at dawn? I thought he might have pulled ye away to admonish
ye.”

Amelia shook her head. “He was quite wonderful about it.” Her breathlessness did not
escape Sarah’s notice. “He isn’t stuffy at all. He vowed never to speak of it.”

“My, but I like him better fer ye already. D’ye think yer father would—”

“Sarah.” Amelia stopped her before she went any further. “My fate is sealed. Please
don’t make it any more difficult. Besides, Lord Essex isn’t interested in me as a
wife. And after all he’s likely heard tonight about my ‘incidents,’ I’m certain he
cannot wait to leave Queensberry House.”

“Oh, what a bucket of nonsense!” Sarah exclaimed, pounding her thigh. “Every man in
the Great Hall wished he was sittin’ at yer side at that table tonight, includin’
Lord Essex! Ye are the loveliest woman that ever graced this house.”

“Sarah, don’t be ridiculous. Did ye see my hair? I fell asleep in my soup!”

Sarah’s mouth curled into a smile. “Aye, and he called ye delightful. I heard him.”

“Aye, he didn’t flinch when my mother made apologies fer me.”

“Ye like him then.”

“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? But he is leaving in the morning and I am going to
be the wife of one of the most powerful men in Scotland.”

“But Amelia, think of what Lord Essex has hidden in those snug hose!”

Amelia’s cheeks went up in flames before both women burst into laughter.

Later, when they lay on the bed staring at the flickering shadows along the ceiling,
arms flung over their heads, Amelia’s thoughts were filled with Edmund. “Sarah?”

“Aye?”

“What is it like to kiss a Scot, well, an Englishman who was raised in Scotland?”

“’Tis verra’ nice, and verra’…indecent,” Sarah answered in a voice deep and drowsy.

The thought of Edmund kissing her indecently stirred Amelia’s blood. “Tell me how
they kiss, won’t ye?”

And Sarah did, leaving little to Amelia’s imagination.

“Walter has never put his tongue into my mouth,” Amelia confided when her friend was
done.

“Of course he hasn’t. He’s as dull as wet grass.”

Amelia smiled at the ceiling. When Sarah’s breath grew slow and even a few moments
later, Amelia pressed a kiss to her dearest friend’s forehead and left her bed.

Edmund sat in the shadows of the Duke of Queensberry’s garden and waited for Amelia
to return from wherever she had gone. To meet her lover? The thought didn’t sit well
with him, but he told himself it was because it meant that things weren’t so good
between her and the chancellor, and if the chancellor didn’t care if she was kidnapped,
he’d sign the treaty and all this would be for naught.

That’s what Edmund told himself.

He waited for her like a thief in the night, ready to steal her away from the people
she loved, eager to begin the process of winning this battle for Scotland.

Eager to see her, to speak to her again. He’d sincerely enjoyed the night he spent
with her and the more times she smiled at him, laughed with him, opened up to him,
the more he hated the idea of using her as a pawn. She was nothing like some of the
other noblemen’s daughters he’d met in the past. He wished she were haughty, like
her mother and her sisters. It would make what he meant to do easier. But she seemed
to genuinely care about her uncle’s servants and her father’s well-being.

He hadn’t kissed her. He’d promised himself that he would. But now, feeling drawn
to her like he did, he decided it was best that he kept his mouth and his hands off
her.

He’d been untruthful to women before in his quest for information, but he’d never
gone out of his way to make them trust him, believe that he was someone he wasn’t.
He was no courtly, pure-hearted warrior sent from heaven to battle giants with a sling.
No, he used innocent women to win his war.

But there was no time for regrets. He must carry out his and his cousins’ plan and
save his kin, his clan, his countrymen from suppression. Nothing would stop him. Not
even the slight flip of his heart when he saw her entering the garden in her nightdress,
humming to the stars.

Amelia glanced up at the stars strewn across the warm violet sky. She was late again—or
early, depending on how one looked at it. She didn’t care. No one would miss her if
she slept a few extra hours. As she made her way across the arcade, she cursed her
ill fortune that a man like Edmund came into her life merely to remind her how dull
her days were going to be with Walter. Edmund, who thought an obedient, ever-dutiful
wife was tiresome.
Stop it, Amelia
, she chided herself.
Ye’re going to be wed in a month.

She blinked, trying to adjust her vision as she approached the statue of
David
. A shadowy figure of a man moved away from it, as if stepping out of the stone carving
to become flesh.

“Ed…Lord Essex, ye startled me.” She groped at her night robe as he stepped into her
path. The fragrance of earth and leather flirted across her nostrils, going straight
to her head. She stepped back. He moved closer. “Whatever are ye doing out here?”

“I had trouble sleeping and came here to seek my dreams.”

The smoky cadence of his voice above her head sent a warm tremor down her spine. She
tilted her face and his breath fell upon her lips.

“A lover?”

“What?” She blinked slowly, enraptured by his closeness, his height, his scent enveloping
her. Every other thought fled her mind, save one. She wanted to kiss him. Just once
to help her remember during her marriage to Walter what something passionate felt
like.

“Are ye meeting a lover, Miss Bell?”

Her head cleared instantly and she moved back, then skirted around him to head for
the doors.

“Amelia.” His uneven breath as she passed him stopped her.

She didn’t look at him before she spoke. She didn’t want to see the censure in his
eyes when she told him the truth.

“I was meeting with someone whose friendship I treasure. She is frowned upon by my
mother, and so our friendship is forbidden.” She didn’t want to be talking to him
about this. Not him. She picked up her hem and left, but he followed and reached her
in two long strides.

“Why is it forbidden?”

“Because she is a servant,” she blurted, not slowing her pace. “Ye may have noticed
her in the Great Hall. Sarah is difficult to miss. She’s quite lovely; red hair, dancing
green eyes, a kind heart.” Dear God, why was she trying to convince him that Sarah
had no faults other than her station?

“I did notice her.”

Her heart faltered, as did her steps. “Ye did?” she asked, turning to look up at him.
She loved Sarah, but the thought of Edmund taking notice of her made Amelia want to
weep.

“Aye, she followed ye when ye left the table and then hovered about fer most of the
night. One of the men I traveled here with has been speaking of her all night, which
is part of the reason I couldn’t sleep.”

“Lord Huntley.” Amelia almost sighed aloud with relief.

“Nae. Mr. Campbell.”

“I see.” She slipped her gaze from his. “And did he speak kindly of her?”

“Aye, I feel like I know her already,” he said, and the teasing lilt in his voice
drew a smile to her lips.

“And our being friends?” she asked apprehensively, but now she had to know. “What
do ye think of that?”

“If ye’re asking me if I approve of yer being friends with a servant, I find no fault
in it. Where I live we don’t have servants. We are all equal, save fer our chief.”

Amelia stared up at him. She meant to say something to him about his kindness, but
the sun began to break over the horizon and bathed the rugged angles of his face in
its warm light and tempted her to promise her life to him, if only she could. Aye,
she knew it was madness and had she opened her mouth she likely would not have pledged
herself, but God help her, everything about him was so beautiful, so kind, and where
in blazes did he live? No servants? She wanted to go there.

“I will say nothing to yer parents,” he promised, thinking her afraid that he would.
“Ye have nothing to fear from me, Amelia.”

His eyes drew her closer. They were intense, warm blue embers mirroring her thoughts,
devouring her, as she did him. He wanted to kiss her, and if she remained still but
a moment longer, he was going to—and she was going to let him.

“I should go.”

“Aye,” he agreed roughly. He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. “But
don’t.”

His breath felt warm against her knuckles, his finely carved lips, firm yet tender.
She cursed her station in this life and the duty that bound her. She wanted to explore
all the feelings Edmund ignited in her. She wanted to feel what his mouth was like,
if his kiss would be indecent or chaste, like Walter’s. He didn’t want her to go,
but how could she stay? If they were discovered out here, alone…

He didn’t seem to care about consequences when, still holding on to her hand, he pulled
her in close enough to cover her with his size, his honeyed breath. “Grant me just
a few more stolen moments, Amelia.”

Her name falling from his mouth sounded rich and so very warm. She wanted to grant
him whatever he wished. But another scandal would end her father. So she pulled away,
trembling with an unfamiliar ache she didn’t think she could resist another moment
in his company.

“I must go,” she said again and broke free of him.

She didn’t go far when she turned and looked at him standing there next to
David
. Her first error. She would never forget her night with him. She didn’t want it to
end. Not yet. No one would discover them. Just one more stolen moment and she would
be satisfied. Hiking up her nightdress, she ran to him, into his arms.

He met her halfway and cradled her face in his hands. His kiss was open, hungry, and
raw with need, sending fire straight to her belly and below. He played with her mouth,
tasting her lips, devouring her tongue to taste her more fully. As their kiss deepened,
he cupped her nape in one palm and her back in the other and hauled her closer to
his hard, supple angles.

Her heart beat furiously at the scandalous passion of his embrace. He enveloped her
like smoke, molded her limp, yielding body to all the tight, hard planes of his own.
She groaned against him, certain that no man, especially not the chancellor, would
ever kiss her like this again.