by Reid, Stacy
He wanted her, and it had always been her. That was something he could not shy away from, because what would happen when their affair ended? Would he then seek a wife who was considered suitable to be his countess, one with an unblemished reputation, while the scent and feel of Amalie would have ruined him for everyone else?
He scowled into the night. You are being a damn fool, stop overthinking the matter. For it was incredibly simple. She wanted a lover. He wanted a lover, and they desired each other.
It was only an affair, and he need not overthink the matter and introduce unnecessary complications. Keep it simple, he reminded himself. Except he couldn’t recall a point in his life when anything to do with Amalie had ever been simple.
Bloody hell.
* * *
All the sparkling ladies in the ballroom began to flutter like brilliant butterflies the minute Lord Kentwood was announced. A soft, secret smile curved Amalie’s lips when their fawning only appeared to inspire boredom from Max. He hovered over the gaggle of ladies impeding his movements, bowing here and there while discreetly searching the ballroom. Their gazes collided, and from where she stood by the refreshment table, Amalie spied the softening around his mouth.
“It is you the earl is looking for,” Bess murmured, her gaze direct and very curious. “Have you come to an agreement of sorts?”
Amalie flicked open her fan and started a delicate wave. “We have. I am to visit with him in Derbyshire for a week or two. We’ll take the time to catch up away from the prying eyes of those prone to gossiping in the ton.”
Bess stared, her lips flattening in disappointment. “So, he is hiding the connection. Of course, he would not want society to know you are special friends.”
Amalie flinched, resenting the discomfort that traveled through her heart. “It would be very selfish of me to want his lordship to flaunt our connection. My standing is very precarious, and it will take the smallest of incidents to dig up my scandal. I am not regularly active socially, and though I am loath to admit it, the few invitations I do get to balls and routs are valued. Five years have passed, and society still mention me in their scandal sheets at least once a week. Could you imagine if they were to turn their spite on me once more because I dared to step out publicly with their beloved author and the most eligible catch of the season? Oh Bess, I would be vilified, and he would be unable to do anything about it.”
Bess’s mouth sent in a mutinous line. “He is the earl of Kentwood. He is loved and respected, surely if—”
She lightly touched Bess’s shoulder. “Hush let’s not quarrel about it. I... I am happy to go away with him!”
“You know that you are of a romantic disposition. What will happen when your heart is irrevocably enmeshed with his and he only cares about taking you to his bed?”
Amalie swallowed, understanding what her dear friend did, forcing her to acknowledge the full truth of her situation. “I will end it when that time comes, and I shall not live with regret.” And she knew that their affair already had an end in sight, and she would not foolishly hope for a fairytale ending. No, she would enjoy every minute of being with London’s wickedest lover until they were both satisfied with ending their arrangement.
Bess sighed. “Let’s take a turn about the room. Deveraux will be here soon, and then you will be left frightfully alone.”
Amalie nodded, and they sauntered side by side through the crush, greeting and mingling with a few friends who always welcomed them at these events. Of course, many sniffed and turned their noses in the air, making a deliberate and notable effort to cut them, so others could speculate upon their actions. It was tiresome, and annoying, especially given that she would still feel that pinch in her heart when ladies who had once welcomed her with warm smiles coldly turned away. It was that rebellious spirit which lived in her heart that made Amalie accept the few invitations sent to her address and enjoy the obvious discomfort she evoked from those priggish and judgmental biddies.
* * *
“I’m told he’s seeking a wife this season,” Lady Rebecca, said, waving her fan vigorously. She was a very spirited and charming girl of nineteen years, who was this season’s diamond with her pale beauty and dowry of fifty thousand pounds. She stared at the earl with scandalized delight and expectations. “I do declare that I might have found my beaux for the season!”
“How delightful and so very good to know,” another young lady whispered with a soft giggle. “He is so very handsome and dashing!”
“Do you think he knows how to do all those things he has mentioned in his book?” Lady Rebecca asked.
Amalie faltered in the crush, and even Bess seemed interested in their conversations.
A shocked gasp. “Rebecca! Do mind your tongue. If the marchioness heard surely, you’ll be severely scolded.” There was a hush, contemplative pause, then her friend asked in a horrified yet titillated voice, “You’ve read it?”
The pale haired beauty glanced around then lowered her head. “I did, and I nearly fainted twice. It was wicked and indecent...and just scandalous I think to be his countess would be divine. Mamma said before he became the earl, he had procured great wealth abroad, and now with the earldom being his, he is a most eligible catch and I should set my cap for him!”
A few breathless sighs sounded, and Amalie bit her lips to prevent from smiling or snorting. Either one would reveal that she was avidly listening on their gossiping.
“Oh, here he comes,” Lady Rebecca said, patting her perfectly coiffed hair.
Amalie’s heart started to pound as he cut through the crowd towards them.
“Is he coming to you?” Bess whispered, fascination and shock in her tone.
“I...” Amalie swallowed, an unexpected and painful hope surging in her heart which fell away when she saw that his friend George directed him toward his mother. The marchioness effected an introduction with her daughter, Lady Rebecca, and soon Max swept her away onto the dancefloor for a waltz.
“They make such a beautiful couple,” one of the matrons lounging in the chaise said, casting a considering glance at the marchioness.
The marchioness refrained from commenting, but looked on with great indulgence, keeping a careful eye on her daughter. It seemed it did not matter that he was the author of such salacious literature, for Lady Rushworth had clearly turned her matchmaking eye on Max and her daughter.
Bess soon excused herself as her protector arrived at the ball. Another darkly dashing and sometimes mysterious Viscount, with whom her friend had fallen in love. A hollowness seemed to form inside Amalie’s stomach as she and half of society watched as two of their most beautiful couples waltzed across the wide expanse of the ballroom.
* * *
Max did not look in her direction again for the next hour, but danced many dances with debutantes, and even a few married ladies. Everyone liked him and was charmed by his handsome manners and rumored wealth.
Max was the season’s most eligible bachelor. No one asked her to dance, a state she was much used to. The last time she had been on a dancefloor was with her husband, and even then, that pleasure had been fleeting.
A wild, unfettered yearning blossomed through her heart.
I wish it was I in your arms, Max. Taking a deep breath, she made her way from the ballroom, requesting her carriage once she reached the entrance. Wanting to escape the heat, the music and gaiety spilling from the ballroom she collected her coat from the butler and hurried outside. The air wafted over her and she shivered, welcoming its cold bite.
Carriages were still queuing with ladies and their gentlemen arriving fashionably late. Amalie tipped her head to the starless sky and took a deep breath. For so long it hadn’t troubled her that no one asked her to dance or dared to, but tonight… Something restless stirred inside her heart. She found herself inexplicably dissatisfied. It frightened her that their affair hadn’t had a chance to start, and she was already hungering for so more with Max.
I want it all...his friendshi
p and his love. A watery laugh tore from her. Those dreams she recalled of a beautiful love and a large family had died the day her reputation was tarnished. No gentleman of good standing would ever willingly associate their names. She knew that. For so long she had been contented to be happy with her wealthy independent state and living on the edge of society’s expectations.
“Oh God, what is this desperate ache I am feeling?” she whispered into the night, pressing her gloved hands above her heart. Amalie swore there was a physical pain. Long denied feelings broke through the barrier behind which she had longed buried them. Tears stung her eyes as she admitted how alone she had felt over the years, and how frightened she had been to even dare to hope for more, knowing it would be impossible. “Oh Max, I missed you so very much. If only...”
Silly, reckless heart.
Chapter 7
“Will you sit down!” Max groused, as Amalie rocked their fishing boat. “If we should fall into the water, I promise I will not save you.”
She laughed, the sweet, yet sensual sound burrowing deep into his heart.
“Have you forgotten already that it was you who taught me to swim?”
It was only last night she had arrived at Vanguard Manor and had promptly gone to bed after the tiring journey. This morning he had woken her at dawn to go fishing. At first, she had slapped him with a cushion before anticipation had livened her eyes. She had always loved fishing, and they had often indulged in that pastime in the country to her father’s distress.
She sat down and folded her arms across her waist. Such a very pretty picture she painted, even if she had dressed in boy’s trousers and a flowing white shirt. One of his beaver hats almost swallowed her head, but he recalled that she burnt easily under the sun.
“It is so very beautiful and peaceful out here,” she murmured, gazing across the wide picturesque lake. “Do you still row daily...I remember this exercise to be one of your favorite pastimes?”
“Whenever I am here, and the weather permits.”
She plucked the hat off her head and held it in her lap. There was a hint of shyness in her demeanor. The sun peeked through the clouds, splashing a warm golden glow over her rosy cheeks. He pictured the way she had stared at him earlier as they had strolled across the lawns and toward the lake. Her stare had been filled with curious anticipation and a bit of nervousness. Once again it hovered on his lips to confess, he’d never taken a woman to his bed before.
Do not be a blathering idiot, he reminded himself with a scowl. A gentleman need not go around telling his lover of his varied experiences or lack of. It should only matter that he pleased her. And he had read over his book last night, a bit astonished to think about all that advice and information had apparently come from his mind.
“You are frowning so fiercely,” she said, humor bright in her gaze. “Pray tell what you are thinking?”
“I should shock you should I reveal it?”
“I am intrigued. Please confess.”
He smiled at her bird like look of enquiry. Instead of revealing that he stupidly wondered how and when to start the physical aspect of their affair, he directed his thoughts to a matter which had troubled his mind.
“How are your parents, Amalie? Is your father...is he well? And your mother?”
She glanced away from him, but he noted her fingers were fiercely clenched in his hat. “We have not spoken much over the years.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Only if you wish to speak on it.”
She bit into her lower lip then said, “They are very much alike with society’s thinking. I am shameless and my actions were unforgivable. I... mamma requested I do not visit them and cast doubt on their reputations. I have learned to live with her request, I owe them that much I think.”
“I am sorry,” he said, anger filling his heart. “I will speak to them and—”
Her head snapped around and her eyes flashed with ire. “Pray do not! It is not your place to fight any of my battles.”
He stopped rowing. “To hell it is not!”
She stared at him, her eyes round with astonishment. “Only my husband would dare to invoke that privilege. A lover storming to my defense would only confirm to my parents that I have fallen so low I am unable to recover.”
“And can I not speak to them as a friend?” he said gently, reaching for her.
The boat rocked precariously when she came to him and allowed him to guide her onto his knee.
She slipped her hands around his neck and lifted her face to his. “Is that what we are, friends?”
His heart started a slow thud, and he lifted a hand to push a loose wisp of hair behind her ears. “Yes.”
She smiled and he rested his forehead against hers for long silent moments.
“You are not alone anymore,” he said gruffly. “Allow me to fight some of your battles.”
“An honorable offer, but it is not needed. I told mother and father the truth surrounding my scandal and ruin. Not everything about the viscount but that Lord Spencer had attacked me and that was the reason I ran.”
He stiffened. “And you were still berated for it?”
“Mother wept and Papa was angry. And they hugged me and consoled me. When I came back into society, and wrote to say I would visit, they replied encouraging me to remain in Brighton instead of travelling home where the scandal might resurface.”
He smoothed a thumb over the bit of flesh she had been worrying with her teeth. “The first time I saw you, Amalie, you played with rabbits and I thought you oddly sweet and charming. The second time you were chasing a dog in your fine dress and bonnet with a stick in your hand.”
Her eyes widened. “You saw that!”
“Yes.”
“And you never revealed it?” she demanded incredulously, her cheeks pinkening.
“I cannot imagine what the dog had done to deserve your wrath, but I thought there goes a very brave young lady indeed.”
“It bit me,” she said with a small smile around her mouth. “A small scratch really, but I was deathly afraid of that dog, and had been for a while. Its owner was the pompous Squire McKinley, and he would not teach his pet manners. That dog scared me for days, and I wanted to stroll about town freely, so I walked with a stick, determined to chase it away the next time I encountered it to prove I was not afraid.”
“My instincts were right...it was a matter of honor and bravery you chased that pitiful thing. And did it ever try to bite you again?”
“No,” she said with a wistful smile. “We actually became friends, that bulldog and I. Dear friends.”
“Ah, and my dear Amalie, you chased after your fear, the very thing which had hurt you before, to face it and conquer it. If I am not allowed to defend you to your parents, chase them until they relent as well. I recall how much you loved your papa. He would take you on early morning rides with him, and even out onto the lake to keep his company while he fished. You would go with your mother to church and to call upon your neighbors. Your delightful heads were normally tilted close together as I assume you indulged in the local gossips. How it must hurt you to know there is this distance between you. I urge you to do everything to see that divide close even if it is no fault of your own.”
She cupped his cheek tenderly, and her eyes glistened with tears. “I never knew you had watched me that closely.”
“I did.” Because God, how I had wanted you with every breath in my body.
“The chasm with my parents has cleaved my heart in two. They have not been to town these last two years, and I am certain it is because I am here. I do not resent them much for it, but it hurts that they are so much more concerned with society’s opinion than my feelings. But I am also quite aware that they might find it difficult to withstand the worst of the censure society has shown me, so I have happily communicated via letters.”
Her breath hitched when he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers. Max had only meant to comfort, because
he could still see the pain in her eyes and could only imagine how alone she must have felt these few years. How admirably she had not been worn down by despair.
He smoothed a thumb along the curve of her lower lip. She pressed her mouth more to his, and with a muffled groan he deepened the kiss. Amalie trembled in his embrace, and the arousal that rushed through Max’s body almost rendered him insensible. He framed her face with his hands and ravished her mouth with exquisite thoroughness. The taste, scent, and sweet whimpers she made against his mouth undid him. Everything about her felt trapped under his skin.
With frantic need beating in his blood he dragged his hands over her body, feeling every swell and dip of her curves. She strained to get closer to him, rocking the boat, but they were too gone in passion to care. He caressed the sensual dip of her waist, absurdly tiny compared to her breasts and the lush flare of her hips. With hurried motions and trembling fingers, he reached for the front fall of her trousers desperate to touch her.
“Open up for me,” he coaxed.
Though she blushed, she widened her knees, inviting his illicit touch. He slipped two of his fingers inside the slit of her drawers, pressing firmly over her most tender flesh, stroking, drawing forth her body’s response. Delightful wetness greeted him, and her soft whimpers turned into a long passion filled moan. A pounding ache went through his cock which hardened and strained against his trousers.
She turned her face into his throat, clutching at his shoulders. “Max?”
She sounded breathless and a bit frightened. “Look at me,” he murmured.
Amalie lifted her face from his throat. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with arousal, her lips red and swollen, her cheeks flushed.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Never,” she said with such intensity his heart trembled. “I ache, Max, let it go away. I want you to touch me... where you are touching me.”