by Multi-Author
Amelia was…beautiful. Her dark brown hair was bound up beneath an exceedingly proper bonnet, but little tendrils framed her lovely face to perfection. Even in the dimness of the carriage, her bright blue eyes stood out, watching his every move, filled with anxiety and sadness and anger, all of which he so richly deserved.
“Amelia,” he said softly.
She sucked in a harsh breath before she folded her hands on her lap. “Why are you here?”
“It’s my home,” he replied, pretending not to understand the core of her question.
Her full lips pursed with displeasure. “But why are you here now, my lord? You made your directions to me very clear. I was to come here to oversee the holiday preparations and you wouldn’t join me until the others did in a week’s time.”
He smiled slightly. “Had I told you the truth, that we would be alone together, would you have come?”
For a moment, she was silent, and her lack of a verbal response was an answer in itself. She looked at her lap instead of at him.
“You have no need to be here. I am perfectly capable of preparing the house without your supervision, Stephen.”
He tensed at the sound of his given name coming from her lips. The last time she’d called him by it had been at the height of her pleasure on their wedding night.
“Not a requirement, no,” he agreed. “But then, you aren’t really here to prepare the house for the holiday, Amelia.”
She shook her head and refused to look at him. “Why am I here?”
“Because I want a week with you,” he whispered. “In a place where you cannot escape, where we won’t be interrupted.”
Now her gaze slowly lifted. “Why would you ever want a week with me?”
“Because I want you to be my wife,” he said on the barest of breaths.
To his surprise, her response was a bark of humorless laughter. She moved toward the carriage door as she said, “I am your wife, my lord.”
He caught her wrist before she could escape the carriage and dragged her across the gap between the seats so that she almost tumbled into his lap. Their faces were close in the warmth of the carriage and he could smell the faintest hint of orange blossom on her skin.
“No, Amelia,” he said, breathing deeply of her scent and watching her eyes dilate with a desire it was clear she did not want to feel. A desire he hoped to exploit. “I want you to be my wife in more than name. I want you.”
Chapter 2
AMELIA’S MIND SCREAMED at her to extract herself from Stephen’s embrace, and her body betrayed her by instead leaning in closer. By exploring every inch of his handsome, arrogant face. He was all hard angles, with a defined jaw, chocolate eyes that never revealed his thoughts or feelings, and dark hair with nary a lock out of place. The only things that didn’t seem to fit were his lips. Those full, lush lips that had been made to…
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about the things he could do with those lips. Every one of them had just been another version of a lie.
She had always been drawn in by his looks. She and likely a dozen other women, if not more. She had been aware of him for years, which was why when he suddenly pursued her, she had been taken aback. Their courtship had been lightning-fast, but also sweet and she had believed…he had let her believe…he cared for her.
It wasn’t until after their first full day as man and wife that she realized she never really knew him. He put her off when she tried to learn more.
And why wouldn’t he? She wasn’t important to him. She was a means to an end.
“And so is this,” she said out loud. He wrinkled his brow in confusion, but she didn’t explain her outburst and simply tugged away, finally breathing again when he wasn’t touching her.
“Amelia,” he said, that seductive voice of his curling beneath her skin, stroking between her legs.
“Don’t play games, Stephen. I’m not so foolish as I once was,” she said, unlatching the door and stepping out onto the drive. The frigid winter air hit her in a blast and cleared her head in an instant.
He followed her from the vehicle, but she ignored him as she turned her attention to the servants gathered outside. How humiliating that the house staff had been witness to their little…exchange.
“Helen, will you prepare my quarters?”
Her lady’s maid shot her a questioning glance, but nodded swiftly. “Of course.”
Amelia looked at the butler. “Henderson, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my lady,” he said with a low bow. “Welcome to Hillbury Castle.”
She tossed a quick glance over her shoulder at Stephen, who was standing behind her watching her, arms folded, with an expression both of irritation and admiration. She wasn’t sure which look pleased her more.
“Thank you. I find I’m tired after my journey,” she said. “Could you arrange for some tea to be brought to my room?”
Henderson looked past her to Stephen. She felt rather than saw her husband move, and suddenly he was at her side, his arm around her, his hand resting in the small of her back. Her knees went weak against her will.
“Have tea sent to my chamber,” he insisted.
Amelia jerked her gaze toward him. He was looking down at her with a seductive, sensual expression that made her body ache even if she didn’t want to feel anything toward him.
But that was it, wasn’t it? He wanted to stake some kind of claim on her. Why, she didn’t know, but there could be nothing more to this odd behavior of his than a desire for sex. Once he had that, he would forget all his empty words about wanting her to be his wife. Why not let him have his way?
Only she knew how powerful his touch could be. How he could be tender, how he could stoke a fire in her she never knew existed before him. There had been many nights in the last half a year that she had woken wet and tingling from dreams of his body delving into hers.
She wanted to feel that all over again—it would be foolish to deny it.
But could she bear it now that she knew the truth? Or would it be easier to separate her mind from her body when there were no girlish hopes to blind her?
It seemed she would find out, for Henderson nodded swiftly and the servants scattered, leaving her alone with her husband for the first time since their wedding night. It was odd…when the others had been there, their presence had embarrassed her. Now she longed to call them back when Stephen moved to stare into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity.
She wanted to turn away, but it seemed physically impossible when he was boring into her like he was. Finally, he smiled and she caught her breath.
During the short time they had courted, she had certainly seen the man smile. He’d laughed with friends or even occasionally at things she said. But this was…different. There was a warmth to this expression that seemed to seep into her very bones, despite the chill to the afternoon air.
He shook his head as if to ward off thoughts and offered her his arm. “Come inside, Amelia,” he urged. “Warm up.”
She hesitated as she stared at his offering. Touching him seemed very dangerous at present. But what else was she to do? Run into the wilds, in the cold?
She drew a deep breath and took his arm. Just as it had in the carriage, the act of her body touching his, even through layer upon layer of clothing, set off a ricochet reaction of tingling, heat, wetness that seemed to affect her every nerve, her every muscle. It was only because he gently drew her forward that she was able to move at all.
They walked into the house and she drew in a sharp breath. She had never been to Hillbury Castle, and it was as magnificent on the inside as out.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
She jumped at his voice close to her ear and cursed herself. She couldn’t be lost around this man. She already knew that far too well.
“I’ve hardly seen it,” she said with a tight smile. “But what I see is quite lovely.”
He smiled back. “Then allow me to show you more.”
He took h
er upstairs and down a long hallway until he came to a chamber door. He opened it and motioned her to go inside. She slipped her arm from his and did so.
Once she had, she nearly staggered. The chamber was beautiful. From the impossibly high ceiling to the gorgeous stone fireplace, the sophisticated furniture scattered artfully about the room to the massive bed, it was perfection. The chamber she had dreamed of as a child.
“This is your bedroom,” she said as she backed a step away from him.
He nodded. “Indeed, it is. Our bedroom.”
She shook her head. “I’ll take the lady’s chamber.”
He moved forward, shutting the door with his foot as he did so. “Will you?”
She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything but him as he loomed closer and closer. She backed up but found herself against the wall, his arms bracketing her head as he leaned in.
“Stephen,” she whispered.
His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a low groan. “I love when you say my name.”
She jolted both at that unexpected admission and the equally unexpected way her heart skipped when he said it.
“I want you to whisper it,” he continued, his mouth coming closer to hers. “Moan it. Scream it.”
“Please,” she murmured, but didn’t get to say anything more because his kiss silenced her.
His lips were soft as they stroked hers, but firm and insistent as he wrapped just one arm around her waist and dragged her against his body. She didn’t want to lean into him, to wrap her arms around his neck and open her mouth for him…but she did.
He moaned something against her now-parted lips and his tongue slipped inside, tasting her, taunting her. She felt him grow hard against her belly and now it was she who groaned at the promise that was made by the steely feel of him.
He tugged her off the wall and turned her slowly, never breaking the contact of their lips as he maneuvered her toward that big, inviting bed which had taunted her from the moment they entered the room. She didn’t resist—she couldn’t have for all the gold in London.
He stopped when her backside hit the edge of the high mattress and drew back, his dark eyes holding hers hostage. Without a word he began to open her heavy pelisse and pushed it off her shoulders. He tossed it aside and then focused on the gown beneath.
“It buttons in the—”
He lifted a finger to her lips, smiled at her and then turned her around. “I think I can manage.”
She stiffened. His words were a reminder that he had vast experience in seduction and had probably been spending time with women all over London since their wedding.
“I’ve waited so long to touch you,” he whispered against her ear as he unfastened the long row of buttons at the back of her dress. “I’ve dreamed of this, of you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. He was saying such beautiful things, such seductive things. And she wanted him so badly, despite her fears, despite her suspicions. When he touched her, she was seduced into forgetting it all.
Her dress sagged and he moved her to face him again as he drew the fabric down, down, taking her chemise with it until her chest was revealed.
“My God, you are so much more beautiful than I remembered,” he whispered as he reached a hand forward to cup her bare breast. He stroked his fingertips across her distended nipple and her knees buckled until she leaned against the edge of the bed.
“Lay back,” he said, lifting her, resting her across the mattress.
She leaned up on her elbows, waiting for him to strip out of his clothing and join her. Instead, he tugged her crumpled dress away before he removed her slippers and stockings to leave her utterly naked.
She had no chance to question him, though. He wrapped his palms beneath her backside, lifting and opening her legs. Her sex twitched as he lowered his lips to her and licked her weeping slit from top to bottom.
“Stephen!” she cried out, fisting the coverlet with both hands as electric pleasure shot through her sex.
“Mmmm,” he moaned into her flesh. “Keep saying it.”
His mouth began to move in earnest over her, licking, sucking, stroking her sensitive flesh until she thrashed her head against the bed and lifted her hips to meet him. Just when she thought she would go mad with desire, he pressed not one but two fingers deep into her sheath and began to curl them in a slow, seductive rhythm.
Her release hit her suddenly, powerfully, and her entire body shook as she cried out over and over again, her hips flexing against his mouth and fingers until she collapsed against the mattress, her breath short and her body weak.
“Stephen,” she whispered.
He lifted his mouth from her body, licking his lips as he crawled up the bed to lie beside her. She waited for him to undress, to take her, but instead he gathered her body against his still-clothed one and chuckled.
“Music to my ears, Amelia.”
Her cheeks heated at the sentiment which he had been repeating throughout this encounter. How he could mean it, she didn’t know. She had said his name numerous times during their courtship and it had never seemed to move him.
She glanced down at herself, vulnerable and at his mercy. Her face burned hotter as she extracted herself from his embrace and slid off the bed to look for something, anything, to cover herself. She settled on her discarded pelisse, which she wrapped around her body and held closed with one hand.
All the while, Stephen watched her, his expression unreadable except for one of arrogant male satisfaction. Her brow wrinkled. How could he be satisfied when he hadn’t had his pleasure? She could see the outline of his erection even now, pressing against his trouser front in a display of all she could still have.
Her wet body flexed against nothingness in a call for him.
He smiled. “You look as though you have something to say, Amelia. Please don’t hold back.”
She pursed her lips in displeasure at his utterly calm demeanor and at the fact that he could see so much of her when she wanted so desperately to hide from him.
“That was unexpected,” she admitted. “And you didn’t…you never…”
She trailed off and turned her face so that he wouldn’t see how embarrassed—and titillated—this subject made her.
“Took my pleasure,” he supplied calmly.
She nodded, still not looking at him, but instead at the fire burning brightly across the room.
“Seeing you reach those heights is a great pleasure to me, I assure you,” he said softly. “I’ll earn my own release when the time is right.”
She jerked her gaze toward him. “What do you mean by that?”
He smiled. “You’ll see.”
She shook her head and paced away from him. “You and your riddles, Stephen. I don’t like—”
Her sentence broke off abruptly because as she reached the fireplace, she looked up and saw a vase on the ledge. A vase filled with bright yellow daffodils. The sunny flower was entirely out of place in the winter season.
And it was also her favorite.
“You don’t like…?” he pressed from behind her.
She spun around. He had gotten to his feet and now watched her, a tiny smile on his face.
She tilted her head. “I-I—Stephen these are daffodils.”
He nodded. “Indeed, they are.”
She looked at the flowers again. “Where did they come from?”
He laughed. “The hothouse, for they are certainly out of season. We have one here on the property.”
“You grow daffodils in your hothouse?” she whispered.
He moved a little closer. “Once I didn’t. But I do now.”
“Why?” she said, her voice barely carrying. It didn’t need to. He was close enough to hear her heartbeat.
“Have I not made it clear, Amelia?” he asked, his voice nearly as soft as her own. “I picked these flowers because they are your favorite. And I chose your favorite because I am wooing you, wife.”
Chapter 3
> STEPHEN WATCHED AMELIA process his confession, her emotions passing over her features as if they had been written with great clarity. There was confusion, disbelief and also deep hurt. The last reaction cut him to his soul because he had put that pain there. He had broken her.
He could only hope he would be able to repair her sorrow. If he couldn’t, he would be the one to lose.
“How do you expect me to respond to that?” she asked when the silence had stretched between them for an eternity.
He shook his head. “You don’t need to respond at all. I only hope you’re willing to accept my wooing with an open heart. To give us another chance.”
She spun away with a pained gasp and paced off to the window. She stood there, staring out over the rolling, snowy hills behind the castle.
“Talk to me, tell me what you’re feeling,” he urged.
She laughed, but the sound was brittle and ugly. “I would not be so foolish as to do that, my lord.”
He shook his head and slowly approached her, treating her with the same caution as he would a frightened or injured animal.
“I don’t deserve your regard, nor your trust, I know that,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm. He turned her toward him slowly. “But I intend to attempt to earn them back over the next week.”
She finally met his gaze, searching his face as if to see if he was lying or telling the truth. He hoped she could see the earnestness with which he made this promise.
She sighed. “I don’t know why in the world you would wish to woo me, my lord. I think we have long passed that time. I’ve come here to assist in preparing your home for the gathering of our families and that is what I intend to do. What you intend to do during this time is your business, I certainly wouldn’t believe that I could control you.”
He tilted his head. This bare acquiescence was the best he could obtain from her presently, and he would take it.
She lifted her chin and continued, “Now I shall go to my own chamber. I’m tired.”
She moved to leave the room, and he watched her go all the way to the door before he called out, “Amelia.”
She froze and slowly turned. “Yes?”