Not only was he Ton, but he would be leaving soon, Amelia reminded herself. However incredible his story, she couldn’t afford to get close to him, or too used to comfort he could offer her. It had been many years since anyone had bothered whether she was upset or not. It would be many more years before anyone would be close enough to her again to offer her comfort, should she be upset.
It took every ounce of strength within her to offer him a watery smile of reassurance, and ease her hand out of his. She needed a few minutes alone to rebuild the barriers he had so easily broken through.
“I survived. For that I can only be eternally grateful.” He hated to see her tears, and was touched she cared enough about him to feel moved in such a way. Something clenched tight in his chest as he listened to her ragged breathing. “I am sorry; I should never have told you the details. You didn’t need to know.” His soft voice was filled with regret.
“I asked, and yes I did need to know,” Amelia contradicted with a watery hiccup. Wiping the moisture from her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if she was crying because of the situation she had to deal with, or whether she was emotional because she was so tired.
“There is something in that house that has a terrifying impact upon Lord Ballantyne. He is prepared to take whatever action he needs to, including murder, to get hold of it.” Sebastian wondered briefly if she realised the implications his statement had on her.
Did she understand just what she had done by dragging him home? Somehow he doubted it, but was loathe to point out the brutal facts. He didn’t want to scare her. Not while she was so clearly distressed. He watched her lithe frame move gracefully toward the fire, tugging on a rough woollen shawl as she went.
“I need to stoke the fire again, and then gather some more wood before it gets dark,” she mumbled without looking at him.
Sebastian remained silent and reluctantly watched her leave. It was only when the door closed behind her that he realised he had told Amelia everything about his current circumstances, and what had led him to her door; but had yet to learn Amelia’s story.
What had happened to enable her to live alone, in a tiny, ramshackle little cottage? Ostensibly isolated from the background she had been born to live in?
Making a mental note to ensure he got the answers as soon as she returned, Sebastian closed his weary eyes and slept.
CHAPTER THREE
“Amelia!” Sebastian cursed roundly when she didn’t twitch.
The room was so cold he could see his breath fog out before him. Despite the gnawing pain in his side, he gritted his teeth and drew himself onto one elbow. Scowling across the room at the small bundle of rags curled up in front of the now cold hearth, he cursed fluidly. He was frozen even beneath the blankets. God knew how cold Amelia was.
She was lying upon the stone floor with little to protect her from the elements but the thin dress she wore and a threadbare blanket. What the hell did she think she was doing? Did she want to be ill? If he was not much mistaken, she had given him all but one of the blankets she owned.
“Amelia!” If she didn’t answer him this time, he would bloody well get out of bed and get her, he thought as he glared at her.
“Amelia. For God’s sake, woman!” His bellow echoed off the stone walls of the small, almost empty cottage. She still didn’t move.
Fear began to grow. Was she unwell? Had she fallen ill because she had continued to go out into the storm to collect wood while being exhausted and inadequately clothed?
Sebastian gritted his teeth and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Immediately, the cold night air swept over his warm flesh, snatching all remnants of warmth from his body with relentless fervour, until he began to shiver.
His eyes were locked on her as he lurched to his feet, dragging a thin blanket around him to protect his modesty, and Amelia’s blushes.
God, he was so weak. He had spent at least two days lying on his back in bed, and he had legs like a newborn foal. Shaking his head at his own decrepit state, Sebastian shuffled over to the hearth.
“Amelia, darling, wake up for me.” His knew his voice was almost pleading, but at that moment didn’t care. He needed her to wake up and confirm she was alright. Fear tightened in his gut, as he contemplated what he would do if she had become ill. She was too precious to lose.
Shocked by the depth of emotion that began to unfurl inside his chest, Sebastian edged towards her.
“Amelia. Darling, wake up.” His persistence was rewarded when Amelia suddenly jerked, and moaned softly in discomfort.
“Wake up for me, please?” Sebastian leant his hips against the table for support. He knew that if he gave in to the urge to drop to his knees before her, he probably wouldn’t have the strength to get back up again. But he hated to see her lying on the cold, hard floor. Curled up tight to protect herself and preserve what little heat she had. His heart ached at her sacrifice.
Amelia ached all over, and was so very tired she struggled to form any thoughts, let alone move. So why was she awake? She was contemplating getting her aching legs to uncurl when a rich, masculine voice, so very close, snapped her awake.
“If you don’t get up and off that floor this instant, I will drag you up.” His voice brooked no argument.
It had the desired effect upon Amelia, who suddenly jerked upright with a wince as her cold, stiff muscles protested. She was shocked to find him standing so close. Her cheeks flushed fiery red, as she took in his near naked state, poorly covered by the thin blanket wrapped haphazardly around his lean hips. It was the first time she had seen him upright.
From her lowly position on the floor, he was a huge tower of masculinity. The broad expanse of his well-muscled chest was tantalisingly close. Curling her fists into tight balls against the temptation, she turned her face away, twisting around to look towards the cold, empty grate beside her.
“You asked for it,” Sebastian warned, seconds before his large hands swept beneath her arms and she was swept to her feet.
“What are you doing?” she croaked with alarm, when she was unceremoniously dragged upwards.
Sebastian moaned softly. Instinctively, she knew his low groan wasn’t one of attraction. He began to sway and his hands tightened almost painfully on her ribs as he fought the wave of pain that engulfed him.
“Now look what you have done,” she grumbled, wedging her shoulder under his arm to stop him falling to the floor. She was struck again by the sheer size and strength of him. The corded muscles across his stomach rippled as he struggled to remain upright.
“Me?” Sebastian gasped, fighting the blackness that threatened to engulf him. “It was your fault,” he accused, with a dark scowl on his handsome face.
“My fault?” Amelia gasped. Her senses reeled as she craned her neck to look up at him. “What did I do?” She was about to remind him that she had been soundly asleep before he had rudely awoken her, only for him to beat her to it.
“You were asleep on the bloody floor again,” he grumbled. He shouldn’t be using coarse language in front of a lady, even an impoverished one. But the sight of her in such dire circumstance irked his temper. He had to fight to withhold the words he really wanted to use.
Amelia harrumphed, and shook her head. “I can’t sleep in the chair, I told you.” She scowled up at him, trying to ignore just how much his masculine presence disturbed her.
“It goes against everything I am, to see you lying upon the floor. You have my word of honour as a gentleman, that I pose no threat to you Amelia. Please, for my sanity, get some sleep on the bed.”
Sebastian’s fingers tingled with the urge to slide into the frothing mass of riotous curls that cascaded in silken glory past her shoulders. He ached to discover for himself if it really was as soft as it appeared, and shifted restlessly as his body immediately began to respond to her closeness. She didn’t seem to be too shocked at his lack of clothing, but nonetheless he had no intention of showing her just how attracted to her he rea
lly was. Not until she was ready.
Despite the physical reaction to being so close to her, Sebastian couldn’t resist the urge to touch her, and tenderly trailed a blunt fingertip down her alabaster cheek. The smudges under her eyes were darker than ever before. Faint lines around her mouth, and redness clouding her eyes, highlighted just how exhausted she really was.
“You cannot sleep on the floor Amelia,” Sebastian persisted softly, sensing her reluctance. “It is positively dangerous to your health. Trust me, I beg of you.” He motioned down his tempting length, now propped against the table. “Look, I barely made it over to the table. I promise that I pose you no threat.”
He mentally sent a prayer heavenwards for that small fib. In reality, he didn’t pose any threat to her physical wellbeing. Not really. If she was agreeable to everything he had planned for her; for them; then she would be very happy with her future arrangements.
As it was, in their current situation, she would probably not be agreeable to what he was about to suggest. Nonetheless the warrior within him refused to back down from a fight. The gentleman within him refused to allow her to return to the hearth.
“Come on.” He took hold of her cold fingers in his hand and tugged, refusing to let go when she would have pulled free. She had no choice but to follow in his wake, as he staggered back towards the bed.
Inwardly, she was relieved he had turned his back at last. He might not mind his half-naked state, but she was more than a little perturbed at the sight of his manly chest so blatantly displayed. It had taken all of her willpower not to blatantly stare at the ripples of smooth muscle running down his chest, to the….
Abruptly shaking her head, Amelia snapped out of her wayward thoughts when she found herself being drawn down to sit on the bed.
“I am not sleeping here,” she announced, confused by the conflicting need to run out of the door, and curl up beside him without question.
She might be impoverished. She might not have a protector or guardian, but she wasn’t a harlot who would sleep with any man who dropped on her doorstep.
She was about to inform Sebastian of that, only for him to sigh deeply and announce,
“You most certainly are. It is only just dawn, and there is at least another hour before you are usually up and about. Even if the weather does abate enough for you to go out and go out again and gather more wood, which by the sounds of the howling winds it won’t, there is more than enough time for you to get some sleep. In bed, where you will be nice and warm.” He could sense her argument, and mentally cursed her for her stubbornness. Sighing deeply, he tugged her down onto the bed, wincing as her bony elbow struck inadvertently his aching ribs.
“You get up, and I will damned well tie you down,” he threatened, lying back as far against the wall as possible.
“I need to go out and check on Sir Hubert today,” Amelia replied reluctantly, listening to the ferocious winds rattling the windows.
Sebastian froze. “Sir Hubert?” A dark scowl settled over his face as he waited.
“My boss.”
Sebastian looked down at her, not liking the strength of emotion that swept through him.
Amelia tipped her head backwards to peer up at him. “I’m his housekeeper.”
“Can’t he take care of himself for a while?” Sebastian asked with disgust.
Amelia shook her head. “He’s elderly and isn’t able to get around much. Although he has food, he will be struggling to manage by himself.”
Sebastian sighed deeply, wondering if he should go and see this Sir Hubert for himself, and assess just how old he was.
“Does he live far away?”
“Just through the trees,” Amelia replied, smothering a yawn.
“Go to sleep,” he ordered softly, trying hard to resist the urge to kiss the top of her head.
After several moments of silence, she began to squirm.
“For God’s sake, woman!” Sebastian half-shouted, holding Amelia’s hands still with a curse. “What the hell do you think I am going to do to you? I don’t even have the strength to walk across this tiny room in a straight line. Besides which, I don’t force reluctant virgins!”
His bold statement made her freeze with embarrassment. Relieved that she had at least subsided for now, he found himself a comfortable spot and tried to leave as much of the remainder of the tiny bed for Amelia to settle in. Which, if he was honest, wasn’t much.
Although she now lay still, he could sense her hesitation. “Get out of this bed before the hour is up, and I swear to God I will tie you to it.” His dire threat made her stare at him indecisively.
Did he mean it?
Amelia was wracked with indecision. She knew he posed no threat to her, yet still was loathe to allow him so close. If she did lie on the bed with him - just lie and nothing else, how could she sleep on the bed when he was gone?
Her eyes met and held his briefly, and she was struck by the warning glint in his eye. She had no doubt he would indeed tie her to the bed.
“I am perfectly fine on the floor,” she muttered, reluctantly settling down beside him. If she had to lie upon the bed, then she would keep her clothes on, thank you very much. She huffed silently, trying to ignore the warm bulk of masculinity beside her.
“You will be ill if you lie on that floor any more. Unless I am very mistaken, you have given me all but the thinnest of your blankets.” Sebastian’s tone was purposefully brusque. Inwardly, he was relieved at his small measure of success and wondered how she would take his next move.
Amelia knew she would not get a wink of sleep. Not with him being so close, and the vision of his naked body so vivid in her mind. Careful to keep her back straight and her body away from his, Amelia reluctantly did as she was instructed and settled down on the wonderfully soft bedding.
She had really missed this bed, she mused, issuing a squeak of surprise when she was suddenly encased in warm blankets and strong arms.
“Erm…...” Her instinctive protest was weakened considerably by the sudden heat that swept over her cold flesh.
“Go to sleep, Amelia.”
She shivered as his soft voice floated across her ear, so tantalizingly close. Minutes ticked by as she lay frozen in his arms, until gradually the warmth and the comfort of his embrace began to work its magic, and she relaxed against him.
“Thank you,” she murmured eventually, with a yawn. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did. Not only had he embarrassed her with his blatant nakedness, but he had practically forced her to sleep with him.
Her conscience pricked her for being so harsh. He hadn’t actually forced her per se, as she wasn’t physically sleeping with him as in, well-. She quickly closed that thought off. All he had done was improve her comfort and warmth. He had done nothing more than she had been doing for him over the past few days. Should she really be angry at him for that?
“You’re welcome,” Sebastian replied, from somewhere behind her.
Within moments, she was fast asleep.
In the silence of the early dawn, Sebastian contemplated her current situation. Her hand lay limply upon the coarse blankets. It wasn’t the hand of a pampered lady. It was the work-roughened hand of a servant. He didn’t need to feel it to know it was liberally sprinkled with a myriad of calluses.
He glanced around the tiny space she called home with something akin to disdain. Given the sparse surroundings she called home, she was an impoverished servant. Sebastian wondered who the hell this Sir Hubert was, to feel he could justify paying her so little in wages that she could barely feed herself.
The tiny cottage she called home was barely habitable. It was no more than five or six paces across and barely had room for the table before the hearth, let alone the bed and rickety dresser on the opposite side of the small abode. The stone floor was rough and uneven. Unless he was much mistaken, the randomly placed pots on the floor captured the rain that made its way through the leaking roof.
As he lay contemplating the i
ntriguing bundle of femininity in his arms, he suddenly realised that he could only see one bowl and spoon sitting on the table. The rickety old dresser leaning against the wall beside the hearth held very little other than a potato, one carrot, a chunk of stale bread and a small piece of cheese. Meagre repast, even for someone of Amelia’s size. How had she fed both of them with so little food?
Frowning, he studied the clearly visible veins and bones on the back of her bony hand, and slowly traced them with his finger. With money being so sparse, he had little doubt she was going without in order to feed him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her eat.
His heart twisted with bittersweet regret and growing guilt. His only redemption was the knowledge that he at least had the power to put matters right. His heart ached for her dire predicament, as he considered the abundance of food regularly put on the table at Tingdale House, his own home. Luxuries he had never considered important.
Copious amounts of meat, vegetables, cheese and bread just appeared when he commanded, how he commanded and were abruptly taken away again when he was finished. His mouth began to water with the memory of Cook’s famous apple pie, and his stomach rumbled in hungry protest at being deprived.
As sleep began to claim him, he considered the various goodies he would tempt Amelia with once she was safely ensconced at Tingdale. Without thought, his arm slid around her narrow waist, protectively snuggling her limp body back against his chest.
With a deep sigh of contentment, he spooned around her, groaning low in his throat when she wriggled back against his groin. He took a moment to tenderly place a lingering kiss on her temple before relaxing into sleep, content with the knowledge that she was, for now at least, somewhere warm and safe.
Amelia awoke some considerable time later, reluctant to break the contentment that suffused her. Blinking sleepily, she yawned widely and frowned when her eyes landed on the cold fireplace. By rights she should be getting up, lighting the fire and heading out to her day’s work at Sir Hubert’s. It felt decidedly decadent to lie there and do nothing, safely ensconced in Sebastian’s strong arms.
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