by Danice Allen
“Just follow my lead, Miss Darlington,” said John in what Amanda thought was a strangely husky voice. Then he began to hum, and they began to move.
He had a wonderful, deep melodic voice. Its resonance thrummed in Amanda’s blood, stirring it up. She glanced shyly up and saw the strong curve of his jaw. If she stood on tiptoe, she could kiss him there, if she dared….
“Who composed this tune, I wonder?” she asked, seeking safety in conversation. His light hand at her waist seemed to burn right through her garments to set her skin on fire.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m sure it’s something I’ve danced to.”
“I’m sure it is,” she agreed, feeling jealous of all the other women he’d held in his arms like this … and in other ways, too.
“I suppose your parents didn’t allow you to waltz?” said John.
“The Lady’s Magazine had an article in it cautioning all young women to beware the dangers of waltzing. It was their scholarly opinion that human nature is so depraved that even men of great purity cannot be trusted in such close proximity to the female sex. My mother agreed with their opinion.”
John leaned back to look down at her. “Your mother was wrong. Here we are, dancing quite closely together, and I’m behaving very properly. Wouldn’t you say so, Miss Darlington?”
Amanda had no trouble recognizing that John’s smile was strained. Was he as attracted to her as she was to him? Did he want to kiss her as much as she wanted him to?
“Yes,” she assured him in a rather strangled voice. “You are behaving very properly.” Then she snuggled her head against his chest, and his arms tightened around her.
Amanda could feel and hear John’s heart; it was beating as hard and fast as hers. They glided slowly, sinuously about the room. John’s hum became more and more faint till it finally ceased altogether. Then by degrees the dancing stopped, too, so that they were simply standing in the center of the room, holding each other, swaying ever so slightly to some imagined tune.
The only sound in the room was the soft patter of rain against the window glass and the snap and crackle of the fire. Dazed, warmed, aroused, exhilarated, Amanda looked up and John looked down. Their lips were inches apart.
In that moment, Amanda made a decision. She wanted to take the game as far as it could possibly go. She wanted to believe with all her heart that tomorrow wouldn’t come, or if it did, that it wouldn’t matter anyway. She’d have memories, lovely memories of tonight to keep her warm through the rest of her life.
She wanted John to make love to her.
Chapter Twelve
“I said I’d never invite you to kiss me again, but …”
Amanda’s sweet breath fanned over Jack’s mouth, making his lips tingle and pulse with anticipation. “I want to kiss you, Amanda, more than you’ll ever know,” he rasped. “But I pledged my honor.”
“I release you of that pledge.”
He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“What makes you think that? I haven’t been drinking wine or anything stronger than apple cider and milk.” She smiled and her lips trembled. “At least I can vouch for my clear-headedness.”
“Well, I can’t vouch for mine,” Jack said roughly. “You’re driving me crazy. I can’t think straight! I promised not to compromise you, and you’re tempting me beyond endurance, Amanda. I can’t—” He broke off. He was about to say he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as much as he wanted her, but it would be a mistake to allude to memories. He didn’t want to excite her suspicions.
“You can’t what?”
“If I kiss you, I can’t promise that I’ll be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “I want you to make love to me.”
Jack’s knees were weak with desire. He wanted to lower her to the floor then and there and take her. He shook his head, straightened his spine … and his resolve. “You don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
Amanda’s hands on his back began to move in a luxurious caress. “I know everything I need to know about you. You’re tender and kind and funny. I love the way you touch me, and I love touching you.”
Her magic hands wended their way up to the nape of his neck, her fingers threading into the thick hair that spilled over his collar. He fought the urge to close his eyes and concentrate on the lush sensations she was stirring in him. “John, you said this could be the last night we spend together. I want to remember it always.”
Jack clenched his jaw. “Amanda, you say you’re destined to be a spinster. I don’t believe that. Someday you’ll fall in love. Someday you’ll marry, and you’ll wish this night had never happened.”
“I don’t believe that. I’ll never regret the kind of bliss I felt in your arms today behind the church, and how alive I feel tonight in your arms.”
“But you will.”
She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “I’ll never regret it, no matter what happens. Make love to me, John.”
Jack was torn between consuming desire and his screaming conscience. His body ached and throbbed with wanting her. He reasoned that she was a grown woman in full possession of her senses and completely in command of her actions. She seemed to know what she wanted, and she apparently wanted him. He had done nothing to persuade her or seduce her or trick her into submission. And she wasn’t a virgin, so it wouldn’t be like despoiling an innocent….
Jack was a little ashamed of that last rationalization. He didn’t know how her child had been conceived. She might not have been as willing then as she was now.
Jack’s conscience made a last-ditch effort to be heard. It was reasonable to assume that she was willing and experienced, but Amanda still seemed so … well … vulnerable. And he wasn’t being honest with her. He’d got his memory back hours ago, and he’d kept that fact to himself. He was keeping it to himself so that he could travel with her and protect her, but was that a good enough reason to lie and deceive … particularly in light of the fact that they might be indulging in the most intimate of activities?
“Kiss me, John.”
Jack was in a turmoil of thoughts and feelings. But he wanted to stop thinking and worrying and reasoning and just give in to sweet seduction. He wanted to kiss Amanda Jane Darlington more than he wanted his next breath. He wanted her with every particle of his being. He admired her, respected her, and cared about her, so why … he reasoned desperately … why shouldn’t he kiss her?
It seemed to take a millennium to convince him, but when John finally lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, Amanda flushed hot with pleasure from head to toe.
As before, the kiss began with tender restraint, but the passion that exploded between them could not be held in check. John’s arms tightened, and he pulled Amanda hard against him, his palm pressed against the small of her back and his tongue coming fully into her mouth. The whole length of him was against her, and through the many layers of clothes—hers and his—Amanda could feel his arousal outlined against her stomach.
On a gasp of dizzying pleasure, her mouth opened to his and her arms wrapped eagerly around his neck. His chest and shoulders felt firm and smooth under her hands, his legs long and hard with muscle as they pressed against her own. She imagined his weight on her, around her, inside her, and she became weak with longing.
He kissed her throat, her neck, then found her mouth again … and again. Suddenly he pulled away and held her at arm’s length. His look was intense and fiery.
“I have to tell you something, Amanda, and I want you to listen very carefully.”
“Yes, John?” she quavered, sapped of strength and hardly able to stand on her own.
“I mean every word I’m about to say.”
“Yes, John. I’m … I’m listening.”
“If we make love tonight, I’ll not be able to promise you anything in return. Do you understand, Amanda?”
She nodded.
“Are my memories,” she said with a smile, a smile so tender and wise and sure, Jack was ready to throw up his hands in defeat. But what sweet defeat …
“I’m going upstairs now,” he continued, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I’m going to my room. I’m giving you the chance to clear your head and change your mind, Amanda. Take all the time you need. But if … if you still want me, I’ll be waiting. And if you decide not to come to my room, when I see you tomorrow I won’t speak a word of what passed between us tonight. Agreed?”
Amanda nodded again and caught hold of a nearby chair to steady herself as John finally, reluctantly let go of her. With one last yearning and turbulent look, he left the room.
Jack was lying on the bed dressed only in his shirt and breeches. An hour had passed, and he was both relieved and disappointed that his delaying tactic had worked and made Amanda think better of sleeping with him.
She was still up. He could tell by the light that peeped from under the door that connected their chambers. What was she doing? he wondered. What was she thinking? Wearing? He imagined her in her nightdress, her hair loose and flowing.
Then, suddenly, he no longer needed to imagine. The door opened, and Amanda stepped into his room.
It was the first time he’d seen her in something other than black. He propped up on his elbows and stared. He couldn’t help himself; he was utterly enraptured. She was an angel.
The loose neck of her white gown hung to the side, nearly baring one round, silky-looking shoulder. Her hair was longer than he remembered, the pale blond waves reaching to below her waist. Her eyes were huge and luminous and liquid blue in the candlelight. In their depths he saw desire warring with a natural and appealing shyness.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “You came,” he said, unable to keep the wonder and the husky edge of arousal out of his voice.
“There was never any question in my mind,” she informed him with an alluring smile that seemed at variance with her celestial appearance.
“As long as you’re sure, Amanda,” he said, still demanding a guarantee from her that she knew exactly what she was doing.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she told him, lifting her chin in that adorable way she had. She took another step into the room and closed the door behind her.
Spellbound by her lovely face and the eloquent expression in her eyes when she’d first entered the room, Jack’s gaze had not strayed below her shoulders. But it did now. Her nightdress was made of a thin lawn material that was rendered practically transparent by the candlelight. The outline of her firm, uncorsetted breasts and the tight knot of her rosy nipples sent a shock of almost painful awareness through his bloodstream.
“You know I’ve never done this before,” she said, taking a step closer, her hands clasped at waist level. “I’ve never come to a man like this and asked him to … to love me.”
Jack searched her face. He saw the tension in her delicate features, the uncertainty in her eyes. He believed she was telling the truth, which made him wonder all the more about the relationship she’d had with the father of her child. He had a wrenching feeling inside that it hadn’t been a happy liaison, and then a most unreasonable urge to throttle the man who had made love to her first … before Jack.
Jack cast aside such ridiculous, possessive ideas and swore that even though he had only one night with her, he’d make it a night she’d remember forever.
“Come here, Amanda,” he murmured. She came and snuggled against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. He wrapped her in his warmth and simply held her, tenderness for the moment overriding passion.
But not for long. She felt too good in his arms. Her firm, rounded figure hinted at tantalizing curves to be explored. He wanted to pleasure her, love her, release her from every care and restraint that had been thrust upon her in the three-and-twenty years she’d spent on earth.
He put his hands on her waist, set her back from him a few inches, then held her gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he skimmed his hands up her sides to cradle her breasts through her flimsy nightdress. He rolled the tender tips of her breasts between his fingers and watched her eyes widen then droop with pleasure. He saw gooseflesh erupt on her arms, and her shoulders gave a tiny shiver.
“John,” she whispered hoarsely, and Jack frowned. He wouldn’t even near his own name on her lips! In the throes of passion, she’d cry out the name she’d given him … not his name!
“John? What’s the matter?”
Jack schooled his face to hide his disappointment, then told himself he’d let Amanda call him any name in the book just for the thrill of loving her. With this thought in mind, his smile came back naturally.
“Nothing, love,” he assured her, cupping her shoulders and pulling her to him. “Come here. I just can’t get enough of you.”
He bent his head and kissed her, claiming her mouth with full and heated intent. His tongue dipped and delved, teased and tantalized. He ravished her mouth, tugging, nipping, licking. When he finally pulled back, his breath was a rasp. Amanda had no breath, no sense of reality beyond the moment. There was no tomorrow, no other place on earth but the Angel Inn, no one who mattered but … John. John.
He nuzzled her neck, kissed the lobe of her ear, and tongued the hollow gently, fleetingly. Then he reached behind her, caught her buttocks in his hands, and pulled her against his aching loins to rub his erection against her.
A furnace of desire fired through Amanda’s belly. John’s touch was like nothing she’d ever known or even imagined. It was unearthly, almost indecent to feel so drenched with pleasure. Her bones were melting. Her heart was beating out of her chest. And he was far from through, the night far from over….
“Darling, I want you out of this,” he said, rubbing Amanda’s shoulders, his eyes dark with impatient desire as he searched the gown for buttons to undo or ribbons to untie.
Amanda blanched at the idea of standing completely naked in front of John. She’d never been seen by anyone without some sort of clothing on. She even modestly averted her own eyes from the mirror when she rose from her bath.
“Maybe I should leave it on,” she suggested timidly.
He raised that incorrigible brow of his, and a wicked gleam shone in his golden-brown eyes, but he only said, “All right. Leave it on if you want to. Maybe later you’ll want to take it off. But, if it’s all the same to you, darling, I’m going to take off every stitch of my clothes. Beastly restraining things! It’s all right, isn’t it? After all, you’ve already seen me as bare as a newborn babe.”
Amanda could only swallow and nod, then watch with guilty pleasure and wide-eyed fascination as John proceeded to disrobe. She had never imagined anything could be so erotic as watching a man take off his clothes. With not a scrap of modesty about him, John undid the buttons on his shirt with skillful efficiency. His strong brown dexterous fingers were almost as captivating to watch as the ever-growing expanse of broad chest appearing between the white hemmed edges of his shirt.
He tugged the tail of the shirt out of his trousers, slipped his arms free and tossed the shirt on a nearby chair. Then, with a sly grin, he went to work on the front placket of his trousers. She watched the ripple of lean muscles in his chest, his arms, his back, as he loosed one button after the other. Her eyes followed his hands again as he pulled the trousers down, then peeled them off in no time at all.
Certainly it was all done too quickly for Amanda to prepare herself for what she saw. She’d seen him naked before, but she hadn’t expected the state of his arousal to have changed his anatomy to such magnificent proportions.
Amanda tore her gaze away from his manhood and looked dazedly into his eyes. His expression was chagrined, apologetic … proud?
“You’re no more sorry than I am, John,” Amanda accused him breathlessly and with a wry smile that twitched a little nervously at the comers.
Her saucy retort delighted him, and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She laughed with alarm and joy as he plopped her into the middle of the feather bed and lay down beside her.
“Now, m’dear, I’ve got you just where I want you,” he warned her with a teasing leer. “Surrender yourself to me, Miss Darlington, or … or …”
“Or what?” she demanded with a grin.
He sobered and smiled, then tenderly traced her cheek with his finger. “Or I’ll quite simply expire on the spot. I want you, Amanda, more than you’ll ever know.”
“Then take me, John,” she said with quiet ferocity. “Take me now.”
Without further ado, he pressed her into the bedclothes, covering her face with kisses, thrilling her body with warm, skillful caresses. He shifted the wide opening of her nightdress till her breasts were exposed, then he caught each nipple in turn in the hot moistness of his mouth. He nibbled each pebble-hard tip, raking it with his teeth, sucking, swirling his tongue around the dusky, sensitive skin till icyhot pleasure vibrated in every nerve of Amanda’s body.
Then he eased up Amanda’s nightdress to the edge of her bottom. Their legs were tangled, and John’s erection was pressed against her stomach. The only thing between the slick, heated core of Amanda’s womanhood and ultimate pleasure was the dratted nightdress she’d refused to take off … wadded up in an uncomfortable ball!
“John,” she said breathlessly, pushing at his shoulders. “I’ve changed my mind.”