James inhaled a gulp of air, visibly moved by her confession. “I make no excuses, sweetheart. I should never have lied to you.”
“True.” Her tone was implacable. No quarter to give on that one.
“But you must believe this—I would never have married you if I hadn’t loved you.”
“You love me?” she asked in a small voice.
“I was such an idiot. I was, I think, a little afraid to call it love. That gives another person a great deal of power over one.”
“True.” She could not help the irony that punctuated the one word.
He acknowledged what she didn’t say by rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “But I’ve learned much since our wedding. Most of it rather humbling, I fear.”
“You don’t regret our marriage?”
“Marrying you was something I wanted very much to do, Amanda. No one forced my hand. And neither did money. The only thing I regret is how the day ended. On our wedding night, standing outside your room after you sent me away…it was very…difficult. It was then I understood what I had to lose. I wanted to murder Derrick in that moment.”
Her heart lurching with hope, she searched his face, looking for nuances, deception. More than anything she wanted to believe him.
“I love you, Amanda Tremont,” he stated simply. “Thank you for finally letting me say it.”
“Oh, James—”
He lifted an index finger to her mouth, shushing her. “And do you think, given time, you could love me again?” His voice was rough, emotional.
It was important to him that she loved him! The back of her eyes stung with tears, and she swallowed hard. “I’ve never stopped loving, James.”
He placed his other hand to the back of her neck and pulled her face to his. “I don’t deserve it,” he said against her mouth. They shared a soft kiss and, when she pulled back, he continued, “I want to promise that I’ll never disappoint you, Amanda. But I’m not certain of my ability to be that perfect.” James chuckled before his expression turned deadly serious. “What I will promise is that I’ll never lie to you again. I want you to have faith in me. Clearly, without that we can’t move forward.”
Amanda stared at him several moments and then nodded once. “Agreed.”
“Now, what say we get back to where this conversation began?”
“And where was that, my lord.”
“Why, with you preparing to take advantage of me.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“You deny it?”
Amanda felt her face redden. “Hasn’t all this talk dampened your, ah…ardor?”
“Hardly,” James said in a dry voice. He took the hand he still held and slipped it under the coverlet to the front of his drawers.
“Oh…”
“Indeed. The question is has it dampened yours?” he asked huskily. He cupped his hand over hers, curving her fingers around his erection.
A jolt of pure desire coursed through her system, and her fingers tightened around him convulsively. “Perhaps not,” she admitted.
“Well then…?”
“Well then what?”
“I am at your command, my lady. Do with me as you will.”
“Please, James, I don’t know how to proceed.”
He shook his head against the pillow. “Sorry, love. Last night we both learned a lesson. Mine was appropriate. Yours was not. I want you to proceed as long as you are comfortable. When you no longer are, we will stop.” Blue eyes locked with hers. “As we should have done last night.”
Amanda’s hand tightened around his member, this time intentionally, and she leaned over to whisper in his ear. “You should become a diplomat, my lord. You have a gift for the art of persuasion.”
He answered but not intelligibly.
“Is it possible for me to do for you what you did for me?” she asked, now feeling more confident.
His eyes were bright with lust. “Ah, yes…yes…a splendid idea.”
A plaintive sound escaped James when she released her hold on him. Coming up on her knees, Amanda pulled down the coverlet and set to work on the drawstring of his drawers. She fumbled nervously, but he did not interfere, merely watching her movements with avid interest.
The drawers now opened, she peeled them back and exposed him, and he sprang forth in all his male glory. Though fascinated, she paused, all of a sudden uncertain how to proceed. She looked to James for inspiration.
He gave her a wolfish grin. He took her hand once more and wrapped her fingers around him, this time showing her how to stroke the swollen flesh. After a moment, Amanda laid down next to him, continuing the stroking as she did, placing her cheek on his breast. His breathing was accelerating, his heart hammering against her ear. Her own heart beat as rapidly, her excitement swelling in tandem with his.
She nuzzled closer, her mouth now next to his ear. In a breathy whisper, she said. “Touch me.”
James growled, rolling toward her, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her gown. She could feel a trembling in his fingers as he grasped her naked hip, his touch moving to her belly and then lower. Amanda huffed a cry of pleasure as his hand slipped between her thighs. At that same moment his lips sought hers. The groan that escaped him came deep from the center of his chest.
At once he pulled back, resting his chin on her forehead. “Stop, sweetheart.” His voice was strained, his breathing ragged.
Amanda, lost to all but the pleasure, took a moment to reorient herself. She raised her head to look at him. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“You are doing everything right, love. But we are headed for a quick conclusion unless you choose to do it another way.” His smile was gentle but filled with self-mockery. “I fear at some point it’s beyond my control.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I thought we’d decided tonight you are in command, and I am but your humble servant.”
Her heart welled with tenderness. He was trying so hard. “James, let’s not worry anymore about who is to decide. Tell me what you want, and I will tell you if I want it also. Let’s do this together.”
“I want to make love to my wife,” he stated.
“What a coincidence. Your wife wants the same thing.”
***
CHAPTER 15
From a chair next to the fireplace, James leaned over to pull on his boots. But his eyes were on his wife who still lounged in the bed. The covers were bunched around her, clutched demurely to her breasts, and he was very much aware that she was naked beneath those covers. Her long dark hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. She was mussed, her eyelids heavy with recent sleep, and he found the picture she presented highly alluring. He was tempted to discard the clothing he had just donned and climb back into his vacated spot next to her on the mattress. Damn obligations!
“You’re up early,” Amanda said, voice drowsy.
“I am—” A knock came at the door, and he stood and strode across the room. He opened the door but only marginally for privacy’s sake. “Put the tray on the floor,” he said to the servant on the other side. “I’ll retrieve it in a moment.”
He turned back to his wife. “Are you awake enough to join me in a cup of tea?”
“Are there scones with that tea?”
James grinned. “Hungry, are we?”
Amanda returned his smile, a coquettish tilt to her lips as she sat up. “Famished. Someone kept me awake most of the night. He was quite a taskmaster, I must say, and I’ve developed a monstrous appetite.”
“Are you blaming this on me? As I recall, you were the one who woke me up.”
“You’ve found me out, but had I known what I was getting myself into, I might have reconsidered.”
“Then how fortunate I am that you were unaware.” James opened the door wider and picked up the tray that rested on the floor of the corridor. He closed the door with the heel of his boot then moved toward the bed to set the tray down. “Would you like to do the honors?”
“Yes?”
“If I serve the tea, I can’t keep these up.” Amanda indicated the covers she still held to her breasts.
James felt his loins tighten. “You’ve found me out as well,” he said huskily. He sat on the bed next to the tray, side-saddle style, one booted foot resting on the floor. “Right then, let’s see if I can bungle through this thing.” He picked up a scone. “Jam?”
“Yes, please,” she said demurely.
He looked up at her, evaluating her expression. “Are you making a jest at my expense?”
“Oh no, my lord. I wouldn’t do that until after you gave me the scone.”
James laughed as he handed her the plate. Next he poured tea for both of them, masculinely efficient, with no wasted movements. As he raised the cup to his mouth, he said, “I have to take a trip to London.”
Amanda picked up her cup. “When?”
“My horse is being saddled as we speak.”
“So soon? Why do you need to go?”
James sighed. “Business, love.”
“I thought that’s what you were doing yesterday with Mr. Smythe.”
“Apparently, there are issues that require me to be in attendance, signatures with witnesses and such, as I take over my father’s affairs. Mr. Smythe was fairly insistent on that score.”
“I see.”
“Are you disappointed?” He was elated by the possibility.
Amanda, in the process of taking a sip of tea, set her cup and saucer on the tray instead. She looked at him, her manner open and without guile. “It will be lonely here tonight.”
James instantly set his cup next to hers and pushed the tray to the foot of the bed. He gathered Amanda into his arms, his hands caressing her naked back. He turned his mouth to hers, his lips sliding gently back and forth in a kiss meant to convey the welling of emotion in his chest that was making it difficult to breathe. His mouth moved to her cheek and then next to her ear.
The warm breath he released shook uncontrollably. “Are we mended?” he asked in a husky whisper, feeling more vulnerable than he thought possible.
She lifted her arms and put them around his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair. “Yes, James, we are mended.”
Her voice was also emotional as she clung to him, and he hugged her fiercely, noting with fond amusement that she had dropped the bedcover she was using as a shield. Desire surged through his gut, but he forced himself to refrain from turning the moment carnal, though instinctively that was his immediate response. Loving emotions were best expressed through the body, at least for him they were, but he didn’t want her to think the moment was inspired by ulterior motives.
“I could go with you,” she said into his shoulder.
Tempting.
“I’m ready to leave now, sweetheart. You couldn’t possibly be ready before tomorrow. Believe me, there’s nothing I would like more than to take you with me. But I have no love for the city, and I’d much rather do this thing quickly and come back to you here. I promise not to take one more moment than is absolutely necessary.”
Amanda kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting, my lord.”
“That’s a promise I’ll expect you to keep,” he stated thickly. He leaned back, giving in to the temptation to look at her breasts. “In this bed, just as you are, prepared for another night of strenuous activity.”
She lay backward, resting her head on the pillow, and smiled sweetly as she pulled the covers up again. “Yes, my taskmaster. I’ll be waiting…and rested.”
Twenty minutes later found James crossing the stableyard to retrieve his horse. He had an uneasy feeling that was hard to define. His relationship with his wife was too fragile, too recently healed to be left unattended for even a moment. Even as he flung his leg over the horse’s back and settled into his saddle, he wondered if he could put this obligation off for at least a short while. Maybe he should bring Amanda with him. But he was anxious to be done with all the falderal surrounding the transferring of his father’s title and affairs to him. He wanted to pretend, at least for a while longer, that his new responsibilities were not directly tied to his father’s demise.
Hours into his ride, he still could not shake the anxiety. Disquiet was inspired by intuition, and intuitively speaking something felt wrong.
***
Amanda spent a listless day, not leaving her chamber until many hours after James had departed. She bathed early, donning a simple frock, then read for most of the afternoon. Days ago she would have been pleased by her husband’s absence—or so she would have told herself—but now she knew how wrong she would have been.
She missed James already, and he’d only been gone since morning. Somehow, in the intervening two days, they had managed to right a relationship she had begun to fear had no hope. Once she was willing to put away her anger, Amanda could see his sincerity. James said he loved her. She believed him.
The lovemaking was a revelation to her. She was deeply attracted to her husband and enjoyed being close to him. She had not expected to be quite so thrilled by the sexual aspects of their union. Oh my! Her face burned with the memory of the two previous nights. Last night had been particularly lovely. Lovely because she had participated wholeheartedly. Lovely because James had made how she felt the priority. If he was playing false with her then she was completely bamboozled, and she hoped never to be enlightened.
Though not the dinner hour yet, Amanda finally decided to end her exile, hoping to commune with some of her new family. To a one she loved them all. Not Derrick, of course, but fortunately he didn’t reside on the estate. She exited her chamber, her steps buoyant as she moved to the staircase.
Voices drifted upward from the ground floor sitting room, angry voices. Despite a natural inclination not to eavesdrop, Amanda found herself tiptoeing down the stairs, curiosity getting the better of her. At the foot of the staircase she stopped. The voices were louder now that she was closer, a male and a female.
“Can’t you see how much harm you’ve done?” She recognized Aunt Henry’s high-pitched wail.
The man who answered spoke in deeper tones, and Amanda was unable to identify him. A sound on the stairs behind her caused her to spin around in guilt, hand to her mouth. Huey stood four steps down for the landing above, good hand resting on the banister.
“Uncle Huey, you startled me. I was—”
“He’s a bad man,” he stated as if he hadn’t heard her. His face was pinched with distress, a white line etched around his mouth.
She had already started back up the stairs, but at his words Amanda paused abruptly, throwing a look of uncertainty over her shoulder. “Who’s a bad man, Uncle Huey? Is Aunt Henry in danger?”
He looked at her with sorrowful eyes but said nothing more, his gaze traveling back to the doorway of the sitting room.
Now Amanda was frightened. She swung back again, this time moving down the stairs at a quickened pace. Only fear of falling kept her from moving as rapidly as she wanted. She dashed across the entry hall and barged into the sitting room without bothering to announce herself.
Aunt Henry stood in the middle of the room, fists on her round hips. Her face was red, her eyes redder, and wild strands of hair had come loose from the tight little bun on top of her head. She was staring at someone sitting in a wingback chair next to the fireplace. Amanda followed the elderly lady’s gaze.
Derrick!
Amanda’s attention darted back to Henry, but she was too stunned to do more than stare.
Aunt Henry looked stricken. “I told you, Derrick!” she cried. “I told you! How could you let this happen?”
Derrick appeared unfazed, wearing a slight smirk and an almost vacant expression in his peculiar eyes. One leg was crossed negligently over the other, and his hands were laced together where they lay upon his stomach.
He watched his mother with barely concealed contempt then shifted his attention to Amanda. His grin widened. “Hello, Cousi
n.”
“I fear I’m arriving to this discussion rather late,” Amanda’s words encompassed both people who shared the room with her as she glanced back and forth between them, “but perhaps someone would like to share with me what this is about?”
Henry spoke first, wringing her hands. “Oh, please, Amanda, forgive me.”
“Why? What is there to forgive?” Amanda felt a heavy weight descend into her chest. She feared she wasn’t going to like where this dialogue was headed.
Derrick raised his hand as though he were in a school room. “My fault, I’m afraid. My mother has been hiding—”
Aunt Henry interrupted him. “Derrick, hush before you do more harm that good.”
“Well, Mother, since I couldn’t care less whether I do harm or good, I suppose you must let me talk.” His strange gaze remained on Amanda even as he addressed his mother, however, his next sentence was directed at the younger woman. “I’ve been residing on the estate since the wedding.”
Amanda glanced at the old lady. “You knew this?”
Henrietta seemed to shrink in on herself. She merely nodded, bottom lip beginning to tremble. Though the revelation was unpleasant, Amanda could not blame James’s aunt. Henry was Derrick’s mother after all, and she would protect her son.
To Derrick, Amanda said, “Interesting that you wait until my husband is gone to expose your subterfuge.”
“Why do you assume I was trying to reveal my presence? I was not expecting you to intrude on a private conversation with my parent.”
“In the main house? Reason should tell you that you might be discovered.”
He shrugged, gaze hooded.
“James told you to leave before we arrived. This is not going to sit well with him.”
“Come, Cousin, do you really believe anything happens on this estate that James is unaware of?” He studied his fingernails, smirk still in place.
The heaviness in Amanda’s chest expanded, dipping into her stomach. “What are you trying to say?” She was ashamed of the sudden quaver in her voice.
In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) Page 17