Nick kissed her collarbone, sliding his tongue across her skin and flexing his hips to start their lovemaking again.
She tangled one hand in the hair at the back of his head, her finger twirling out an unknown pattern, twisting strands of hair around them in the process. Amelia kissed him again on the lips, pulling away to say, “Let me pleasure you again, my insatiable husband.”
And she did. They stayed in the water until they were both prunes and so wrung out from intercourse they could barely climb out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Amelia stared down at the ledger in front of her, not really reading what was there. The mantel clock ticked the seconds in the background, giving her something to focus on when her mind seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, all at the same time. She’d convinced Nick to stay in London for the remainder of the week. It wasn’t nearly enough time for him to heal, but it allowed him to get his strength up.
The doctor had been impressed that Nick was able to move around and had ensured Amelia it was a sign that he would heal quickly, now that the fever had passed. That didn’t give Nick free rein to carry on in his usual fashion, however. It would take time to get to that point. And Nick proved to be everything but patient in this matter.
The house was eerily silent, except for the damn clock that was friend and foe all at once. She’d come down to the study early, knowing she needed to leave before Nick woke. Despite what he might think, he did need to relax and not strain himself. Those were the doctor’s orders, and she was trying desperately to abide by them.
No one had come upstairs to the study all morning. It was closing in on the lunch hour, and her stomach growled after having missed breakfast. It was odd, but she couldn’t bring herself to go down to the kitchen to face everyone’s scrutiny quite yet. She’d been under the mantle of wife and healer these past few days and didn’t know how to talk to the people she’d befriended while working here.
The questions they must have. About Nick and about their marriage. About how this affected the household. Well, she had to face them sooner or later.
The only thing that worried her was that they might treat her differently now that she was the mistress of the house. She didn’t want to be treated differently. She’d grown close to everyone here. They’d championed her and come together to support her after her brother had tried to haul her away with force. They’d plied her with tea and given her comfort after news of her brother’s death surfaced. They’d welcomed her with open arms, treating her like one of them.
And damn it, she was one of them! That would not change.
She focused on the blurred numbers and words of the ledger. She wasn’t sure why she bothered. Her mind was elsewhere. Focused on Nick, to be precise.
Could she face Shauley again? She wasn’t sure. And she wasn’t afraid for herself but for what Shauley might do to her husband. What if he decided to kill Nick this time?
Slamming the book shut with a growl of frustration, she pushed away from her desk. She walked down to the kitchen without further ado. It was time to get this over with.
Huxley wasn’t present in the dining hall, but she knew he had to be somewhere; he’d arrived home last night and had spoken with Nick at length. She’d remained for some of the conversation, learning what Huxley had been up to in his absence, but she’d left them for a spell to discuss any other private matters.
Since she was too early for lunch, Amelia headed toward the housekeeper’s office in search of Mrs. Coleman. She faced the wooden paneled door and took a deep breath. Before she could talk herself out of doing what she’d worked up the courage to do, Amelia gave the door a light rap with her knuckles.
Mrs. Coleman swung the door open.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Coleman.” Amelia folded her hands in front of her.
“Good day, child. Did you need me?”
“I wanted to talk about what happened in Highgate.”
“We had word before you were even married. Wanted to go, we did, but Mr. Riley said it was to be a small affair.”
Smallish, she thought. The village folk probably hadn’t given Nick much say. Amelia raised her eyebrows, surprised Mrs. Coleman had guessed her reasons for being here. “I meant to discuss it with you earlier. My only concern on arriving home was to help Nick heal, and I feel awful for not coming down sooner to address everyone.”
“You needn’t worry. Huxley delivered the news, and none of us could be happier.”
“No one believes I have other reasons for trapping him in marriage?”
“You couldn’t force Mr. Riley to do anything he didn’t want to do in the end. And I’m not likely to judge you, considering my own past. No one would take on a pregnant woman without a husband to work in a fine house such as this. I understand what desire does to a person, Mrs. Riley. You found yourself a good man, one who won’t leave you when things don’t go the way they should.”
Amelia’s mouth flapped. How was she supposed to respond to that? “Perhaps I should clarify that I am not with child.”
“And I wasn’t suggesting that. Just that you two weren’t hiding the fact that you’ve shared a room almost as long as you have been here.”
Amelia couldn’t help the blush that heated her face.
While she suspected the household knew exactly what was happening behind closed doors, hearing it as bluntly as that was another thing entirely.
“I don’t want anything to change, Mrs. Coleman. I am Nick’s wife but also his secretary. I’m . . . I’m a friend to everyone in this house.”
“I should hope so.” The housekeeper stood from her chair and pocketed her keys. She ushered Amelia out of her office. “Let’s see if Joshua needs assistance bringing lunch into the dining hall, Mrs. Riley. We don’t expect you to eat down here with us, as you’ll be supping with Mr. Riley when he’s on his feet again. But we would like your company for as long as we can have it.”
Amelia didn’t argue with Mrs. Coleman. A smile lit up her whole face, and the tension she initially had felt in facing the staff was vanquished.
Happiness was a precious thing she would never take for granted. This was her home. And without the people who made up this household, she could never be whole. And without Nick, she knew she was nothing. They all—their little band of misfits and miscreants—made each other.
“I can hardly believe you married your mistress, Nick. It’s not something for which society will forgive you. If you want to mingle in their circles, you have to play by their rules.” Nick watched his friend and former mistress, Victoria, drum her nails along the edge of her tea saucer, clearly irritated by his actions. She’d come to visit him after hearing he’d woken from his fever. It seemed the whole city waited with bated breath for him to come out of the sleep that had held him.
“Amelia was never my mistress,” he clarified, though he shouldn’t have to do any such thing.
Victoria was shaking her head, not listening to him. “It’s simply not done.”
Had it really only been a few weeks ago that he’d sat last with his friend Victoria? He’d had tea, and they had argued about Amelia. The women were determined to dislike each other on merit alone. He understood their differences, considering Victoria had once shared his bed. But Amelia was the only woman ever to work her way into his heart. And he needed them to get on amicably, as they were each an important part of his life.
“We’ve been friends long enough that I hope you can put aside your differences with Amelia.”
Nick shifted in his chair, trying to focus on anything but the pain that shot through his shoulder and arm. He’d been pushing himself since he woke yesterday. He couldn’t help it; he needed to be strong. More than that, he needed to be able to go after Shauley and finish what they had started.
“Do you realize the scandal this has created, Nick?” Victoria pattered on. “You might not want to call her your mistress, but she is your acting secretary. It undermines you to marry someone beneath you like that. With your wealth
and your status in society, you could have married into a prominent family.”
And that was the last thing he ever wanted.
While Nick might have been considered a sought-after bachelor for his worth alone, mothers and chaperones of eligible young ladies often shied away and kept their distance, exactly where he liked them. He had never wanted to buy his way into society, nor did he want to mingle with the vapid daughters of dukes and marquesses.
“I wasn’t asking your opinion on the matter, Victoria.”
Nick impatiently tapped his hand over his knee. He’d known this would be her reaction, yet he’d entertained the idea of seeing her this afternoon after she’d sent a card.
Nick never imagined he would be a husband. Amelia had changed him. He liked the person he was when he was with her. He liked what she represented.
Home.
“I’m giving my opinion freely,” she shot back, dropping a cube of sugar in her tea and stirring it around.
“Your view doesn’t change the fact that I’m married, whether you approve of Amelia or not.”
“I’m surprised you would pick someone about whom you know so little over me.”
Nick frowned and stared into his coffee cup. Surely she didn’t mean that. “You know we wouldn’t have suited.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, though it didn’t seem convincing. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that you’ve known Miss Grant less than a month.”
“Mrs. Riley,” he corrected his friend. “You will respectfully address my wife as Mrs. Riley. If you cannot accept that, perhaps we should cut our ties now.”
Victoria inhaled sharply. “How dare you choose her over me.”
“She is my wife.”
“And what does she know about you? Have you told her where you come from? How you grew up? Can she accept you for the man you really are?”
Before Victoria could say more, he firmly said, “She knows everything.”
There could be no more secrets between them. And there would be no hiding his past forever when he finally got his revenge on the man who’d taken his childhood from him.
Victoria eyed him coolly over her tea before taking a sip. “I’ve never known you to trust anyone so easily.”
There had been nothing easy about his relationship with Amelia. But that wasn’t for Victoria to know. Frankly, none of it was any of her damn business.
“Then maybe the questions you need to ask are why I trust her as much as I do. Why I married her when I never had the desire to marry before. Jealousy has never looked good on you, Vic, yet you insist on that state where Amelia is concerned. You and I were friends long before we were lovers, and you wear pettiness as poorly as you wear jealousy. Have you forgotten what it’s like to be my friend?”
She reached her hand out to touch his hand, but he pulled it away before she could; as much as the motion pained his shoulder, he didn’t regret the decision of setting a physical boundary between them. He would give her no reason to think he was on the fence as a married man.
Victoria’s brows scrunched and her eyes narrowed. “I have no reason to like her.”
“I’m not asking you to like her. I’m asking you, as my friend, to understand why I chose her. And in time, you will like her.”
Victoria pinched her lips together and turned her focus to the paintings in the room.
“I’ve known you a long time, Vic. Our friendship doesn’t end because I found someone in my life to love.”
Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a sad look. “I’ve never heard you say that before.”
“Then take it to mean I’m true about my feelings. You’re the only person to whom I can speak openly about this.”
“Considering you were still sleeping in my bed only a week before you met her . . . ”
Nick raised his hand. They had made headway; her trying to persuade him otherwise would get them nowhere. And their affair was a thing of the past.
“It was what it was, Vic. But what we had was over long before we were ready to admit it.”
“How can you paint what we had with such a fine stroke?”
“Because the matter is that simple.”
Victoria looked away from him with a miffed huff. “I can’t promise I will ever warm to Amelia.”
Nick smiled at his friend. He knew this wasn’t easy for her to digest. “You will.”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”
Nick leaned back against the cushion, trying to find a comfortable position. “Now that I have you here, I need your help with one other thing,” he said.
“I’m all out of wedding dresses,” she teased.
Nick shook his head and put up his feet, as that seemed to help him achieve a better position in which to repose. He explained what he had in mind. He and Amelia had come a long way, and they’d had little time to celebrate the joyous occasion of their marriage. And there was something special he wanted to do for her.
“I want one thing to be clear, Nick. I’m doing this for you,” Victoria said, agreeing.
He could accept that.
“Now tell me the whole story of what happened with your shoulder.”
Nick did, leaving out no details, as Victoria knew nearly as much as Amelia about his sordid past with the vicarage school and Shauley. Nearly, but not all. He edited out the parts about his nightmares, about finding the vicar and losing him when he’d been so close to his goal.
“Where do you think Shauley is now?”
Nick shook his head. “I have no way of knowing. I do know he’s no longer in Highgate. Huxley confirmed that.”
Huxley had also been by the cabin, and Brother John still resided there, which surprised Nick. He thought the old man would have up and left after their last encounter. Huxley had not been able to ascertain whether the vicar was still residing with Brother John. But that was something Nick would find out on his own.
The door opened, and Amelia entered. “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to leave just as fast as she’d arrived.
“Don’t go,” Nick called out after her. “Join us. We were just discussing Shauley.” He held out his hand, hoping she’d take that as a clear indication that he genuinely wanted her here. He wanted his wife by his side, not Victoria, and the sooner Victoria realized that, the sooner she would move on and accept what Amelia meant to him.
Amelia seemed reluctant, standing at the threshold of the door, looking beyond the parlor and then looking at him. Her indecision was clear, but she held her head high and came into the parlor, taking Nick’s hand as she sat beside him on the sofa.
“When I heard Nick was awake, I had to stop in,” Victoria said, standing. “I was so thankful to hear he had pulled through the ordeal. For now, I have a hundred things I need to take care of. I will stop in again soon, Nick.”
Amelia stood when Victoria did. “I can see you out.”
“I can find my way.” Victoria slapped her gloves in her hand. “I suppose felicitations are in order, Mrs. Riley. I wish you two a prosperous marriage.”
Nick grinned. Of course she wouldn’t wish them one filled with love, laughter, and a healthy family.
“Thank you for stopping in, Miss Newgate,” Amelia said, not bothering to reach out and take Victoria’s hand, as friends might do.
Nick put his feet down and clumsily stood. The motion caused the stitching in his shoulder to pull. He ignored the twinge of pain and leaned into Amelia’s side for support. Her arm went around his back, but she didn’t act as though she was holding most of his weight against her.
Victoria inclined her head toward them both before leaving.
When his friend was gone, he pulled Amelia into his side, his hand firm at her hip. “Where have you been all morning?”
“Joshua was giving me instructions on baking a pie.”
“A pie?”
“Mrs. Coleman insisted that keeping my hands busy would help ease my worries.”
“Are you thinking of S
hauley?”
“How could I not?”
Nick let Amelia go and fell back to the sofa. His breathing was slightly heavier than he would have liked. The effort to stand had been taxing.
“Nick. What have you done to yourself?”
“Strained my arm. I’ll be fine.”
Amelia tugged at his trousers, trying to free his shirt so she could get at the bandage on his shoulder.
“My lady, who knew you liked a man unable to do anything more than give his lovely wife verbal commands.”
“Don’t tease me, Nick. You’ve hurt yourself. I want to make sure you haven’t opened up the stitches.”
“I haven’t. Stop fretting. If they didn’t open yesterday in the bath, they won’t open when I stand on my own.”
“How can you be so sure?” She continued to pull up his shirt. Nick aided her where he could, but otherwise, he reserved his energy, knowing he’d need it for something more pleasurable if his wife wanted to strip him out of his clothes.
“I have pulled stitches before. I’m familiar with the ache associated with it. Everything is as it should be—I can promise you that—so stop worrying.” He leaned back against the sofa. Her hands were like fluid magic wherever she touched his skin. “I love the way your hands feel on me.”
She pulled them away, and Nick was forced to open his eyes and look at his confused wife.
“Why did you stop?”
“This is hardly an opportune time for this.”
“Would you prefer I wait ’til I’m dead?” His words were bitter, crueler than he’d intended, but Amelia didn’t seem perturbed by his tone.
“The same can be said in reverse.” Her fingers trailed down his sternum and circled around his navel. “I will play along with whatever you need, as long as you don’t pull your stitches.”
Amelia’s hand caressed the linen that covered his shoulder. He could barely feel her, and he wanted to feel the hard press of her hands along his body. He would never get enough of her, never stop craving her.
The thought of never being able to hold his wife in his arms had the ability to render him numb. So he would take all the feeling he could get, all the time.
Desire Me Always Page 17