Once he dispensed with his trousers, she saw all of him. The dusting of dark hair that trailed down his belly, leading to…the part of him that truly did rob her of the last of her air.
“Breathe,” he directed as a self-satisfied smile settled on his face.
He was arrogant. But he had every reason to be—he was magnificent in all his splendor, which didn’t quite alleviate Amelia’s sudden trepidation at the moment. He caught her eyes again, and the intensity of his gaze darkened, nearly halted every thought in her mind and filled her with a promise she didn’t quite understand. “Don’t be afraid, Amelia.” His husky voice rumbled over her, and she found herself nodding.
Philip’s large hand skimmed down her side, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched. He rolled her to her back and pressed his lips to hers once more, soothing her worry with one of his soul-searing kisses. His tongue tangled with hers and the only thought in Amelia’s mind was how to hold him there, just like this, forever.
“Don’t be afraid, love,” he whispered across her lips just as his fingers trailed from her side and across her belly to settle in the springy curls at her apex. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised right before one questing finger went lower still, gently circling a little nub she hadn’t known existed. But she knew it now. She nearly leapt from the bed the moment he touched her there, sending a sensational jolt through her body.
“Relax, my love,” he crooned. Then he slid his finger inside her most private of places, caressing her with a rocking motion of his hand. Then he circled her nub again with slick fingers and Amelia thought she might melt right into the counterpane. “That’s it,” he praised her. “Open for me, Amelia.”
Open for him. Gladly, if he’d just keep touching her. Amelia let her legs fall open. “Like this?” she asked, hating the quiver in her voice.
“Perfect.” A reassuring smile lit his face and he nodded. “Trust me?”
Amelia smiled in return. “I do.” And she did. She’d trust him with her life and with…this.
He worked his finger deeper within her, and his slow, sensual rhythm gradually increased its pace. A pressure began to build inside Amelia as though she was within arm’s reach of a most delicious precipice. A moan she didn’t recognize escaped her. And when his thumb brushed across her sensitive nub once again, she gasped as euphoria washed over her right before she splintered into a million glorious pieces like a summer Welsh rainstorm.
Philip lifted the hem of her chemise, letting the silk slowly glide up her body before tossing it to the other side of the room. Amelia ran her hands across the dusting of hair on his chest, feeling the corded muscle just beneath his skin. He was so handsome. So strong. So supremely male.
He captured her questing fingers against his skin and lifted her hand to his lips. The desire reflecting in his dark gaze nearly made her splinter once more.
Philip guided her knees further apart, then he settled himself between her legs. “My wife. My very beautiful wife.” He ran his fingers along her bare belly, and once again trailed them lower until he cupped her most private place, nearly driving her mad with want.
The need for him to be even closer swamped her and she moaned, “Philip,” as she edged lower on the bed where he was positioned between her legs.
“I’m trying to go slow.” He smiled. “Though I do appreciate your eagerness.”
Slow? She hadn’t thought he’d been moving slow at all. Or was it his injury? “Are you hurt? Did I do something?” Panic flared in her heart.
But he shook his head. “I have wanted to make love to you for so long, Amelia. I just want it to be perfect.”
Adoration shone in her gaze and Philip’s heart swelled along with his erection. He could drown in that look in her eyes and be a happy man. But he’d be happier when he was fully seated inside her.
Philip pressed the tip of his cock into Amelia’s warmth, stretching her. Dear God, going slow would be the death of him, but she was still an innocent. He had to take care with her, not frighten her, show her how much he cherished her.
Amelia’s eyes widened at his entrance, but the smile she wore was still that of a siren. He pushed himself further until he came to her barrier. He had promised he wouldn’t hurt her, but he didn’t know how to avoid doing so.
His impatient wife moved lower on the bed, taking more of him until the evidence of her innocence was gone. Amelia’s mouth fell open in surprise, but a moment later her siren smile returned. “Make love to your wife, Major. She is most anxious for you to continue.”
Always the dutiful solider, Philip thrust forwards and filled her completely. A sigh escaped Amelia and then she draped her arms around his neck. “That’s perfect,” she whispered.
And it was perfect. She was so wet, so warm, so tight. He’d never experienced such contentment, such a feeling of euphoric rightness in his life all wrapped up together. Philip pulled back from Amelia and then entered her again on one smooth thrust. And then again and again until she was writhing beneath him once more, moaning out his name.
“Oh, Philip!” she cried at the same moment she shuddered around him.
Unable to hold back a second longer. Philip erupted, spilling himself inside her.
His strength gone, he collapsed beside her, never having felt so sated in all his life. He kissed her shoulder and pulled her into the cocoon of his embrace, where he could have held her forever.
Amelia’s hand caressed his back, until she came to the bandage that still guarded his wound. “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice quivering slightly.
“Hmm.” He groaned. “Best bit of medicine I’ve had so far.”
Her lips pressed against his chest and Philip tightened his grasp on her. “I adore you, Mrs. Moore.”
She sighed in response. “I adore you, Major Moore.”
It was a damn good thing she did. He could never give her up, and he didn’t want to share her. Not with her family, not with all of London. At least not right now. They were newlyweds, after all. He was entitled to have his wife all to himself for a little while, wasn’t he?
“Let’s start for Leverton Place tomorrow,” he suggested as he tilted her chin up so she had to look in his eyes. “No helpful friends. No interfering countesses. No Irish guards. Just us.”
Amelia smiled. “Will we do this again?”
He somehow managed not to laugh. “Only as often as you’ll allow it.”
“Well, then you are going to be quite the busy man, Major.” Before he could respond, doubt crept across her features. “But is it safe? To go alone, I mean?”
Philip did laugh now. She was so utterly adorable. “I will have you know, my dear, I am quite the decorated hero. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
Amelia ate a bit of the roasted goose before her. She sent a sideways glance at the two empty places at the dinner table and tried not to wince. If her parents refused to dine with the group, she shouldn’t let it affect her. She just wished they could be happy for her, that they didn’t hate Philip or her quite so much.
“Tomorrow?” Clayworth said, breaking Amelia from her thoughts.
What about tomorrow? Had she missed something?
“I think its best,” Philip replied. “Besides, Amelia hasn’t seen the Park yet, and I am anxious to show her our home.”
Oh, their departure for Nottinghamshire. She should have realized.
“Well, yes,” Cordie began. “I can certainly understand that, Philip. But don’t you think—”
Whatever the countess was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of the Avery brothers, who burst into the dining room without warning. “Brilliant,” Captain Avery said with a boyish grin. “We are famished.”
“Oh, well,” Cordie said, her tone mocking, “do have a seat.” Then she frowned at her brothers. “Love you both as I do, I don’t recall inviting you to dinner.”
“But there are two empty seats,” the captain protested as he dropped into the vacant spot beside Amelia. “We’d hate fo
r you to have any food left over.”
“Never a problem when the two of you are in the vicinity,” the countess complained. “And, truly, those places weren’t set for either of you.”
“It’s all right,” Amelia said softly. “I think my parents have made it quite clear they don’t plan to join us.”
Lieutenant Avery sent her a sad smile as he assumed the seat beside Philip. “I am sorry, Mrs. Moore. I’m sure time will help them come to accept the situation.”
“Now I’m a situation?” Philip asked, sounding more jovial now that his friends had arrived.
“You’ve always been a situation,” Captain Avery remarked as he motioned for a footman to serve him.
“Well, since you are here – uninvited, I might add – perhaps you can talk some sense into our friend here.” Cordie gestured to Philip. “It seems the good major feels he is well enough to travel to Pappelwick tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Captain Avery scoffed. “I hardly think Doctor Watts would agree.”
“Well, I’m not asking for his opinion,” Philip replied. “I feel perfectly fine, thank you for your concern.” Then he glanced to his side at the lieutenant. “But while we are on the subject of not asking for opinions, Tristan, do you mind explaining why I suddenly have Irish guards hanging about?”
A boyish twinkle lit the lieutenant’s eyes. “You needed guarding, perhaps? And they were available.” He looked at his sister. “You’ll make sure they get fed, won’t you?”
She agreed with a nod. “I’ve already seen to it. But a little warning might have been nice, Tris.”
The lieutenant shrugged. “As long as they aren’t a nuisance, I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”
“They haven’t been a nuisance, have they?” the captain asked.
Cordie shook her head. “They are both charming. I was just surprised to find them camped out on my stoop.”
Lieutenant Avery heaved a sigh. “Killing two birds with one stone, I suppose.”
“Oh?” Philip asked.
“I happened upon O’Leary from the 27th the other night.” He shuddered. “Awful place no decent person should ever be found.”
“Then what were you doing there?” Cordie asked.
Lieutenant Avery shifted a bit in his seat as though he didn’t want to answer his sister’s question. “Stumbled in by mistake?” he suggested.
“You aren’t attempting to take certain matters in your own hands, are you, Tristan?” Cordie prodded. “Mr. Blackaby was very clear on the subject.”
The lieutenant shrugged. “I don’t have any idea what you could possibly mean, Cor.” He turned his gaze on Philip, which seemed more like a distraction technique than anything else. “You should have seen the poor man.”
“Lost his arm at Waterloo,” Philip said softly. “He’s a good fellow. Our cots were near each other in the surgeon’s tent after the battle.”
Lieutenant Avery nodded in agreement. “And he hasn’t seen a bit of luck since that day, I’m afraid.”
“That’s true for a lot of men, returned home from the continent,” Captain Avery added. “No positions to be found, but mouths still need to be fed.”
“O’Leary can’t find work?” Philip asked, his brow furrowing.
“None of them can,” the lieutenant continued. “O’Leary’s only ever known farming, but he doesn’t have a spot of land, and now there’s his arm. Murphy has a sick mother. Byrne has a wife and a little bundle on the way. And Kelly has a sister who he’s responsible for.” He sat a little taller.
“Mr. Kelly mentioned his sister today. Didn’t he, Amelia?” Cordie said.
“Yes.” Amelia nodded.
Captain Avery seemed unconcerned about Kelly or his sister and leveled his eyes on Philip. “And the others remember Mason from Belgium. They could pick him out of a crowd from a mile away.”
Cordie frowned as she sat forwards in her seat, as though to catch her brothers’ attention. “So we’ve met Mr. Kelly and Mr. Byrne. But who are O’Leary and Murphy?”
“A couple other fellows from the 27th. They’ll be trading shifts with Kelly and Byrne,” the lieutenant explained.
“And we’re paying them all better than anything they could find on their own,” the captain tossed in for good measure.
“I’m sure you are,” Philip said, “but I hardly think I need guarding.”
Amelia wasn’t so certain he was right about that, but she held her tongue. At least for the moment.
“So humor us,” Lieutenant Avery replied. “O’Leary and the others are not the sort to take charity, all that Irish pride.” He heaved a sigh. “So I thought it was a fantastic idea to have them keep an eye on you, and in return we could help a few men in the process. Good men who deserve better than they’ve gotten so far.”
Philip shook his head. “And you plan to keep them on indefinitely? That’s ridiculous, Tris. They need real jobs, not playing nursemaid to me.”
“I thought Amelia was your nursemaid,” Captain Avery chuckled.
“I think keeping you alive is a perfectly respectable job,” Cordie interjected, ignoring her brother completely. “Don’t you agree, Brendan?”
Lord Clayworth heaved a sigh. “Keep me out of this, mon minouche. Then I won’t have to lie if Blackaby asks me if I know anything.”
Philip’s frown darkened. “O’Leary was a farmer, you say?”
Lieutenant Avery nodded.
“I need a steward. I’ve been managing the Park on my own, but I could use some help.”
“That’s a brilliant cover,” Captain Avery agreed with gusto. “Do you need a trio of footmen by chance? I’d love to have Murhpy, Byrne, or Kelly always close at hand.”
“I do not need three footmen.” Philip narrowed his eyes on the captain. “Nor do I need guarding.”
Stubborn man.
Amelia cleared her throat. “I wish you’d had someone at your back before Mr. Mason took a shot at you.”
The room quieted and all eyes turned to her, but Philip’s dark gaze burned the hottest, making tingles skitter across her skin and the memory of their afternoon in her chambers flash in her mind. Her cheeks heated.
“I mean,” Amelia continued, certain she was blushing profusely. “I don’t want to lose you. And really, what harm is there in it? In letting these men ensure your safety?”
“You want me to take them all on?” Philip asked, his voice low and soft like a caress. “If this is what you desire, Amelia, I’ll agree.”
He’d do as she wished? Her strong, arrogant husband? What a heady feeling it was to realize he truly did care about her opinion. Amelia nodded. If the quartet of Irishmen could keep Philip safe, they were well worth their weight in gold.
Philip shook his head as though he couldn’t quite believe he was agreeing to this idea. “I suppose I just gained myself a new steward, a footman, and a couple of grooms, then. But those positions aren’t temporary, Tristan. I really do mean to employ them, make sure they know that. An honest day’s work for an honest day’s wages.”
“For good honest men,” the lieutenant added. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to know it.”
“You can sort out which of them is best for each post,” Philip grumbled at his friend.
Captain Avery winked at Amelia. “Brava, Mrs. Moore. Who knew marriage would make him so agreeable? I should have found you ages ago.”
“Russell,” Cordie complained. “Do be quiet.”
Quiet, unfortunately, was not in Russell’s nature. As soon as the ladies retired to the drawing room and port was served, the conversation in the dining room degenerated even further, which was mildly uncomfortable, all things considered. While Russell regaled the table with the sordid details of his most recent conquest, Tristan clenched his jaw and snorted like a pent-up bull throughout the retelling.
More than once Philip glanced to Lord Clayworth, the only other reasonable mind in the room, merely to have the earl shrug his confusion as well. And it was confusing.
Russell was behaving as he always had, most likely as he always would. Tristan’s stiff-necked reaction to his brother made very little sense at all. But just as strange was the fact that Russell seemed completely oblivious to his brother’s anger.
When the footman Philip had sent on a chore earlier that evening entered the dining room and cleared his throat, Philip was instantly relieved for the interruption. Perhaps Clayworth could start a less volatile topic of conversation.
“Pardon me.” The footman made his way around the table to where Philip sat and offered him a folded up piece of foolscap. “For you, sir.”
A response to his olive branch already? He hadn’t expected a reply quite so soon. Philip unfolded the note and read the short message, which had clearly been penned in an angry scrawl if the rigidly slanted letters where any indication. Still, Amelia’s father had granted Philip an audience, and that was what was important, wasn’t it? He pushed his chair backwards and rose from his spot. “Do excuse me.”
“Excuse you?” Russell grinned unrepentantly. “But I was just getting to the best part.”
Philip scoffed as he retrieved his cane from the edge of his seat. “Let me guess. She begged you for more the entire night. Just like every other tale you’ve ever told.”
“Tale?” Russell grumbled. “You make it sound as though I’m being less than honest.”
“On the contrary,” Philip assured his oldest friend, “I have seen you charm every woman you’ve ever put your mind to. But they always end the same, Russ.” He held up the note in his hand. “Besides I have something else that requires my attention at the moment.”
“Amelia sending you notes now?” Russell quirked a knowing grin. “I knew when I saw her this evening that you’d finally tossed up her skirts. Good for you.”
And now Philip thought he might help Tristan beat his brother into an unrecognizable pulp. “I’ll thank you not to discuss my wife in such a way. And in return, when Miss Greywood finally walks down the aisle to your awaiting arm, I promise never to say such things about her either.”
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