Amelia’s cheeks felt as if they were actually on fire as she recalled the circumstances under which she had made that particular comment. Of being held in this man’s arms. Of how, in defending herself, she had also laid claim to being this man’s wife…!
She knew by the mocking speculation in those shrewd grey eyes that Lord Grayson was thinking of at least one of those events as he allowed his gaze to move slowly over each of her features—and then lower still to the column of her throat and the pulse that beat so erratically there, the now rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Breasts that seemed to swell beneath the bodice of her gown. To ache. Filling Amelia with an unaccountable restlessness.
Gray caught himself up short as he realised exactly what he was doing. As he sternly reminded himself that Amelia was his ward and, as such, must be completely beyond his sexual interest.
He scowled darkly. ‘I shall be going out shortly, and I do not expect to be back until later this afternoon.’
‘I— But— I thought we were going to talk this morning, My Lord?’
Gray still had every intention of talking to Amelia—on several subjects, but not until he had all the appropriate answers to give in response to the questions she would no doubt ask him! ‘We will talk when I come back, Amelia,’ he assured her sternly.
‘Come back from where, My Lord?’
The problem of servants well in hand, as well as a locksmith to deal with the front door, it was Gray’s intention to ride over to Wycliffe Hall this morning to offer his apologies to the Earl of Stanford for not having believed the sincerity of the concerns voiced in the other man’s letter to him. It was the least Gray could do when he considered the terse reply he had sent two weeks ago!
It was also Gray’s hope that by his visiting Wycliffe in person the Earl’s bride of less than a year might be of some help in the problem of what Gray was to do with Amelia…
Something Gray did not feel the need to share with his overly curious ward! ‘I am not in the habit of having my movements questioned in this way, Amelia.’ He eyed her haughtily.
‘I was merely curious, My Lord.’
‘Then might I advise a little less curiosity and a little more discretion?’ Gray eyed her coldly. ‘It is time, Amelia—past time!—that you resumed your proper place in this household.’
‘My proper place, My Lord…?’
Exactly what was Amelia’s ‘proper place’ in his household? Gray considered. At nineteen, she perhaps believed herself too old to be referred to merely as his ward. But she certainly could not be referred to as the mistress of the house!
She raised curious blue eyes at Gray’s frowning silence. ‘My Lord?’
Gray’s irritation with this conversation grew. Along with his inability to find a suitable answer to her previous question…
‘Or perhaps I might call you Uncle now that we have finally met?’
‘Certainly not!’ Gray gave a shiver of revulsion at the mere idea of being addressed as ‘Uncle’ by this young lady. Damn it, it made him sound as old as Methuselah! ‘If you feel you must call me something else, then my associates usually refer to me simply as Gray,’ he invited stiffly.
‘If you please, My Lord, I believe I would rather call you Gideon…’
Gray stiffened. ‘No!’
Amelia eyes snapped mutinously at his obvious coldness. ‘I do not understand why not, when you call me Amelia…?’
‘I refer to you as Amelia because that is your name.’
‘And is Gideon not your own name…?’
It may well be, but no one ever called him by it. Not any more. Not since his brother Perry had died…
Amelia eyed Lord Grayson from beneath lowered lashes, aware that she must have said or done something to bring about that grimly bleak expression upon his rakishly handsome face. Simply because she had asked if she might call him Gideon…?
It had seemed like such a small thing to ask—especially as he had already given her permission to address him as Gray. ‘I had not meant to offend you, My Lord…’
He eyed her impatiently. ‘I am not in the least offended, Amelia, merely impatient to be about my business without further hindrance from you or anyone else!’
‘But should you not stay and have breakfast first—?’
‘Mrs Burdock supplied me with an ample breakfast several hours ago,’ he assured her quickly.
This did not fit in at all with Amelia’s image of Gideon Grayson as an inveterate rake and a gambler, either. Was it not the habit of rakes to remain out at their clubs or with their mistresses all night, before spending the day in bed sleeping off their excesses?
Perhaps rakes behaved differently when in the country?
Or perhaps Lord Gideon Grayson was not the rake and gambler he was reputed to be, after all…? His earlier mockery on the subject certainly seemed to indicate he was not.
Then what was he? How had he spent these last years in London? And could those pursuits possibly have something to do with the scars Amelia had discovered the evening before…?
Chapter Five
Gray was not in the best of moods as he handed the reins of his grey to the groom who had thankfully appeared as soon as he rode into the snow-covered stableyard on his return to Steadley Manor. Evidence that Ned, and hopefully Mr Davies, too, had been successful in persuading some of the servants into returning to the estate. As Gray strode purposefully towards the house he could only wish his own day had been spent as fruitfully.
To give the Earl of Stanford his due, the man had been only too happy to accept Gray’s apology—both for doubting the truth of his information and for Gray’s terse letter of response. And Alice, Stanford’s wife, had been warm in her sympathy. So warm and sympathetic, in fact, that after eating a delicious luncheon and imbibing far too much of a first-class wine Gray had felt comfortable enough in her company to broach the subject of Amelia. Most especially Gray’s immediate problem as to what to do with her whilst he spent Christmas at Mulberry Hall with the St Claire family.
A subject which in retrospect, Gray now accepted grimly, would have been far better left unsaid.
‘Will you join me for tea, Gideon…?’
Gray stiffened in the act of handing his hat and coat to the footman who had—again, thankfully—appeared as soon as Gray entered the house, slowly turning to face Amelia as she stood in the doorway of the Blue Salon. As usual she looked charmingly enticing, in a gown of cream silk, and the colour of her eyes was bright as she returned his gaze with innocent enquiry.
An innocence Gray would do well to remember in the future, he admonished himself firmly. ‘Tea?’ he repeated, with a delicate curl of his top lip.
‘Tea.’ Amelia gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘Now that you are returned, I thought we might talk together as you suggested earlier…?’
The ride home had helped to dull some of the effects of the wine Gray had imbibed over lunch, but certainly not all of it. Neither was he any further forward—having totally dismissed Alice Wycliffe’s solution to the problem—in knowing what to do about Amelia whilst he travelled into Gloucestershire for Christmas.
‘We will only discuss how you wish to decorate the house for Christmas, if you would prefer, My Lord…?’ Amelia suggested tentatively as she obviously saw his frown of displeasure.
Gray’s scowl deepened just at the mention of Christmas, and he felt the beginnings of a headache pounding at his temple. ‘I have absolutely no interest in the subject of Christmas decorations!’
Amelia gave a lightly teasing laugh. ‘But we must at least bring in some holly and mistletoe! It will smell so wonderful, and— You had realised that Christmas is only a week away, Gideon?’
Of course Gray had realised. In truth, it had been part of his reason for visiting the Wycliffes. In the hope that they might offer to have Amelia with them at Wycliffe Hall for the holiday…
A hope that had been completely dashed once Daniel Wycliffe, a close friend of Hawk St Claire, Duke of Stourbridge, had informed
Gray that he and his wife had also received and accepted an invitation to spend Christmas at Mulberry Hall. In fact it was their plan, due to Alice Wycliffe’s ‘delicate condition’, to begin a slow and leisurely four-day journey there on the morrow, in order that the Countess did not overtire herself.
‘You do intend being here for Christmas, Gideon…?’ Amelia looked uncertain at Gray’s continued silence.
That was a question Gray no longer had a straightforward answer to. His initial decision to come to Steadley Manor, deal with whatever needed dealing with here, ensure that his ward was being cared for, and then depart to Mulberry Hall for the Christmas holiday was no longer as clear-cut and decisive as it had once been.
Obviously some of the servants had returned to Steadley Manor whilst Gray had been with the Wycliffes, which would ensure Amelia’s comfort whilst he was away. But could Gray really just up and leave her here alone, apart from the servants, over Christmas? The warm and sympathetic Alice Wycliffe had not seemed to think it even a possibility.
The Countess’s solution to the problem?
Why, that Gray take Amelia to Mulberry Hall with him, of course! Which was utterly unacceptable!
‘Gideon…?’ Amelia prompted at his continued silence.
He did look wickedly handsome today, she acknowledged as a delicious shiver ran the length of her spine. So tall and darkly rakish, his hair slightly windswept from his ride, and his elegantly tailored clothes emphasising the width of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, and the long length of his muscled legs.
Elegantly tailored clothes that ably concealed that scarred chest and back…
And, of course, the bandage upon his arm, where Amelia had shot him the previous evening!
He gave her an impatient glance as he strode purposefully across the entrance hall. ‘I suggest we retire to the privacy of the Blue Salon for this discussion, Amelia.’
She did not much like the sound of that, Amelia acknowledged with a grimace as Gideon stood to one side to allow her to precede him into the blue and cream room. She had deliberately chosen this room in which to wait for his return, knowing that the blue drapes and chaise were a perfect match in colour for her eyes. An effect that, at the moment, seemed completely lost on the stiffly forbidding Lord Grayson.
‘Perhaps you prefer not to celebrate Christmas, Gideon…?’ Amelia sat down upon the blue chaise and leant forward to pour tea into the two cups she had requested in the hope that Gideon would return in time to join her.
Gray would prefer not to celebrate this particular Christmas! Would prefer to forget its very existence, in fact. ‘I believe I told you to call me Gray…?’
She gave a ruefully dismissive shake of her head, blonde curls brushing against her cheeks and nape. ‘I consider it too impersonal for our particular relationship—’
‘We do not have a relationship!’ Gray glared down at her fiercely as he stood with his hands clasped tightly together behind his back. And felt as if he had just kicked a defenceless kitten as he saw the sudden tears that welled in Amelia’s deep blue eyes at the fierceness of his tone. Except this young woman was anything but defenceless; she had shot him in the arm the previous evening!
She blinked long-lashed lids in an obvious effort to prevent those tears from falling. ‘It has become obvious to me that you resent having been burdened with my guardianship—’
‘I did not say that, damn it!’
She bowed her head, revealing the vulnerable curve of her nape as she murmured quietly, ‘You did not need to put it into words, My Lord.’
Gray did not need to do a lot of things. Mainly he did not need to take out his temper, his frustration with this situation, on someone who was completely innocent—at least in this particular matter. After all, Amelia had not asked to become his ward. Circumstances had placed her as much as he in their present position. Besides which, Gray could not stand to see those tears balanced so precariously upon the long sweep of her lashes…!
He crossed the room in long, impatient strides to sit down beside her on the chaise. ‘I am a surly devil this afternoon, Amelia. Please do not cry—’ He broke off abruptly as, with a choked sob, Amelia launched herself into his arms to bury her face against his chest, and her slender arms moved tightly about his waist as she clung to him.
Gray had managed, in his brief respite from Amelia’s physically disturbing presence, to convince himself that he had made too much of his attraction to her the previous evening. He had only felt it because he had thought to punish his ward’s companion for threatening to shoot him. The fact that he had enjoyed holding Amelia more than he ought was merely an indication, he had assured himself, of the fact that he had been too long without a woman.
Learning that the woman he had held in his arms and held so intimately was in fact his ward, should have completely nullified Gray’s response to her.
But now, as Gray’s arms moved slowly—against his every instinct for caution!—about the slenderness of Amelia’s waist, drawing the softness of her curves against him, her gold curls were an enticement he could not resist. He rested his cheek against their softness and knew that he had only been deceiving himself. That it was the creamy perfection of Amelia’s skin that tempted him, the touch of Amelia’s silky hair that enticed him, the heat of Amelia’s body through the soft material of her gown that aroused him and once again caused his thighs to harden and ache.
So much so that Gray wanted nothing more than to lay her down naked upon the chaise this very minute and make full and satisfying love to her!
Lord help him…!
Having spent several months revelling in not having to answer to anyone for anything she did or said, Amelia had surprisingly found herself missing Gideon Grayson’s forceful presence today.
No doubt, considering what he had revealed to her of Sanders’ behaviour, Gideon had been busy with further estate business. Indeed, the fact that so many of the servants had already returned to Steadley Manor, and that Mr Davies was once again about his business on the estate, including having arranged for a locksmith to come and repair the lock on the front door, showed Amelia just how busy Gideon had been in those hours before she had even come downstairs this morning.
There had been a welcoming rush and a bustle about the house all day and the maids had cleaned and polished all the main rooms downstairs, as well as lit all the fires. Mrs Burdock was preparing them a veritable feast for dinner this evening now that she had at least some of her kitchen maids to help her.
The fact that everyone about Amelia was so busy had only succeeded in her feeling her aloneness more keenly. To have had Gideon return so cold and so distant had only added to those feelings of alienation. A feeling that had disappeared the moment she’d pressed her cheek against the warmth of his chest and felt and heard the strong and steady beat of his heart.
She burrowed closer against that protective chest now. ‘I really am sorry that you have been burdened with my guardianship, Gideon,’ she told him emotionally, the tears still falling hotly down her cheeks, no doubt soaking his pristine white linen. ‘I would offer to relieve you of that burden—except I have no one else and nowhere else to go—’
‘Do not give it another thought, Amelia, please!’ His arms tightened about her. ‘I am the one who is at fault for having ignored my responsibility to you for so long.’
His responsibility…
Yes, Amelia accepted heavily, that was all she was to Gideon Grayson—a tiresome responsibility that had come about simply because his brother had been married to her mother for merely months before her sudden and unexpected death.
No wonder, then, that Gideon Grayson had chosen to ignore her very existence for all this time. No surprise, either, that he now found her presence here in his home irksome. He certainly could not be enjoying having her cry all over him and making such a mess of his elegant clothing!
Amelia raised her head slightly as she lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks before raising her lashe
s to look at him. Her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted in a silent oh as she instantly found herself mesmerised by the deep grey of Gideon’s eyes. Eyes that were fixed, intent upon her own slightly parted lips…
‘My Lord…?’ she breathed shallowly.
‘Gideon,’ he encouraged gruffly.
Amelia swallowed hard before obeying the invitation. ‘Gideon.’
He really did have the most beautiful mouth, Amelia decided breathlessly. She found herself unable to look away. So firm, and yet at the same time sensuous, the top lip slightly fuller than the bottom, hinting at a passionate nature. The passionate nature also hinted at the previous evening.
A passion she found herself longing to experience. To explore. To know. As she longed to experience the feel of that hard and yet sensual mouth moving passionately against her own…
He had to stop this now, Gray recognised in some alarm. He knew himself on the point of giving in to the temptation to lower his head and claim the fullness of Amelia’s parted and slightly raised lips with his own. He should distance himself now—before he stepped over a line he had no business stepping over.
Except…
There was always an except where this particular young woman was concerned, Gray realised self-disgustedly. A part of him that wanted to say to hell with it and kiss her anyway, before he explored and tasted the nakedness of her full and ripe body.
And once he had? What then? What would become of their tenuous connection then?
Amelia was his ward, a young and unmarried lady of quality—not an experienced or married woman of the ton whom Gray could dally and flirt with, possibly bed, before moving on to another conquest.
In a word, this attraction Gray felt towards Amelia Ashford was dangerous!
Holding her in his arms last night, when he’d had no idea who she was, had been a mistake. Kissing her now, knowing exactly who she was, would be nothing short of a catastrophe!
Damn it, if Gray had found any other man in this compromising position with his ward then he knew he would have had no choice but to either demand satisfaction or an offer of marriage from that man. He had no intention of offering either of those things!
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