She knelt to retrieve it, but he was there first and their heads collided.
“Oh!” she cried out, rubbing her temple.
Brandon touched his head and met her gaze before they simultaneously burst out laughing. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He knelt beside her and was so close she had to tip her head to look up at him.
The air crackled with tension, like lightning before a summer storm.
Oh my.
His laughter ceased and his expression shifted. Her heartbeat slowed, and she felt a sudden heightened awareness of him. He reached out to trace a finger across her bottom lip. Her breath caught.
His gaze was intense. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t like the way Lord Emmett was looking at you at dinner.”
Truly? The notion that he was jealous should have her scrambling to her feet and running out the door. Instead, she was incapable of moving her limbs. “I think he looks at all the ladies he meets that way.”
Brandon shook his head. “I don’t think so. It was because of you. Although I didn’t like it, I couldn’t blame him for it, either. There’s something about you, Amelia. Something irresistible. Like fine art that draws the eye and makes it impossible for a man to tear his gaze away.”
She sucked in a breath at his words, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
“I swore not to kiss you, but I’m going to break that promise if you don’t stop me.” His voice was deep and hoarse.
Heady anticipation coursed through her veins. Just like the first time, she was powerless to protest or move. Her knees grew weak at the desire written in his eyes. Every fiber in her being wanted to feel his lips on hers. Now that she knew what pleasure could be found in just one kiss, she was insatiable for more.
She longed to wrap her arms around him, stroke the strong tendons of his neck, and touch the softness of his hair that curled at his collar. She wanted to press her body to his, feel his heat, and inhale the scent of his shaving soap.
She wanted him to kiss her.
She rested her palm on his chest, but rather than push him away she kneaded the solid muscle beneath his shirt.
“Amelia,” he groaned.
She tilted her face to his. It was all the invitation he needed. He lowered his head, and their breath mingled before his mouth brushed across hers. The touch of his lips was a delicious sensation, soft and seductive. His tongue traced her full bottom lip before sucking on the soft flesh as if he were taking a ripe cherry into his mouth. Desire leaped between them.
His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time. With a murmur of pleasure, her fingers slid up his back, her hands exploring the warmth of his solid flesh through his shirt as she yielded to his soul-drenching kiss. He leisurely explored the recesses of her mouth, and her own tongue boldly met his and learned the feel and taste of him.
Tearing his mouth from hers, his lips blazed a wicked path of heat to the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, then lowered to the swell of her breasts above her bodice. Tremors ran down her spine, and her nipples tightened beneath her gown. She remembered the shocking surge of pleasure when his thumb had grazed her tender flesh, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like without the barrier of clothing. Deep spirals of need formed inside her.
She moaned and gripped his hair and pressed her breasts against his chest.
With a harsh groan, he raised his head and pulled back. “I regret that I do not possess artistic talent.”
She blinked, slow to come to her senses. Art. He wanted to talk of art while she was combusting in his arms. “Why?”
He rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “Because I would find great pleasure in drawing you.”
She stared up at him like an infatuated girl. They were still on their knees facing each other, the piece of charcoal forgotten between them. He stood and offered her his hand. She slid her hand inside his, and he helped her to her feet. She smoothed her skirts, suddenly embarrassed by her behavior. What if he hadn’t stopped kissing her?
“I’ll expect you tomorrow night, then?” he said.
This was getting dangerous. She knew she could be impulsive. Sinful, even. Eliza had always been the levelheaded sister, not Amelia. Agreeing to paint Lord Vale’s portrait was reckless and dangerous. She thought art instructions were worth the risk, but now she wasn’t so certain.
Everything would be lost if she fell in love with her model.
Chapter Eleven
Amelia pulled back her bow and focused on the straw target across the lawn. “I see two bull’s-eyes.”
“It helps if you close one eye,” Caroline said at her side.
Amelia obeyed and like magic the two red spots combined into one target. The muscles in her arm strained from pulling back the bow.
“Now let the arrow fly,” Sara instructed from where she stood on Amelia’s other side.
Whack. The arrow hit the straw target just below the bull’s-eye.
Caroline clapped. “Good! You’re already better at archery than I am.”
Amelia beamed. Sara and Caroline had invited her along with them this morning to try her hand at archery. Striking the straw target was much harder than it looked. It was also invigorating, and she was enjoying the companionship of the ladies as well as the activity.
“I would envision someone’s face on the target. Someone I don’t like.”
The three women turned toward the feminine voice. Lady Minerva sat on a blanket spread out beneath the shade of a large tree watching them. For a while, Amelia had forgotten she was present.
“It’s just for fun,” Sara said.
“Mother says we should consider all our competition seriously,” Minerva said.
The duchess was at least twenty years younger than the duke, and from what Amelia had seen, she was ambitious. Minerva also had an annoying tendency to prattle on and on about her mother’s advice and admonishments.
“By competition do you mean affairs of the heart?” Sara asked.
Minerva nodded curtly. “Mother says a potential marriage match is fierce competition.”
“I prefer to marry for love,” Sara said.
Amelia lowered her bow. “My sister, Eliza, married Huntingdon for love.” She witnessed their love match every day. Eliza doted on the earl, and he was clearly infatuated with his wife.
“I agree with the two of you regarding love,” Caroline said, “but Minerva has a point when it comes to archery. If you want to hit the target it can’t hurt to imagine someone you dislike. Whose head would you envision?” she asked Amelia.
For a brief moment Amelia thought of her father who had abandoned his three daughters without a shilling after his forgeries had been discovered. Over the years the pain of betrayal had ebbed, but it was present just beneath the surface and would arise at inopportune moments. She’d learned not to let resentment consume her. She was grateful for her life now, and she knew it would not have turned out the same if her father were still in their lives.
The women were waiting for her answer. Amelia managed to shrug and say offhandedly, “I can’t think of a single soul at the moment.”
“You are too kind,” Caroline said.
Amelia withdrew another arrow from the quiver and pulled back her bow. She closed one eye and let go. This time the arrow whizzed through the air and hit the bull’s-eye dead center.
The ladies cheered. “A perfect hit!” Sara said.
“Look who has come to join the festivities,” Caroline said.
Amelia lowered her bow and turned to see Vale walking across the lawn. The sun was behind him and the morning rays illuminated the gold in his chestnut hair and the rich outline of his shoulders against his jacket. He looked devilishly handsome, and he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence.
Amelia’s heartbeat accelerated as the memory of last night returned in a rush. The velvet warmth of his kiss, the caress of his fingers on her cheek, the trail of his lips a
cross the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat to the swell of her breasts had left her wanting. Heat skittered down her spine just thinking about it.
She’d wanted their kiss to continue. She’d wanted more.
He’d pulled away.
She took a step forward, then stopped as Lady Minerva grasped her skirts and rushed forward to greet him with a welcoming smile.
“I’ve heard you are exceptional with a bow and arrow, my lord. Can you spare a moment to give a lady a lesson?” Minerva asked.
Amelia fought the urge to roll her eyes. He couldn’t possibly fall for her ridiculous praise, could he?
Brandon looked past Minerva and met Amelia’s eyes. For a heart-stopping moment a flash of desire leaped between them.
Minerva picked up a bow and pulled an arrow from a quiver on the lawn. “Will you show me the best way to hold the bow?”
Brandon frowned and turned his attention to Minerva. “Of course,” he said.
Amelia understood that he was the host of the house party, and he couldn’t refuse the lady’s request. Nonetheless her foolish heart skittered as he stood behind Minerva and put his arms around her. His left hand rested just below Minerva’s ample bosom as he showed her how to notch and align the arrow before pulling back the bow.
Amelia could not help but think about when Brandon had put his arms around her and instructed her how to play lawn bowls. The heat of his body had spread to her limbs. His touch had upset her balance, and she’d been consumed with a strange inner excitement.
Did Minerva feel the same? Glancing at her flushed face, Amelia was certain she did as well. The lady’s eyes were wide, her lips parted, and she gazed up at the earl like an infatuated girl.
“Close one eye and keep your hand steady. That’s it,” he instructed. A second later the arrow whizzed by and missed the target entirely to land in the trees beyond.
“Oh my. That wasn’t very good, was it? Show me once more,” Minerva said, her voice a little breathless.
Amelia felt a helpless, unaccustomed pain in her breast. It couldn’t be jealousy, could it?
The second arrow hit the target just off center.
Brandon stepped away and smiled at Minerva. “You did it,” he praised.
Minerva’s face was flushed with eagerness. “You are an exceptional teacher, my lord.”
Caroline and Sara clapped. Amelia’s cheering was weak at best.
“I’ll fetch the arrows.” Amelia desperately needed a distraction. She felt suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had occurred over the past few days. Since arriving at Rosehill she’d begun secretly painting a portrait, copying a priceless painting, and kissing the master of the house.
She hurried across the lawn and started pulling arrows from the straw target. Some were deeply embedded, and she yanked with force.
“Let me help.”
She whirled at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He stood too close, and a warning voice whispered in her head. How could he have followed her so quickly without her hearing his footsteps in the grass? For a large man, he could move silently. He stepped around her and plucked the embedded arrows from the target with ease.
She didn’t want his help and desired to be far away from him at the moment. Logic escaped her when he was near, and her thoughts were a tumble of confused emotions.
She stepped back. “One’s lost in the trees. I’ll get it.”
She strode away, but to her dismay, he followed. “Wait.”
The stray arrow was behind a group of tall trees and a thick bush. The trees shaded them from the bright morning sun and the temperature was cooler than on the archery field. They were also out of sight of the women. The scent of evergreens and flowering shrubs surrounded them.
They spotted the lost arrow at the same time and bent down to retrieve it. Amelia was careful to avoid the sort of calamity they’d experienced the evening before.
Vale reached the arrow first and handed it to her. She wanted to take it, but he held onto the end.
Her eyes rose to his.
“I keep thinking about our kiss.” His voice was deep and husky, sending a wave of awareness through her.
Her pulse beat in her throat. “It was a mistake.”
His gaze was intense. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me. The taste of your lips kept me up late last night.”
She glanced nervously about. They were well hidden from view, but for how long? Surely the women would come investigate. She could just picture Lady Minerva’s expression. What had she said about competition?
“You were right to stop,” she said. “We must maintain a professional relationship. You’ve retained my artistic services for two paintings. Nothing more.”
“You think I wanted to stop?”
“Why did you then?” She bit her lip the moment she’d blurted out the question.
“I promised not to take advantage of you, dammit. But the truth is I can’t stop thinking of you. I want to kiss you again.”
She shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought of it.”
She couldn’t. Deep down, she’d thought of little else but the feel of his lips on hers, the scrape of his stubble across her cheek, the first tangling of their tongues. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
He was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her again. Here. Now.
He cupped her chin and passed his thumb across her bottom lip. She nervously licked her lips, and he growled. She felt the sound deep in the marrow of her bones. His eyes darkened with unmistakable desire.
Her knees felt weak. “Brandon,” she whispered. “We could get caught.”
“To hell with it,” he hissed as he wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her close. He lowered his head, his mouth covering hers. She quivered at the tender, velvet warmth of his kiss. She kissed him back, lingering, savoring every moment. It was sweet and gentle, and in the solace beneath the shelter of the trees and the cover of the bushes, worth every risk.
“Amelia!”
She started and pulled back in alarm. “That was Caroline. We have to go back.”
He sighed deeply, helped her to her feet, and handed her the arrow.
She was aware of his footsteps behind her as she marched out from behind the trees and onto the lawn. She held up the arrow. “Lord Vale was kind enough to help me find it.”
Minerva waved her bow. “Good. I’d like to try again, my lord. Will you watch my technique?”
Brandon hesitated, casting Amelia a sidelong glance before looking at Minerva. “I’m afraid I must depart. The men are waiting for me to go hunting.”
Minerva pouted. “You promised me a tour of the gardens later.”
A muscle ticked at his jaw. “I promised all the ladies a tour, and I’d be delighted to take everyone later.”
…
It was late afternoon by the time Brandon began studying the ledgers from three of his father’s investments. He sat at the large desk in his study and sifted through the numbers. He was tired and distracted. He kept thinking of Amelia when he should be focused on his work.
He’d ventured to the archery field to see her, but he’d been waylaid by Lady Minerva instead and he’d been obligated to help her with her archery. Frustration had churned his gut until he’d seen an opportunity to get Amelia alone.
He hadn’t expected her reaction. She’d looked hurt when she pointed out that he’d been the one to end their kiss in his study last night. It was not for lack of wanting. He’d lost control, again, and had succumbed to the emotion in her blue eyes and kissed her. If they only had a few stolen moments in the protection of the trees, then he’d been determined not to waste a second.
He’d promised himself not to seduce her. But now that he’d made that vow it was as if all he wanted was her. He was driving himself mad. The feelings were foreign and uncomfortable for a man who had never needed to entice women into his bed and had parted easily from them withou
t a backward glance.
He knew he couldn’t control his hunger for much longer. Not when she gazed up at him with a woman’s awakened desire. Not when she’d looked confused and hurt as to why he’d pulled away.
Christ.
He was supposed to be flirting with Minerva, not longing for another. Marrying the duke’s daughter and obtaining her dowry would be a solid source of income that he could use to solve his financial problems. If only he wanted Minerva. If only he could stand her presence for more than five minutes and stomach her eager looks.
He needed Amelia’s special talents more than ever. The sale of the Dutch landscape would cover several of his bills and buy him time until he could right things at the mill and turn a profit. His plan was working so far. Amelia was painting in his study at night and napping in her bedchamber in the day. His sisters frequently napped in the afternoon as well in order to stay up later in the evening. So far no one suspected anything.
A knock on his study door drew his attention.
“Enter.” Brandon looked up from his desk to see his butler in the doorway.
“There’s a Mr. Begley waiting to see you, my lord.”
Brandon put the ledgers aside. “Please see him here, Smithson.”
He’d almost forgotten about his appointment with the new textile mill manager. He’d hired the man the day after his upsetting tour of the factory when he’d fired Mr. Higgins. Moments later a man with deep-set wrinkles around his eyes and mouth walked into the study. He appeared to be fifty, but the darkness of his hair and his athletic build suggested he was closer to a decade younger.
Brandon stood and held out his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Begley.” The new manager was turning out to be much more efficient and competent than his predecessor. Brandon had spoken to several of the mill’s longtime workers and settled on Mr. Begley as the best choice for the job.
Begley took a seat in one of the armchairs across from Brandon’s desk. “Have you had a chance to review the reports I sent, my lord?” Begley asked.
Real Earls Break the Rules (Infamous Somertons) Page 9