To his shock, Amelia giggled. “What an interesting place for a birthmark.”
Kyle slapped a hand over his left cheek. He hated that goddamn mark. If she said one word . . .
“It looks like a little turtle.”
Kyle held out his right hand. “Give me my towel.”
“Can’t. It’s wet.”
“Then I might as well join you in the tub.” He turned to face her and Amelia shrieked and ducked her face. She huddled beneath both soaked towels while Kyle stood boldly before her, waiting for her to open her eyes. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and shoved a sopping wet towel at him. “Here. You can have it back.”
“Too late.” He put his hands on her shoulders and her eyes sprang open. “Hold your breath.” Before she could ask why, he pushed her under the water to douse her hair.
She came up blinking and brushing water off her face. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to wash your hair.”
“What?” She coughed and glared at him.
He glanced at the small shelf on the side of the tub and picked up the most feminine bottle he saw. He sniffed it then poured a handful of what he hoped was soap into his hand. The second it began to lather he plopped it on Amelia’s head and started kneading it into her hair.
“Kyle!” She hunched forward and gripped her towel, giving Kyle a wonderful view of her completely exposed back. She was submerged from the waist down, but the water was clear enough for him to see the exquisite peach shape of her backside.
“You don’t have a birthmark anywhere back here,” he said. She swatted at him and he laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Get out of here.”
He knelt beside the tub and massaged her scalp. “Relax, Amy.”
“I would if you’d leave the kitchen.”
He wasn’t budging.
“Please,” she said, her voice close to begging.
He sighed and rinsed his hands in the bathwater as slowly as possible, brushing her back until she squirmed away. Finally, he stood up, unashamed of his desire, but he knew Amelia would keep her eyes downcast anyhow. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with a dry towel for you.”
“Make sure you get one for yourself, too.”
He snorted as he left the kitchen, but a second later he tripped over the jutting rocking chair leg that Amelia had moved into the middle of the parlor. He cursed and limped down the hall, reminding himself why he hated the damned rocking chair. He’d bought it for Evelyn. He’d built her this house, furnished it for her, and offered her a life of security, but she’d chosen his brother.
“Are you all right?” Amelia called from the kitchen.
“I’m fine.” Kyle dug through the linen closet until he found a large, thick towel for Amelia, and another one for himself. After concealing his lower half, Kyle sat on the sofa and let Amelia enjoy soaking in the hot water.
“Are you ever going to bring me a towel?” she called, and Kyle considered telling her no, but he’d teased her enough.
He took her towel to the kitchen and laughed when he saw her shielding herself with the two towels she’d dragged into the tub with her. “I’ll close my eyes,” he said, opening up the dry towel and holding it like a blanket.
“Kyle Grayson!”
Kyle opened one eye and peeked at his wife’s outraged expression.
“You gave me this...this washcloth on purpose!”
He grinned.
To his surprise, she laughed and stood up in the tub. Water streamed down her bare skin as she let her tiny towels fall into her hands. Kyle’s jaw dropped and his heart careened into his ribs.
Amelia smacked him right in the face with her sopping wet towels. “You rat!”
She tried to yank the towel he held in his hands, but he swept the yards of toweling around her and lifted her into his arms.
She gasped as he cradled her against him. Water dripped off his hair and nose, but he lowered his mouth and kissed her anyhow. To his shock, she didn’t protest. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, the water from their bath mingling with their kiss.
Just when Kyle considered carrying her to the bedroom, she drew back. “You’re so fun like this. Thank you for a wonderful day,” she said, and Kyle felt his heart swell. It had been wonderful. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much since he was a kid raising hell with his brothers.
Amelia had a terrific sense of humor and was a good sport. She had a way of drawing him out, of tugging at him until he responded. Despite her fear in the bedroom, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, to stand her ground with him, and he respected her for that.
“You’d better take your bath before the water gets cold,” she said. “We have to leave for your mother’s party soon.”
He didn’t want a bath and he didn’t want to go to a damned birthday party. He wanted to lay Amelia on their bed and make love to her, but it looked as though he would have to wait a few more hours. But that was all he was willing to wait. He had given Amelia time to get comfortable with him. He’d even laughed with her. It was time to make her his wife.
Chapter Twenty-three
When they arrived at Kyle’s mother’s house, Amelia’s discomfort flared up. She was welcomed with smiles and hugs, but even when the fun of surprising Nancy and sharing cake together was over, and after they had all settled into relaxed conversation, Amelia still felt like a guest amid Kyle’s close-knit family.
It wasn’t their fault. There couldn’t be a home that was more open and loving than the Graysons’ or one filled with more laughter and good-hearted teasing, but Amelia had kept herself outside the family by keeping herself from Kyle. She didn’t feel like his wife or Nancy’s daughter-in-law, because in her heart, she hadn’t yet earned that special distinction.
Amelia drained her third glass of wine and glanced at her handsome husband, wishing their relationship was as relaxed and natural as Radford and Evelyn’s. Evelyn had said that she and Radford shared everything, that they sprawled on the couch together in the evenings and talked about their day, their business, their dreams. Amelia couldn’t imagine Kyle sprawling anywhere, or talking to her about his private dreams. Sure, they talked and laughed and Kyle answered any question she asked him, but he didn’t offer himself willingly. She had to drag him out from behind his shield of cynicism and distrust every time she wanted a peek at the real man she’d married. She wanted to know his private side, the vulnerable part of himself that he kept hidden and protected.
Amelia refilled her wine glass as Radford guided Evelyn to the front of the room with Rebecca perched on his arm.
“I would like to make a toast,” Radford said. Everyone quieted and raised their glass. “To Mom, for always giving us a place to come home to, for welcoming our stray dogs, our lovely wives, and my wild daughter who is going to have a brother or sister in about six months.”
Nancy gasped and Radford winked at Evelyn, his expression so full of love it made Amelia ache to witness it.
Everyone clinked glasses and laughed and offered best wishes, but Amelia brought her glass to her lips and emptied the burgundy liquid into her mouth. Her eyes met Kyle’s gaze over the rim of her glass.
She’d expected his look to be condemning, but it was filled with desire and the same intense longing she’d seen during their boat ride. It jolted her to see how desperately he wanted a child of his own. She wanted a baby, too. For years she’d sat alone in her apartment imagining how it would feel to have her stomach round in pregnancy, to hold her newborn infant, to feel the heat of that tiny body against her breast.
Amelia lowered her empty glass and wondered if the longing in Kyle’s eyes was because he’d wanted that child with Evelyn. Nancy had said their broken engagement hurt Kyle more deeply than he let on, and Kyle had said he still loved Evelyn, but it didn’t appear he was still harboring ill feelings toward Evelyn or Radford when he embraced them and wished them well.
Finally having an opportunity to congratulate the
m, Amelia stepped forward and prayed she wouldn’t lose her balance when she hugged Evelyn. The wine had taken the edge off Amelia’s nerves, but it was making her light-headed. “What does Rebecca think about having a little brother or sister?” she asked, hoping her words didn’t sound as awkward as they felt in her mouth.
Evelyn reached up and patted Rebecca’s back. “She can’t wait to mother someone other than our cat. Missy doesn’t like wearing bonnets or nappies, does she, Rebecca?”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “She scratches me when I put the bonnet on her.”
“I don’t blame her,” Kyle said, slipping his arm around Amelia’s waist, then turning to speak to Radford as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stand with his wife in his arms. “Remember when Duke used to tie Dad’s old handkerchief around our dog’s neck? How many times did Rex bite you for that, Duke?”
Amelia couldn’t take her eyes away from Kyle’s face. He was so incredibly handsome when he laughed. In that instant, she could vividly picture their children. She and Kyle would have big, hearty boys with wide smiles and dark eyes like their daddy. Their daughters would be tall, with Kyle’s thick hair and her nose. All their children would laugh from the belly like Kyle did when he was with his brothers. They would be beautiful children full of ambition. The house would echo with the sound of feet pounding up and down the stairs, with children roughhousing and giggling in their beds when they were supposed to be sleeping. One would always be snuggled against Amelia, nursing an earache or begging a story or just wanting the security of her mother’s arms.
The fact that Amelia was holding a wine glass instead of a baby filled her with a desperate urge to start her own family. It would be wonderful if she and Evelyn could raise their children together. If Amelia conceived right away, her baby would only be a few months younger than Evelyn’s.
Amelia wanted to make love with Kyle, but she didn’t want to risk losing the new closeness she felt with her husband. She’d loved hearing him laugh and she relished the new expressions that had replaced Kyle’s usual frown. Already her feelings for Kyle went far beyond attraction and desire. They went to the center of her soul, a knowing so deep that she felt it in her bones. She was falling in love with her husband.
Amelia found the wine bottle and refilled her glass. She would have one more drink to keep her relaxed. Maybe if Kyle had a few more drinks he would relax, too. Maybe if he had enough wine they could consummate their marriage and he wouldn’t even notice her secret.
“Where’s your glass?” she asked, lifting the wine bottle toward Kyle and giving it a tempting slosh.
His eyebrow quirked and he shot her a curious look, but he held out his glass without commenting. Throughout the evening, Amelia kept a firm hold on the bottle and a sharp eye on Kyle’s glass, keeping it filled as he joked with his brothers. Amelia’s mind grew foggy, but Kyle’s laughter came easier and his touches bolder until he finally tossed her light wrap around her shoulders and told her it was time to go home.
A mixture of excitement and fear filled her stomach, but to bolster her courage and cloud Kyle’s thoughts, Amelia slipped a nearly full bottle of wine beneath her wrap.
o0o
The fresh air cleared Kyle’s head, but his persistent little wife insisted he share her bottle of pilfered wine. With a laugh at her daring, he helped her finish it off on their short drive home.
“How did that second verse go?” she asked, squinting over at him, making him laugh. He couldn’t believe she’d gotten him to sing the raunchy songs most women would have swooned over.
“‘She had long, long legs and—’”
“No. Tell me the part about the man.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not going to sing about some woman’s legs.” Kyle laughed and she hit his arm then fell against him. “Come on.”
“All right.” He inhaled and opened his mouth. “‘My head grew light and my knees turned weak. She held me so tight I couldn’t even squeak.’”
“Why the devil would you want to squeak?” Amelia asked, wobbling on the seat beside him as she tried to stare into his eyes. “Does a man squeak when that happens?”
His chest felt as if it were going to burst from holding back his laughter, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I don’t squeak. I might moan some.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Does it hurt you, too?”
The laughter drained out of him as he turned the carriage into their driveway. “No. It feels good. Really good.”
“Oh.”
He stopped the carriage and climbed out. His face was warm and his legs less than steady, but Amelia could barely stand up. He left the carriage in front of the house and carried her inside.
She hooked her arms around his neck and giggled as he stumbled through the front door. “Kiss me like you did in the boat.”
He looked at her, their noses only inches apart.
Amelia swung her feet and laughed. “Kiss me right here in the parlor with the door open.” She pulled his head down, but missed his mouth and kissed his eye. She laughed and tried again, but got his chin. “Hold still, for Pete’s sake. How do you expect me to kiss you when you keep moving your head?”
God, he loved this silly, playful side of her. “I think your head is floating from all that wine you drank.”
Amelia covered her ears. “Don’t mention that word right now.”
Kyle laughed and carried her into the bedroom. He leaned down and laid her on the bed, but she squeezed her arms around his neck and kept him from standing up. “Make love to me.”
“What?”
“I want a baby, Kyle.”
So that was why she was doing this. He had thought she was finally ready, that he’d finally earned her trust. Kyle warned himself not to be hurt by her words. Amelia wouldn’t mean to be so callous. She’d had too much wine. She’d die of embarrassment tomorrow if she remembered any of this.
“Please.” She tugged at his neck. “We have to do it tonight while you’re...while I’m ready.” She released him and fumbled with the buttons on her dress. “This is going to take too long. Here,” she said, reaching down to grasp a fistful of her skirt in each hand. “I’ll pull up my skirt.”
Good God. Kyle stared at her stocking-clad legs and felt every drop of wine rush through his blood, leaving him dizzy and shaking. She bent her knees. Kyle’s own knees buckled and he knelt beside the bed. The sharp ache in his shin did little to clear his mind or ease the ache in his groin. In five seconds, maybe less, he could have his pants off and be right there between her slender white thighs and...good God Almighty. He clapped his palms over his face and gulped a breath of air. He wanted to. God help him, he absolutely, positively did. His body begged him to. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not with Amelia barely conscious. Not their first time.
His hands shook as he unbuttoned her dress, then he stood up to remove it. She glanced up, the concern in her eyes gnawing at him, making him want to shake her until she confessed the real reason she was afraid of him. He wiggled the dress off her body and tossed it over one of his wing chairs. She started to shake and Kyle’s anger dissolved. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, then unhooked her garters, rolled down her stockings, and took off her shoes.
“Ummmmm...what are you doing to my foot?” she asked, her voice so mellow and breathy, Kyle nearly said the hell with compassion. Instead, he kept her foot in his hand and rubbed his thumbs across her arch in long strokes that made her moan. He would give Boyd credit for knowing the art of seduction. Figures his own timing would stink.
Amelia shivered and Kyle didn’t know if it was from the foot massage, from fear, or simply from the cool air, but her discomfort helped him regain his common sense. He tugged her stockings off and dropped them beside the bed, then pulled the covers over her shivering body. She sighed and turned on her side, drawing her knees up like a small child. “Get in here and warm me up.”
Kyle didn’t climb in. He stood by the bed for several minutes to mak
e sure she’d fallen asleep, then he went outside to his carriage and drove to the Pemberton Inn. There was absolutely no way he could sleep with Amelia tonight and not make love to her, and the only way he could abstain was to stay out of the house.
o0o
“Are you already sneaking out?” Boyd asked, as Kyle dropped onto the barstool beside his brother.
Kyle nodded to Richard who was on the other side of Boyd, then signaled the bartender to bring him an ale. “Amelia’s sleeping off the wine you gave her.”
Boyd held up his hands. “Don’t blame me for that last bottle. She stole it on her own.”
Kyle stared at him. “You saw her do that?”
“Hell, yes!” Boyd laughed and slapped Kyle on the back. “I fell in love with her right there in the parlor. I figured you were going to be in for one hell of a night.”
“I was.” Kyle dropped his forehead into his palm.
To Kyle’s irritation, Boyd laughed. “This is exactly why I’m not married.”
Kyle picked up his mug and drained it, liking the way it revived the wine already in his body. “Bring me another one, Pat.” The bartender nodded and grabbed Kyle’s mug.
Richard caught Kyle’s eye. “Did you and Amelia have your first lover’s quarrel tonight?”
“No. My wife was too inebriated to talk, much less argue.”
Richard’s brows lifted. “Amelia was drunk?”
“To her eyebrows, but I doubt she’d appreciate anyone else knowing.” Kyle rubbed his temples. “Remind me to never let her touch another drop of wine.”
Richard and Boyd exchanged a glance then burst out laughing. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Boyd said. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Kyle snorted. “That’s the problem. Not a damn thing happened.” He drained his second ale and shoved his mug forward for a refill even though his fuzzy brain tried to tell him that he didn’t need any more.
“Richard, I think you and I are going to be carrying Kyle out of here tonight.”
The Longing Page 18