by Lauren Royal
With a bit of incitement and direction from his encouraging hands on her hips, she moved experimentally against him. She shifted tentatively at first, then faster as she discovered and reveled in her freedom of mobility.
Her tumbled tresses played over his chest, a whisper of sensuous silk against his straining body. He pulled her down to him, bringing her lips to his for a slow, deep kiss. But she wanted swift, not slow, this time. She felt wild, and her mouth wandered his raspy cheeks, her teeth nipped at his shoulder.
With a throaty laugh, he pushed her away, so that his questing hands had access all over her inflamed body, caressing her tingling breasts and wandering the length of her back, a hot swath of sensation.
Blood pounded through her veins as he drove himself into her and she met his moves again and again. Through unfocused eyes she saw his face, slick and dark in the wavering firelight, a mask of ecstasy that sent her nerves skittering with pleasure. Then she felt him begin pulsing inside her, and her vision blurred as she exploded in uncontrollable, joyous passion. She soared higher and higher, until she felt her heart burst in a fierce combination of love and agony.
His hands slipped up her arms, pulling her close, and she fused her mouth to his and collapsed against him.
Colin kissed her for a long minute, then pressed her cheek to his shoulder. He lay motionless, enjoying her light rose fragrance and listening to her ragged breathing, matched by his own. In the stillness, he could feel her heart thudding, for him. And he was seized momentarily by a profound sense of sadness, for what was, and what couldn't be.
At last she lifted her head, raised a languid hand to shove the long, tangled ebony strands from her face, and gazed at him wordlessly. Her eyes were deep purple, brimming over with a complicated blend of passion, disbelief, and pain.
Incredible, incredible pain.
He pushed her head back down to his chest, unwilling to look into those anguished eyes just now. "Hush, love," he whispered into her hair. "Don't think on it. We have three more nights. It's a lifetime."
It's not, she thought. But it had to be. It was all she would ever have.
Colin moved inside her then, an exquisite promise where their two bodies were still joined.
"Don't think," he repeated, and then he proceeded to make sure she couldn't, with his hands and his mouth and his body and the incredible power he had at his disposal—the power of two souls that were made to be one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Hearing voices in the corridor, Colin cracked open one eye. The full light of day streamed through the window.
Damn, he'd overslept.
Now the staff was up and about, and he'd be hard put to return to his chamber unnoticed, which was imperative if he wished to keep the gossips at bay. The servants' grapevine was well established in London; should he be caught in here with Amy, the news would be common knowledge before the day was out.
He lay still, listening, waiting for the best time to jump out of bed and make a run for it.
Wait. He groaned and rubbed his aching head. Those weren't servants' voices, chatting in passing as they went about their daily chores. The voices were louder and much more familiar. Jason's voice, and Ford's and Kendra's.
Bloody hell.
Of all the rotten luck. He'd thought he could spend his days and evenings with Priscilla and his nights with Amy. But it would be harder now, perhaps even impossible, to keep her presence a public secret.
Or maybe…ah, yes. His mind raced as he slowly released the breath he'd held since recognizing the voices. His family liked Amy. They didn't know he'd bedded her at Greystone. They could even act as his cover—yes, she'd stayed at Cainewood, after all, and they considered her their friend.
It would work—so long as he wasn't discovered sneaking into her chamber at night. They'd never approve of that.
The voices faded. Colin slipped out of bed and soundlessly into his robe, watching Amy sleep. The witch looked angelic now, her cheeks a delicate pink, her ebony hair a tangled halo around her head.
He leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips, then padded to the door and pressed his ear against it.
All clear.
He opened the door a crack, pleased that it didn't creak. Poised to run next door to safety, he took a deep breath and flung it open—and was greeted by Kendra's startled face.
He backed up and slammed the door shut.
"Colin?" Kendra's muffled voice came through the wood. "Is that you?"
He cursed at himself. In one split second, he'd made a complete mess of everything. Why the hell hadn't he walked brazenly into the corridor as though nothing were amiss? He could have come up with some plausible excuse for being in Amy's chamber.
Now he looked every bit as guilty as he was, no doubt about it.
Kendra hammered on the door. "Colin? What are you doing in there?"
A hand on the door latch, Colin stood rooted to the spot, his gaze riveted to Amy. She moved restlessly under the covers, fighting her way toward consciousness.
Footsteps approached. "What the devil?"
He sagged against the door. Damn, Jason was there now, too.
"Colin's inside." Hearing Kendra's smug tone, Colin could cheerfully wring her neck. "Hiding. With Amy."
There was nothing for it. With a last, lingering glance at Amy, he opened the door and slipped through. Closing it behind him, he leaned against it protectively. "Shh!"
"What were you doing in there?" Kendra hissed back.
He mustered his most convincing whisper. "Amy was having a nightmare. I was just checking on her."
"Is that so?" Kendra crossed her arms. "Then why did you shut the door when you saw me?"
He wrinkled his brow in what he hoped was a puzzled expression. "Were you there? Amy was calling out again, so I went back inside."
"Poppycock! You think I'd fall for such an old chestnut? I didn't hear a thing. This looks mighty suspicious."
"What business is it of yours?" Colin spat defensively. "I needn't answer to you, little sister!"
"Amy is my friend, and if you've taken advantage of her, it's my duty to see you do right by her, Colin Chase!"
Both of them had long since abandoned whispering. Jason stepped between them and faced Kendra. "If Colin says he was just checking on her, we'll have to take his word for it."
Ah! Some male loyalty. Colin smiled.
Until Jason swung around to confront him. "What is she doing here? I thought you were taking her to Dover."
"She wanted to buy some things before she left. She lost all her clothes in the fire."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, damn it! I spent last evening with Priscilla, at Lady Carson's boring ball." Colin yanked the belt of his robe tighter. "This is ridiculous. I needn't explain myself to you two." He stalked toward his chamber and had his hand on the door latch when Amy's door opened.
"Colin?"
He whirled around. Amy was framed in the half-open doorway, dressed in nothing but a sheet, her hair tangled, her lips still rosy and swollen from his kisses, her expression sleepy and confused. She looked adorable.
Colin was horrified at the sight of her.
He gazed at her beseechingly, vainly hoping she'd play along. "Amy! You weren't dreaming again, were you?"
"Dreaming?" Clutching the sheet with one hand, she shoved her hair from her eyes with the other. "What?"
Colin's heart sank as Kendra and Jason exchanged a knowing glance. But he wasn't yet ready to concede defeat. "The nightmare. The reason I came in to check on you."
"The nightmare?" Amy blinked.
When Colin glared at her in exasperation, her sleep-glazed eyes opened wider. "The nightmare. Oh, yes. I mean, no." Her gaze dropped to the floor, and her cheeks turned pink. "It's gone now…thank you for your concern."
Her fists white knuckled, she tightened the sheet around her body and backed up, easing the door shut.
Kendra's hand shot out and stopped it from closing. She gave
Jason a long, meaningful look before turning to Amy. "I'm surprised to find you here," she said brightly. "Colin said you needed some clothes?"
"Yes." Amy threw Colin an apologetic glance before turning to his sister. "What are you doing here?"
Kendra took Amy's arm. "We came to London for Christmas shopping. We always do, this time of year," she said, drawing her back into the room. "May I come inside? Let me help you dress, and we'll talk."
The door shut behind them.
Intending to make a quick escape, Colin opened the door to his chamber, but his older brother swung him around by the shoulder and leveled a stare at him. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Give up, Colin. You cannot fob me off that easily." Jason's lips thinned beneath his mustache. "We all know what went on in that chamber. In that bed."
"What of it?" It was pointless to pretend any longer. "We're both adults. Give me three days, and I'll have her delivered out of our lives forever. And don't talk to her of it," he warned. "She'd die before she'd admit it, and I won't have you putting her through that kind of hell."
"I'm too much a gentleman to do anything of the kind," Jason assured him coolly. "Unlike you."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Only that you should do right by the lady and marry her."
"We've been through this," Colin growled in warning.
"Things were different then. It was naught but a suggestion. Now I insist."
"To the devil with you." Colin paused for a deep, calming breath. "I have other plans. I know you expect the Chase name to be beyond reproach, and I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'll admit made a mistake, but I don't intend to pay for it the rest of my life."
"I take it you won't be continuing to make the same mistake now that we're here?" Jason asked stiffly.
Colin's fists clenched. "That's none of your concern."
"I'm afraid it is," Jason argued. "She's under my roof, under my protection. And she's no lightskirt. She's a wonderful, gently raised girl who doesn't deserve to be treated like this."
"Treated like what?" Colin exploded. "She's been treated very nicely, I'll have you know. Believe me, she hasn't complained." He dropped his voice, afraid Amy might overhear. "Unlike you, she never expected me to marry her. In case you've forgotten, I'm betrothed—and I've already spent part of Priscilla's dowry, for God's sake. I regret not living up to your standards, but my mind is made up. I hope you'll be able to forgive my besmirching our family."
"Of course. You're my brother."
"I'm glad you see it that way." His jaw set, Colin turned to the door.
"But we all love her," Jason muttered under his breath.
Colin was seized with such an unreasoning fury, a hazy red mist exploded across his vision. Swiveling back, he glared straight into his brother's eyes. "Well, I don't." His voice was low and dangerous. "Since you all love her so much, why don't you all take care of her? Just see that she gets to France this time, will you? I'd prefer not to deal with her again." He backed into the chamber. "Do me a favor, and let Priscilla know I returned to Greystone. I have work to do."
He slammed the door and kicked it, then hopped around clutching at his aching bare toes. Bloody hell, what was happening to him? He'd never been such a hothead before, banging doors and kicking things. And though his family had always been loud and argumentative, of late his exchanges with them were less good natured and more acrimonious.
And now, in a moment of unthinking anger, he'd thrown away his last three nights with Amy.
Damn.
He had to leave or risk looking like even more of a fool than he was. And he couldn't so much as tell her good-bye. One look at her face and he knew his heart would break, as well as his resolve.
He threw on his clothes and left, cursing himself a hundred times for the hothead, fool, and coward he'd become.
No woman had ever had such an effect on him before, and he intended to make certain no woman ever did again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kendra stood back, casting a discerning eye as Amy twirled around in the sapphire and cream gown. "It's gorgeous!"
Nothing like the day dresses Amy had planned to order, the shimmering satin gown's scooped neckline was set off with a wide vanilla lace collar, enriched with lustrous pearls. Matching lace spilled to her wrists from beneath tight three-quarter length sleeves. The full cream overskirt was split and gathered to the back to show off a pearl-embroidered sapphire petticoat.
"It makes me feel pretty," Amy admitted, "though I still cannot believe I let you talk me into it. I haven't a clue where I'll wear it."
"Colin will take you to a ball—"
"No, he won't." Though her initial reaction to Colin's disappearance had been anger and hurt, in the past two weeks Amy had resigned herself to the facts. "Colin wants nothing to do with me; he's made that perfectly clear. And most certainly not in public."
"He'll come around. Trust me. I know my brother. He's stubborn, but he's not addlepated."
Amy's finger traced a row of embroidered pearls on her skirt. "Colin and I don't belong together, and we both know it, Kendra. I'm destined to be a jeweler in France. It's not only what I want, it's what I have to do." She smoothed the slick satin, then turned to the seamstress with a rustling swish. "Unlace me, please, Madame Beaumont."
Amy had been distraught to find Mrs. Cholmley's shop burned to the ground, and the seamstress herself nowhere to be found. Owing to the king's passion for everything French, French dressmakers were all the rage. Kendra had insisted Amy order her wardrobe from Madame Beaumont, London's most sought-after modiste.
The seamstress's deft fingers loosened the gown, and Amy wiggled out of it. "The hem is fine." She stepped into the butter-yellow gown she'd borrowed from Kendra and pulled it up. "Will it be ready Monday?
"Certainement. Along with everything else." Madame Beaumont turned her around to lace her up in back.
"Thank you." Amy looked pointedly at Kendra. "Do you know if Jason is free Tuesday to take me to Dover?"
"I haven't the faintest idea, but it doesn't matter anyway."
Amy peered into the looking glass, rearranging her long, untamed curls. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You still have to buy stockings, gloves, and ribbons, not to mention shoes for all these gowns," Kendra declared gaily. "Then I want help with my Christmas shopping. You won't be ready to leave for weeks yet—perhaps not until after Christmas."
"Oh, no." Amy shook her head, remembering Colin's original plan to secure her wardrobe within a day or two. Madame Beaumont had taken a full twelve days to create her gowns, and that was after considerable begging and extra payments.
"Oh, yes. You had nothing whatsoever to wear; it takes time to outfit yourself properly. Besides, I'm having too much fun to send you on your way. Why, it's almost like having a sister."
"Colin would be furious."
"A pox on Colin! If he weren't so damned obstinate—"
"Marry come up, Kendra! Let's not start that again."
"Only if you agree to stop talking about leaving so soon."
"Well…I did forget about stockings and shoes…maybe I'll stay an extra week." Amy stopped fussing with her hair and turned from the mirror to look Kendra in the eye. "But that's all. Colin and I will never happen. I mean it."
"Of course you do," Kendra agreed a little too pleasantly.
A tinkling bell on the door announced another customer. Amy and Kendra prepared to leave as Madame Beaumont rushed out to greet the newcomer. Her melodious voice drifted back to the fitting salon. "Bonjour, Lady Priscilla."
"No, it cannot be…" Kendra muttered under her breath.
"Your gown is ready for your final fitting." Madame's accented words grew louder as she made her way to the curtained salon. "I'll fetch it from the back room. The salon will be vacant in a moment." The curtain parted, and Madame slipped inside. "Mesdemoiselles? Is there aught else I can do for you?"
"We were just lea
ving," Amy assured her.
The dressmaker stuck her head back into the shop. "Une minute, Lady Priscilla, s'il vous plaît." She hurried through the salon and into the back, murmuring "Merci, mesdemoiselles" as she went.
"Please let it be another Priscilla," Kendra whispered, her hand on the curtain's opening.
"What are you talking about?" Amy whispered back.
Kendra froze and stared at her. "Lady Priscilla."
"Lady Priscilla?"
"Colin's Lady Priscilla."
"Oh…"
Amy wasn't at all sure she wanted to meet the illustrious Priscilla, but she hadn't much of a choice, as Kendra grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the shop.
"Lady Priscilla." Amy had never heard Kendra sound so sickly sweet, nor seen such a false smile plastered on her face. "It's a pleasure to see you."
"Lady Kendra." Priscilla's voice was cultured and emotionless, as though she ran into acquaintances everywhere and nothing ever surprised her. She leaned over and pecked Kendra on the cheek; a casual kiss between ladies was de rigueur upon meeting. "I didn't know you were in town. Is Colin back as well?"
"Oh, no. You know how he feels about the City," Kendra said significantly.
"Yes, but he was here barely a day last month."
"He's very busy at Greystone. Perhaps you should visit him there." Kendra's suggestion sounded sincere, although she'd told Amy that Priscilla loathed Colin's rustic home. "I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."
"Goodness, not in the state that place is in. Although I'd consider an invitation to Cainewood." Priscilla's cool gray gaze moved to Amy. "Who do we have here?"
"Forgive me for failing to introduce you," Kendra said smoothly. "This is Mrs. Amethyst Goldsmith. Amy, meet Lady Priscilla Hobbs."
Amy watched Priscilla look her over and instantly dismiss her as untitled and insignificant. "I'm glad of your acquaintance," Priscilla said with a small bored bow.
Amy opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The very sight of Priscilla had rendered her speechless. God in heaven, if Priscilla were Colin's idea of the perfect woman…
Titles aside, she was Amy's complete antithesis. Priscilla was tall where Amy was diminutive, fair where she was rosy, straight where she was curvy, and cool where she was emotional. Priscilla's hair was blond, short, and styled, while Amy's was dark, long, and unruly.