“Strange.”
“Do not move.” Colin backed up and shed his coat. He unwound his cravat, then began to work on the carved ivory buttons of his waistcoat.
“Are you undressing?” she asked.
“Yes.”
He watched a shiver move through her and smiled. How erotically beautiful she looked with her kiss-swollen lips and covered eyes. His to savor and enjoy. Pietro had attempted to dissuade him away from Amelia by insisting that Englishwomen lacked the fire a Gypsy man needed. Colin hadn’t believed it then; he certainly did not believe it now.
Her lovely breasts lifted and fell with her rapid breathing; her hands clenched rhythmically at her sides. She was ripe and ready, an oasis in the desert of his barren life.
Shrugging out of his waistcoat, Colin tossed it over the back of a chair and returned to her. “I want you to speak your thoughts to me. Tell me what feels good, what doesn’t. I will know if you lie. Your body will betray you.”
“Then why should I speak?”
“For your benefit.” He caressed her shoulders, then reached for the tiny row of cloth buttons that followed the line of her spine. “Speaking aloud will force you to think in minute detail about what I am doing to you. It will anchor you to the pleasure and this moment.”
“Anchor me to you.”
“Yes, that, too.” He kissed her throat. “It will empower you, be the telling of your desires. You may hesitate to touch me or wonder what is allowed or what is not allowed. But if you sense how the sounds of your pleasure in turn please me, you will know that this is a joining of two lovers playing equal parts.”
“It sounds so intimate,” she breathed.
“For us, my love, it will be.”
Chapter 9
Ware entered Christopher St. John’s study shortly after ten in the evening. The infamous pirate was pacing between the back of his desk and the window beyond that with a sort of restlessness the earl had never seen in him before. Sans coat and bearing a skewed cravat, St. John looked rumpled and anxious, which set the hairs on Ware’s nape to rising. After seeing the travel coach hitched in the front circular drive, it was apparent that a journey of some distance was planned.
“My lord,” St. John greeted absently.
“St. John.” He cut straight to the heart of the matter. “What has happened?”
Rounding the desk, the pirate moved to the nearby console and held up a decanter in silent query. Ware shook his head in the negative and sank onto one of the matching settees that sat perpendicular to the grate. He was here to collect Amelia for the evening’s social rounds. It was unlike her to leave him waiting. Her punctuality was one of the many traits he enjoyed in her.
“There is no way for me to relate the day’s events without awkwardness,” St. John began, pouring a hefty ration.
“Never mind that. I prefer bluntness to anything else.”
Nodding, St. John took the seat opposite and said, “Mrs. St. John and Miss Benbridge went into Town today. I was told they meant to spend the day shopping. I have since learned that they were hunting the masked man who has so captured Amelia’s interest.”
Ware’s brows rose. “I see.”
“By some stray chance, Count Montoya—if that truly is his name—was seen departing London. Miss Benbridge hailed a hackney and set off in pursuit. My wife followed shortly after.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Would you care for that drink now, my lord?”
The earl seriously considered it, then shook his head. “I have made some inquiries of my own regarding this matter. I had hoped Lady Langston would shed some light on the man’s identity; however, no invitation was ever issued to a Count Montoya.”
St. John’s lips pursed grimly. “I am at a loss for how to view this situation. If the man meant to hurt her in some fashion or seduce her, why leave London?”
There was jealousy and possessiveness laced with all the other emotions Ware was presently experiencing, but there was also resignation. Some part of him had known that Amelia held off on marriage to him because of a need for . . . more. He had no idea what she felt was missing, but in truth their relationship could not progress any further and still end happily without first resolving that lack.
“I am surprised to find you still at home,” the earl said. “Amelia is not my wife, yet I feel a pressing need to go after her.”
The glare the pirate shot at him was cutting. “I am near maddened with the need to follow, but I have no notion of their direction. I am awaiting word.”
“Forgive me, I meant no offense. I was merely making an observation.” He considered his options, then said, “I should like to go with you, if you have no objection.”
St. John seemed ready to argue; then his scowl cleared and he nodded. “If you wish to come along, do. But your formal attire will be a burden.”
Ware stood, as did the pirate. “I will change and pack lightly. If you depart before I return, please leave a note so that I may follow.”
“Of course, my lord.” St. John offered a commiserating smile. “I must apologize to you, as well. Your courting of Amelia has done much for her. Mrs. St. John and I are both exceedingly grateful, as is Amelia.”
“St. John.” Ware laughed ruefully. “At this moment, the matter of my pride is secondary to Amelia’s safety.”
They clasped hands in a gesture of mutual respect. Then the earl hastened to depart before he was left behind. As his carriage rolled away from the St. John residence, Ware began a mental list of what to bring with him.
His small sword and pistol were among the items he catalogued. If Amelia’s honor was to be impugned, he considered it his right and duty to correct the slight.
As Colin spread open the back of Amelia’s gown, his thoughts were already rushing ahead, considering how this one night would change their lives forever. “Do you have an abigail with you?”
The blindfold might make some women more timid and hesitant. Not so with Amelia. Her voice came sure and strong. “No. I saw your carriage and gave chase.”
Warring with the primitive need to mark her as his, his heart still wanted to protect her even at great cost to himself. “There will be no way to hide that you have been ravished. In the heat of passion, our better sense deserts us. What you want now, you may regret in the morning.”
“I know my own mind,” she said stubbornly.
“You will give up Ware.” He gently withdrew one of her arms from a sleeve, then repeated the movement on the other side. “And you will belong to me.”
“I think it more likely that you will belong to me.”
Smiling, he bent at the knees and pulled her gown down with him. Amelia stepped out of the garment without urging, balancing her weight by leaning against the door. He deliberately delayed the joy of seeing her stripped from her outer garments. He took his time laying the dress over the back of a wing chair in an effort to spare it the most wrinkling.
“You are so calm,” she murmured. “So controlled. You must have many affairs.”
“This is not an affair.” He turned his head, raking her lithe body with a heated glance. Still too many garments, but he knew that he was seeing her as no other man ever had.
She set her hand on her hip, and a finely arched brow lifted above the fichu. “Perhaps I want an affair.”
“Well, you are not having one with me,” he growled, reaching her in two strides and lifting her feet from the floor. “You will not be having one ever, because no other man will come after me in your bed.”
Amelia laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “My . . . how delightful you are when you become possessive.”
He pressed his lips to her ear. “Wait until my cock is inside you. See how delightful my possession is then.”
“Tease,” she said breathlessly, with a slight note of anxiety. “At this rate, the sun will be rising before I am naked.”
“You do not have to be naked to be fucked,” he whispered, deliberately challenging her to revive her spirits. “I could toss up your underskirts, undo my breeches, and pin you to the door.”
“If your intent is to frighten me, you should know that I am difficult to scare.” The anxiousness was gone from her voice, banished by her impressive inner fortitude. “I have lived in the most rustic of places. I have seen all sorts of animals doing all sorts of things to each other.”
He buried his grin in her tender throat.
“Do not find amusement at my expense,” she said. “Your threat is groundless. You would not take my virginity in so callous a manner. You worship me too much.”
“So I do, Your Highness.” Setting her back on her feet, Colin dropped to his knees and kissed her feet.
As she laughed, he moved upward, sliding beneath the masses of skirts, pressing open-mouthed kisses up the length of her stocking-clad legs. Her laughter turned into a gasp, then a soft whimper.
The intimate smell of her drove him insane, and with a tentative finger, Colin tested her, gritting his teeth at finding her slick and hot. Startled by his bold caress, Amelia stumbled and fell into the door with a soft thud.
“Not while I am standing!” she protested.
Pressing a final kiss to the back of her knee, Colin crawled free and stood before her. He gently turned her, then set to work on her tapes and stays, taking the brief respite to regain his control. He focused on his breathing and hers instead of the animal need that clawed inside him.