thought I owed her that because I’d ruined her chances with Sir Jacob. I know now of course that I was foolish to do it, but I thought I had no choice. And there hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t regretted it.”
What she saw in his expression was a mixture of love, affection, and most important to her own well-being, forgiveness.
“I love you,” she said softly, almost fearing that by saying the words out loud she was risking their happiness. She’d lived for so long without hope that even now in the face of his love she couldn’t help but question it a bit.
His response, however, was enough to quell any bit of lingering doubt.
“Huzzah!” he cheered, kissing her with a thoroughness that left her breathless. “That is what I’ve waited years to hear from you, Miss Amelia Snowe,” he said, finally. “And do not think that I will allow you to take it back in this lifetime.”
“I won’t,” Amelia said, astonished at the lightness in her heart. If this was what love and being loved felt like then she had been foolish indeed to reject it. This sensation made her feel invincible. “You are stuck with me now, my lord,” she said with a laugh.
“If that is the case,” he said, sliding his hands over her back to feel for her corset strings, “then I had best inspect what it is you’ve got lurking beneath all these clothes.”
He turned out to be quite efficient at removing ladies’ undergarments and in a shorter time than Amelia could have imagined she was naked, on her back, with a very large and very aroused Quentin pressed against her. “I do apologize for neglecting your education when it comes to removing my own clothing,” he said between kisses, “but I am afraid if I don’t have you soon I’ll expire from desire.”
As he was quite effectively stroking one hand over her breast and the other down over her bare stomach and between her legs, Amelia was in no position to argue, and when he finally pulled her right leg over his hip and thrust into her, she was beyond speech. At last, she was right where she wanted to be, in Quentin’s arms. No longer was she struggling to find her own way alone, but with each touch, each sensation, she became what she was destined to be: his. And he was closer and closer to being hers.
When at last they exploded in a frenzy of senseless bliss, Amelia knew that she was finally where she’d longed all her life to be.
Home.
Chapter Eight
After an hour or so more in the seclusion of the crofter’s hut, Quentin and Amelia dressed and walked hand in hand back down the path to the village toward the Smithsons’ house. They had hoped to slip back in through the French doors of the drawing room without being seen, but that hope was dashed as soon as they realized that the entire party was gathered there.
“There you are!” Harriet hurried toward them as soon as they stepped inside, her bright eyes not missing their linked hands, which they reluctantly dropped when they realized they’d been found out. “I was so worried about the two of you. Especially when the rain turned nasty. I hope you weren’t wet through.”
She pulled Amelia into a hug and whispered into her ear, “Mama has been on the warpath. She’s giving Papa a piece of her mind in the library now. I suggest you let Lord Quentin go explain himself to them first.”
“Indeed we were,” Amelia answered aloud. “But thankfully we found shelter for the worst of it. I think we should both go get changed.”
“Your clothes don’t look too wet now,” Miss Fotheringham said suspiciously. “That shelter you found must have been quite … accommodating.”
“It was,” Quentin told the girl with all the hauteur the son of a duke could muster. “In fact, it kept us from the rain completely. Which is doubtless why we seem none the worse for wear. I hope you will all excuse us.”
With that, he took Amelia’s arm and escorted her from the room. As soon as they crossed the threshold,
What she saw in his expression was a mixture of love, affection, and most important to her own well-being, forgiveness.
“I love you,” she said softly, almost fearing that by saying the words out loud she was risking their happiness. She’d lived for so long without hope that even now in the face of his love she couldn’t help but question it a bit.
His response, however, was enough to quell any bit of lingering doubt.
“Huzzah!” he cheered, kissing her with a thoroughness that left her breathless. “That is what I’ve waited years to hear from you, Miss Amelia Snowe,” he said, finally. “And do not think that I will allow you to take it back in this lifetime.”
“I won’t,” Amelia said, astonished at the lightness in her heart. If this was what love and being loved felt like then she had been foolish indeed to reject it. This sensation made her feel invincible. “You are stuck with me now, my lord,” she said with a laugh.
“If that is the case,” he said, sliding his hands over her back to feel for her corset strings, “then I had best inspect what it is you’ve got lurking beneath all these clothes.”
He turned out to be quite efficient at removing ladies’ undergarments and in a shorter time than Amelia could have imagined she was naked, on her back, with a very large and very aroused Quentin pressed against her. “I do apologize for neglecting your education when it comes to removing my own clothing,” he said between kisses, “but I am afraid if I don’t have you soon I’ll expire from desire.”
As he was quite effectively stroking one hand over her breast and the other down over her bare stomach and between her legs, Amelia was in no position to argue, and when he finally pulled her right leg over his hip and thrust into her, she was beyond speech. At last, she was right where she wanted to be, in Quentin’s arms. No longer was she struggling to find her own way alone, but with each touch, each sensation, she became what she was destined to be: his. And he was closer and closer to being hers.
When at last they exploded in a frenzy of senseless bliss, Amelia knew that she was finally where she’d longed all her life to be.
Home.
Chapter Eight
After an hour or so more in the seclusion of the crofter’s hut, Quentin and Amelia dressed and walked hand in hand back down the path to the village toward the Smithsons’ house. They had hoped to slip back in through the French doors of the drawing room without being seen, but that hope was dashed as soon as they realized that the entire party was gathered there.
“There you are!” Harriet hurried toward them as soon as they stepped inside, her bright eyes not missing their linked hands, which they reluctantly dropped when they realized they’d been found out. “I was so worried about the two of you. Especially when the rain turned nasty. I hope you weren’t wet through.”
She pulled Amelia into a hug and whispered into her ear, “Mama has been on the warpath. She’s giving Papa a piece of her mind in the library now. I suggest you let Lord Quentin go explain himself to them first.”
“Indeed we were,” Amelia answered aloud. “But thankfully we found shelter for the worst of it. I think we should both go get changed.”
“Your clothes don’t look too wet now,” Miss Fotheringham said suspiciously. “That shelter you found must have been quite … accommodating.”
“It was,” Quentin told the girl with all the hauteur the son of a duke could muster. “In fact, it kept us from the rain completely. Which is doubtless why we seem none the worse for wear. I hope you will all excuse us.”
With that, he took Amelia’s arm and escorted her from the room. As soon as they crossed the threshold,
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