His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (10 page)

Tears welled up in her eyes. How could
she have been so careless? One minute she was digging around in a
desk looking for an elusive piece of parchment the next she was
seeing colors and being talked to by a stranger with a deep voice,
then...then she was kissing him, only to wake up and not know what
happened between them.

What would Elijah think of
her when she told him? He might not care so much about her loss of
innocence in an intimate or possessive way since he didn't see
her
that
way. But
would he think less of her as a friend or as a person? Would he see
her only as a fallen woman? One who had no hope of a future except
to marry the biggest reprobate who'd ever walked the soil of
England?

She swallowed the lump of raw emotion
in her throat and blinked away the tears. She couldn't tell him.
Not yet anyway. She'd stick to her earlier decision and tell him
everything when she knew for certain if she was or wasn't carrying
a child.

For now, however, she'd just have to
keep putting him off, which seemed to be getting easier with each
time she did it. Perhaps if he didn't seem so impassive and
disinterested, she'd find it harder to resist him. But his
expressionless face and cold, chaste kisses made the task
simple.

Amelia released her hair and sank down
onto the settee. Was she that undesirable that every time the
subject of intimacy was broached, Elijah transformed from a trusted
friend and confidant to a stranger who acted like his business with
her was to collect what she owed, then be on his way? Or perhaps
this was his way of being nervous and unsure? Though she'd never
read his name in the scandal sheets as being seen with a mistress,
didn't mean that he hadn't had one or hadn't frequented bawdy
houses during his many travels, giving him plenty of experience in
the matter and no need to be nervous.

A shaky laugh passed her lips. Even if
he was the greatest lover in all of England and no one knew, he
wouldn't be nervous around her. She wasn't a diamond of the first
water, nor so high on the instep that she'd be considered
unapproachable. Besides, she'd seen him nervous before: he'd rake
his hand through his hair like his father was fond of doing, then
he'd twist his lips into all sorts of strange shapes, all while
shifting on his feet and clearing his throat every fifteen seconds.
Granted she hadn't seen him behave that way in several years, but
she doubted much had changed.

No he wasn't nervous. He was
disinterested. All the more reason to stay true to her
convictions.

She sighed. She'd had all these same
thoughts cycle through her mind before. Nothing had
changed.

“
Amelia?”

She jumped. “Y-yes?” She cleared her
throat and turned her head to flash Elijah her best attempt at a
smile. But her smile faltered.

Standing in the lowly lit room was
Elijah like she'd never seen him—or anyone for that matter—before.
He wore nothing more than a white lawn shirt with tails settling
just four inches above where his white drawers tied at his
knees.

“
Are you coming to bed?” he asked, not seeming to notice how
she was affected by him.

Unease settled over
her.
Coming to bed?

Elijah padded over to her in his bare
feet and sank down to the haunches in front of her. “Amelia,” he
started softly, taking her hand in his much larger one. “Come to
bed. You're in no harm of being ravished by me tonight. I promise.
Just come.” He stood up and pulled her up with him.

Instinctively, she stood up to go with
him and a surge of comfort like that of a warm blanket on a cold
snowy day overtook her when he squeezed her hand. It was all the
reassurance she needed and followed him to the
bedchamber.

Chapter Ten

Elijah couldn't sleep. In fact, he was
so restless he doubted he was even feigning it very well. This was
the third night in a row they'd both gone to bed, and would wake up
just as virginal as they'd both been before they
married.

While that wouldn't have
posed a problem under different circumstances, the fact that
he
needed
to bed
Amelia had not escaped him.

He curled his toes and squeezed—a
habit he'd begun in recent years to take the place of a sigh or any
other annoyed or nervous gesture that might give himself away. Why
was she so resistant toward his advances? What was he doing wrong?
He'd been chased by bulls and escaped an Irish prison with little
help from his brother, and yet, he couldn't get a lady who'd once
gone around and proclaimed to anyone who would listen that one day
she would be Mrs. Elijah J. Banks to so much as kiss him, much less
share her body with him just once.

He squeezed his toes again.
Considering the frequency he'd been doing this since he'd married
Amelia, he might not be able to walk without a limp in a few days.
He needed to bed her—and soon if he didn't want her to think
something was wrong with her—that was just the facts. The details
of how he'd convince her were to remain a mystery, he supposed. But
the fact remained: it was his duty to bed her and he
would.

Unfortunately for him, fate—or in this
case, Henry—had once again stepped in before Elijah could make his
next attempt.

“
Can this wait?” Elijah asked without ceremony when he
answered the soft knock at the door.

Henry lifted his eyebrows, his lips
twitching. “Seeing as how you're dressed in nothing but your small
clothes at the advanced hour of noon, I shall take that to mean you
don't plan to attend Caroline's luncheon today.”

Elijah scowled at him.

Henry laughed. “What was that name you
coined for Alex shortly after he married Caroline? Amorous Alex,
was it? Who's the one with seduction on his mind now, Enamored
Elijah?”

Despite the heat that flooded his face
at his brother's insinuation, Elijah ignored him. “What do you
want?” he all but barked.

“
Did you get it?” Henry's voice was so low it was almost
inaudible.

Elijah ran his hand through his
unkempt hair and scratched his head, then leaned against the
doorframe, purposely taking his time in answering his brother—just
to return the feeling of irritation Henry had stirred in him.
“Yes.” He'd found Henry's message of the escape.

A look of relief crossed Henry's face.
“Very good. You can go back and enjoy your wife now.”

“
I thank you for your permission,” Elijah said in a tone that
dripped with sarcasm.

Henry twisted his lips into an
overdone frown. “No thanks are necessary.”

Elijah was
this
close to closing
the door in his brother's face, but his next words and louder tone
kept him from doing just that.

“
Of course it was very difficult to tear myself away from
Caroline's festivities to make sure you both knew you were invited
to join, but it was a task done out of love.”

“
All right, we'll be there soon,” Elijah said with a grunt
borne of irritation. His skin prickled. Amelia must be standing
close behind him.

“
And when shall I expect to see you?”

“
Whenever I walk through the door.” When had his twin become
so dratted annoying? Couldn't he just go away already?

Henry waggled his eyebrows
suggestively and said, “I hope it is soon. Caroline was most
adamant I come over and extend a formal invitation to the lovesick
duo. She said she wanted to make sure Amelia was able to get better
acquainted with everyone—” he dropped his voice to a near inaudible
whisper— “and not just you.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes on Henry in a
warning. “Our attendance today depends on Amelia and if she'd
prefer to attend Caroline's house party or lie in bed with me a
while longer,” Elijah said with all the confidence of Prinny
himself.

The gasp from directly behind him,
robbed him of his confidence in less time than it took for his
heart to beat.

Elijah spun around to face Amelia's
whose face was just as pink as the traveling gown she'd borrowed
from Lady Templemore that she'd insisted on wearing to bed last
night. “That didn't come out how I'd meant it,” he blurted for lack
of anything else to say at the moment.

She stared at Elijah, then cut her
eyes toward his brother.

“
Not to worry, Lady Amelia,” Henry said quietly, almost as if
he were uncertain of just what to say. “I shall inform Caroline
that you two are undecided for the day.”

“
No, no,” Amelia rushed to say, fruitlessly trying to smooth
the wrinkles in her crushed skirt. “If she's invited us and has
sent you to invite us personally, then we should go. Tell her we'll
be there following—”

SLAM!

Amelia wheeled around to face Elijah.
“What was that for?”

Elijah shrugged. “He deserved
it.”

“
He came here to invite us to Caroline's house party and
because house parties are so awful to attend he deserved to have
the door slammed in his face?” Amelia reasoned in a mocking
tone.

Elijah nodded enthusiastically. “That
was my logic, too.”

Amelia heaved an overdone sigh.
“You're incorrigible.”

He grinned. “Really?”

“
No.”

Elijah followed Amelia back into the
little bedroom they'd shared last night, running almost right into
her back when she stopped just inside the doorway.
“Ooof.”

“
Sorry,” she murmured, her eyes trained on the bed.

“
Is something wrong?” he asked quietly by her ear.

She shook her head. “What do you think
he's telling them?”

Elijah put his hands on her shoulders
and gently rubbed up and down the tops of her arms which were
knotted with tension. “Don't worry,” he whispered softly. “He won't
say anything that will embarrass you.”

She nodded once, but her body didn't
relax like he'd hoped.

Elijah took a deep breath and spun her
around to face him. “I know to a lady it's considered vulgar, bad
taste, not done, and a string of other similar adjectives for
people to know you've ever participated in marital intimacies, but
while everyone pretends such things don't exist—we all know they
do.” Her eyes widened and he inwardly cursed himself. That hadn't
been the right thing to say. “Amelia,” he tried again. “He won't
shame you. I won't let him.”

Amelia parted her lips to voice
something, a protest if he had to guess, but was cut off when pure
unadulterated instinct came over Elijah and he pressed his lips
against hers, capturing them in a kiss as sweet and delicious as
the one they'd shared at their wedding. Releasing his hold on her
shoulders, Elijah slid his hands down the back of the rumpled
fabric of the gown she wore. His fingers brushed against the top
button and quickly unfastened it. Then the one beneath it and the
one after that.

He parted his lips, drawing her lower
lip between both of his. She sighed his name, and his blood rushed
through his veins. He slipped the last button free and brought his
hands beneath her chin, gripping the loose fabric that capped her
shoulders. Without breaking their kiss, he tightened his grip on
the edge of her gown and gave it a swift tug.

“
Ouch,” she squealed, taking a step away from him. Her hands
flew to her still covered chest and attempted to fix her terribly
askew bodice.

His eyes drifted to the exposed skin
at the top of her chest. Despite the way he'd imagined his
movements working out in his mind, she was still wearing that
dratted gown. “I'm sorry,” he rasped, reaching for her again. “I
didn't mean to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “It's all right. I
know you didn't mean to. The sleeves and bodice have ties—
”

Elijah clamped his jaw and nodded
once. “Please accept my sincerest apologies. I was
unaware..”

“
Elijah,” she interrupted, her voice as uneven as his had been
a moment before. “It's not about that. Well, perhaps it was a
little, but what I wanted to say was—”

He pulled her back toward him and
kissed her again, not giving her the chance to offer up some sort
of excuse about this not being the right time. This was the perfect
time. Her earlier response to his kisses had only confirmed it. If
he gave her the chance to protest— No, he wouldn't even think about
it. “Kiss me back,” he said against her lips. He abandoned the ties
at the top of her bodice and fisted his hands into the mass of
skirts she wore, pulling them up at a frantic pace, intent to touch
the skin he'd been treated to glimpsing Saturday when she'd lifted
her skirts for him to remove her stays.

Anticipation was almost too much as
his imagination had been able to think of little since that
afternoon.

***

Everything was happening
so quickly. Elijah's hands were lifting her skirt—and then...then
his warm hand was blazing a fast trail along her thigh, going
higher. He cupped her derriere, eliciting an involuntary jerk from
her. His left hand joined his right, caressing her where she'd
never thought anyone would ever touch. As wicked as it might sound,
she actually
liked
him touching her thus.