In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (34 page)

By
the look on her face, she hadn’t thought of that.

“And
before you tell me an untruth, be aware that I sent a messenger to
Uncle Simon’s townhouse to make certain nothing had happened to
you. There seemed to be some confusion among his servants as to
whether you had been there at all tonight.”

Amanda
watched him for several moments as though coming to a conclusion of
some kind. She walked into the room toward him. “You’re
not going to be happy with me. But I refuse to apologize.”

He
felt instantly apprehensive. “What did you do?”

She
pulled up a chair next to him and sat down. “I went to see
Derrick.”

“Damn
it, Amanda! He’s dangerous. I don’t want you anywhere
near him.”

“That
will no longer be an issue after tonight.”

His
brows lowered. “What does that mean?”

“It
means sometime before morning your cousin will be on a ship sailing
for the West Indies. It means that if he ever comes back home, he
will be arrested for attempted murder.”

James
was too stunned to do more than force out a single-word command.
“Explain.”

And
so she did, providing him the details of the evening and the eventual
outcome. “Derrick was suitably horrified and—please
forgive me—I was overjoyed to ruin his night.”

He
listened with equal parts anger and admiration, convinced he should
be ringing a peal over her head but too in awe of her cleverness to
do so. “And you organized this entire night all on your own?”

She
swallowed. “Ah…not exactly.”

“Would
you like to enlighten me?” he asked drily.

“Uncle
Simon was very helpful.”

“Bloody
hell! You enlisted my elderly uncle to help you with your clandestine
plans? ”

“Uncle
Simon is an old man, true. But I’m convinced he’s smarter
than either you or I. I needed someone with power and resources, and
he was more than willing to help me. He was as angry as I was at
Derrrick.”

“Was
he now? You don’t find his willingness to put you in danger a
bit foolish?”

“James,
he had no idea I intended to go on tonight’s mission. I feel
fairly certain he would have protested mightily.”

He
placed a forefinger under her chin, forcing her to look him in the
eye. “Are you saying you
lied
to Uncle Simon?”

Her
face reddened. “Sin of omission, more like.”

“I
see.”

Amanda
grasped the hand holding her chin. “I couldn’t let
Derrick hurt you again, James. When I thought you might die, I
realized how important our life together has become. What would I do
without you?”

The
rush of gratitude that filled his chest momentarily stopped him from
responding. He pulled in a shaky breath, leaning towards
her—carefully, in deference to his ribs—and kissed her
gently. When he drew back, her eyes had filled with tears. But she
was smiling.

She
put her mouth close to his ear. “Are your hands healed
sufficiently to help me with my stays?” she murmured.

Her
warm breath puffed along his neck, tickling the fine hairs there. His
heart rolled over and a shock of primal heat shot directly to his
groin. He was taken aback by how quickly the mere hint of intimate
contact caused his body to respond aggressively. It had been too
long. And his wife was an amazingly attractive woman.

“Remember
when I asked you not to toy with me?” His voice was husky.
“This would be an excellent time to remind you of how unkind
that would be.”

“Never,
my lord.”

Amanda
combed her fingers through his hair, her nails lightly grazing his
scalp, and every nerve ending beneath her touch reacted with a thrill
of sensation. She stood from her chair and began the complicated
process of disrobing, beginning with her jacket. Then button after
button was pulled free until she was able to slip from her
shirtwaist. She was still trussed up in layers of clothing—corset
with chemise underneath, skirt and crinoline and petticoats,
unmentionables—and yet anticipation kept his eager attention.
She stared into his eyes all the while, turning a mundane activity
into an erotic adventure.

She
spun lightly on her heels, her back to James, and slipped to the
floor on her knees so that he might loosen her corset. James was no
stranger to women’s garments, but tonight he felt like a raw
youth. His bruised hands, still achy, shook as he grasped the laces,
pulling on them, up and down the length of the corset until he felt
the boned contraption ease its hold on her. Fortunately, the plaster
cast on his arm did not impede his movements.

Amanda
looked over her shoulder at him. “Thank you.” She took a
deep breath as she stood up. Now she was able to release the hooks at
the front of the corset. Again she held his gaze as she dropped it to
the floor. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Oh
no, I’m enjoying the disrobing.”

“Please?
I won’t be long, I promise.”

He
tried to hide his disappointment but not very successfully, he
suspected. “All right, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

Amanda
stopped at the lingerie chest for a piece of clothing and dipped
behind the dressing screen. She was humming to herself, and James
found the melodic tune soothing. She sounded happy, almost carefree,
and he felt his own worries gradually dissipate to match her mood. He
heard the crackle of static a she wielded the brush through her long
dark hair, the splashing of water, feminine rituals that were, in his
present frame of mind, very tantalizing. As he listened, his thoughts
drifted back to that night at Lonsdale when he had spied on Amanda
taking a sponge bath. Perhaps it wasn’t his most admirable
moment, but it was a memory forever burned on his brain, and he
cherished it on a very earthy level. That was the night his desire
for his wife had expanded into realms he not yet contemplated. That
was the night he truly understood the potency of integrating deep
feeling with physical desire.

There
was a moment of quiet before Amanda stepped from behind the
screen—followed by another moment of stunned silence on James’s
part. His lovely wife had donned a nearly-transparent, ivory silk
nightdress that fell just below her knees. It was sleeveless with a
v-shaped neck, wide peek-a-boo lace decorating the bodice and giving
him a provocative glimpse of the skin underneath. He tried to find
his voice, but the surge of lust that rolled over him robbed him of
speech.

Her
expression was—coy? He groaned inwardly.

“Please
come here,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “As
much as I’d like to come to you, a hobbling invalid is hardly
inspiring.”

Amanda
moved quickly to his side, again coming down on her knees next to
him. “You would be surprised by what inspires me, my lord. The
fact that you can hobble is a great victory, and it excites me in
more than one way.”

The
insinuation in her statement was humbling—and arousing. There
was love in her eyes, warmth, and he was overcome by humility. James
placed his hand to the side of her face, his thumb stroking her
cheek. “How do we proceed from here? I fear I can’t offer
much.”

Standing
up, she sat on the rolled arm of the chair, loosely crossing her
wrists around his neck. “Let me do the work. Your only duty is
to make certain I don’t hurt you.”

She
kissed him, her lips melting into his, fingers again combing his
scalp. He brought his hands up around her waist—how he wished
he could remove that damn plaster cast!—keenly aware of the
malleable flesh beneath the polished texture of the nightdress.

Amanda
pulled back, her gaze sultry, her lips yielding and moist. “Are
your legs able to tolerate a little weight?”

His
breathing stuttered as a welling of anticipation and outright craving
overwhelmed him. “Yes!” he averred. He’d rather be
dead than say no.

Her
hand slipped beneath the edge of his nightshirt, cool fingers
skimming along his naked thigh until she found him, erect and oh, so
ready. A jolt of infinite pleasure began in his lower gut and ended
in her grasp. Her fingers were gentle and questing as she touched him
as though she were educating herself while she pleasured him.

“Amanda…”
James whispered hoarsely.

She
seemed to understand his control was tenuous, and she nodded. With
both hands she pulled his nightshirt up exposing him. He watched her
face, her cheeks growing pink as she stared at his member. Amanda
glanced at him, then holding his gaze she came to her feet. She
seized the hem of her gown and lifted it to her waist.

The
beauty of her body took his breath. A whoosh of pent-up air escaped
him.

Amanda
climbed on the chair, straddling him, knees on either side of his
hips. Her gaze claimed his again and his breathing continued to
accelerate in response. “Can you help me?” She leaned
forward, breathing the words against his mouth.

The
control James sought was beginning to desert him. He was aware of a
throbbing ache along his ribs, but he would allow nothing—absolutely
nothing—to interfere with this moment. He and Amanda had made
love before, however, never like this, never without the weight of
unresolved issues hanging over them. Tonight they were in the moment
together, and the relief he felt along with the tender emotions made
him as eager as an adolescent at his first bedding. The discomfort,
the plaster cast were merely inconveniences.

Amanda
positioned herself above him, grabbing hold of the chair arms for
leverage. She lowered her hips and, with his assistance, he
penetrated her damp passage. She huffed out a moan of pleasure. As he
filled her, a coinciding groan rumbled deep in his chest. He gulped a
deep breath once more, hoping to take command of an excitement that
was threatening to rise up and overtake him.

James
looked up into her beautiful face. Her features were flushed now with
her own arousal as she pressed against him. She placed her hands
lightly to his shoulders, riding him.

With
both hands he gripped her buttocks, pulling her back and forth along
his erection.

“I’ve
never seen this nightdress before,” he ground out. Perhaps a
little conversation would stave off a release that threatened to
throw him over the precipice before he was ready.

You
like it?” she asked breathlessly as she moved with him.

James
laughed, a rasping, lust-filled sound. “It is
you
in the
nightdress, love. But yes, I like it. Greatly.”

“I
had it made for our wedding night.”

At
once he went very still. “Yes? And you’re only wearing it
now?”

Her
gaze centered on him as she ceased to move also. “Tonight feels
like my wedding night.”

Meaning
she had not felt that the time had been right up until now. A
lowering thought, but James knew exactly what she meant. Emotion bled
through his system in regret…and thankfulness. How hard they
had fought to reach this place in their relationship.

He
wrapped his arms around her torso, his mouth finding a nipple through
the fine lace of the gown. He clung to her, allowing her to take the
lead as she began the motion of her hips again. It hurt his side. A
lot. And he absorbed it, relishing the reason for the pain. Oddly, it
did nothing to impede their joining, instead bringing him to a
heightened sense of the pleasure in other places. Perhaps it was the
joy of the moment, but in the next moment it no longer mattered.

He
was lost.

Amanda
emitted a sharp little cry, and she stiffened. Her orgasm pulsed
around him, wringing from him the last of his own release. Shivers of
sensation rippled through his body as his wife shuddered in his arms.
They both went motionless as each fought for breath.

Several
minutes passed before she pulled back to look at him. Her eyes shone
with contentment. “That was lovely, my lord.”

Indeed.

***

“You
lied, you know.”

Amanda
and James lay in the bed together, both awake but drowsy. Getting
there had been a struggle. Once her husband had expended himself in
lovemaking, his legs were weak. But it was his ribs that restricted
movement more than anything. He could walk in a shuffling motion, but
sitting down or standing from a sitting position—or, heaven
forbid, laying down—were excruciating activities. Amanda and
James were both vastly relieved when he finally was settled beneath
the covers. Unfortunately, he still had enough strength to
reintroduce the subject of her meeting with Derrick.

“I
did,” she agreed.
Why pretend?

James
had turned his head on the pillow and was watching her. “You do
understand the irony of your deception, don’t you?”

“That
I lied after becoming angry at you for lying?”

“Something
like that.”

“Are
you comparing my lie to your lie?”

“How
are they different?”

“My
lie was to protect you. Your lie was to, well…protect you.”
She said tartly, raising a brow at him. “So perhaps from that
vantage point you are correct. They’re not so much different.”

His
expression sobered. “Amanda, please accept my apology for the
way we began this thing. I acknowledge my mistake in not telling you
about my circumstances before we married. Or about Derrick. You and I
both know I did wrong. And I understand why you didn’t tell me
what you had in mind this evening. I suppose what I’m trying to
say—and not very well, apparently—is that we have no need
to lie to one another again. Ever. I trust you. I want you to trust
me.”

“After
tonight you trust me?”

He
reached for her hand, wincing with the movement. But his expression
was direct and sincere. “With my very life, love.”

“James…”
Amanda came up on her elbow, searching his handsome features. “Life
is filled with mitigating circumstances. If I want you to understand
why I did what I did then I must do the same for you. That doesn’t
make either of us right just human.”