To Tame a Dragon (8 page)

Jameson slunk back toward the house, slightly
light-headed, careful to keep away from other couples. He had
meant to seduce
her
senseless, not himself.

Halfway to the house he paused, thinking of
Amelia alone in the night. He had no doubt she would not want to
see him just yet, and if he were honest with himself, he felt
the same. There had been shock and heat in her eyes, but once
her brain started working again... Amelia was not known to pull
her punches, figuratively and literally it seemed, and Jameson
was sure he did not want to hear her thoughts on their kiss. He
doubted greatly she would be overcome with amorous feelings
towards him, and she was not known as the dragon for nothing.
She had a sharp tongue that could turn any man’s entrails into a
sickly mush.

But he could not leave her out here alone. He
sighed, hanging his head doggedly, then turned back. He prayed
he would not meet her on the path, but found her still on the
little bridge, staring down into the water. He hid behind a
bush, watching her, remembering how she fit into his arms,
remembering her
mouth
. Who knew such a sharp tongue
could give so much pleasure. His thoughts veered toward other
activities her sharp tongue could partake in and he shook his
head to clear it. Perhaps those dunderheads who chased her knew
more than he did after all.

She turned and began heading towards the
house, towards him. The moonlight bathed her face and
she looked... wild-eyed. And uncertain.

Amelia uncertain?

She touched her fingertips to her lips,
tracing them gently, then took a deep breath, squared her
shoulders, and marched back towards the sounds of music and
laughter.

He followed her silently, thinking he had
perhaps seduced her senseless after all.

No doubt she could have removed the silly
grin off of his face with one well-placed word but he followed
her with a bounce in his step and the thought that just maybe he
could win her hand after all.

The dragon did not run away. No matter how
much she might wish to. She slunk back into the ballroom,
heading for the retiring room. She stared into the mirror in
disbelief. That was
her
? Those wild eyes, mussed hair,
reddened skin. Good Lord, anyone would take one look at her and
simply know what had transpired in the garden with Jameson. She
felt a budding anger begin at his expense; she doubted very much
he looked as undone as she did. It was simply unfair how the
female bore the consequences of clandestine trysts, especially
when it was always the man’s idea in the first place!

She put herself back together as best she
could, hoping that a judicious use of her fan would hide the
rest. She wound her way to her mother, scaring away any
conversation with a ferocious look, and keeping as far from the
lights as she could.

She found her mother blessedly alone. “May we
cut this night short, Mother? I do not feel myself.”

“You do look peaked. Are you alright?”

“Yes, but I would like to leave.”

Her mother nodded, rising. “Robin and Jameson
left but a few moments ago; they deserted us for their club.”

Amelia could not help the sigh of relief that
escaped her. She had not known how to maneuver her mother into
leaving without informing
him
, nor how she could have
born his company in the tight confines of the carriage had he
decided to leave with them.

He had somehow upset her equilibrium, when no
one since
the miscreant
had even come close.

She did not want to face him and that
infuriated her. Afraid of Jameson? Afraid of a little kiss in
the moonlight on a romantic bridge over a trickling stream?

She shook herself. Afraid was not the correct
term. She was... She was...

She didn’t know what she was. Not herself,
certainly. Never could she remember being so addled before. The
man was simply infuriating! How could he do this! And now, of
all times!

She had spent the last few weeks
saving
his honor and reputation. And this was how he thanked her for
it. By accosting her in the garden.

It was all the more infuriating that he was
such a good kisser.

Well, she assumed he was a good kisser; she
had little to compare it to. She had certainly enjoyed it more
than
the miscreant’s
ministrations, but that was hardly
an apt comparison. That kiss had been more about compromising
her than seducing her. She had not felt any flutterings in her
belly during
that
kiss.

Jameson’s manhandling had not left her
with fear or revulsion; she had felt a deplorable excitement
as they struggled through the garden and had not been
altogether unhappy at losing. It was no doubt one of those silly
female reactions she had heretofore been free from.

But there had been something horribly
exciting in being physically manipulated so easily by a handsome
gentleman one generally approved of.

She did
not
approve of her reaction
at all. She did
not
approve of Jameson’s actions
whatsoever. He had come too far down this path for her to remain
unsure of his sincerity. First his proposal, now his attempt at
seducing her. She had spent far too many years maneuvering
him
to know that he was notoriously hard-headed. She had little hope
of him listening to her repeated rejection of his suit. But if
he was notoriously hard-headed, he was also easily distracted.
She would simply have to find him a suitable distraction.

If it also distracted her from thinking of
his kiss, so much the better.

E
ven though Amelia spent a restless night
with very little sleep involved, she arose early as usual. Her
day was too full to allow otherwise. Besides, every time she
closed her eyes the transformation of Jameson from long-time
friend to
man
left her staring wide-eyed into the dark.
She could not take much more thought on the matter without
screaming and with relief started her toilet as early as she
could.

She had only begun the first of her business
for the day when Jameson was announced. So uncommonly early was
he for a visit that she hadn’t any thought of the embarrassing
episode of the night before.

“What in the world is the matter, Jameson? It
is
morning
. Is Robin quite alright?”

He paused in the door, looking taken aback,
then laughed. “My dear, he is fine. And I know it is morning,
though I admit I do not see it often. I knew if I waited too
long, you would be gone on your visits.”

She waited for a moment, expecting him to
explain what was so important. She could hardly imagine he’d
slept at all, let alone been home since the ball last night. But
he looked as refreshed and alert as he ever did, and when he
said nothing but simply looked at her, she realized. He had come
to
see
her.

She turned back to her writing desk, hiding
her suddenly quickened heartbeat. “You should never have been
let in for a call; come back at the appropriate time.”

He laughed. “I could if you insist. But I
assume your mother does not know of certain activities you
participated in last night, my little Stilton. Wouldn’t you like
to keep it that way?”

“I do not like being blackmailed.”

“No one does, my dear.”

She turned back to him. “And I did not
participate. You all but carried me through the garden last
night.”

He murmured, “Thrilling, wasn’t it?”

She would die a thousand painful deaths
before she admitted any such thing and she looked down her nose
at him.

“Yes, I often end thrilling encounters with a
balled fist.”

He bowed slightly. “Touché. Where
did
you learn that little move? I did not know pugilism was a
subject often taught by governesses.”

“Father. He said I had a disturbing tendency
to wander off by myself and needed to be able to protect myself
sufficiently. I have needed to use it twice now.”

All humor left his eyes and he stared at her.
“You shame me. Forgive me, Amelia. I had not meant... That you
had to protect yourself from me as you did that shabbaroon...”

He turned to look out the window, his
shoulders slumped.

Amelia closed her eyes, willing herself not
to embarrass herself with any humiliating confession, but she
could not let him suffer in pain when he did not deserve it.

She cleared her throat, then briskly said,
“The situations were not at all the same. His attentions were
quite repulsive. I did not experience the same with you. I was,
unfortunately, only worried about being seen in such a
compromising position. My reputation, I fear, would not survive
another scandal.”

He continued to look out the window for a
long moment. Then his shoulders straightened and he slowly
turned to face her. The twinkle in his eyes made her sigh loudly
and close her eyes again.

“Are you saying, Amelia, that my
attentions
were not so unwelcome? I must admit I had thought so at the
time.” He sat down comfortably, steepling his fingers, and
watched her with what she could only call a smirk on his face.
“But you were quite right to alert me to our imminent discovery.”

She pursed her lips together.

“Although it has become quite a distressing
habit of late to be physically assaulted by the women in my
life. First Miss Underwood, then yourself.”

“Perhaps, Jameson, you should look to your
own behavior for an explanation. It is not a defect in us that
is causing this behavior; you are acting like an imbecile.”

He laughed. “Yes, my dear. I do seem to be
floundering. Usually those around me follow my lead and I have
very little work to do. I find I have little experience dealing
with those who disagree with me so vehemently.”

“I hope I made you stop and think for a
moment at least.”

“Yes, my dear.” Though he doubted she would
approve of exactly
what
he was thinking about. “I wonder
if my actions last night made you
stop
thinking for a
moment.” He glanced toward the open door. “Perhaps you would
like me to make you stop thinking again this morning? I can hear
the clockworks spinning from here; it must be exhausting.”

He made to rise and she jumped up, startled.
He stared at her a moment, then smiled and settled back into his
chair. “Or perhaps not. Sit back down, Amelia. I will not accost
you.”

She cleared her throat and walked toward her
writing desk. She pulled out a slip of paper from the top drawer
and brought it over to him. His blood heated as she got closer
and he imagined for one long breathless moment simply pulling
her onto his lap and ravaging them both senseless again—damn the
open door.

She must have seen those thoughts reflected
on his face because the nearer she came to him, the warier she
looked. She held the paper out to him with her fingertips,
stopping as far away from him as she could.

His eyes did not leave hers as he slowly
reached out to take the paper from her. Her breath hitched and
she whispered, “You have gone mad.”

He very well believed it. He felt as if the
blood in his veins sang only for her now. Drink held no allure,
cards had lost their fun. Last night at his club had been
boring
.
He had wanted only her. He still wanted only her.

And here she was, steps away from him. Alone.

She dropped the paper as if it burned her and
walked quickly toward the bell. “I need tea.”

He came back to earth with a thud. In a
moment he would laugh at himself but for now he used the paper
to strategically hide his lap as instructions for tea were
given.

She sat and repeated, with more composure than he
suspected she felt, “You have gone quite, quite mad.”

“Yes.”

She snorted, nodding to the paper. “Since you
seem not to be able to get a handle on it, I have prepared a
list for you.”

He didn’t even glance at it. “What kind of a
list?”

“A list of marriageable women.”

That surprised him and he glanced down. A
list of women Amelia would consider suitable seemed to cool his
ardor and he lifted the paper off his lap to scan the names. His
eyebrows rose a few times at a surprising name and he even
laughed out loud at the last.

He looked up at Amelia and found amusement
dancing in her eyes as well. “I admit that Lady Whitcomb is not
the sort of woman most men think of as a blushing bride. But she
made her late husband very happy and is sensible enough to talk
you out of any hare-brained scheme you can come up with.”

“She has four children, the oldest of which
must be at least ten.”

“He’s twelve. But she married very young. I
believe she still has an heir and a spare in her.”

He snorted. “She may be too sensible to marry
me.”

She nodded. “Yes, that could be a problem.”