“If I agree to this—”
“Huzzah!” Rafe shouted.
Nicholas held up a hand. “If I agree to this, I want no part in the planning. I don’t want to be consulted on who will sleep where and what activities everyone will partake in.”
“Florrie and I will handle everything,” Rafe said. Florentia looked less than pleased at that declaration. “In fact, we will walk back now and discuss.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” Florentia argued.
“I’ll keep you safe.” Rafe rose. “We’ll have them send the coach back to collect you two.” He gestured to Nicholas and Amelia.
“I can wait here for the coach,” Florentia said.
Rafe shot her a glare. “Sometimes couples newly married like time alone,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “So let’s leave them alone.”
Florentia rolled her eyes. “Fine. If I’m attacked by wild beasts, I’m throwing you to the wolves.” She took Rafe’s proffered arm.
“Are there wolves in this part of England?” Rafe asked as he led her out of the dining chamber.
“He sounds a bit worried,” Amelia said when they were gone.
“He’s not as brave as he pretends to be.”
“I don’t know,” she said, moving toward the decanter of port. “He’s risked his life to return to England. That takes daring.”
“Or idiocy.” He shook his head when she lifted the decanter. “No more for me.”
She set the decanter back on the sideboard and an uncomfortable silence descended. Nicholas searched for a topic. “How was your mother today?”
“She seemed a bit better,” Amelia said, brightening. “We sat in the garden.” She looked down at the sleeve of her dress and toyed with the lace. “She did not want to stay outside for long, but I think the fresh air is good for her.”
“That seems promising.”
“Yes, but the real progress has come when she talks about my father. I don’t think her melancholy will lift until she’s able to let him go.”
“You don’t think she has already?” he asked.
She shook her head. “She cared for him every day, almost every hour for the last ten years. And then he was simply gone. She feels as though there is a void in her life. I understand because I felt it too at first. It’s a strange, rudderless feeling when all of a sudden the tasks you spent every waking moment attending to are suddenly gone. But for her, it’s even worse. They loved each other, you see.” She looked at him, and for just a moment Nicholas couldn’t catch his breath. “They didn’t start their marriage in love, but they grew to love each other. He was the other part of her, and now she mourns not only his death but the death of that part of herself.”
Nicholas couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a love like that. To feel as though the other person was another piece of you. For so long, he’d felt completely alone. It seemed no one could understand the pain of losing his mobility and losing his greatest passion—riding—in one fell swoop. But he wasn’t alone in his loss. Amelia had suffered loss as well. It was not the same loss, but it helped explain why he felt a connection with her.
That and he wanted to tear her clothes off every time he was in the same room with her.
“You are a good daughter,” he said. “You seem to understand what she needs and have the patience to help guide her through it.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I feel as though I am fumbling in the dark most of the time, but I keep trying.” She lifted her gaze to him. “In addition to being a good daughter, I would like the opportunity to be a good wife.”
She took a step closer, and Nicholas felt his throat go dry.
“Should we discuss what happened yesterday?” she asked. “Or should we forget the words and just do it all again?”
Thirteen
Amelia could hardly believe she had been so bold as to suggest Nicholas ravish her again. But then he didn’t seem inclined to do so on his own. Perhaps he needed a slight nudge. He was staring at her, and she wasn’t certain if that was a good sign or a bad one. She counted to five in her mind, and when he still didn’t speak or make any move toward her, she decided she’d miscalculated. He probably detested forward women. Or perhaps he regretted what had happened between them and did not want to be reminded. “I’m sorry,” she began. “I shouldn’t have—”
He reached out and pulled her to him. She hadn’t been expecting the gesture, but her body was drawn to his, and she went easily into his arms. He’d been standing behind a chair, and now he positioned her between the chair and himself, placing his hands on the chairback, effectively enveloping her.
“You are a good wife,” he said, his voice gruff.
Amelia looked up at him. That was the encouragement she’d needed. “I’d like to be a better one. I’d like to be your wife in truth.”
“That’s not possible,” he said, but he didn’t move back. This close she could feel the evidence of his arousal.
“It feels possible,” she said, nudging her hips forward slightly so that her pelvis brushed against his hard length. He inhaled sharply but lowered a hand to hold onto her hip before she could repeat the gesture.
“Amelia, you don’t understand.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, determined not to let him keep her at arm’s length as usual. “Then help me understand,” she said, kissing him gently. “I want you.” The words were so forward that her cheeks burned. But she had learned that life could be short and unpredictable. She had to seize the moment. “And I think you want me.” She pulled back and looked into his sky-blue eyes. “Do you?”
“Never doubt it,” he said. His hand tightened on her hip, and he kissed her. Though she could feel the strength of his desire, he held it back and kissed her gently. It was a coaxing kiss, a sensual kiss. It was a kiss that left her breathless. He pulled back slowly. “But I can’t give you what you want.”
He stepped back, leaving her wanting. Leaving her feeling cold and lonely without his closeness.
She’d lain awake considering what the problem might be the night before, and now she tried to work out how to broach the subject. “Will you tell me why?”
“How can you not know?” he asked, obviously frustrated by her.
“Is it a disease?” she asked, as that was the reason she had settled on after tossing and turning.
“A disease?”
“I thought you might have visited a brothel and caught one of those unmentionable diseases.”
He blinked and then his lips quirked so that he was almost smiling. “No. I haven’t visited a brothel, and I don’t have the pox. Or any other of those conditions. Do I really have to spell it out for you?” His expression turned to anguish, and Amelia wished she knew what it was so she did not have to make him tell her.
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed loudly and raked a hand through his hair. “My legs,” he said finally, avoiding her eyes. “I’m a cripple.”