“You say that you don’t care because you haven’t seen the damage.”
“I say I don’t care because I don’t. Your injury matters to you. Not to me. I’m falling in love with you, and I’d feel the same even if you had no legs at all because your legs do not make you who you are any more than your arms or your hair or your eyes do.” She moved close to him, shaking now because she had just made herself vulnerable again—damn him. She hadn’t meant to tell him she was half in love with him. And judging by the look of shock on his face, he hadn’t expected her to say that. “Do you know why I married you?”
“You thought you were pregnant and ruined.”
“There was that, but then after that dinner with your mother, I almost called it off. But I kept remembering how kind you were to me when I was just a stranger crying in your stable. Most men of your station would not have taken the time to even come to the stables.”
“Well, the grooms said you were upsetting the horses—”
“I’m trying to make a point here,” she interrupted. “And even if you were only motivated by the welfare of the horses that time, what about how you’ve brought my mother here to care for and had one of your land managers oversee Catmint Cottage?”
He waved a hand. “That’s just duty.”
“You brought your friend here, even though he’s wanted for treason, and agreed to have a house party so he might see his friends one last time.” She shook her head. “You”—she poked him—“are a good man. I’m already half in love with you. Stop trying to push me away.”
“I’m not trying to push you away.”
“You are. You think if you push me away now then you won’t be hurt when I reject you because of your legs. But I won’t reject you because of your legs, Nicholas.”
“You can’t know that.”
“You can’t know I will. Let’s put an end to the argument right now. Drop your trousers.”
Fifteen
Drop your trousers. That was the last straw. He couldn’t resist her any longer. He’d been wanting to kiss her since the moment he’d walked into the library and now she was standing in front of him, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, eyes bright telling him to drop his trousers. A man could only take so much.
Nicholas took a step closer, and Amelia shook her head. “Oh, no,” she said, skirting around him and backing toward the desk. He raised a brow. “I know that look.” She pointed at him. “That wasn’t what I meant when I said drop your trousers.”
“You can explain later,” he said, moving toward her again. Obviously, she could easily outmaneuver him. She could have put the desk between them or even slipped past him and out the door. Instead, she backed up until her legs hit the back of the desk.
“We have to talk about this, Nicholas.” Her voice was stern, but as he took another step toward her, she licked her lips in anticipation.
“We’ll talk afterward,” he said.
“We’ll never come to a resolution if we don’t talk.”
“I think I can bring us to a resolution.” He finally reached her and pulled her into his arms. She went without protest, wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him. It always amazed him how much she wanted him. He wanted to believe that the state of his legs wouldn’t change her mind, that seeing the true horror that he dragged about each day wouldn’t disgust her. But every time he was with her like this, he feared it more and more. Every time he touched her, it became harder to lose her.
“We need to talk,” she said, even as she nipped at his lip and pressed closer. Nicholas tightened his grip on her waist and lifted her onto the desk, pushing the inkwells and the sheets of vellum Florentia had not used out of the way. He placed his palms on either side of her, shifting some of his weight onto his arms, and kissed her again.
“We can talk after,” he said as his mouth moved to her jaw and then her neck. “I promise.”
“I will hold you—” She gasped as his tongue darted out to taste the hollow at the base of her neck.
“Go on,” he said, pulling pins out of her bodice so it fell open, revealing her breasts encased in white stays. He pushed the garment down, freeing one and then bent to kiss it. He might have wished the desk was a bit higher as bending was difficult for him, but then it wouldn’t be the right height for what he planned next.
“I was saying I will hold you to it.”
“Hold me to what?” He freed her other breast, thumbing the hard nipple. She was so soft, so responsive. Her moans and gasps aroused him even before she pulled his shirt from his waistband and slid her hands underneath. He’d been an idiot to ever think their relationship could be platonic. Sparks had flown between them since their first meeting, and he only wanted her more now.
Her hand slid into his waistband gripping his hard cock, and any further thoughts fled. He was starving for her, eager to plunge back inside her and feel her clench him in pleasure. But instead of pushing her onto her back, he stepped away to make room to pull her to her feet.
“Yes, we should go upstairs,” she said, trying to fix her bodice.
“I want you here,” he said.
“But the servants—”
“Will stay away as long as that door is closed.” He turned her so her back was to him then bent and kissed the back of her neck. Then he grasped her skirts and pulled them up to reveal her stockings, her knees, her garters, and finally the creamy skin of her thighs. “Bend over the desk,” he murmured into her hair.
“You want me to...” She trailed off as he nudged her bare bottom with his erection, straining through his trousers. She bent, and he slid her skirts the rest of the way up, pooling them at her waist. She had a lovely round bottom, plump and perfect. He skated his hands over it then down between her legs to the heat of her core. She moaned and parted her legs to allow him entrance. He slid one finger inside then used the moisture to slide up to that small, sensitive nub hidden between her folds.
“Yes,” she moaned, her hands clenching and releasing as he toyed with her. She looked back at him, over her shoulder, and her dark eyes were hazy with desire. Nicholas unfastened the placket of his trousers, allowing his erection to spring free.
“Open your legs wider,” he commanded even as he moved between them to better position himself. She obeyed, seeming not to feel any self-consciousness. He liked that about her. She wasn’t shy and overly modest. She seemed comfortable with her body and unashamed to take her pleasure. He guided his cock to her sex and slid inside.
She went completely rigid, and he paused, waiting until she adjusted to the feel of him at this angle before moving. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No, I...I didn’t realize.”
“Do you want the rest of me?” he asked, moving his fingers over her sensitive bud again. Her breath caught.
“There’s more?”
“I’ll go slow,” he said. “Tell me if I hurt you.” He pushed deeper, knowing from this angle she felt him more fully. She let out a low moan as he sheathed himself fully, and Nicholas held still, allowing her to grow used to him filling her. But he was still stroking her clitoris lightly, and that motion was bringing her closer to climax. He felt her clench around him then she rocked back, taking him even deeper.