Yet he did not want to distance himself from Amelia because of their presence or Lucy’s disapproval. He was doing nothing wrong other than forgetting they had an impressionable audience.

  He took hold of Amelia’s hand and wrapped it around his arm. But it was all he could do not to run away with her to somewhere private there and then, where they could be alone—and be intimate once more.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Amelia shivered as the door to their bedchamber closed softly behind her back and was locked by her husband. The feeling of guilt about sending the children back to the nursery faded, replaced by anxiety over what might happen next.

  It would be different today. Her husband wanted her in his bed. She faced him, determined to enjoy what should be perfectly normal in a marriage.

  But there was such an intense gleam in his eyes that she trembled again.

  She might be inexperienced but she understood that look. Chatham drew closer and cupped her face. She did not resist his touch as he turned her face slightly one way and then the other before his fingers caressed along her jaw. The touch was light but not impersonal.

  Slowly, his fingers dragged down her throat.

  Amelia closed her eyes and embraced the strangeness of marital relations. To have her emotions turn to desire in a matter of moments was startling. She had not expected their marriage to be this way.

  His fingers slid along her collarbone next, and it was so decadent a touch that she shivered. “I did not expect this attraction between us,” he whispered.

  “I didn’t either,” she confessed.

  “I will teach you what is possible between a man and a woman. But it seems we are already well matched,” he murmured, and the brush of his lips at her collarbone was gentle, then he drew back when she moaned. “I want you to enjoy being married in every way possible. I want you to know satisfied desire.”

  She opened her eyes and searched his face. The earnest expression brought a smile to her lips. “I would like that. I enjoy your kisses.”

  A slow smile appeared on his face. “More than kisses, I think. Your pleasure comes first, then mine. That is how it should always be between us. There will be no repeat of the last time we were together.”

  She did not quite understand what he meant by that, but she nodded. For now, she would simply follow his lead and enjoy him until she knew it all.

  He caught her face in his hands again and kissed her softly before drawing back.

  Amelia wet her lips, tasting him, and set her hand against his chest to steady herself when her knees trembled.

  Chatham struggled out of his coat and waistcoat.

  He caught her face again and drew her back for another, deeper kiss that went on forever. The brush of his tongue across the seam of her lips made her gasp in shock, and when his tongue brushed hers, she clutched at him.

  Kissing Chatham was no rushed or brief experience today. He tasted her, devoured her, and made her pulse race with the excitement of what they did together.

  She became aware that his fingers were digging into her neat bun and tugging. Amelia broke the kiss when a hairpin dug into her skull quite painfully. She reached up and removed it. “If you wanted my hair down, you could have asked.”

  “I was trying to be subtle,” he said.

  Chatham had not been subtle in the whole time she’d known him, and she laughed. “You failed, my lord,” she said.

  He sighed. “Would you please take your hair down?”

  “Of course, if it pleases you.”

  “It does.”

  Amelia raised her hands, found the remaining pins her maid had secured her bun with, and removed them. She shook her head to bring her hair to lose order.

  Chatham groaned.

  She looked at him quickly, startled by the raw, desperate sound. But he only captured her head again and kissed her deeply.

  While they kissed, she felt him playing with her locks. She smiled against his lips, liking the way it felt when he ran his fingers through the long lengths as he crushed her to him.

  She swayed into him, liking the strength of his body against hers, and wondered when the rest of his clothes would come off.

  She did not have long to wait.

  Her husband ripped open his cravat and then removed his shirt, paused kissing her only long enough to pull the latter garment over her head but left his cravat about his neck.

  Amelia’s breath caught. Chatham was solid muscle, hard and almost unyielding under her fingertips. She swooned a little, overcome by him.

  Chatham swept her up into his arms without warning and carried her to the small settee. He sat her down on his lap.

  She squirmed, confused. “I thought we were to make love?”

  “And we will. Right here.”

  She glanced around them, startled. “Surely not?”

  “Wait and see,” he whispered, and then his lips were nibbling on her neck and his hands, fingertips, were dancing lightly over her torso.

  Her nipples tingled the first time he circled them.

  She squirmed until he moved onto other less sensitive parts of her body, stroking her hip and her thigh through her gown, while he sat in a state of half dress.

  Amelia turned to liquid as she stroked the hot, muscled body beneath her. Chatham appeared ravenous to kiss her everywhere. She felt a brush of cold across her back and shivered, lowering her gown’s bodice in the process.

  Chatham grinned and helped lower it farther with his teeth, until her arms were free of the sleeves. Amelia glanced down and watched Chatham frown at the laces of her stays, clearly unable to untie her.

  “May I?”

  “Yes, but do it slowly,” he whispered, breathing hard. He lay his head against her shoulder, and she was certain his gaze was on the strings.

  Slowly?

  Amelia found her fingers almost as useless with him watching her so closely, but she succeeded, and when the garment was loose, Chatham’s fingers were beside hers, teasing the garment away from her breasts and causing her breath to catch.

  He stroked her skin, drawing closer to her nipples, which were already pointed from the cold or excitement. When his fingers slid over the points, she moaned out loud.

  Chatham sighed as he cupped her bare breast and turned his face toward her throat.

  His breath was hot against her skin as he caressed her breast with reverence, even tugged on her nipple, too.

  Amelia shuddered and moaned, already out of her depth and climbing out of her skin. If this was a marriage without love, she would be a very satisfied woman indeed.

  She teased her fingers into Chatham’s dark hair as he lowered his face and took her nipple into his mouth. Her back arched at the flick of his tongue across the hard point, and she held him there when he sucked.

  Her sex throbbed in response, and she gripped her gown at the sides, unsure of what to do with herself but feeling a compulsion to do something scandalous.

  Chatham’s hand slapped over hers, and together they raised her gown a few inches higher.

  Chatham released her breast and pinched her stocking at her calf. “How high do your stockings go today?”

  Her breath shuddered out at the odd question. “They are tied above the knee today.”

  “Above the knee? I should like to see all of your leg, with your permission, of course.”

  She nodded quickly, nearly breathless with anticipation. His fingers, warm and heavy upon her leg, dragged upward. He stopped where stocking met thigh, lingered there, stroking around the tight ribbon. Then he searched for the ends of it. One tug and it was undone, sliding down her leg with ease.

  His fingers returned to skim over the old wound. “Are you certain this is as old as you claim?”

  “Yes,” she promised. “I was ten.”

  “Ten and there was no one around to protect you,” he complained.

  She tugged her gown over her knee again. “Things improved when Reynolds returned home from school.”

  “There are other scars.”

  She winced. He’d see the worst one eventually. There was no point hiding it. “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “My back.”

  Chatham pushed her gown out of the way and removed her stocking, his fingers sliding down her limb, but then she was flipped around, her gown shoved aside to expose her back. He outlined the burn her sister had made with wax as if it must still hurt her. His touch was light, gentle, and then his lips brushed her skin there, too. “She did this too. A pox on your sister and your family.”

  “It was only wax.”

  “Wax hurts.”

  Amelia shuddered as his breath warmed the skin on her back. No one had kissed her hurts since her mother. To have a husband do it was a kindness she’d not expected. His arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed. “No one will ever hurt you like this again,” he promised, and then he turned her back to face him.

  “I know,” she told him.

  He rearranged her to straddle him, pushing her gown aside and sweeping everything she was still wearing over her head, dumping it carelessly on the floor.

  His breathing was fast and labored.

  She searched his face, afraid his passion might dim due to his anger over the unsightly scars he’d found on her body. He seemed unusually interested in her imperfections. His fingers dug into her rear and pulled her snug against him though, sitting her right over his groin and his obvious state of arousal.

  She shuddered, imagining him over her again, inside her, hard and impatient and so very thrilling. Chatham, however, seemed in no hurry to put her on her back.

  After a moment of hesitation, she reached out to touch his hair again, enjoying the silky strands as they slipped through her fingers. Chatham closed his eyes, groaned, and his hips rose against her sex.

  He still wore a cravat around his neck, and she made use of it to pull him closer.

  His eyes flashed open. “Yes,” he whispered, rushing to lower his trousers.

  He rose under her again, butting the head of his erection against her sex.

  Amelia gasped and looked down, liking the sensation and hopeful for more.

  She also liked the feeling of control, too, and wriggled against him until his hips grew still. Chatham cupped her breasts and kneaded them. He thumbed her nipples as she ground down harder and more urgently against his body.

  Then he suddenly lifted her by the hips, and she felt the pressure of his length seeking entry as she lowered again.

  He pushed her down a little at a time. When she was settled, Chatham inside her, he lifted her up and down gently for a few moments, then stopped. “Now you. Ride me.”

  Amelia definitely wanted more of that feeling, and she liked taking control of their pleasure so much that she closed her eyes, lifted her face to the ceiling, and bounced upon his lap with enthusiasm, using his cravat as a rein.

  She easily found new angles to increase her own pleasure. Judging by his heavy labored breathing, Chatham was enjoying what she did, as well.

  Chatham’s hands continued to stroke her body, tease her breasts, and guide her movements.

  “My God, there is no lovelier sight than this,” he whispered. “Well matched, indeed.”

  She looked down at Chatham, saw desire burning bright in his eyes, sweat on his brow, and she smiled. Marriage to the earl was going to be better than she dreamed if she could have this with him.

  She rose when he put his hands between them. His touch on her sex was tentative at first, but even that small caress speared her pleasure higher. She shuddered, caught firmly by desire.

  He grabbed one hip, guiding her steadily, then pushed her down onto him hard.

  A moan escaped her as they jolted together so forcefully. She threw her head back and squirmed, repeating the movement herself, eventually finding a rhythm that pulled him in and out of her body in a way she craved move of.

  When she looked down at Chatham, his face was flushed red. He shifted beneath her, keeping them joined as he took charge.

  The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he moved them together, seeking more.

  His movements became more urgent; he guided her, forced her to move faster on his erection. His fingers dug into the flesh of her derriere, and she enjoyed the intimacy and the mild discomfort of that, too. She didn’t want to end this madness, but she knew it couldn’t last. This erotic dance with the earl she’d married had but one place to go.

  Suddenly, his fingers were on her sex again, flicking and rubbing. And she gasped and pushed against that pressure—then her body shuddered and Amelia cried out in surprise.

  She clung to Chatham, pulsing and thrashing as the unexpected pleasure burst over her in waves.

  He slammed into her and shouted out.

  He jerked several times but eventually became still. His grip around her loosened slowly, by degrees, but Amelia couldn’t quite catch her breath still, and her mind was racing.

  Chatham pressed his lips to her cheek, breathing hard, too. “That is how it should have been done the first time,” he whispered. “I promise it always will from now on.”

  Amelia buried her face in his shoulder to hide her sudden anguish, wishing it wouldn’t always be that way…because the name her husband had uttered had not been hers.

  It had been an endearment meant for the woman she’d replaced—my love. He couldn’t possibly mean Amelia.

  She had to respond, though. “That was better for me. I did not know what pleasure meant for a woman. If you had told me that I might feel like this with you, I would have said yes immediately.”

  He laughed and hugged her closer. “You might have thought I was lying about my prowess. I would have thought I was exaggerating, too,” he agreed, lips brushing her cheek, her ear. “I never imagined this with you.”

  No, of course not, but he had shared this with his first wife, at least in the beginning.

  His fingers curled around her skull, drawing her down to rest against his shoulder, and his lips continued to brush across her brow.

  Eventually, he eased from her body and put her aside on the settee. Her legs still tangled with his, but she drew herself away, feeling awkward in the aftermath of intimacy. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Well, my lord…”

  He turned to face her, frowning. “Amelia? Did I hurt you and not notice?”

  “Oh no, but feeling a little awkwardness is natural, isn’t it? Now that we are done and in the light of day.”

  She had never been naked around anyone but a maid or her mother.

  He swept her hair behind her shoulder, his eyes searching hers. “Such encounters do not have to end abruptly between us or be awkward. We will be married for a long time. Your comfort is important to me.”

  Amelia bit her lip but then nodded. “I will get used to this, I promise.”

  “You don’t have to get used to it. If you are not comfortable, though, I need to know immediately.”

  She studied him, let her eyes sweep over his nakedness. She felt a twinge between her legs that had everything to do with desire. She relaxed and sat back again. “Give me time to adjust to being like this with you.”

  “All the years you need,” he promised. He rose, kicked off his lower garments and, naked as the day he was born, strode toward the dressing screen. Amelia’s breath caught again when he returned, holding his robe for her to put on. She stood and let him dress her in it and sat down again at his urging.

  She was intrigued and aroused by their nakedness, though. Nothing had prepared her for the sight of a nude man, strutting around his bedchamber as if it was completely natural.

  She couldn’t look away from his body, and he noticed.

  His member was softer now but seemed to thicken and move under her gaze.

  Her eyes flew to his, and he smiled. “It has a mind of its own, but I think you need time to recover your strength before we are intimate again.”

  Amelia’s breath shuddered out of her, and she might have argued for more immediately had a knock not sounded on their door.

  Chatham sighed. “What is it?”

  “Forgive the interruption. His Grace wishes to speak with you urgently,” the butler, Mr. Brown, called out.

  Amelia stood, embarrassed as she snatched up her discarded clothing. Her gown was horribly wrinkled, and she would need another before anyone saw her. “One moment,” she called.

  “Forgive me, but His Grace only wishes to speak with his son,” Brown added, sounding aggrieved by the distinction he was forced to make.

  Amelia was relieved, though. She would need time to recover her composure.

  Chatham plucked the gown from her fingers and tossed it to the floor again. He tried to pull her into his arms. “Tell him we are busy.”

  “I am told to say, ‘Now’.”

  Amelia put her hand on Chatham’s chest and pushed him back. “You should go to your father. Besides, I need some time to repair myself after…”

  Chatham’s smile turned distinctively smug. He held her against him and planted another hungry kiss on her lips. They grappled for a moment, caught by a flurry of renewed desire brought on no doubt by their state of undress, until the knock came again, and louder.

  Chatham cursed and drew back. “Just when things were about to get interesting again.”

  “There could be plenty of time for interesting later tonight,” she promised, hoping that might be true.

  “Every night if I have my way, my delectable wife,” he said, raising her hand to his lips and dropping a kiss on her wedding band.

  Then he rushed about, throwing on his clothes and tossing hers onto the bed as he found them. It was fascinating, watching him make himself presentable again.

  When he was finally done, he bowed to her and swept out of the room—as immaculate as ever.

  Amelia subsided onto the settee, where she’d just been ravaged, and hugged his robe and the lingering pleasure tighter around her body. For all his talk about mutual respect and companionship, Amelia had married a surprisingly passionate man.

  She might not have his whole attention yet, but she would one day soon. She would not deny that her desires were well satisfied so far, and Chatham hinted there could be more pleasures to explore. He might never want her heart, but her body—at least—was definitely wanted in his arms, no matter the time.