her hips began to lift and lower her over his cock in long, smooth strokes, guiding her in a wanton rhythm that left him breathless. “Sweet Jesus…just like this.”
But the beautiful, independent creature in his arms had no patience and began to move against him on her own in jerking little thrusts whose unpracticed eagerness drove him wild. Her thighs shook around him as the tension mounted inside her, her fingers digging harder into his shoulders as she fought for purchase to deepen each delicious rise and fall over him.
Unable to restrain himself much longer, he leaned back as far as the settee allowed and wiggled his hand down between them to find that sensitive little bud buried in her folds. He rubbed his knuckles against her, and she bucked.
“Brandon!” Her arms grasped around his neck like iron bands, but she didn’t stop the pumping of her hips over him and bore down tightly around him as she drove them both toward release.
He stroked her again, and she broke with a loud cry. He followed after, into bliss.
* * *
He nuzzled her temple. “That was a pleasant surprise.”
His husky voice rumbled into her as Amelia lay draped across him, her head resting in that wonderful hollow between his neck and shoulder. Languid and satiated, the two of them were still wrapped around each other as they lay together on the settee. That was all they could bring themselves to move after making love—simply lying down right where they were.
She lazily stroked her hand over his chest, mirroring the gentle caresses he brushed over her back. She would have to leave soon, well before Frederick arrived, and Pearce would have to straighten his clothes to hide all traces of how thoroughly she’d ravished him. But for now, both were happy to remain in each other’s arms.
“Yes, it was.” She gave a little laugh, unable to believe the joy bubbling inside her. Never had she been this happy! And it was all because of Pearce. “When I came here, it was to give you a scolding for speaking to Freddie without me.”
“Well then,” he taunted rakishly, earning himself another one of her laughs, “scold me whenever you’d like.” He growled as he nuzzled her neck. “Repeatedly. And often.”
“I’m serious.” She lifted her head and stared down into his eyes, the hand at his shoulder moving to caress his cheek. “I do trust you now. Completely.”
He grinned, pleased, and placed a kiss to her shoulder where the neckline of her dress had been pulled down from their lovemaking.
“And that’s why it hurt when you’d moved forward on the trust without telling me.”
His smile faded. “I did it to protect you.”
“I know.” With a small frown, she outlined his lips with her fingertip, already missing his smile. “But if we’re going to be in this together, then I need to know that we’re in this together…completely, without doubt.” She hesitated. “And not just with the trust.”
His turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
Nervousness fluttered butterflies in her belly, and she couldn’t look in his eyes, fixing her gaze on his chest instead as her hand lowered to rest there. Right over his heart. “After we’d made love the first time, you asked me to marry you.”
He stiffened and said grimly, “I remember.”
She pulled in a deep breath of courage and curled her fingers into his waistcoat. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I will marry you.”
Confusion darkened his handsome features. “You didn’t think anything we could do would make a difference. If you can’t end your marriage, then—”
She silenced him with a kiss, then whispered against his lips, “Everything’s changed…I think.”
Sitting up, he took her shoulders and set her away just far enough to search her face for answers. “What happened?”
“Agnes Sinclair.”
He blinked. “Lady Agnes?”
“We had a rather revelatory conversation over tea.”
“I’m sure you did,” he muttered warily. “I’ve heard how she takes her tea with a splash of whiskey.”
“Whiskey with a splash of tea, actually,” she corrected at Agnes’s expense. “While we were talking, she reminded me of this.” She reached into the pocket of her pelisse and withdrew the folded sheet of paper. “My marriage settlement.” She held it out to him. “My unsigned settlement.” Then she added breathlessly, hope lacing through her voice, “And what I pray is my escape.”
His inscrutable expression gave away none of his thoughts as he took the paper from her and read it.
Silently, he gave it back to her, then stood and moved away toward the