The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,49

want her to withdraw her hand. He wanted to feel her touch. His chest still heaved with the effects of exertion and his jaw ached, but he refused to look away from her. She was beautiful, like an angel, with her untamed tresses and her gentle voice. Her very presence soothed him like a balm. His breathing slowed, and he wiped his chin again. “I’m fine.”

Amelia pushed her hair out of her eyes, the firelight dancing on each long strand. It looked like gold. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I . . .”

Graham nodded but said nothing. He prided himself on being a wise enough sailor to know when he’d entered uncharted waters. This woman touched something deep in him. Be it from the blow he received or the adrenaline from the fight, he didn’t trust his words. Not just yet.

He had almost forgotten William was in the room. His brother hurried to the window, pressed himself against the wall, and lifted the curtain just enough to see outside. “Littleton’s gone. Good riddance.” He dropped the curtain and walked over to study Graham’s bloody lip. “You should have ducked.”

Graham nodded, grateful for the attempt at humor. “Thank you for your advice. I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He met Amelia’s eyes and a look of triumph passed between them. Littleton was gone—for now. But how long would he stay away?

William slapped Graham’s shoulder, sending sharp pains up his neck and through his injured jaw. “My little brother, master of Winterwood Manor. Impressive.” He stared dramatically at the ceiling. “Does this mean you will be keeping your feet firmly planted on land now that you have a beautiful bride to cherish and love?”

The words cherish and love hung awkwardly between them. Amelia looked down at the floor. Graham straightened his jacket. “I’ll return to the war as soon as the ship repairs are done, as planned.”

“Seems a shame.” William moved toward the door and then turned back to Amelia. “It’s late. Miss Barrett, it was a pleasure to see you, even under these peculiar circumstances.” He bowed. “Graham, are you coming?”

“I’ll be there straightaway.”

“Then I’ll get the horses. That is, if your beast of an animal hasn’t managed to wander off.”

Graham shifted his weight as the heavy front door closed behind William. “Will you be all right?”

The trembling in Amelia’s lips belied the confidence in her voice. “I should think so. Winterwood is my home, after all.”

“I doubt you shall see any more of Littleton tonight, but perhaps it would be more prudent for you to stay at Eastmore Hall for the time being.”

Amelia raised a blond eyebrow. “Me? At Eastmore Hall? Thank you, no. What would people say?”

“I would think it is a little late to consider the opinions of others.”

She flinched at his comment but said nothing. She gathered her hair and absently wrapped her hand around the thick locks.

“Your cousin would be welcome to accompany you, of course.”

She shook her head no, so Graham headed for the doorway, where James had appeared with his hat. He didn’t want to leave her, not just yet, but he could hear William with the horses on the front drive and weary shadows smudged Amelia’s smooth cheeks. “It’s been a long night. You need rest. I will be by first thing in the morning and attempt to settle things with your uncle.”

“Thank you, Captain Sterling.”

He tucked his hat under his arm, bowed slightly, then lingered in the doorway for a moment, memorizing the look of her—the long, lustrous hair, the gentle mouth, the sapphire eyes. He suspected those eyes would haunt him from that moment forth.

Graham didn’t know if his throbbing jaw or the awkwardness of his position awakened him. With slow, deliberate movements, he pushed himself off the brocade cushion. Every muscle ached, and salty dried blood lingered on his lip.

When had he finally slept? Last he remembered, he’d returned from Winterwood in the black of night, opened Eastmore Hall’s library window for some air, and sat on the plush settee to nurse his wounds. Now the sun’s long morning rays reached into the room, bathing the space in a yellow glow.

Graham shook sleep from his limbs. He distinctly recalled explaining his and Amelia’s engagement to William, careful to withhold any indication that she had proposed to him. He must have dozed off after that, and apparently his brother had done the same, for William’s lanky frame slumped in an overstuffed