Page 15 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

A melia’s heart took flight as Graham’s lips touched hers. She should have been shocked. Nervous. But she felt none of that. His mouth was familiar, safe, soothing, and so much more. Had she done this before? In a dream she couldn’t remember? She’d never, for the life of her, wanted to kiss Graham any more than she’d wanted to kiss a fish.

But now she couldn’t stop. The warm, pliant, silky softness of his lips lured her in. Why were his lips so soft? And had they always been this full? She couldn’t remember. The longer they kissed, the more her mind fragmented into a prism of colors and feelings that swept her thoughts away.

They should stop. They must stop. But then his fingers dug into her hair, pulling her close. She held the lapels of his coat, the warmth coming from his body drawing her into his embrace. His lips did not part. She knew there were some forms of kissing that involved tongues and thrusting. She’d heard about that, but this kiss was not like that. It was... addicting. Their mouths moved together, molding, shifting, and pressing, like dancing. Her breaths grew sharp and quick, and his scent filling her head.

She slid her arms over his shoulders and mimicked him, slipping her fingers into the short hair at his nape. He made a sound deep in his throat, dark and needy. Heat pooled inside her, that sound sending thrilling shivers right to her—

Amelia suddenly pulled away, afraid of what that sound meant, terrified of what it had made her feel. She broke the kiss, stepping back until her shoulders met the wall, and she held the back of her hand to her mouth. She couldn’t look at him, only the plain silver pin in his cravat.

She’d certainly gained enough knowledge. More than enough. She’d never look at Graham Blakewood the same again, knowing what his kiss felt like, what his hands in her hair could do to her, and the noises he made.

“That’s enough,” she said. “I’m going to change. See to Sam.”

He didn’t reply as she darted past him.

Her heart pounded as she reached the end of the hall, climbing the back stairs through the shadows until she reached her room. The clock struck the hour, and eleven chimes filled her room.

Fran was there. She set a book down and stood.

“How was the musicale?” she asked. She gestured for Amelia to the stool at her dressing table. Amelia blinked, taking her seat and still searching for the right words to... understand what had just happened.

“He kissed me,” she whispered.

“What the devil happened to your hair? Did you pull these pins yourself?”

“Mr. Blakewood did it,” Amelia said absently.

Fran’s hands froze. She caught her maid’s stare in the mirror.

“I beg your pardon. I couldn’t have heard what I thought I just heard.”

Amelia swallowed. “He doesn’t—we don’t like each other. But we had to kiss. We have to pretend we’re engaged.”

Fran dropped the pins she held on the dressing table with a clatter and turned away, muttering a prayer.

“My lady, you did not tell me of this.”

“I didn’t?” Amelia sobered enough to start taking down her hair herself while Fran paced. Her head ached, and her lips throbbed. Such a wicked sensation. She was impulsive and often wild, but she wasn’t a woman who sought male attention. She’d never felt bodily urges to be intimate with someone. She’d assumed it was because she hadn’t met the right person.

Until tonight. Until Graham kissed her. Now her whole body needed touch. She needed things she could not explain.

Fran approached her, cupping her face. “What have you done, Amelia Jane Clark?”

The use of her middle name, her mother’s name, snapped her out of the fog. “What? Oh, it just happened yesterday afternoon. But it isn’t real, you see. My aunt and Nelson were being pushy, as usual, and I just blurted out that Graham and I were engaged. She was already threatening to move in with me while my brother was away on his pretend journey. But with Graham as my fiancé, she won’t, and she can’t pressure me to marry Nelson—at least that was the idea. But what about my brother? Has anything happened while we were gone?”

“Petrov gave him more broth.”

Amelia sighed with relief.

“Finish your story.”

“Well, tonight we had to act engaged, but it did not go well. There was tension between us from the start. Then there was Julia Whistler, Lady Foxcroft, who was whispering with Mr. Blakewood during the music, and he was ignoring me. My aunt used it to insinuate that he was only marrying me for my inheritance. Then we got home and fought. I told him... I told him he needed to do better at pretending to like me. He said something about experience and knowledge that I still don’t understand.” Amelia bit her lip. They remembered the feel of Graham’s, and her panic rose all over again.

They’d kissed. If she licked her lips, would she taste him? She picked up a cloth and wiped her mouth.

“Continue, please,” Fran said as she finished taking down Amelia’s hair and brushed it out.

“He said he would kiss me. That doing so would... make us appear more as a couple because then we’d have shared something. Does that make sense?”

“Of course it does.”

“Does it? How?”

Fran smiled. “When a couple has shared intimacies, there’s always a look about them. They’re always taking peeks at each other, smiling like idiots, looking for any excuse to be alone. It’s obvious when two people are in love.”

Amelia scooted around to face Fran. “But we’re not in love. How do we become a convincing couple? We need to make this last as long as possible, long enough for my brother to recover.”

“So, Mr. Blakewood kissed you. Did you kiss him back?”

“Yes, what else was I supposed to do?”

“How did it make you feel?”

Amelia blushed. “All sorts of things.”

“Such as? Revulsion, bitterness, nausea?”

Amelia frowned. “No. Pleasant things. I felt warmer, tingly.” Her eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

Fran’s eyes danced with humor. “It means he can give a proper kiss. Not all men can.” She said it with a wink. She cocked her head and looked up at the ceiling. “Aye, Mr. Blakewood is likely talented at a lot of things. He’s got big hands. And the quiet ones are always the most...” She drifted off as she studied Amelia. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me. What does it mean?”

Fran poked her nose. “It means you enjoyed the kiss.”

“And?”

“And that’s all. Why do you think that new maid Millie West has a new man every week? She enjoys the chase, and she enjoys being caught. She’s not a woman who loses her heart. She just likes to get to know a man. If you know what I mean.”

“No,” Amelia argued. “There is nothing clear about any of this!”

Fran sighed and lowered to her knees, face-to-face with Amelia. She took hold of Amelia’s hands.

“You’ve got so much to learn and no mother to teach you. I suppose it is time, and I’m the only woman close to you who can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Explain the natures of men and women. Intimacy is grand. But it isn’t always about love. It can be for mutual enjoyment.”

“You’ve lain with a man? But you’re not married.”

Fran scoffed. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t loved someone. He had to move to the Americas, but I don’t regret our time together. I knew I had to be careful and not get myself with child. But I enjoyed his company. I’ve also lain with a man I haven’t cared a ha-penny about, but he was handsome, and I was lonely. We had mutual needs that we could satisfy together. You see?”

Amelia reflected. She’d always rather viewed them as the same age, but Fran was older and more experienced in life. A life that Amelia had seen very little of and was having trouble entirely understanding now.

Amelia shrugged in confusion. “Not really.”

“I’m saying you liked the kiss because it was a good kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

“Oh...” Amelia considered that. “That’s a relief.” However, she knew she would not rest tonight after that kiss. Relieved or not, she was still warm and tingly, and still too curious for her own good. She wanted Fran to tell her everything, including what it meant for Graham to have big hands.

“But I remind you, women in your position can’t be going around kissing lads for the fun of it. Engaged or not.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m not your mother, but I feel it is my duty to give you the pertinent knowledge. Lord knows where this plan of yours will land you. I’d rather you go into battle armed.”

Amelia nodded. “With knowledge, you mean?”

“It’s always best to keep a small knife in your bag, too.”