Page 32 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

H e strolled toward her, his face unreadable. A perfect example of cold calm. But she knew better, and her heart was pounding. He was angry, enraged even.

“Will you escort me?” she asked. “They procured a hack for me. Or did you just arrive and intend to stay?”

“I can’t be in the ladies’ area, but I was informed you were here and was permitted to collect you.”

Collect her? She didn’t like that one bit, but she bit her tongue and stepped to his side like the dutiful future wife she was pretending to be.

“Wonderful. I’d love for you to see me home.” She hugged his arm, looking up into his face adoringly. Over his shoulder, she spotted Mr. Chase smirking at her.

“Come this way and put that on,” he said, nodding at her cloak. He led her down the stairs to the ladies’ entrance and out to the street.

“Graham I know I should have—”

“Not now.”

They were silent as they climbed into the Alston carriage and Graham took the seat across from her.

“Alston House,” he instructed the driver. “We have just enough time to make tonight’s engagement if you dress quickly.” He said it with a tone strung tight like the cords of a violin. His gaze wandered over her as if he had to make sure she wasn’t missing any pieces. This overprotectiveness was something she was struggling to accept. Really, he was being rather dramatic.

“I don’t want to go,” Amelia said.

“You will be missed. Won’t that cause a stir?” The harsh lines of his face softened. “Are you all right?” His concern warmed something inside of her, and the part of her that wanted to rage at his attempts to control everything lessened. Despite his tendency toward being overbearing, he did care for her—she knew he did.

“Yes. I am perfectly fine. Though I am tired and would rather go home than to another engagement. I’ll a send a note.”

“Fine,” he said. He turned his head toward the window and Amelia studied his profile.

She was confused and not quite over being angry. At herself, for proving to Graham once again how right he was about her impulsive and reckless behavior, and at Graham, for thinking he always knew better. Although Amelia was beginning to see that his priggish behavior wasn’t judgment so much as concern. For her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone,” Amelia blurted. She pressed her eyes closed in embarrassment. Would he gloat? It wasn’t like him, but after all the trouble she’d caused him, she probably deserved a bit of mocking. She opened her eyes when he didn’t speak.

He was staring at her, the outside lanterns casting his face in gold. He was so handsome. Had he always been this gorgeous? In a way, she’d known it all the time, but his frigid behavior toward her used to mute the effect.

“If you know you shouldn’t have gone, why did you?” he asked, far gentler than she expected.

Amelia bit the inside of her cheek as she searched for something better to say than because I wanted to. But she had no excuse. She was curious and wanted to meet the mysterious Widow who ran a gaming club and had a spy working for her.

“I don’t have a good reason. I did what I wanted to do, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d try to stop me.”

“Do you have no care for your safety or the worry of others?”

“I was safe. The Den is a luxurious and respectable establishment from what I’ve seen—if a little eccentric. But I do have regrets about making you worry. Does Sam know?”

“No. He was sleeping when I got the note.”

Amelia frowned in confusion. “What note?”

“Mr. Chase sent me a note as to your whereabouts.”

She bristled. “What right does he have to—” She cut herself off and shook her head. “This was a trap. Why else would he encourage me to attend and then tattle?”

“Perhaps he knew the dangers better than you and had a crisis of conscience.”

Amelia shook her head in aggravation. “Why does everyone insist on treating me like a child? Even if going to the Den today wasn’t the wisest choice, I still deserve to have a life of my own and to garner my own experiences. Please help me understand why I can’t.”

“You can’t traipse around alone in a gaming club and think that you will leave the same young woman who entered.”

“But there were many respectable matrons there.”

“Yes, matrons . You’re an unwed young lady of the peerage. There are things you don’t know yet, Amelia, and shouldn’t learn there.” He leaned forward. “Moreover, we already have too much attention on all of us. One misstep and you’ll be scorned by all of society. Then your brother will be forced to marry whomever the Widow chooses—all because you will have dragged the family name through the mud by putting your interests first. I’m sorry you were born a woman and are held to a different set of expectations than Alston or me, but that doesn’t change the situation we must deal with now. When you’re married—if you marry—it will be different.”

“And If I never marry? What then? At what age will I truly gain my independence? Thirty? Fifty? Am I supposed to remain chaste and unknowledgeable while I wait this undeterminable amount of time before I’m allowed free agency?”

“Amelia, a woman as beautiful and wealthy as you will always be a target. I can’t stop you from whatever future you make yourself once this charade ends, but right now you are mine to protect, even if I must sometimes protect you from yourself. And I may only be your pretend fiancé , but I will burn this world to the ground before I let anyone or anything hurt you.”

“Graham,” she whispered. Her heart lurched at his words, beating so loudly that it was all she could hear. Her gaze moved over his face, like she’d never seen him before. Or like she was seeing him for the first time. She didn’t know what this feeling was that bubbled up inside her, but it was powerful and it made her want to crawl into his lap and kiss away the lines of worry between his brows.

“Don’t take me home,” she said. If they arrived home they’d go straight to Sam and never finish this conversation.

He shook his head. “Why not?”

“I want to... we should keep talking. There is so much between us, and I don’t think I understand any of it. For instance, when did we decide to hate each other?”

“I’ve never hated you, Amelia.”

“Then why did you distance yourself from me for so long? What did I do to deserve the way you’ve treated me, spoken to me? Is it just because I’m a woman?”

He looked up to the carriage ceiling and wiped his hand over his face. He knocked on the roof and called through the window, “Circle the park, Clyde.”

“Aye, sir,” came the reply, and the carriage, which had begun to slow, picked up pace again.

Amelia waited, her nerves stretching. “Why are we circling the park?”

“I thought you wanted to talk. This ensures us the most privacy if we’re not returning to Alston House.”

“Except for Clyde.”

“Do you plan on yelling?”

Amelia laughed quietly. “No. Not unless you don’t answer my question.”

He tugged on his cravat. “What question?”

Amelia crossed to his bench. “What is it about me you don’t like?”

He took a deep breath. “It isn’t that simple. I conduct myself as a gentleman should in regard to his behavior toward a gentlewoman.”

“You weren’t this cold when we first met. Why can my brother be your friend but not me?”

He tilted his head to the side. Because of the shadowed interior she couldn’t read his expression.

“For one, you’re a woman, and much younger when we met. You were just a girl then and reminded me a great deal of my sister, so that was how I treated you—not as friends, but with respect. I acted with honor and integrity. And your brother may be the same age in years, but he had far more in common with me even then than he did with men his own age. But the same could not be said for you and me.”

“I understand that, but why did you become so cold? Not polite and aloof, but cold. That isn’t how one treats a sister, and it isn’t respect. Everything I did upset you, no matter how small. Why?”

There was a moment of silence and he was as still as a statue. “I’d only just met Alston four months before. I hadn’t had time to truly get to know you. Then he invited me to your come-out ball and you were so damned beautiful that night it shook me. I knew I had to adjust my way of thinking and acting around you. I couldn’t talk to you as though you were a little girl like Daisy. So I put a wall between us to keep my distance for propriety’s sake and out of respect to both you and Alston.”

Heat washed over her body. “You went from congenial to disdain overnight, and I never knew what I did to deserve that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you, and you didn’t do anything. Once I saw you that night I knew I had to force this distance between us because I didn’t trust myself. You made me feel weak and reckless. I suppose the colder I was, the easier it was to maintain the distance I needed.”

His admission stunned her. After a moment she replied, “I grew to dislike you for that distance, and I looked for reasons to irritate you. I wanted to punish you for hurting my feelings.”

“You must admit I was right to impose that distance between us, however badly I did it. My attraction to you makes me do things I would never do otherwise.”

Amelia blushed. “Like enter into pretend engagements.”

“Or kiss you in an alcove at a ball. Your brother trusted me to take care of you, but not like this. What we’re doing is scandalous and will ruin all of us. Unless you’ve changed your mind and you agree to marry me as Alston suggested, this farce is destined to end badly.”

“He said that when he was dying, but now he is better. We needn’t marry.”

“I would beg to differ given recent events.”

Amelia’s mouth popped open to refute him, but he was right. “There is something strong between us, I won’t ignore that, but that doesn’t mean we must marry or deny what we feel. You haven’t married every woman you’ve dallied with.”

“You are not just any woman. You’re not a widow, not are you a woman who is outside the expectations of society. I cannot simply dally with you.”

“What about what I want? How am I supposed to ignore these feelings? I can’t go back now. I want you to touch me, kiss me. I want you to need me like I need you.”

He pressed a hand to his brow. “Amelia...” He turned away toward the window, but Amelia grabbed his lapel and made him face her.

“Listen to me.”

He leaned toward her. “No, you listen to me. I will not defile you, insult your brother, and risk the ruin of your reputation for a bit of dalliance. So unless you will marry me, this stops.”

Whas he asking or giving her an ultimatum?

“You don’t want to marry me, Graham. Whatever was the cause of our animosity before, it fed on our differences which already existed. It was easy for me to stoke your ire, and you knew exactly how to make me feel smaller.”

“Amelia, I never wanted that. I admit I did it badly, but I was fighting a battle every moment I was around you. But you’re right. We are too different to get along in a marriage. You’re vibrant like a rainbow and I’m... gray through and through.”

Amelia shook her head at him. “You really believe that?”

“I was burning for you. I didn’t want Alston to know. I didn’t want him to think I was panting after your skirts like a lecher, like every other man at your come-out ball. You’ve made it clear how dull I am and you’re not wrong. I’m a simple man with simple needs except when it comes to you. But a marriage cannot be sustained on passion alone.”

She yanked him closer. “You’re not just gray, Graham. You’ve got colors of your own. They may not be the same shades as mine, but you’re still beautiful. You’re are shades of earth like the sea green of your eyes.” She ran her hand through his hair and thought she felt him shudder. “You’re warm mahogany with licks of red and orange like autumn leaves. You’re smooth white marble and the dark gray of unbreakable steel.” She wanted him so badly her body ached with a hollowness only he could appease.

He closed his eyes. “Amelia, don’t tempt me.”

“Tempt you? You make me feel such wicked things I don’t know what to do.” She wanted to climb into his lap and let this desire consume both of them, but she knew he’d resist.

“This is why we have to stop,” he warned, opening his eyes and pinning her with his stare. “You don’t know the perils of succumbing to lust like I do.”

“This doesn’t feel like peril. Graham, if we set aside our differences and just for this moment you could have me, what would you do? If you’re burning, I’m burning too. But we can burn together—we don’t have to resist this.”

The carriage grew silent, the outside world muted as the sound of his breath quickened.

His breath fanned her neck, and she tilted her head to the side, enjoying the warm caress. His nose brushed the skin just under her ear, a delightfully sensitive place. She gripped his lapel tighter, arching her neck more.

“Don’t do this,” he said, his lips brushing her skin.

“What am I doing?”

His arm snaked around her. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“How can I? According to you, I am the epitome of all things na?ve and innocent.” Her lips brushed his ear.

He growled, the vibration sending shivers over her skin.

“Do you know what you do to me?” she whispered. “I feel hot and liquid. My body wants to melt into yours. Why is that?”

“You are overcome because you are not used to it. I’m older than you, and I have more experience in these matters. It’s dangerous to let ourselves succumb to these feelings. We can’t keep doing this. There are repercussions—devastating, life altering consequences that will hurt you much more than me. I’m trying so desperately to keep you safe, Amelia.”

“I am safe with you.”

He pulled away, just enough to meet her eyes. “Do you truly believe that?”

Amelia cupped his face. “I do.” Didn’t he know this?

She pressed her lips to his, feeling the groan of strain that lifted in his throat. He would try to resist her, but he could not. She knew that now, and she was not so noble as to ignore it. She was seeing, hearing, and feeling things she’d never felt before, and in her heart she knew it didn’t have to end badly, whatever his fears might be. This could be good for both of them.

“What is it you want from me?” he asked.

“I want you to touch me.”

His breathing grew ragged. He kissed her, cradling the back of her head and holding her mouth to his. Amelia slung her arms around his neck, delighting in this savage side of Graham that only she had begun to witness.

Graham could have all the control if he needed to, she decided—at least he could right here, right now. He could ravish her. He could take the reins and give her what she was asking for on his terms. If he needed to lead, he could lead. He had her unreservedly.

She pressed her breasts into his chest, needy for friction and contact. Something about him made her want to be consumed. She playfully nipped at his bottom lip.

“Touch me, Graham,” she begged.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“We’re alive right now, aren’t we? Embrace it.”

He snarled a curse under his breath. “You want me to defile you?”

Amelia scoffed. “Don’t utter such nonsense. You could never defile me. You care too much for me.”

“Yes,” he said with a smoky voice, his gaze searching hers.

“I want you to touch me.”

He held her stare, and closed the carriage curtains. He pulled her close, his hand gliding under her ruffled hem. Amelia parted her thighs. His hand reached her bare thigh, and the tips of his fingers startled her as they grazed her. She was slippery with need, a fact he discovered when he slipped two fingers along the seam of her sex.

“Bloody hell, Amelia.”

This wasn’t as glorious as when he’d put his mouth on her, but it was equally scintillating in that it was so public here in the carriage yet still so discreet. He swirled his finger around the hood of her sex, that sensitive bead sending shards of pleasure through her belly. She squirmed against his light touch, needing more, and moaned into his mouth. He wasn’t kissing her any longer, his focus entirely dedicated to his ministrations between her legs.

He spread her open, courting the entrance to her body, teasing the delicate flesh with probing fingers until he slipped one inside. The intrusion was at first strange, such a foreign sensation that she couldn’t describe how it made her feel. He pressed in, and she rode the palm of his hand, her breath catching as he caught her lips again, taking in her desperate sounds. She got used to the feeling quickly, eagerly chasing that stroking finger with her body when Graham added a second, and her walls had to stretch to accommodate it. That feeling of fullness rocked her senses. Everything became heightened as the implications of innocence and purity became strikingly clear.

Her virginity—that elusive, invisible stigma that had determined her value as a young woman—had always been a specter she could dismiss. But now she understood. To her body this was all new, not just the sensations and wonderful burst of pleasure, but the claiming. Graham, the first man to touch her so intimately, was marking her deeply. Everything faded to just the two of them. Him, stroking her to life, and her, basking in the magnitude of this moment. For the rest of her days, a part of her would belong to Graham. That should alarm her, but it didn’t. This was Graham, and there was no better man to entrust her body to. He’d even hold her heart for safekeeping if she asked him to.

Somewhere along this nightmarish journey, their common goals had smoothed the edges of their animosity, revealing something else, though she’d been slow to see it for what it was: comradery, dare she think it friendship, trust, and now this.

This substance she dared not name. She wasn’t qualified to identify it. She wasn’t willing to, either. She just wanted to live inside this moment, in this bubble of safe pleasure with him.

Her hips moved with his hand of their own will, that shimmering summit of rapture glowing brighter as she neared it. He held her mouth captive, his unyielding fingers wringing the most indecent sounds from her body, and she loved every second of it. But like most good things, it must reach its eventual zenith and end.

She cried into their kiss, breaking away only to draw a full breath. Her head floated in the clouds and her body sank into weighted bliss. He pulled his hand out from under her skirts, his other hand still cupping the back of her head like she might flee if he let go.

Amelia never wanted him to let go.

Their gazes touched again. He wiped his fingers with his handkerchief and tucked it away. Amelia swallowed, her brilliant flush of ecstasy fading to one of anxious anticipation.

He didn’t have the look of a man enslaved by passion. He looked resigned.

He knocked on the roof once more. “Alston House.”

“Aye!” Clyde called back.

Perhaps she was the one who couldn’t let go.