“Amelia, love, where are you?”

Gideon stepped around a stack of books, trying to find his wife. She’d been locked in Tarryhall’s immense library since breakfast and was now officially ten minutes late for lunch.

Despite his initial plan to visit all his estates as part of their bridal tour, they hadn’t stirred past Derbyshire for the past three weeks.

Once they’d arrived, he had taken a good look at the estate and decided to stay longer. Despite the size of the holding, and the neglect it had suffered after changing hands so many times, the house itself and surrounding pleasure gardens were sound and imminently defendable—almost a fortress.

If the giant was coming for them, it would have a hell of a time getting to them here.

Fortunately, they had sent most of Amelia’s extra staff to Tarryhall. As it happened his estate manager had a few positions to fill, posts his predecessors had left vacant far too long. Grateful for the help, the rest of the staff absorbed the foreign-born servants with surprising open-mindedness.

But there were still superfluous footmen he could now employ as guards for the house and grounds. He also quietly assigned four guards to watch over Amelia whenever she left the house to pay calls or visit his tenants. Since they were all members of her former staff, she hadn’t quibbled about his overprotectiveness—not once he hinted he’d been at a loss to find other occupations for them. Rather than see any of her people dismissed, she’d accepted the guards with no complaint.

There had been no further disturbances of the kind he experienced in London, but he wasn’t willing to risk his wife—or the child he believed she was carrying.

He found Amelia curled up on a couch in a corner of the library surrounded by leather-bound volumes. She’d insisted on bringing her complete collection of occult books to Derbyshire and had taken over the library for her research.

Amelia had even added a few texts related to the supernatural from Tarryhall’s own shelves. Apparently, one or more of his predecessors had been an enthusiast of the occult.

Gideon knelt and tried to shake her awake, but she was fast asleep. He stroked her cheek, deciding to give her more time.

Amelia continued to ascribe her fatigue and occasional bouts of illnesses to the long journey and his country cook’s preference for heavy local dishes. Privately, he found her sweet ignorance endearing, but it also made him a little sad that nothing in her upbringing had prepared her to consider pregnancy as a cause.

Selfishly, Gideon hadn’t been sorry she was carrying his child. When she first showed signs of illness, he’d been concerned she was being poisoned. Then it dawned on him she was only sick in the morning. He’d welcomed the idea of a baby with relief. But the more he thought about it, the more concerned he became.

Amelia was so small and he was a big man. It stood to reason his babe would be large. Childbirth might be difficult for her.

At least those strange occurrences have stopped plaguing her. The voices and strange visions, and the horse’s death—those had been directed at him. It was difficult for him to accept, but Amelia had been correct about the supernatural aspect to the harassment. No wonder she had believed she was going mad.

Gideon stood and rolled his shoulders. Whatever else was true, he still believed Sir Clarence was behind the initial attacks. But he hadn’t conducted them on his own. There was the giant, the one that turned on him, and possibly someone else. A person able to cast spells.

There simply wasn’t another explanation for everything he’d seen.

“Gideon?”

He turned to find a sleepy Amelia blinking up at him. “You slept through lunch, my love. I came to find you, but now I have a better idea. Why don’t I have cook prepare us a hamper and we can dine outside? A little fresh air should help if you’re still feeling poorly.”

Her soft smile curled around his heart. “I’m much improved, thank you, but a picnic sounds lovely.”

He nodded, touched by her enthusiasm. She was so easy to please, and he loved spoiling her. “I thought we could find that little stream on the other side of the orchard again.”

Amelia beamed and gave him her hands. She didn’t appear to have an issue with dizziness, he noted as she got to her feet. Nevertheless, he would keep a watchful eye on her…

“This choice of picnic spots was inspired,” Amelia said, falling back on the blanket with a satisfied sigh after they had finished their meal. “What is it about the sound of running water that relaxes one so?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, though I agree,” Gideon said, pushing away the plates so he could stretch out beside her. He leaned on one elbow and ran his finger down her cheek. “I’m just grateful for the unseasonably warm weather; otherwise, I couldn’t do this…”

He opened the ties at the front of her gown, undoing her bodice.

“Gideon, we are out of doors!”

“On my estate.” He laughed, bending to tease her lips with a series of nibbling kisses.

“Yes, but the tenants—”

“Better stay away if they know what’s good for them,” he said, tossing up her skirts with a grin.

“What about the guards? Don’t think I don’t know you’ve had all my footmen shadowing my every step. They’ll be able to hear us.”

“Which is why I asked them to keep a wide berth this afternoon. None of them are near enough to hear us if we don’t shout…or rather, if you don’t shout.”

Wrinkling her nose, she pinched him. “You are louder than I am!”

“Fibbing is a sin, love.” He snickered, blocking her little fists when they flew at him. “But have no fear. The men are far enough away. Plus, I secreted a brace of pistols in that hamper. We are perfectly secure here.”

Amelia’s lips parted at the news there were arms within reach, but she didn’t seem disturbed. Instead, she dismissed them with a shrug and opened her arms to him.

With a husky laugh, he crawled over her, his hands gravitating under her skirts. After a few feverish minutes, he’d managed to rid her of her gown, leaving only her gossamer shift. Gideon loved the way her beautiful body appeared through the sheer silk fabric.

But not as much as I love touching her through it. He opened his shirt and pressed his chest against her swollen breasts as he shifted down to kiss and suckle them.

“Oh, oh, stop. It’s too much!” Amelia said. Her hands trembled as she tried to shift him away.

Of course, they’re too sensitive! “Sorry, love,” he murmured, drifting down to pay court between her legs instead. There his mouth was more than welcome.

Amelia moaned, arching under his touch. The sound heated his blood, and he increased the pressure of his lips, using his teeth to gently graze her soft inner lips and swollen bud.

She cried out, writhing in an attempt to escape, but he held her firm. Her taste was indescribable—and subtly different now. Combined with her other symptoms, there was only one conclusion. She was most assuredly with child.

“Gideon, please stop,” she panted, shaking her head. “I can’t…I…”

“Yes, you can love. Now open your legs a little wider,” he ordered, nudging them with his broad shoulders. Twisting her bud slightly with his teeth, he worked two of his fingers in her sheath, curling them forward to stroke the special little spot inside.

Amelia gasped and put her hand over her mouth to muffle her own scream, so the guards beyond the orchard wouldn’t hear her. She was still trembling when he pulled open his breeches and drove into her.

“My lord!” she sobbed, her arms clawing at his shoulder.

Gideon didn’t know if it was praise or a plea. The moment his shaft entered her hot clinging passage, all thought had ceased. His lips parted as he slid to the hilt. It was like a velvet vise, the only home he’d ever known or wanted.

“Hold me tight, little love,” he said, withdrawing and surging back inside, driven by the hungry fire she effortlessly stoked in him.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, her hips straining to meet his.

Gideon fisted a hand in her hair. The wanton flush staining her cheeks and lips was a personal victory. He loved her unbridled response, the way she gave herself to him. It was a sign of her trust in him, one he would never take for granted.

Soon, his breath shortened, the ragged sound joining the chorus of moans that Amelia fought to hold back. But he wouldn’t let her.

“That’s it, little love,” he whispered. “Take all of me, feel me filling you.”

She sobbed again, pressing a hot openmouthed kiss as she clenched him tight, her thighs shaking with the effort to keep up with the relentless drive of his hips.

“You’re all mine,” he hissed. “Every bit of you—mind, body, and soul. It’s all mine.”

“And you’re mine,” she said, craning her neck to bite his lip, surprising him.

Her small show of aggression was enough to break down what little restraint he had left. He stroked faster and faster, glorying in her pulsing, throbbing heat.

Gideon wanted to pound and grind against her, but the thought of his child held him in check. Amelia, however, cared nothing for his self-discipline. She met him thrust for thrust, using her hands to pull him close as she twisted and rocked to caress his length with her body.

It was too much. He waited until she shuddered, climaxing with a sharp intake of breath before thrusting one more time and finally letting go. The tight coil of pain and pleasure unraveled and he poured himself into her, his seed jetting hard against the entrance to her womb.

An unwilling groan was ripped from his throat as he expended his last bit of strength to try and roll away. Amelia wouldn’t let him. She held him with shaking limbs, effortlessly managing to keep him in place despite the disparity in their strengths. He gave up and resettled his weight to avoid crushing her, enjoying the feel of her hands running through his hair.

They lay joined together for so long, he wondered if she had gone numb from his weight, but she didn’t complain. He lifted his head, parting his lips to ask, and saw it watching them.

The demon.

The deep mud-brown creature stared at them, the raging fires of hell in its eyes. It was massive, standing two heads taller than him with strangely misshapen arms.

“Amelia, get up!” he shouted, pulling from her body and scrambling to his feet. He dragged her up and forced her behind him.

That moment of inattention was enough to give the monster the advantage. The few seconds Gideon spent trying to secure Amelia allowed it to approach. He had no time to move before the creature backhanded him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a strange hissing sound.

Gideon winced, biting back a shout as his manhood was abraded on the rough ground. He shot back up, ignoring the pain as he spared a moment to tuck himself back in. He went back after the beast, which was steadily advancing on Amelia.

“No! Stay away from her!” He threw himself at it, landing on its back.

The creature brushed him off like an annoying gnat. He landed on his back, the force knocking the air from his lungs. Sucking in a big breath, he stood, a little more slowly.

“Gideon.”

He couldn’t see his wife. The size of the giant hid her from his sight. Panting for a new reason, he rounded on the beast, spinning to get between it and Amelia.

“Gideon, what do I do?” Amelia asked, clinging to his back.

“Run!” he yelled, bracing his booted feet against the ground to keep the monster from advancing.

It didn’t work. The creature was too strong. The soles of his boot’s slid helplessly back as it continued to advance. He didn’t see the arm lift, but he felt the impact—a glancing blow to the side of his head strong enough to send him crumbling to the ground.

Amelia’s scream was distant and tinny. His ears were ringing like that time he’d stood too close to a cannon being fired.

“Amelia, run!” She was still there. He could hear her screaming.

His heart felt as if it was being ripped out of his chest. The piercing agony of that cry reverberated in his soul. Gideon had never felt more helpless in his entire life.

“Run,” Gideon repeated, but his voice sounded half-strangled. His attempt to stand failed, so he crawled.

He blinked, trying to clear his blurred vision. The small pink and cream form against the tree was his wife, the brown mountain the beast moving toward her.

“Don’t.”

Amelia cowered against the trunk, her hands up to cover her face for the inevitable blow.

Staggering to his feet, Gideon watched, transfixed, as it reached out. But it didn’t hit Amelia. It fondled her.

Amelia’s dumbstruck expression was as shocked as his. The creature was touching her breast, roughly rubbing its massive hand across the rosy-tipped peak clearly visible through the translucent material of her shift. And then it got worse.

The human-shaped hand trailed down, stroking to the shadowy cleft between Amelia’s legs.

Face appalled, Amelia shrank down against the tree, slapping at the violating fingers.

The pistols. Blood surged, and Gideon fought to stand, only to fall when he dived for the basket. But the guns were loaded; he just needed to squeeze the trigger.

Holding his aching head with one arm, he climbed back up and staggered forward, squeezing between his wife and the monster. Aiming for the head, Gideon fired at point-blank range—and missed.

Somehow, the creature managed to jerk its head out of the way. The monster reared back, hissing that strange whistling sound again.

Clutching the back of his shirt, Amelia sobbed. The creature reacted, jerking again. It stood still for a heartbeat and then spun on its misshapen heel, stalking away.

Gideon released a shaky breath, pushing the pain in his head to the back of his mind. Steadying his arm, he took aim, calling on his instincts and the skill he’d honed with hours of practice at Manton’s.

The blast caught the hand, blowing off a chunk. Fingers exploded into dust and shards of pottery. Then it began to move away, heading for the tree line.

Gideon tried to follow but the tug on his shirt reminded him of Amelia. He couldn’t leave her unprotected. In the blink of an eye, the creature was gone, having melted into the trees.