Lord Rochester invited Lord Windon to the parlor for a nightcap. He brought a decanter from a high shelf and proceeded to pour them a generous amount of fine spirit, smuggled goods no doubt.  After a moment of idle talk Lord Rochester asked the duke about the state of his suit with his daughter. Lord Windon relayed the events of the day to the dismal earl.

Lord Rochester begged him again, asking for his favor as he was dying and would ask nothing more of seeing his daughter settled. Lord Windon could not refuse a dying man his wish, but he couldn’t disclose to Lord Rochester that he had decided to tarry a while of his own volition.

Sleep claimed him as he played the events of the day through his mind. Lady Amelia deliciously mussed after riding with abandon. And the poised and polished woman at the dinner table. The bright but silent beauty that had trounced her own partner at whist. The contrast was bold and stirring.

––––––––

The morning repast was a merry affair. Amelia was silent, but Lord Windon and her father were completely engrossed in discussions about the hunting parties they had attended in the past. Lord Windon told of one particular hunt where a hound used in the hunt had led the men away from the fox, it being a foxhound itself. A nonsense joke. The retelling was so comical and unbelievable that her father laughed out loud. Amelia smiled to see her father so animated. 

A storm in the early hours of the morning left the weather in a contradictory state for most of the morning. The bright sunshine beckoned but the wet grass and damp air screamed caution. Lord Windon, wanting very much to be left to his own company, did not heed the warning. He was in far too a reflective mood and, having exhausted his current reserves for polite responses to polite conversation, he went wandering off instead to the gardens. They were spectacular, the work of a gifted gardener no doubt. He found himself walking at a leisurely pace through the neatly pruned gardens with the scent of many flowers washing over him in softly fragrant waves of cool air. The only one he could identify were the roses.

He gave a particular decorative arch his interest. It had cherubs carved on it. The rest of the structure was covered in climbing pink and white roses. They blended beautifully, contrasting yet complimenting. He leaned closer and strained a finger across the lips of a tight bud wondering if her lips would be just as soft and warm.

He stumbled at the force of the startling idea that he was lusting after her. The woman who had, in the little time of their acquaintance, insulted him, misconstrued his intentions, told him he was no gentleman, and then ignored him, even if it was hidden beneath a thin veneer of civility.

He couldn’t be lusting after her. He only had only wanted to offer for her hand. He had no intentions on her person at all, but his body was betraying him with traitorous imaginations. That wouldn’t do at all.

He staggered back and stumbled into a conveniently placed stone seat. He took a seat on the damp stone, too lost in thought to register the cold. By Jove, he had damned himself beyond redemption. It wouldn’t do to rescue her and then make carnal demands on her person, even if they were by law his conjugal rights. He was under no illusion that theirs would be more than a marriage of convenience, but he was most unwilling to set his wife against him. He sighed at the directions of his thought. The lady in question was most unlikely to accept his suit in any event. It wouldn’t do to cast her in the role just yet.

“Your Grace, I am sorry if I am the cause of so thunderous a scowl.”  He startled badly and scrambled to his feet to regard the one person who currently possessed his thoughts. She looked beautiful. Her skin was clear and faintly rosy and her hair was a sheet of black that complemented her bright green eyes. It only added to the fear running through him. He wondered if his expression gave away the direction his mind had taken. In a trice his face cleared as he came to his feet.

Amelia had gone looking for Lord Windon after he had excused himself. She had followed him toward the garden only to find him several minutes later, sitting on a damp stone bench and scowling at the roses. The roses were definitely innocent.

“Lady Amelia.” He answered her puzzled looks

“Your Grace.” She started.

“Robert.” He corrected gently.

She waited a moment then nodded “Robert. I do need to speak with you about something.”

“I gathered. Somehow a chance meeting in the gardens was too contrived,” he murmured.

She deflated suddenly. Her eyes fastened on her own wildly gesticulating fingers. “I am sorry, Your Grace. If you found the countryside wanting for excitement, it is no reason to behave the harridan. You are entitled to your opinion no matter how much it differs from mine.”

She looked up at and looked away. The guilt bringing stinging blood to her cheeks. He looked at her with an expression that could be termed benevolent, only the amusement in his smile belied that. “I find, Lady Amelia...”

“Amelia.” It was only fair that she give him use of her Christian name.

He paused and nodded, mirroring her own reactions. “Amelia. I find that in our brief acquaintance you have expressed your displeasure with me twice. I wouldn't care to make it thrice.”

She blushed. He must think her without restraint. “I must confess I used to be consider quite even tempered, yet I have lost my composure twice with you. It baffles me, Robert.” 

“Might I ask a favor of you then?” When he stopped, she raised her head in question. “That you allow me chance to understand my errors and make amends for them.”

“It is I who must make amends for my hasty speech for yesterday and at the first dinner party,” she insisted.

“In truth, you wounded me.” The words stopped her.

“Your Grace?” He turned to her with an arch expression. She corrected her error without reminder. “Robert.”

“Yesterday I was trying to inform you that the quiet of Mossford appeals greatly to me. No invitation to a hunting party or all manners of promised revelry could please me as much as it did.” Now he smiled wryly, amused now that the matter was behind them.

She gasped then, drawing his attention to her contrite features. There was nothing that compared to the soft moue of her semi-pouted lips, a pale pink that stole his attention. He realised she had been talking when he was lost in his reverie. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace,” she continued, looking appropriately chastened.

“Robert. You will find it easier with frequent use.”

Now she smiled sadly. “Robert.” He nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“I must beg your forgiveness, Robert. I was overwrought. My father may have manipulated us both. He did not inform me of your impending arrival until your outrider was at our gates announcing your carriage from the distance of a mile away. I was ill prepared.” The excuses would do for a bystander. and even her father, but they sounded weak in her ears just as she knew they truly were.

“I thought your attire quite fetching.” She had braced herself for an insult and was shocked when none was forthcoming.

“I think you are teasing me, Robert. The stink of the stables was about me,” she countered.

“I didn’t notice,” he concluded with uncommon chivalry.

“Now I know you are teasing me,” she finished in the tones of one who was being treated badly.

“Will you not have a seat? The stone is cold but the sun is surely warm and not to be missed. It is too weak to ruin your complexion and the gardens are beautiful,” he offered magnanimously.

“These are my gardens, Robert,” she answered.

“I assure you, the irony is not lost on me.” He was amused.

“I cannot sit idly in the gardens.” His smile grew larger. 

“Forgive me for indulging. Shall we occupy ourselves with something as we converse? Might I suggest embroidery?” The crooked smile was now very obviously teasing one out of her.

“Robert!” He laughed at her comical indignation, enjoying her teasing and laughter. The easy camaraderie was much like they once had, but even better. She was pleased to find it again, too pleased. It was fast becoming an addiction.

“Forgive me, Amelia.” He was amused by her manners.

“You jest with me, Robert.” Her tone was huffy, but she was smiling.

“I find I cannot help myself. Your smile is a worthy sight.” The words warmed her and changed the mood drastically.

“Robert?” He was suddenly serious. The change of mood had her looking at him closely. His amusement was gone and his stare was suddenly intense. His eyes, she discovered, were a lovely grey and they looked at her directly. They unsettled her somewhat and she ducked her head. She chastised herself. She was not a child fresh from the schoolroom faced with her first flirtation. And they were merely talking, no reason to find her avidly interested in his boots. Gleaming, expensive leather though they were.

“Don't hide from me. I want to see your smiles. You have given me so few of them.” Fingers wedged under her chin lifted her face up until she was looking directly into his eyes. She wasn’t smiling now.

“I shall endeavour to do better,” she ventured boldly, and he nodded solemnly.

“I sincerely hope so,” he replied with a suddenly intense gaze that drew her in. He moved his hands away and she almost fainted at the sudden relief from his stare. “Tarry with me a while.” He gestured to the stone seat. “I am sure certain duties will snatch you away soon.” He tried to inject a light note into the suddenly tense moment.

“Sitting in the gardens is not...” She had already complained once. “Shall we go for a ride then, Your Grace?”

“If we can escape the sad endings of yesterday.” He was entirely serious.

“I believe that there is nothing left to color the air.” She felt her face burn.

“Then I shall be most pleased to see your lands from your own eyes.”

“I should like to show you my favourites haunts,” she offered as a truce.

“Lead the way.” She led the way, much like yesterday, but when they arrived at the stables she told the groom to saddle her favorite horse. Heather was a playful chestnut just a hand span shorter than the stallion. Amelia mounted astride. A side saddle was not going to make for easy riding and the distance was a good part away. When she settled into the saddle and arranged her skirts she found him mounted and waiting for her to lead the way.

They passed the time riding slowly while they made easy conversation. After a good while they arrived at the brook. Surrounded by a copse of trees that hid it, one could only stumble on it by accident. It gurgled softly. The water was clear to its depths, with smooth pebbles in its bed. Amelia alighted and Robert followed quickly.

“You should let me have the honor of helping you from your horse,” he chided softly.

She paused at that, looking from him to the horse and replaying the past moment. “I am unused to such courtesies.”

“No man has held your reins for you?” He was surprised and pleased. It was a trivial matter, but they were sharing intimacies she had never shared with any other.

“I have never ridden with another man, save when I was but a child and Sebastian carried me on his horse.” She stood reminiscing with a small smile at the corners of her lips.

“A delightful experience I am sure.” It was more a statement of fact than it was a question.

“It was magnificent. It was on a black stallion, the sire if the one you are now riding. I would smile all day. Once, when we reached this brook, he made a pantomime. I was a damsel in distress and a dragon was coming to eat me.” Her smile was brighter now, her joy palpable.

“He cast himself in the role of dragon slayer then?” He joined in her childish glee.

She smiled and frowned a moment later. “I refused to be a weak damsel. I got myself a branch and fought off the dragon. Afterwards we duelled.”

“You, my lady, have had the pleasure of a most unconventional childhood.” He replied without censure and not a little jealousy. He had spent his childhood in rooms with crotchety tutors who deplored his habit of looking out the windows when he could be applying himself to his lessons.

“You resolved to call me by my Christian name, remember?” She wrinkled her nose at him. He flicked the tip of her nose as he laughed out loud in his effusive manner when he found something worth a laugh.

“I stand corrected.”  He admitted with a sheepish smile.

“I haven’t been here for 3 years, almost 4.”

“Since your brother died?”

“And my mother.”

He did not know what to say. None of the well worded platitudes offered in his own moment of grief seemed right. “I am sorry.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” she answered him simply. “I fear I am a coward to avoid this place.”

“There is nothing of the coward to avoid places that feel too much.” He countered firmly.

“You're too kind, Robert.” She still thought herself uncaring and cowardly for not facing her grief. Yet she had dared to criticise him for failing a sibling. She was a hypocrite.

“It is merely the truth. I believe it takes a fortitude of the soul to survive grief. A gel, I am told, needs her mother.” He said so ruefully, sure he was treading in dangerous ground.

“And a man his father, yet yours is deceased. I am sorry for prattling on. I am not the only one with a dead parent. You are an orphan, are you not?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” The words were soft, but they held a heavy message.

What was she supposed to say? Having known grief, she knew words were not enough. “My condolences.”

He nodded tightly and continued, “I must confess, I find I only grieved for my mother.”

“How did she die?” She ventured boldly. Clearly there was more to the matter than the initial implications.

“A carriage accident.”

“Is that where you...”

“Got my scars. Yes.” He was silent a moment. “I grew to favor my mother. I think that was hard for my father. We had a warm house once. After that my father sent me off to school and crawled into a bottle.”

Lady Amelia’s eyes grew large and misty for the young boy he had been, grieving for his mother, forced to sever connections with his sister and abandoned by his father.

“He gave me over to tutors and masters of the manly arts. I was in Eton when I heard he died. I came home to attend to my duties as the new Duke of Windon and laid him to rest. As soon as he was placed in the ground I returned to Eton. I wore black for the expected time as did my sister. But I confess I think she wore it out of filial devotion, and I? I cannot think why except that it was expected. My real father had died years before. He told me to never fall in love. It hurts too much. It certainly destroyed him.” He said it in a light manner that she now recognised to be an armor of sorts. There was a world of confusion, puzzlement and pain beneath it all. “Six months to the day after the funeral I took off the mourning bands and resumed my life.”

He turned to her, wondering why she was silent, Amelia was looking at him with the most heartbroken expression and tears streaming down her face.

He stared at her as she bit down on her lips to keep from making a sound. Her reaction stunned him. Nobody had ever cried for him. He found it oddly appealing and saddening. She should not cry for any reason. “Now, hush, not another tear.” He pulled a starched handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her cheeks.

The sobs burst out despite her best efforts. “I cannot bear it Robert, I cannot.”

“I confess, I am waiting for your anger to wash over me, demanding how I can be content with mere duty,” he prompted.

“I am wrong, so wrong to judge you. Oh Robert, I cannot bear it. You without a mother, separated from your sister and a father that abandoned you. Oh...ooh.” He stopped dabbing at her face. It proved ineffectual at staunching the flow of tears anyways and his handkerchief was quite soaked.

He leaned closer and gathered her to his chest. She was lean but of considerable height. Her head reaching his shoulders and the coils of the coiffure she currently sported tickled his chin as he held her shuddering body in his embrace.

“Here I am, well loved and discontent. You have surely chastised me with your tale. I am ashamed and fully contrite.” She spoke into his chest, muffled but audible through her sniffling.

Robert bent over her head to hear what she had mumbled against his chest. “It was not my intentions to make you cry. Neither are they to have the effects of a sermon. I only wanted to tell you.”

“And I understand,” she protested. “I still feel a fool,” she muttered against his chest with a touch of asperity.

He threw his head back and laughed. He wondered how he could feel the urge when he had been in the holds of grief mere moments ago.

Amelia remained content to lay her head on his chest. The rumbling from his chest was even more delightful than the sound that escaped into the air. She leaned in closer and rubbed her face in his waistcoat.

“You are making a jest of me,” she complained. He had stopped laughing aloud but was still overcome by silent fits of amusement.

“I assure you, I am simply overcome,” he protested before giving in to another fit of laughter.

“Indeed, you are.” He chuckled lightly and his arms tightened around her. He lowered his head to reply and caught her citrus scent. Lemon balm and sunshine. It was strange and unconventional, but then this beauty never was ordinary. Suddenly their position struck him as incriminating. He doubted she would be willing to wed him when she only meant to comfort him.

Comfort him she did. Her face burrowing in his chest was a welcome pressure he could feel through his coat and shirt. And he was on a path to relinquish the pleasure, but not just yet. Society be damned, there was not a soul around to see them.

He bent his head again and imbibed in that citrus scent. So like her—direct, sharp and yet addicting.

Amelia was aware of her position. Her tears had come quickly and had long dried up but she remained on his chest holding on to that phantom warmth. Initially, she had meant to comfort him and take comfort. After a moment in the embrace her heart had lurched, sending a pulse of heat to all her body. The aching heat in her belly started to boil slowly, like a thick pot stirred over the fire. She had never experienced the sensation but she was not so green not to identify desire. This was nothing like a stolen kiss by a bold boy of the local gentry or the shallow but trifling heavy-lidded flirtation in a ballroom.

Her body grew heavier and warmer until she feared he would feel it and know even through the many layers of fabric.  She started to move, raising her head from his chest. He missed it immediately. It had become sweetly familiar in that short moment.

“I beg your forgiveness. I was too bold.” She apologised immediately as she moved away to what could be called a respectable distance.

He excused her. “You were overwrought and in need of comfort.”

“Thank you. Robert. You understand.” She was grateful he did not think she was forward or, heaven forbid, wanton. 

“Your servant always.” He bowed solicitously.

“Still I feel I must touch on a matter. Something you said filled me with a profound sadness,” she stated in a clear tone that had him looking at her.

“Strike it from your mind.” He had enjoyed the embrace too much to take her apology right now.

“I find I cannot,” she insisted.

“I cannot in good faith allow you to take such a burden because I could not keep mum.” He was not pleased at the direction of their conversation.

“I am most pleased that you brought me into your confidence.”

“And I am most displeased that I have made you cry,” he said, by way of apology.

“We women are emotional creatures.” He nodded curtly but she was not done talking. “I must address this matter.”

“I cannot stop you.” It was her turn to nod curtly.

She gathered her inner resolve. There was also the possibility of drawing his ire. “Your father was wrong. Family is important. Love is strength, not weakness. I hope you experience love.”

Dashed deuce, if his mind was not going in forbidden directions. The words shocked him until he understood her innocent intent fully. She herself was unaware of the easy misconstruction of her words.

“But I have.” He could not resist the quip. She had given him such ready ammunition. The blush creeping over her cheeks was beautiful and her shock was even more entertaining. It took all his restraint to keep the threatening laughter to spill.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean...” she blushed. “I did not intend to imply...” Gads!  What had possessed her to say such words?

“Come now, Amelia. We are past such formalities and such petty misunderstandings. I perceive rightly what you mean to say, even if your wording was right bawdy.” He really could not stop the quip from spilling. The devil on his shoulder nudged him, and he followed, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Robert!”

“Let us acknowledge the truth between us,” he insisted.

“You're unkind to tease me so.” Her face burned in embarrassment.

“I only followed your lead.” His mischief was visible in his lethal crooked grin.

“Let this topic be at an end.” She tried to sound stern but it came out flustered.

“Your servant.” He murmured in amusement. “Set your heart at ease, Amelia. I have known love. I informed you that I sent a letter to my sister and she returned correspondence to me. She invited me to her husband’s estate and when I arrived proceeded to hug me wildly. She proclaimed she had said many a prayer for me. No ingénue when I was a child, she had seen the actions of my father.”

“She could scarcely stop him. She was just a child then too.”

“Let there be no strife between us” he begged.

“Forgive me Robert, continue,” she replied in a lighter tone.

“But when he died I was too far gone, and in the years that followed I did not return home until the eve of her wedding. Thoughtless of me, but that was, to me, simply the way of things,” he continued softly.

“Oh, Robert!” Her eyes were misty again.

“No tears, Amelia. Let me finish.”

“But, of course”

“But when she received my missive she had given up hope. When I visited at her estates I found she had flagrantly vanquished Society by making a home warm and alive with the joys of children. Even her household servants were like family and in that little moment of my stay I was like one of them. Her husband consulted me freely on all matters and so did she. Her children approached me without fear of my station or scars, and even roped me into several games of hide and seek. I carried them on my shoulders and I felt a peace within me.” He confessed this as if it had been one strange adventure.

“I am doubly glad. Your sister has flourished in spite of Society.” She pointed out.

“Would you spite Society with me? Marry me, Amelia.” The surprise widened her eyes and her hand flew up to hold in her gasp. 

“Robert...?” It escaped anyway, with a hoarse edge because she had been crying and still had tears in her eyes. The throaty low flow of air tormented him with an image of the two of them entwined, seat slicked and her gasp filling the air.

“It is something I have given deliberate thought. Though it is only a marriage of convenience, I will treat you with the utmost courtesy and respect.” He was still reeling from the erotic vision.

“Robert.” She was afraid it showed too clearly. How did she know such fear?

“And I give you my word that I shall sign over total control of Mossford to you. I have no need of your dowry.” Everything she had ever wanted was so easily found. She was still wary. Maybe she was dreaming.

“Robert—this is sudden.” A token protest. She was embarrassed. She was reduced to being flustered. He had offered to save her. An offer of marriage from him was the only one she would consider at all.

“I have given this deliberate thought. I cannot bear the thought of you losing your land.” He soldiered on with a keen resolution.

“Marriage is not to be taken lightly. Think on it again.” She offered him an escape. For some reason that annoyed him. Any female would be ecstatic, just not her. Not his Amelia. His Amelia?

“We have friendship which is more than several Society marriages have.” He pointed out with a patience he was far from feeling. Friendship be damned, he wanted her.

“Indeed we do.” More?

“Will you think on it then?” At least she did not disagree.

“I will.” But she already knew what her answer would be. She felt strongly for him. He understood her. The two of them were hard done by Society and that formed a bond of some sort. She found comfort in their alliance.

“I am pleased. Will you take me to another place you enjoyed in your childhood?” He wanted the day to continue.

“Alas, I cannot take you climbing,” she said primly.

“I have never done it. You will have to tutor me,” he replied easily, with a deadpan voice.

“I doubt you could grasp the mechanics now.” Her voice was snotty.

“All my tutors claimed I was apt. Perhaps they lied then?” She wondered all the things he had ever been taught and her body was wrapped by a thin thread of heat. His raised eyebrow told her he had an inkling of the direction of her thoughts.

“Robert? Why do you insist on teasing me mercilessly?” The blush she couldn’t hope to hide flushed her cheeks.

“I confess it is your blush,” he said with a conspiratorial smile.

“My...” Her cheeks burned with additional heat.

“It blazes quite beautifully but it is a rare sight.” He continued as if she had not interrupted.

“Only my father can bring it up and only in chastising me.” She confided to him, then cursed that instinct.

“Then I am infinitely pleased that I am the other.” The crooked smile came alive.

“Robert, you beast!” She swatted at him, small ineffectual hits that made him laugh out loud. “Stop this minute or I shall throw you in the pond.”

“I shall love to see you try.” He retorted even as he moved out of her reach.

The horses left grazing around the stream neighed and the couple suddenly remembered their surrounding.  Somehow they had fallen into a camaraderie that filled then with a sense of wonderment and had eyes for each other only. Even the sky was ignored and it had turned a dark cast. Amelia looked up, after the storm the night before she doubted the sky would release rain so soon.

“I love your favorite haunt, have you another?” He interrupted her avid perusal of the sky.

She startled softly and smiled at him. “I found a fox hole once.”

He had her attention immediately. “Did you see the fox itself?”

“Only its kits.” Even more dangerous, but then she was no conventional miss.

“Hmm,” he grunted.

“I still recall the area,” she offered sheepishly.

He looked at her then, remembering the comment that caused the fight. “I did not know you would be taking me on a fox hunt.”

“Hunting? No one is hunting,” she reiterated with another smile. Now he looked at her and she looked positively on fire.

“Do not be so fierce,” he said with not a little amusement at her and gestured towards the grazing horses.

They turned back to their horses. This time she allowed him to help her up and he acknowledged her sacrifice. “There miss, you are safely ensconced on your high horse.”

“Robert, you beast!” She tried to swat him with the reins in her hand but he danced out of reach.

He mounted his horse and they turned away from the bubbling brook. Less than a furlough away lightning cracked through the skies with a sudden gust of damp wind.

“Ah. The storm has come.” Then the first heavy drops started to fall. She spurred her hose and started off towards the stables with him in hot pursuit. They had hardly gone a short distance before she realized it was a futile thing to aim for the stables. The sky was dark, almost like night, and the heavy rain fell in heavy sheets that obscured the road. At this pace they could be easily lost or have a horse fall into a divot and throw one of them. They couldn’t stand in the raging rain either, not with the wind whipping like a mad thing.

“Follow me!” She suddenly turned on the conviction of a recent memory.

“Amelia, wait.” She was going in the wrong direction, that much he knew, but the rain stole the words and he had no choice except to follow her as she rode away. He tried to catch her attention and in his haste almost lost his seat. A suddenly looming shadow explained her pellmell dash down this road. Shelter.

They abandoned the horses at the front of the simple lodge and scrambled in quickly. They were already drenched but it was a relief to escape from the freezing rain. Teeth chattering, Amelia pushed the door open and walked in. The room was cold but an improvement to the rain.

The gamekeeper’s lodge was clean and dry, though it was sparsely furnished. He was glad to find wood stacked in the fireplace with a bit of slightly damp kindling which could be coaxed to burn with careful handling. He snagged the flint stones from the mantle, and bent down to build a fire.

He turned once to look at her, teeth chattering and pale eyed. “Go search for other coverings. I am sure there is bound to be some in this place, wherever it is.”

“It is the gamekeeper’s lodge. Unused for now. We dismissed our last man for poaching.” She was standing in the middle of a widening puddle on the floor.

“Damned nuisance he must have been. Regardless, you must shed your drenched clothes if you don’t want to suffer a head cold.” He advised her and turned back to sparking the flint stones together.

“True, let me see if this place offers more than the promise of fire.” She stood, dripping hands curled on her arms, to trudge up the side of the room. After only a few minutes she discovered two things. One, that the place was kept in excellent condition per her instructions, and the other? There was not a single stitch to be found anywhere. But there was a bed tick without linen and that brought a blush to her cheeks for some reason. She waded down to the fireplace to report her findings.

Robert was nowhere to be found but his coat was hanging by the fireplace. There were not a lot of places to hide so she waited, warming herself by the fire. He would not venture very far without his coat all in this rain. The slamming of the door announced his arrival.

“Robert you are drenched. What were you doing in the rain again? Look at you!” He was a magnificent sight. His drenched linen shirt molded to his body, followed every roll of muscle. His breeches were glued to his thighs and afforded her a view that was much too titillating. She was suddenly warm in the cozy room, something she could not entirely attribute to the warm fire burning in the grate.

“I had to unsaddle the horses, poor things,” he explained. He tried to wring the excess water from his hair and wipe his face. 

“Oh.” She was ashamed she had not thought of that, and they were her own horses. “Thank you, Robert.”

“Come closer to the fireplace.” He pulled a wooden chair close to the fire but not too close.

“There is not a single piece of cloth to be found here,” she confided as he tried to get her situated in front of the now eagerly burning fire.

He looked balefully at her and back at the fire “And this is the last of the firewood, just enough to burn through the night.”

“What shall we do?” Wait until the rain was over. She was a fool to even ask the question.

“We will not perish of cold, I promise.” She looked worried. He turned to his coat by the fireplace and turned it.

“This promises to be a daylong squall for which this countryside is infamous for,” she continued.

“And your grooms will surely come looking for us,” he tried to reassure her even if he did not feel too assured of the situation himself.

“The rain would have washed our trail away. This isn’t normally where I ride. In the morning we can find our way back by ourselves,” she retorted. With that despairing note she subsided into her chair, shivering badly.

She looked so tired and defeated. His Amelia was unused to being thwarted. “This would never do. You must remove every stitch of clothing.”

“Robert!” Shock had her sitting up and glaring at him. Good.

“This is not time for false modesty Amelia. I, for one, will not allow you to perish from the cold because of your sensibilities. Remove every wet stitch and put on my coat. It is woolen, and quite warmed now.” His tone was brisk and business like. After the initial shock subsided she saw the sense in his suggestions.

“And you?” she challenged lightly.

“Let me tend to you first.” He had her love from that moment. Any man would have politely said he would come after, or that he would take care of himself. But not her Robert, he wanted to tend to her. Something no one had done for her willingly all her life. Servants, no matter how genial, were paid to fuss.

The emotion came, strong and emboldening. It gave her the courage to begin undressing, something she would have never considered before another man. Then she bent down and pried her shoe off her leg or she tried to. He was suddenly there to push her hands away softly and take over the task.

Her stockings were light and damp, not any kind of protection for the heat of his hand on her ankle. She gasped and he continued without looking up at her. The second shoe thudded much too loudly and startled her. “Thank you, Robert.”

“You can take care of the rest without my help,” he offered, and walked back to turn the coat. It was quite warm now and dry. “Here, don’t forget to take it with you.” He passed it to her.

“Of course.” She stood up, eager now to remove her clothes. The warmth of the fire on her ankles was delicious. She took the offered coat and went to the bedroom area. It was not exactly hidden but it afforded her a bit of privacy.

Away from his immediate view, she nuzzled into the warmth of the coat. It filled her nose with the slight hints of smoke and a scent she would come to associate with him. It was clean and brisk. Soap but with something underlying, more potent, exciting. A coil of heat danced in her belly, making her lift her face from the warm wool. It wouldn’t do to behave wantonly. Her foolishness brought a surge of shame to her face.

She dropped the warm coat on the bed and struggled with her clothes. The tiny buttons clung to the wet cotton, making an already hard job close to impossible. “Robert.” She called for help, the sound muffled by the rain and her mounting shame. “Robert!”

He came running as if he was afraid something had gotten hold of her.

He had been caught in the heavy sound of rain, he found it particularly enjoyable. A storm this wild with the dramatic flashes of lightening and deafening thunder was something he enjoyed very much. The raw display of power and unbridled chaos soothed something primal in him. More than anything he needed soothing this night.

It had taken all of his restraint and reminding himself that he was not a cad, or a green boy to leash his increasing desire. The drenched clothes had revealed her form in full. It showed the lines and curves or at least followed them in a most tantalizing display. Her ankle protected by a thin damp curtain was a sight, but he had shuddered when she gasped, the proof of his desire growing eager.

Then he heard her screaming his name.

He stumbled in his haste only to find her standing still in her drenched clothes and blushing furiously.

“I...I cannot get out of this without your help. I am sorry for asking, I tried but the buttons are a blasted nuisance.”  She turned her back and gestured at the troublesome piece of clothing.

He did not think anything of her request. The sudden fear at her raised voice had banished the slight fog of desire in his head. He moved closer and fumbled with the pearl buttons, then the ties of her stays. A body in motion tended to remain in motion. When he had helped her pull off the last layer of clinging cotton he had automatically reached for the next and encountered soft clean flesh, the scent of lemons filling his nose.

If she closed her eyes she could pretend it was Mary, even if her maid could not go about her duties without gabbing. She pushed off each layer as soon as he unlaced it. Just enough to make space for him to reach for the next. She was not quite prepared for the shock of his hand on her skin. A callused finger brushing her ribs. She held her breath.

When she did not protest he placed the flat of his hand on her back. His middle finger traced the upper indenture of her spine. He knew it was improper to take such liberties but he could not deny himself. Her delicious flesh was bared and beautiful. He would move away, and apologize for his forward manners—soon. Not yet, her creamy white skin was a sight and he had to touch it, had to trace the soft curvature of her ribs, skim the top of her shoulders—soon he would...

She leaned into the touch with a soft gasp. “Robert.” He had not, in his visions, matched the beauty of the tortured, raspy, aroused sound that spilled from his throat. His softly throbbing member drew to its full length desiring, demanding, her. Only her.

Her body first warmed, then a wave of desire so strong flowed through her. She was dizzy, then it left her unbearably heavy. The heavy clothes on her body sailed to the ground as her hands lost control and fell to her sides, leaving her naked. 

He tried, but he couldn’t stop his hands from slipping lower. He palmed the curve of her firm derriere. His finger slipped between the two globes. He felt the urge to cup the two semi-circles. His other hand banded across her waist, holding her firm while his curious finger probed her. She was hot, slicked with her desire and aching for him. Her moan filled the room.

The sudden crack of lightening filled the room with a glow that startled them. It returned a bit of control to him. He curled his hands away from her body and moved away one step. Then another step. He shook his head to bring a bit of his senses back. He closed his eyes, and tried to banish the hot visions in his mind. Images that urged him to claim her.

She missed him immediately. His hands stopped tracing her skin. When his hands had moved away from their initial path and brushed lower, she had stilled, afraid he would stop. She was afraid that the spell would be broken if she moved or said a word. Then she would never really know, never understand, that delicious ache that filled her with traitorous heat. He did not stop. One hand had curled along her waist holding her, claiming her. Then the other had slipped between her two legs. Its way was slicked by the liquid seeping from her private place. Then he touched her center. She could not have stopped the moan, her arching into his touch, as if her life depended on it. He satisfied that craving in her.

She turned to look at him and he knew that she was far gone. Her eyes were bigger and the plea in them was impossible for him to ignore. It wouldn’t do, to take her in the haze of desire and have her regret their union. He had to hold on to his restraint even when the peaks of her breast were raised and tight, demanding his touch. Even when her shallow rapid breaths lifted them like a pagan offering to his lips. They were two perfect globes of moon quivering softly. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and retreated, drawing his eyes back to her face before he steeled himself and looked down.

He looked at her like he was a man starved and she was a meal like no other. His eyes were heavy on her skin. She could almost felt the intensity of his gaze. He looked at her again and started to look away. He was not going to touch her, the realization came to her. The ache in her lower belly went rabid. A gasp was driven from her lips and she pressed a hand down there, at the center of her ache, nestled at the apex of her thighs. His eyes stopped and she, with a boldness and wanton seduction she did not ever think she was capable of, cupped her sex, hoping to relieve herself. The blush started from her belly to her breasts before reaching her cheeks but she didn’t look away from the eyes that flicked to her face in shock. Even in her privacy she had never been so bold.

It drove him to his knees with the force of blasting cannons. She stood like Aphrodite in all her glory. Her body was arched with desire, breasts lifted and hand cupping her Venus mons. Her fingers were cupping, covering herself in that place he wanted to touch. He wanted his hands cupping her instead.

“Robert, please. I ache so much. Help me with this pain. Touch me again, please.” What man would not want the sight of her begging lips upturned? Breasts swayed slowly at a mesmerising pace with her fingers buried between pink petals. He knew she was slick with desire. And her pose was too much of a temptation, innocence tempered by an all-consuming desire. Her words ruined every hope he had of restraint.

“You don't know what you are asking of me.” His voice was hoarse and he hated that, despite his protestations, he wanted nothing more than to claim what she was offering so sweetly.

“I do,” she insisted and moved closer.

Discretion was clearly the better part of valor. If she touched him, he knew he would not be able to check his white-hot desires. “Do you?” he challenged.

One more step forward and her hands loped around his neck. “I am no child, no wide-eyed ingénue,” she insisted. “Touch me, Robert.”

“I cannot, in good faith, do that. I will never stop,” he warned. His voice was heavy. Every shallow breath he took rushed into his lungs and mashed her breasts against his chest. The peaks of her breasts poked him through the linen shift now plastered to his skin. He was losing control. He was daring, challenging.

“Don't stop.” The whisper hit his neck, tickling his skin. It was a sinuous whisper that held all the permission he needed. It was a bold demand, a wild challenge, a straight dare. His hunger drove him to pillage her, burn her with the desire she teased mercilessly but the eerie light hovered in the air for moments after the lightning flickered and he knew he could do nothing but worship her.

His hands grazed the tip of her left breast poking his shirt with her every shallow breath. He cupped her under the chin. His eyes fixed on hers as he descended on her lips, his first campaign.

She had steeled herself for the touch. But how could she have prepared herself for something she had never encountered? More demand, more intensity than she could bear. His lips plundered her and made her forget breathing.

He leaned away and looked at her flushed face.  She wanted to feel every single emotion, every touch, and every nuance of desire. His hand worried one nipple and his mouth captured the tip of the other breast. He stroked it leisurely with his tongue, worried the hardened peak with tiny bite, then focusing on her face to capture her delight he suckled her. It tugged from the tips of her breast to the depths of her belly. Her muscles tightened in wanton delight and her hands, no longer content to stay by her sides, slipped to his nape to press him into her.  His mouth did dangerous things to her. His teeth bit, grazed then tugged at her, working on one then the other with each bereft straining for his touch. Her ache grew worse.

“Robert, please. This ache, it grows.” She was drowning she was sure. She needed him to save her.

Her cry thrilled him darkly. His lover knew nothing of desire. He took great pleasure in watching her eyes glazed and her form molded further into him. She rubbed against him, fierce in her hunger, trying to ease her ache but not yet. Not yet. He leaned away. If she persisted with her ministrations he would lose his seed like a schoolboy at his first taste of desire. She was too tempting a morsel.

“Robert, please.” She did not know what she begged for, but she couldn’t bear the pain. It was delicious, yet it drove her wild.

“Soon. Not yet but soon,” he promised. He led her to the bed, scooping her up in steady arms. He flung the coat to the foot of the bed and deposited his precious bundle in bed. It was cold and he was sorry, but soon he would be in it with her, warming her.

He moved away, standing by the side of the bed and a wave of shyness engulfed her. At no time had she imagined lying in bed with him. It was somewhat intimate more than him suckling her and she tried to cover herself with her hands. She did not know how she had been so bold earlier. The blush returned with full force.

“Do not be shy with me, Amelia. You and I, we have no secrets,” he begged.

He waited until she nodded then he made short work of his breeches. He perched on the edge of the bed to unroll his stockings. They were completely ruined of course.

“I want to see. I want to see you.” She made the request, wondering if that was proper, asking to look fully at his person. Then she reminded herself nothing of their current predicament was proper.

He smiled indulgently at her. She was not conventional, and she had not disappointed. He stripped off his long shirt and stood up.

The firelight was blazing brighter now, and she looked her fill. He was standing with his back to the flames unconcerned about his nakedness. He was all sinews and muscles that rolled and stretched. His member was another surprise. It continued to twitch as she watched it but she took her time. The mystery was solved, igniting not a little amount of fear. She knew the mechanics of procreation. She had watched her beloved horses, even if the groom had stiffly insisted that it was improper for a miss. She knew his penis was meant to fit into her but not that thing, it was impossible. But she didn’t want to sound naive and foolish, so she just gulped and looked away.  If she was drinking this cup she would drain it to the dregs. She could not be dissuaded from knowing.

He caught the misgiving in her eyes, and then the steeling of her resolve. “Trust me Amelia.”

She nodded solemnly and looked up his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

He looked at her then and perhaps there was the tiniest of blushes as he smiled. It could have only been a shadow. “Is that not something I should say to you?” he asked with a brow arched in surprise.

“Your eyes tell me already,” she said with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile.

He smiled wider at her then. “Bold piece of goods is what you are. Have you looked your fill?”

“Yes.”

Then her Adonis turned into a stalking beast. He did not hurry and the hunger in those eyes made her shiver. He knew and he enjoyed her response, the heavier pant and the leg that jerked open, then closed. He climbed from the foot of the bed, parting her thighs until he nestled in them, but he ignored her center and reached for her face, lifting her to him. She angled up her lips and he covered them with warm lips. He kissed her closed lips once then delved into the hot cavern of her mouth.

“Kiss me back,” he urged. He returned to stroking her tongue until it traced the joined seam of their lips and at last duelled with his. The first kiss had not prepared her for the heavy sweetness of this one and she wondered how many variations there were to that one intimate touch.

He strolled lower, showering her neck and shoulders with kisses until she whimpered. He palmed one globe of moon glow and pinched the tip of the dark pink areola.  Her back arched, mashing her body into his. He teased her even more, flicking his tongue against one nipple then another, his fingers busy caressing the other. Her head shook from side to side on the bed. Then he pressed one nipple into his mouth and paid full attention to it. She arched again, moaning and whimpering. The fire singed her again. Every time she thought she could take it no more, he took her flying again but the ache remained. A frantic beast that clawed at her lower belly and deep within her.

He abandoned her breasts with a quick kiss and a soft sigh before he followed the trail of his hands down her stomach and towards the thatch of dark hair. His breath stirred the hairs and he slid even lower. She tensed trying to close her legs. Surely he was not going to kiss her there? It wasn’t proper!

“Allow me to show you,” he pleaded, looking up into her eyes. His torso was lifted by his elbows resting on either side of her. She nodded. She wanted to feel him. There was no place for propriety in this debauchery. He fell upon the hot flesh. He parted her legs again and delved in. His fingers separated her petals and she shuddered as his breath teased her. Then one slow tongue dragged through her dripping center.

“Robert!”

Too much. She couldn’t think, didn't even think to breath. Thick air expelled from her body in an aroused cry but he did not stop. He applied himself to licking her private place. His tongue drew strange desires and wanton responses from her again and again. His touch probed every recess of her, lapping at her petals, grazed her bud and flicked at her throbbing hole. First she was still, rigid like stone, then she was thrashing from side to side with her eyes shut. He patiently worked, enjoying her responses until she was sobbing with the force of desire coursing through her. He nudged the bud and she screamed his name. Her eyes widened and her arched body almost threw him off with its fervor.

“Robert.” She murmured when she returned to her senses, descending to earth. His hand stroked her bud again and her leg jerked, brushing against the hard flesh between her two thighs. She looked back at him in question.

He chuckled at her wide-eyed question. “We are not done, my sweet.”

“You have not found your pleasure.” Even now, after everything they had shared, she blushed.

“If you do not wish to continue...” He made to move away from her but she snared him, arms and legs holding on.

“Please Robert, show me all,” she pleaded.

“I will. I will.” He subsided, capturing her lips in a brief kiss before he moved to support his body on one elbow.

His erect member has been complaining for the past interlude, since it had nestled between her thighs for a while. He guided himself carefully into her and drove in with caution. She was a maiden yet.

It was foreign, then it was familiar, as if he was made for her and her for him. They fit. “Yes. Oh yes.” It filled, completed her. A warm wave filled her to satisfaction.

She pushed into him then her eyes flew open at the lack of pain. “What? No pain?”

He chuckled at her appalled airs. “All that riding, I suspect.”

She started to explain, “Truly, I am...” but he cut her off.

“There is no need for words, Amelia. I know,” he soothed.

“Oh.” She was speechless. 

“Oh?” He pulled all the way out and surged back in.

It was strange. It was beautiful, and it filled her with a wonder and raked all her senses to life. She opened her eyes again to find him staring intensely and directly into her soul. She could not look away. She licked salty sweat from his shoulder and touched his back shyly, then boldly palming his rolls of muscle.

Her pleasure mounted and he knew he was looking control. She was warm, tight and her muscles fisted his flesh in a stranglehold. The look in her eyes was pleasing, hungry and demanding. He knew the moment he lost control.

He looked at her. Supporting himself on one hand, he reached between them and teased her bud. “Fly with me.”

The hoarse words tipped her over. Her pleasure ran deeper and seared her mind for delicious moments as she screamed his name, her fingers gripping his back.

He thrust wildly like a wild thing, a mad thing claiming its mate. He surged into her again and again while she rippled around him, flooding with hot liquid. His long drawn-out groan mingled with her own cries as ecstasy over took him and he spilled his seed into her body. He tried to draw out and spill outside of her, but she clenched in a rigid hold and demanded his surrender, increasing his pleasure wildly. “Amelia, my Amelia.”

The darkness swallowed her and she could faintly hear him calling her with a degree of urgency. He slumped between her breasts and fell into heavy sleep.

A while later he woke and moved off her, hoping not to wake her. She barely stirred and he rolled her onto him and covered her bare flesh with the coat. He hardened and tried to move out of her but she protested, murmuring in her sleep. Even sleeping his woman was of a strong opinion!

He shifted, capturing her murmur in a sleepy kiss before surrendering to sleep again.