All the anguish and anger and despair washed away the moment her lips touched his. Penn crushed her against him, desperate to feel every part of her. He stabbed his tongue into her mouth, also desperate to taste her. He relented slightly, thinking he mustn’t be so…savage.

But her hands curled around to the back of his neck, her fingers digging into his flesh. Her tongue slashed against his with its own fierceness, encouraging his ardor.

God, how he wanted her. He hadn’t realized just how badly until that moment. Or maybe because of that moment. He didn’t think he’d ever needed someone more. Not just any someone, her. She’d come to him when he needed her most and was now offering herself as a balm.

Wait. He couldn’t take her like that.

He dragged his mouth from hers. “Amelia,” he breathed, trying to slow his thundering heart. “I can’t—”

“Are you rejecting me? I thought we said we weren’t doing that.”

He saw frustration spitting in the depths of her gaze. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, truly.”

She cocked her head to the side. “And what is that?”

In the face of her anger, he felt uncertain. “Making me feel better?”

Her brows angled over her eyes in a deep V. “Pennard Bowen, if you think this is about making you feel better, you’re incredibly obtuse. This is about me wanting you. Desperately. And I thought it was about you wanting me.”

Desperately? Oh God, he hadn’t been prepared for that. For her.

“How much more plain do I need to be?” She took her hands from around his neck and slipped them down between them. His breath caught in expectation, but she only untied her dressing gown. Still, watching the garment slide from her body to the floor was enough to make his cock go completely hard. She stood before him in her thin nightgown, the slope of her breasts and the dip of her waist tantalizing in the candlelight. Then she did the unthinkable. She lifted the hem of her gown and drew it over her head, baring herself completely to his starving gaze.

Arching her brow at him, she gave him a seductive half smile. “Do you have any questions now?”

He let his gaze devour her, feasting on her creamy breasts tipped with dark pink nipples and drifting lower to the plane of her abdomen to where it met the thatch of blonde curls cloaking her sex. His mouth went dry.

Why? No, he didn’t want to ask that. He knew they wanted each other, and that was enough for tonight. He shook his head as he reached for her, splaying his hands against her back and drawing her against his chest.

Her breasts connected with him, and he groaned softly before kissing her again. She opened her mouth beneath his as she clutched at his shirtfront, her fingernails grazing his chest as she fisted the linen. Her tongue met his with eager strokes as they explored each other. There were no barriers tonight, no uncertainty, just blissful connection and mutual need.

He moved her around the end of the bed, steering her to the side of the mattress. She was warm and soft against him. And he was wearing too damn many clothes.

As if she’d heard his thoughts, she pushed her hands up under his shirt and skimmed her palms over his abdomen. His muscles tightened in response, and he deepened their kiss.

She curled her fingertips into his chest, then flattened her hands over his nipples. Sensation sparked through him, and he hastened to pull his shirt over his head and cast it aside.

With the kiss broken, she bent her head to his torso and licked at his flesh. With a growl, he turned her and guided her backward onto the bed. She lay before him, her body gleaming and beautiful in the candlelight.

Her eyes slitted as she looked up at him. Her lips were parted, beckoning him with a silent siren’s song. But he didn’t want her mouth. Not just then.

He bent over her and took her nipple between his lips, sucking softly before he licked gently. She arched up off the bed with a moan. He clamped down hard, taking what she offered. What she seemed to know he needed.

He cupped her other breast, using his thumb and forefinger to tease the nipple into a hard, delicious point. Desperate to taste that one too, he moved his focus, her soft cries and moans a sensual accompaniment to his feast.

“Penn.” She said his name. Then again. Then a thousand times. He didn’t know. He only knew how she felt, how she sounded, how she tasted.

He trailed his lips and tongue down her abdomen, licking a path between her ribs and over her navel, darting his tongue inside briefly before he continued toward the greatest prize.

He stroked his fingers over her sex, teasing the silky folds before using his thumb to press on her clitoris. She cried out as her hips thrust into his hand. He blew on her heated flesh, his fingers parting her.

“Penn?”

He was vaguely aware that his name was a question. “Hmmm?” He licked at her clitoris, and she bucked up, surprising him.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply, pulling him from his sexual haze.

He clasped her hip and massaged her flesh as he looked up at her over the peaks and valleys of her torso. “Giving you pleasure. Have you not done this before?”

She shook her lifted head.

He shouldn’t think ill of the dead, but her husband was a selfish prick. Not to mention an idiot for denying himself one of life’s greatest joys. He gave her an encouraging smile as he traced his fingertips over her mound, staying to the outside but circling inward bit by bit. “Do you mind if I kiss you here?”

“I— It seems scandalous.”

“Of course it is. Anything that feels this good is scandalous, isn’t it? Will you trust me to give you pleasure?”

She hesitated briefly before nodding.

“Oh good. I promise you won’t regret it.” He smiled wickedly before swirling his thumb over her clitoris and licking her deeply. As his tongue flicked inside, her hand clasped at the back of his head. Her legs, tense a moment ago, relaxed briefly before tensing again. But this time, he knew it was for a different reason. He could feel the pleasure building inside her, in the movement of her hips and the intensity of her cries.

He reversed his hand and mouth, spearing his finger into her sheath as he sucked at her nub. Moving between her legs, he positioned them over his shoulders and buried his tongue deep inside her. She arched up, thrusting against him. He held on to her with one hand and used the other to coax her orgasm. She was so close, he could taste it.

And then she was there. Her muscles clenched around him, and she made a sound that was nearly inhuman—a high-pitched keen that made him smile. She thrust up, and then he felt her body relax. Light quivers danced along her thighs as she recovered.

Penn stood up and peeled his breeches away. She rotated on the bed, lying lengthwise, and reached for him. He lay down next to her, his body eager. But he wanted to give her a moment. He could wait. He’d wait as long as necessary.

She cupped the back of his head and drew him down to kiss her. Sliding her tongue into his mouth, she hesitated briefly, likely tasting herself, but then plunged forward. He found her nipple with his fingers and tugged gently at her flesh before rolling it and pulling once more.

Then her hand closed around his cock, and logical thought fled his brain. She stroked his length, loosening and tightening in perfect succession as she moved along his flesh. At the base, she squeezed, her fingertips grazing his balls. God, he was going to explode like a green boy.

“Amelia,” he murmured.

“You’ll take precautions?” she asked.

Precautions…yes. He was glad she mentioned it. He always did, but damn, he was completely lost in her.

Her hand wrapped around the stem of his cock, she gently urged him toward her. He moved over her, settling between her legs, which she bent up as she guided him to her sex. She was hot and wet, and he could barely wait to drive inside her.

Somehow, he went slowly, sinking into her flesh inch by inch until he was seated to the hilt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her hands up his back to clasp his shoulders. “Move.”

Her single command sent blood rushing to his cock. He needed no further urging. Withdrawing, he thrust back in. She took him deep, her legs clenching around him.

“Faster.”

He tried to keep control, to set a pace that wouldn’t scare her.

“Penn, I want you to move.”

Apparently, she knew far better than he did. He gave up trying to hold back and let himself go. He snapped his hips into hers, driving hard and fast. His control was lost, his desire spiraling beyond his grasp. She met him stroke for stroke, her hips rising off the bed. Her sheath constricted around him as she came again.

Rapture pushed him to the very edge of sanity. Before he tumbled into the darkness, he remembered to pull out. He shouted as his orgasm tore through him, and he spilled his seed on her belly.

Out of breath, he rolled to her side, gasping. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Sorry. For the. Mess.”

She stroked her fingers along his bicep. “I never conceived with my husband, but we weren’t even together a year. I thought it best to be cautious.”

“You’re a very smart woman. But that’s one of the reasons I like you so much.” He rolled from the bed and went to his dressing area. Behind a screen was a dresser with a basin. He poured water into it and dampened a cloth before returning to the bed.

“Here.” He handed her the linen to tidy herself and turned his back to offer her some privacy.

“You don’t have to turn away,” she said. “After…that, I don’t think I can be shy.”

“You’re a remarkable woman, Amelia.” He rotated and took the cloth from her when she was finished. After cleaning himself and disposing of the soiled linen behind the screen, he returned to the bed.

“I suppose I should return to my room,” she said softly.

He lay down on his side and reached out to smooth a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid away from her forehead. “Do you regret coming?”

“Not at all.”

“What I should have asked is if you regret staying.”

“My answer is the same.” Her brows gathered, and she scooted closer to him. Smoothing her fingertips over his forehead, she whispered. “Try to sleep. I know there’s a tumult inside your head, but there’s nothing to be done right now. You can seek your answers tomorrow.”

Answers. He wasn’t sure there were any. Just horrible, immutable truths. He leaned over and kissed her, their lips gently touching. “Thank you. Will you stay? For a little while?”

“For a little while.” She worked to pull down the covers so they could slide between them. Once they were nestled inside, he drew her close against him and brushed his lips against her hair. She’d bathed earlier.

“You smell like honeysuckle and sunshine.” Happiness.

She inhaled. “You smell like grass and pine.”

“I was outside for quite a while.”

She nuzzled closer against him. “Did it help?”

“Yes.” But not as much as this. As her.

That thought stuck with him as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

Consciousness stole over Penn with the languor of a kitten stretching in the sunlight. He was warm with contentment, his lips curving into a smile as he recalled last night with Amelia. Reaching for her, he felt nothing but the cold bed next to him.

His eyes flew open, and he sat up straight, the covers dropping to his waist. His heart, which had started to beat faster at finding her gone, began to slow. Of course she was gone. She couldn’t exactly wake up in his bed this morning.

And it was morning, wasn’t it?

He threw the covers back and stepped out of bed, crossing to the window and peering through the slit in the curtains. Yes, morning, but early.

The rest of yesterday—the bad part—rushed over him like a massive wave on the Cornish coast. He was a bloody fucking earl.

He thrust the thought away, willing himself to think of Amelia instead. He washed and dressed before prowling down the backstairs to the kitchen. He’d taken that route more times than he could count—more times than he’d taken the stairs he ought. But this morning he wasn’t avoiding detection so he could sneak to the larder for a sweet. He wanted to avoid seeing his parents because he was still furious.

Unfortunately, the moment he stepped into the kitchen, that objective was utterly smashed.

His father stood at the worktable in the center of the room, his head snapping up and his dark eyes focusing on Penn. A blend of regret and relief mixed in their depths. “I’m pleased to see you. I hope you slept well, but I suspect you didn’t.” There was no relief in that statement however, just a heavy sadness.

Penn had slept better than he ought, because of Amelia, but he wouldn’t tell his father that. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. If you’re looking for absolution, I’m afraid you won’t find it from me.”

His father nodded slowly, his expression tight and pained. “I don’t expect to. You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but someday I hope you’ll understand that I was only protecting you. And following your mother’s dying wish.”

Penn pointed upstairs. “She’s my mother.” And he couldn’t believe she’d gone along with it.

“Would it help you to know that she wanted to tell you?”

It did, a little. But again, he wouldn’t give his father any satisfaction. Not now. “The fact remains that neither of you did, and now I find myself wondering what the hell I do next. I don’t want to be a goddamned earl.” Penn couldn’t keep his lip from curling as the anger he’d felt last night returned with brutal force.

Father winced. “I know.”

“You know? How could you know? If you had, you would have managed this differently. My entire life feels like a lie. Do you understand that? I’m not Pennard Bowen, scholar and adventurer, I’m William Kersey, Earl of bloody Stratton.” Just saying the title made him shake with rage and, if he was honest, a bit of nausea.

“You remembered that name?” his father asked softly.

Penn pivoted from the table and from the intense remorse in his father’s stare. “What happened to her, really?”

“She was ill, just as she told you, and she died a few months after you came to live with me, which I also told you.”

“So that much was true.”

“Yes.”

“And when did she take me away from Stratton?”

“You weren’t even born. Stratton was a terrible man. She didn’t want him raising you, and she was right to keep you from him. You’ve seen what he’s done to Gideon.”

Hell, Gideon. Penn’s half brother. As angry as Penn was, how would Gideon react? He’d suffered his father and his mother’s abandonment, and now his birthright had been stripped away. Not only that, but if his mother hadn’t actually been married to his father, he was illegitimate. Penn turned his head to glower at his father. “Why was I spared Stratton’s parentage and Gideon was not? You protected me and not him. And you’re still doing it. Exposing this secret doesn’t just make me the earl, it makes Gideon a bastard.”

Father paled as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, his jaw working. “I…tried. I tried to include him in our family as best I could, but you must know there was no way on earth Stratton would let anyone take his son from him. Why do you think your mother—the woman who gave birth to you—ran? She knew it was her only chance to keep you from him. So she faked her death with the help of her parents and the vicar of their church, and that vicar ensured your birth was recorded and hidden.”

“To be uncovered at the appropriate time.” Penn swore under his breath before turning his body toward his father and crossing his arms over his chest. “Why does this vicar need to come forward? Why not let Gideon be the earl? He’s been raised to the title. I have not, nor do I want it. What of my position at Oxford? I have a life, Father.”

His father came around the table then, and Penn dropped his arms, ready to flee if necessary. “I know you do!” Emotion ripped across his father’s features, and tears welled in his eyes. “But there is nothing to be done. The vicar made a promise to Eleanor Kersey and to her parents that you would be the earl.”

Why hadn’t his grandparents taken him in? He feared he knew the answer. “Are my grandparents still alive?”

Father shook his head. “I’m sorry. They died before you came to live with me.”

He’d expected that, but also realized that even if they hadn’t, his mother might not have given him over to them. If she had, Stratton might have found him. “I never met them. At least not that I can remember.”

“Eleanor broke with everyone from her life after you were born. I imagine it was painful for her and for your grandparents.”

“You imagine?” Penn asked.

“She didn’t reveal too much when she came to ask me to care for you.”

“Enough to persuade you to take me in.”

A bittersweet smile curled his father’s lips. “It wasn’t difficult. At the time, I had no marital prospects, and the idea of a son appealed to me.”

Because of the close relationship he’d shared with his father. Penn had heard of him so much that he sometimes felt as if he’d known his foster grandfather.

“Penn, being the earl isn’t all bad. You’ll be free to do whatever you choose—Stratton was a very wealthy man.”

“Free?” A hollow ache started in Penn’s chest. “What of my responsibilities to the title, to the estate, to the tenants, to my seat in the Lords? All that will take time away from my occupation, my passion.” The word brought Amelia to his mind, where she lingered for a moment and took some of the sting away. “I’ll be anything but free.”

His father’s forehead creased into deep furrows. “There will be a way to manage it all. I know there is.”

“Because you have so much experience being an earl?” Penn asked, not caring if he sounded cruel.

“No, because I know you, and I’ve no doubt you’ll excel in this as you do in everything.” His father’s gaze was full of admiration and pride.

Penn allowed a soft grunt to push past his lips. He didn’t want his father’s pride right now. And he sure as hell didn’t want this nuisance. He was supposed to be hunting the White Book of Hergest and the real Heart of Llanllwch. “I came here on a mission,” he said with more than a bit of irritation. “Not to be an earl.”

“And no one will interrupt that. When Gideon arrives—”

Penn cut him off. “He’ll be devastated. And furious. I can’t imagine he’ll stay to help me get the book, and I wouldn’t blame him.”

His father flinched. “We’ll work it out. Penn, I’m so sorry for this. Even if I’d told you before, it wouldn’t change things. You are who you are. You’re still Penn, as well as William Kersey, Earl of Stratton.”

Again, the name and title grated, like the edge of a blade scoring his flesh. “Maybe if you’d told me sooner, I could’ve learned to be.” If he’d known he was to inherit a title, he would’ve done things differently. He wouldn’t be working for the Ashmolean, and he wouldn’t be chasing antiquities.

Was that true?

Penn thought back to the first Roman coins he’d found as a young boy. He’d been six years old, living in a town near the Welsh border. Digging in the yard of the small cottage where they’d been staying, he’d found five coins, which he’d later identified as Roman with the help of a man in the next place they’d lived. That man had given Penn a few other coins and shared with him his own meager antiquities collection—some pottery, more coins, and a spectacular bronze dagger that Penn had coveted.

A spark for discovery and knowledge was kindled that day, and so when Fate delivered him to an academic with a passion for medieval manuscripts, Penn had felt a connection. Losing his mother had been excruciating, but he’d thought he’d found a place where he belonged. A place where he could be the man he wanted to be and lead the life he craved.

He was fooling himself if he thought he could’ve changed who he was meant to be. He was an antiquary. A scholar. An adventurer. A protector of history. He lifted his gaze to his father. “You’re right about that—I am who I am. I am not an earl. And I’ll be damned if I let Gideon be a bastard.”

Penn turned and left the kitchen without getting anything to eat. His mind was far too heavy with plans for what to do next.