But what does this mean? Does this mean he is harboring affection for me, as I am for him?She fought to quieten her thoughts, concentrating on the burning sear of his lips on hers, his arm around her, and the light caress of his thumb against thehot apple of her cheek. Only, she was not embarrassed this time: it was the warmth of joy, however fleeting.
They were so caught up in their kiss that neither of them was paying any attention to what was going on around them. Amelia’s mind was finally at peace, overwhelmed with such happiness that there was no room for anything else. As for Lionel—she could not tell what he was thinking, but at least he was not pulling away. If that was not a good sign, she did not know what was.
Just then, Lionel stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he suddenly began to topple backward. Thinking fast, even in her merry daze, Amelia grasped for his lapels and yanked as hard as she could. Her arms jarred, not realizing that her slight figure had no chance of being able to pull a man like Lionel back to his feet.
His backside landed with a thump on the low table between the settees, a quietcracksounding in the room. They had been so invested in their kiss that Lionel clearly had not realized how close the table was to the back of his knees, and once the edge of the table hit that vulnerable spot, he had buckled.
How can someone so formidable be so clumsy?She stifled a laugh, hiding her grin behind her hand.
Lionel raised an eyebrow and peered up at her, a smile of his own breaking out across his face. “A stupid place for a table, if you ask me. You should have gotten rid of it while you were in the midst of your redecorating.”
“But where would people put their drinks?” Amelia protested playfully. “And what would have caught your fall just now?”
He pushed himself back up to his feet. “Believe it or not, I am not usually so prone to accidents.”
He raised his hand, but he did not cradle her face again. Instead, he gently brushed back a lock of hair that had come free of her bun and his smile turned somewhat melancholy.
“I fear you are a danger to me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Or I am a danger to you. I cannot decide which.”
She gazed up into his extraordinary green eyes. “You are no danger to me, Lionel, and I am no danger to you. Please, do not distance yourself from me again.”
She could already feel the desire to avoid her radiating off him, his posture stiffening, his foot half turned to leave, his gaze somehow distant though he was looking right at her. She almost grasped his wrist again, to keep him with her, but she was not someone who would beg him to stay if he truly intended to go.
He bent his head, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I must leave because I really do have things to tend to,” he told her, “but I will be in my study, where I am not so difficult to find.”
He slowly moved away from her, heading for the door. And though everything within her screamed for her to hurry afterhim and kiss him again, or at least insist on a walk together, she let him go.
“Lionel?” she said as he was about to cross the threshold.
He turned. “Yes?”
“Wheredoyou go when you go ‘underground’? Some of the staff and I were trying to decide if you were half-mole,” she replied, mustering a smile.
He smiled and tapped his nose. “That is my secret, Amelia. Perhaps, one day, I shall tell you of it.”
With that, he departed, and though it was not as jarring as previous departures, Amelia could not help but feel like it was still a rejection. Milder, pleasanter, with memories of a beautiful kiss that would not fade anytime soon, but still a silent message of‘do not raise your hopes, Amelia. I do not want you to be unhappy.’
And she realized, with some dismay, that she had let him escape her once again without asking why on earth he thought he would make her unhappy. Indeed, the only thing that could possibly make her despondent was him continuing to put distance between them.
Surely, you can see that… so why do you keep doing it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Amelia could not sleep, lying awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She did not need to close her eyes to dream of her first kiss, the memory repeating in her mind, making her smile and sigh in turns.
I wonder if he is thinking of it, or if he has put it from his mind.
A restless sensation prickled through her limbs, causing her to toss and turn as if trying to find a comfortable position. But, of course, that was impossible when the discomfort was in her mind instead of her body. Nor would she have called it discomfort; it was more like a muscle that needed stretching, or the tenseness of anxiety before a grand event.
“This is hopeless,” she murmured, sitting up.
She did not feel the least bit tired, though she had enjoyedtwoglasses of wine with dinner in an attempt to quieten her mind.Lionel had not attended, to her secret disappointment, but she took reassurance from the fact that she knew where he was now.
Always nearby…Her romantic heart ached at the sentiment he had uttered, though she wished he would read some of her most beloved novels to garner an idea or two of what she hoped would come from their marriage.
I am raising my hopes again. I must not do that.
She groaned and held her head in her hands, frustrated by the situation. She was married to the most handsome, protective, generous man, who possessed a great fortune and a family who had—eventually—welcomed her and befriended her, yet she did not know where she stood. And she wanted more, despite the provisos he had set out at the start.
