His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (27 page)

“
Besides,” she'd continued. “I'm no longer a young girl who
believes she's known her true love all along. He's out there. I
just have to wait for him to come to me. Unless I die
first.”

He'd chuckled at her jest,
his heart lifting, at least there
was
a chance for him to woo
her.

“
Are you all right, Elijah?”

Elijah jumped. “Oh, sorry. Just a bit
of woolgathering.”

“
It must be some heavy wool,” she teased, stroking his cheek
with the back of her finger.

“
The heaviest sort.”

She looked like she wanted to press
him for more details, but he was saved when the carriage came to a
halt at the park Elijah had asked the coachman to take them
to.

“
Here,” he said, leading her by the hand to a grassy spot by
the water. “We can even sit on the log and put our feet in if you'd
like.”

Amelia's eyes grew wide. “Take our
shoes and stockings off, out here?”

He made a show of looking around. “I
don't see anyone who'd care. Oh wait—” he craned his neck forward
and squinted— “I think I see a toad in the distance he might be
scandalized.”

“
That or try to nibble our toes,” Amelia said as she kicked
off her slippers.

Elijah tried not to stare as she
rolled down her stockings and pulled them off. “You should have
waited until you were already sitting on the log before removing
your slippers. I don't image the bark will feel good under your
bare feet.”

Her throaty laughter
filled the air. “Perhaps it'll scratch
your
feet, but I'm sure mine will
be— Ouch!”

Elijah jerked his head up from looking
inside of the picnic basket to see what had hurt his wife. “Did you
step on something?”

“
No. This hit me.” She held up a little red apple.

Together, they lifted their eyes up to
the tree they'd been using for shade. “Well, I never.”

“
Never what?” she asked, grinning. “Got sense knocked into you
with an apple?”

“
Guess not.” He returned her grin. “Wait. What are you
doing?”

She didn't bother to look up from
where she was now walking around half bent over looking for apples.
“I'm looking for fruit for our fruit bowl. Aren't we supposed to
pick it up today?”

Elijah had nearly forgotten about the
bowl. “Yes. But you don't have to collect apples, Amelia. We can
get some fruit from Cook.”

“
Nonsense. You made the fruit bowl,
I'll
supply the fruit.”

Elijah walked over, bent down, and
snapped up the apple she was reaching for. “Correction. We made the
fruit bowl together, so I'll help you collect the fruit.” He bent
forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips then moved over to
pick up another apple. “Perhaps tonight during Caroline's ball, we
can sneak out and go to the orangery and collect some of Alex's
oranges.”

“
Why would we have to sneak out at night to do that? Does Alex
not like people taking his oranges?”

“
No, he doesn't mind.” Elijah snapped up two more apples. “But
if he catches us,
we'll
mind; and the price we'll pay will not be worth
the fruit.”

“
Still has to explain the science of everything, does
he?”

“
Indeed.” Elijah walked over to the picnic hamper and set his
apples inside. “I think we have more than enough, love.” He bit his
tongue, but it was too late, he'd already said it. He chanced a
look at Amelia, she looked frozen as if she didn't know what to
say. He offered her a smile and gestured to the picnic
hamper.

“
You're right.” She walked over to him and deposited her
apples into the hamper. “I think we have more than
enough.”

“
Just so. But when we run out, we can go visit Alex's
orangery.” He winked at her.

She blushed like he hoped she might.
“I look forward to it.”

“
And what about having lunch with me?”

She walked over to the fallen log that
extended out over the water and started making her way across.
Halfway across, she stopped and flashed him a smile. “Hopefully I
won't have to be looking forward to it much longer.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The picnic was wonderful with the tall
shade tree, the cool water covering them to their ankles, the
gentle breeze, the delicious food, and most importantly the
company. Three days ago, she'd have never imagined they could be
both friends and lovers. But last night had certainly changed her
opinion of that. Her skin grew warm just thinking about it. Perhaps
when they got inside, he'd hold up his earlier promise of
'later'.

Or perhaps not.

“
Elijah, why isn't the glass on Mr. Henry Hirsute's cage?” she
nearly shrieked, on the verge of hysterics as she entered the
little cabin where they were staying.

“
I didn't know it wasn't.” Elijah stepped around her and went
to the cage. “Damn,” he muttered.

“
Damn? Damn what? What are you damning, Elijah?”

He shot her his best smile. “It would
appear Mr. Henry Hirsute has decided to go on another travel
adventure.”

Amelia shrieked. She didn't give a
hang if that made her a ninny. There was a fuzzy spider on the
loose, and it could be anywhere! Screaming like a madwoman, she ran
through the cabin to jump on the bed, stepping only on her tiptoes
as she went. She wasn't going to put her whole foot on the floor
until Mr. Henry Hirsute was back in his prison cell.

“
You think being on the bed will keep you safe?”

Amelia shivered. “It
won't?”

Elijah shrugged lazily. “I don't see
why it would. He can crawl up just as easily as he can crawl across
a flat surface.”

Amelia jumped to her feet. “Elijah, I
swear if I see that filthy scoundrel, I'll kill him.”

Elijah chuckled and peered behind the
bureau then under the wardrobe. “Must you call him a scoundrel?
It's not as if he's the greatest debaucher in all of
England.”

“
No,” she said with a sniff. “He's worse.”

Shaking his head, Elijah lifted the
overhanging bedsheets and searched underneath them for his errant
pet.

“
Why did you have to keep him?” Amelia asked again.

Elijah frowned. “I couldn't let him
die, could I?”

“
No, but you could have at least let his namesake adopt
him.”

“
You're in a rather humorous mood today, aren't you?” He
lifted one of the bed pillows and looked underneath.

Amelia's skin crawled. If that dratted
menace had shed even one hair in this bed, she'd be taking up
residence in the main house. “Why can't you give him to
Henry?”

Elijah heaved the loudest sigh she'd
ever heard. “I don't think that's wise. What with how upset he was
when Mr. Fuzzinelli died.”

“
And just who was Mr. Fuzzinelli,” she asked though she
doubted she really wanted to know.

Elijah placed his hands around her
ankles, searing her skin straight through her stockings. “A distant
relative of Mr. Henry Hirsute's.”

“
Enough said.” She darted her gaze around the room to see if
she spotted the soon-to-be dead visitor. “Why did you name him
after your brother, anyway?” she asked, hoping conversation would
distract her enough to calm her nerves.

“
I thought to name him Harry Hirsute, but that seemed too
redundant because hirsute already means hairy, So naming him Harry
Hirsute seemed to put too much pressure on him to keep his hair.
What if he were to start losing it?” He shook his head, his eyes
wide as if he were feigning some sort of great outrage. “Besides,
Harry by itself is just too popular of a name.”

“
Yes, because everyone names their pet tarantula Harry,” she
said on the verge of hysteria again. She hadn't spotted the vile
creature anywhere which left two options: one, it was in the common
room, or two, it was hiding and waiting to make its grand
reappearance later—most likely at a time when Elijah wouldn't be
present. “Elijah, I'm telling you now, if I see Mr. Henry Hirsute
and he's not in his box, his new name will be Mr. Elijah
Expired.”

“
All right, but that means you have to come down here and help
me look.”

Just then,
something
touched her
calf and she squealed like the little ninny Elijah and Henry used
to claim her to be. “Something touched me! Mr. Elijah Expired just
crawled on my calf!”

“
Hmm, I guess I'll have to look into that for you,” Elijah
said cool as can be, slowly lifting her skirt. He handed her the
fabric to hold and slowly skimmed his hands up her calves, his eyes
never leaving hers.

Were the circumstances any different,
she'd melt into a boneless heap at his touch. He slowly rolled down
the top of her stocking, then leaned forward and placed a kiss just
behind her knee. “Elijah, now isn't the time,” she choked. “Mr.
Elijah Expired touched me. You have to find him now.”

“
Yes, Mr. Elijah touched you,” he agreed, caressing her
calves. “Mr. Elijah Banks, that is. Your friend Mr. Henry Hirsute
has been safely curled up in the bottom of his box this whole time.
I must not have shut the glass all the way, but he never got
out.”

All the muscles in her body relaxed.
“Why didn't you tell me that sooner?”

“
I'd planned to.” He moved his hands up to rub her thighs,
inching ever closer to where she ached to have him most. “But when
I saw you stand up on the bed like this, I decided not to miss the
chance to do this.” Just then, two of his strong fingers pressed
against the sensitive flesh between her legs in the most delicious
way.

She released her hold on her skirt and
her hands flew to his shoulders for balance as his probing fingers
continued their exploration, now adding a third to the fray. Her
knees buckled and his strong hands moved to catch her.

“
Lie down.”

She heeded his ragged command, too
excited for his touch not to.

Elijah removed everything but his
shirt and trousers then climbed in the bed next to her, his lips
immediately finding hers. She kissed him back and gasped when his
right hand covered her breast and began shaping it. Elijah took
advantage of her parted lips and pushed his tongue into her
mouth.

She sighed his name. She loved kissing
him and exploring his body. He broke their kiss and brought his
lips to the plane of her chest, his fingers frantically working to
lower her bodice. Were it her own gown, she'd have demanded he rip
the fabric and end her torment immediately. Instead, it excited her
more that in his state of want and need, he wasn't quite as nimble
as he'd been getting her into the gown.

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of
fabric tearing rent the air. But Amelia didn't care, Elijah's
kisses along the tops of her breasts put the thought straight out
of her mind. He grabbed the top of her corset, and gently pulled it
down below her breasts, which he then touched and kissed, leaving
no part of them untouched.

He pulled his face away from her skin,
his breathing heavy. He rolled onto his side and grabbed fistfuls
of her heavy skirt, lifting it until the hem was halfway up her
thighs, then slid his hand between her legs. She parted her thighs
to give him better access—which he greedily took. His strong
fingers picked up right where he'd left off a few minutes ago,
gently massaging her tender flesh.

He found a particularly sensitive spot
and her hips involuntarily bucked. Wretch that he was, he had a
wolfish grin splitting his face. But she didn't care. Not when he
was stirring these sensations inside of her with his deft
touch.

He shifted his hand and slid two
fingers inside her. Her gaze shot to his. What was he doing? Was he
supposed to touch her like that? As if sensing her unasked
questions, he lowered his lashes and began moving his fingers in
and out. At first, he moved slow, building a small series of
contractions in the pit of her stomach. He thrust in again, a
little faster and harder, sending a spray of fiery sparks through
her. He did it again and her hips lifted to meet his thrust this
time.

He shifted so he wasn't lying on top
of her, leaving only his upper body covering hers as he continued
his thrusts, which were growing more rapid and increasingly more
addicting with each one. She was moving, too. Wanting to take every
bit he had to give her, she moved her hips to match each of his
thrusts. Something was mounting in her. Something hot and foreign,
wild and exciting. Something she desperately wanted to
discover.