Page 67 of A Duchess to Reclaim

He put a finger to his mouth, and she sighed in relief.

“What are you doing in here?” He whispered.

“We were all playing with the children and then Her Grace was reading them a story,” she whispered back, starting to get off the couch. “I suppose we fell asleep as we listened through the opened door. We shall go now.”

She moved toward Miss Gerhardt as if to shake her, but Dominic stopped her.

“Would you mind staying a little longer?” He asked her, looking toward the door to Amelia’s bedroom. “I must talk with my wife.”

“Of course,” she whispered back, settling herself on the couch again.

Dominic gave her a nod of thanks and quietly went through the open doorway to Amelia’s bedroom. A single lamp was still lit, casting a soft yellow glow around the elegant room. In the bed laid Sarah and Lydia, their small nightdress-clad bodies spread out in comical shapes as if they’d dropped asleep mid-play. He found Amelia curled up in the nearby settee, sleeping soundly with a book still clutched in her hand.

He knelt down by her face, a smile drawing across his face as he took in her features. She looked exhausted, but peaceful. Having her sisters fully in her life was obviously doing wonders.

An ache formed in his chest as he continued to look over her face. He couldn’t deny it. He had missed her. Carefully, he pried the book from her hands and laid it quietly on the nearby table, then picked her up.

A soft, breathy whimper left Amelia’s lips as he drew her toward his chest, and his heart wrenched painfully when she immediately nestled into his arms. She was soft, warm, and light in his grasp; her hair cascading down over his arm like a shield- as if someone so small could protect him.

Dominic swallowed silently as he studied her features in the dim light.Could he do this? Could he actually let himself fall in love?

No. The answer came as quickly as the questions had. He was not a man to fall in love. He was barely a man that could show affection. To anyone, really, not just Amelia. And she deserved affection more than anyone he’d ever met.

Silently he carried her out of the rooms, up the stairs, and to his own quarters. It wasn’t until he was softly closing his bedroom door with his heel that Amelia stirred again; her long lashes fluttering as she squirmed a little in his arms. Slowly her eyes opened as she became aware that she was being held, and immediately he felt her shift from pliant to rigid.

“It’s all right, shhh,” he soothed, holding her closer. “It’s me.”

Amelia immediately relaxed in his arms again as she blinked several times; a look of confusion crossing her beautiful face.

“Dominic?” Her voice was so soft and still filled with sleep; creating the perfect sultry combination that immediately made his knees grow weak. “Where am I? What are you doing?”

“You fell asleep on the settee,” he explained. “You needed a proper bed, so I brought you to mine.”

Amelia awakened a little more at that, but didn’t try to fight his grasp.

Put her down,his mind screamed as his grip grew tighter.Put her down and walk away.

“You…you brought me to your room? You’ve never done that before.”

Dominic swallowed, feeling the tight mental grip on himself begin to slide away.

Amelia’s hazel eyes studied him in the dim light; affection, perhaps even worry shining through them.

He felt her slide her fingers to his jaw, and he winced as her delicate touch caressed over his flesh. Not out of pain. Hewishedit was pain. But out of the sheer gentleness she displaying for him.

“What’s this?” She whispered.

Dominic closed his eyes and let out a breath through his nose, fighting the carnal urges rising within him…but it was more than that, wasn’t it? It was more than carnal. It was emotional. The unfeeling man feelingeverything.Because of this woman.

“Boxing practice,” his replied, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Couldn’t concentrate. Caught myself a solid blow to the face.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, and it really was. It was not his jaw that bothered him.

Amelia continued to look at him, those golden-hued orbs full of quiet contemplation seemed to break through his walls of muscled strength and mental absolution and look into his very soul.Everythingthat was him seemed visible to her.

“I’m not like Hugo, you know,” he told her, his last level of resistance rising up to protect him. “There was no childhood atrocity for me that took away my happiness. This is who I have always been; how I have always thought.”

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