Page 65 of War of the Wedding Wagers
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t sure I would either.” Amelia clasped her hands together to stop their trembling. “I heard things I should never have heard. And I have so many… questions.”
He straightened, wariness replacing relief. “Amelia—”
“No, please hear me out.” She took a steadying breath, forcing herself to maintain eye contact despite the heat suffusing her cheeks. “Mrs. Perry spoke of things about which I am admittedly ignorant.” She hesitated, biting her lip before she went on softly. “Do I really hold your heart?”
He nodded, and she felt her heart hitch and a strange roiling in the pit of her stomach, the like of which she’d never felt before.
“And you, Miss Fairchild? Could I truly hope that you hold me in at least a little higher esteem than you have hitherto led me to believe?”
Amelia felt her whole body relax as she smiled. Slowly, she nodded.
“And this game we’ve been playing?” he asked. “Where one minute you laugh at my witticisms and happily kiss me, but the next, you disdain me? These are all symptoms of a disordered heart which needs only me to reassure you that—surprisingly, Miss Fairchild—I can’t seem to get thoughts of you out of my mind?”
Amelia felt herself sag even more within his embrace.
But Mrs. Perry’s words resonated.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” she confessed. “And some of what I heard I found confusing.” She hesitated. “If you truly harbor feelings for me, as you claimed earlier, do I not deserve to understand what… what would be expected? As Mrs. Perry said?”
Sir Frederick ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. “This is hardly a suitable conversation.”
“When would it be suitable? After I disappointed you with my… inadequacies?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Wasn’t that the word the widow used?”
His expression softened as he crossed to her, taking her cold hands in his warm ones. “My dear girl, nothing about you could disappoint me.”
“Mrs. Perry seemed quite certain otherwise.” Amelia tried to withdraw her hands, but he held firm. “She said I would lie there thinking of England while you—”
“Catherine Perry,” he interrupted with surprising vehemence, “speaks from a place of wounded pride and excessive worldliness. The intimacies between husband and wife are meant to be discovered together, with tenderness and patience.”
“But how am I to know if I’m even capable of… of responding as I should?” The question emerged barely above a whisper, and it shocked her, for the implications were enormous. She’d all butinsinuated that this was the prelude to a marriage offer, yet he’d made no such undertaking.
Perhaps her foolish innocence had mistaken the matter altogether and he’d soon be crowing over his success at his latest dalliance.
Sir Frederick’s thumb traced gentle circles on her palm, sending unexpected shivers up her arm. “Do you recall how you felt when I kissed you by the elm tree?”
The memory made her breath catch. “Yes.”
“Did your body not respond of its own accord? Did you not feel something stir within you that had nothing to do with duty or obligation?”
“I…” Amelia swallowed hard, distracted by the continued motion of his thumb. “Yes, but that was just a kiss.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Just a kiss? Shall we test that theory?”
Before she could respond, he had drawn her closer, one hand sliding to the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. This kiss was different from their previous encounters. Slower, more deliberate. As if he were proving a point.
When he finally drew back, Amelia had to grip his lapels to stay upright.
“You see?” he murmured against her temple. “Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet.”
“But that’s precisely what frightens me,” she admitted. “These… feelings. They’re so overwhelming. How does one maintain any sense of decorum when—” She broke off as his chest rumbled with suppressed laughter.
“My dearest love, marriage beds have no need of decorum.” His expression grew serious. “But they do require trust. Do you trust me, Amelia?”
She studied his face, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle set of his mouth. “Yes,” she whispered. “God help me, but I do.”
“Then trust that I will guide you through each discovery with as much care as I promise to take in helping you unravel the mystery of Pernilla’s fate.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Though I confess, watching you pursue knowledge with such determination does make it difficult to maintain my own decorum.”
