Free Dark Fires by Brenda Joyce Page B

was taken aback. He’d expected her to shy away from another supper with him and Amelia after last night’s fiasco, but hadn’t expected her blunt refusal. “Why don’t you join us?” he said, his own tone flat. He didn’t know why it was so important for him that she dine with them, but he was damned if she should hide up here in her room.
    “I’m not hungry,” she said, turning her gaze to the mirror. Still, their glances held in the looking glass. “I’m very tired.”
    She was impossibly beautiful like this, her face small and perfect, her lips sensually full, her cheeks tinged a healthy pink, the pale gold tresses floating over her shoulders and down her back. She did not seem quite the schoolgirl. Yet neither did she seem a woman full grown.
    He felt the stirring, the incipient burning, of desire, deep in his groin.
    “Join us,” Nick said. It was a quiet command, yet it was a question too.
    She looked at him directly, simply. “No, thank you.”
    Their gazes held. Hers was determined, his suspended. He recognized the extent of her will in this instance, and chose to bow to it. He nodded curtly, his gaze sweeping her one last time, then turned and strode out.
    Amelia was waiting for him in the library.
    He thought her face a touch too pale despite her cosmetics, and a touch worried. She smiled brightly at him, too brightly, and handed him a snifter of whiskey. “Hello, darling,” she said. “I was just about to go looking for you.”
    He didn’t respond, but moved to the open French doors and stared out at the twilight. He was aware of the slow, burning lust that was smoldering between his thighs. His reactions to Jane were getting worse. What the hell was he going to do?
    Marry her off quickly, his inner voice said.
    Or, take off to London, leaving her here.
    Relief swept him. The second solution somehow pleased him. There was, he told himself, a lot to do to arrange a marriage for her, and it couldn’t be rushed. He would go to London and leave her here. A perfect idea.
    “Darling?” Amelia came close. “What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”
    He looked at her. She wore a stunning black velvet gown, low cut and glittering with diamantes. Her lips were touched with rouge, lightly, as were her cheeks. She was a beautiful woman, but he mentally compared her artifice with Jane’s natural, wholesome appeal. There was no comparison. “Nothing is wrong.”
    Amelia laughed. The sound was strained. The earl looked at her sharply. She smiled quickly. “Where is your little ward?”
    “She is tired, upstairs.”
    “Yes, well, no wonder after—” The earl’s look stopped her in her tracks. “I happened across her today, while I was taking a walk,” Amelia said, her eyes on his face. “Did she mention it?”
    “No.”
    “Oh, well.” Amelia turned away. Nick sensed her relief. He wondered what she was hiding, then dismissed the thought, for he did not really care.
    She came back to him, sliding her hand up his white silk sleeve. “Darling.” Her voice was throaty. “I know what’s ailing you.”
    He was annoyed. “Nothing ails me, Amelia.”
    Her hand tightened on his massive forearm. “Never before have you turned me away from your bed,” she stated, low.
    She was referring to last night. “I told you,” Nick said, equally low. There was warning in his voice. “I was not in the mood.”
    Amelia did not drop her hand. Their gazes met, clashed. “You are always in the mood. You are a stud stallion. I know you.”
    “Do you?” His tone was ironic. “Do not fool yourself,” he said, a dangerous purring.
    Amelia actually stamped her foot, flushed now. “You want her!”
    The earl whirled. “What?”
    “I see the way you look at her!” Amelia cried. “You want that skinny little blonde!”
    His jaw clamped. His eyes blazed. “I do not.”
    She didn’t just sense the danger, that she was pushing him too far, she felt it. Amelia’s body was tight now, full, pulsing. “You