Regency Christmas Proposals: Christmas at Mulberry Hall / The Soldier's Christmas Miracle / Snowbound and Seduced. Amanda McCabe

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СКАЧАТЬ how utterly and deliciously desirable Amelia appeared as she faced him down the length of the dining table …

      ‘I have not enquired concerning your—injury this evening, My Lord.’ Amelia had noticed, however, that his left arm appeared to be a little stiffer than the right. ‘It is healing well, I hope?’

      His mouth firmed. ‘No doubt it will.’

      Her brows rose at what she was certain was an evasive reply. ‘But you do not know …?’

      He scowled darkly. ‘I said it would, Amelia!’

      ‘Has the dressing been changed since yesterday evening?’ she persisted.

      ‘I assure you that I am perfectly well, Amelia.’ He gaze was a frosty warning against pursuing the subject.

      A warning Amelia chose to ignore. ‘You do not appear so to me, My Lord. You are pale, and your left arm seems to be a little …uncomfortable.’

      He gave a dismissive shake of his head. ‘If my arm aches a little this evening then it is probably because I overtaxed it by riding for so long today.’

      ‘Perhaps I should see for myself—’

      Those grey eyes glittered. ‘Amelia—’

      ‘Did you allow your valet to at least redress it today?’

      ‘Damn it, Amelia—’

      ‘Would you leave us, please, Watkins?’ Amelia turned to smile graciously at the butler. Having only secured his return a few hours ago, she did not think Gideon would appreciate having the butler leave again because he had taken offence at her tone! Besides, it was Gideon she was cross with, not Watkins. ‘I will ring when you are needed again,’ she assured the older man warmly, waiting as he had vacated the room and closed the door softly behind him before she placed her napkin upon the table and stood up.

      ‘Amelia—’

      ‘My Lord?’ She deliberately held Gideon Grayson’s gaze with her own as she walked slowly down the length of the room.

      A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw as he watched her approach through narrowed lids. ‘I swear, Amelia, if you do not stop “My Lording” me in that superior tone—’

      ‘Shall I return to calling you Gideon, then?’ she murmured throatily as she halted beside him.

      Gideon would not do, either!

      Gray wished that Amelia were not standing quite so close beside his chair. So close, in fact, that he was once again assailed with that perfume that was uniquely Amelia: elusively floral and utterly feminine! So close that he could see the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat. So close that the ivory swell of her breasts was on a level only inches away from his narrowed gaze.

      So close that just her proximity caused his body to stir!

      ‘You will need to once again remove your jacket, waistcoat and shirt, Gideon,’ she prompted.

      Dear Lord …!

      How much was a man expected to stand? Gray wondered achingly. To resist? And he must surely resist where Amelia of all women was concerned …!

      ‘I have absolutely no intention—What do you think you are doing?’ He turned to look at Amelia as she moved to the back of his chair and placed her hands upon the collar of his jacket.

      She raised challenging brows. ‘Helping you, of course.’

      ‘Damn it, Amelia—’

      ‘You should not swear so often, Gideon.’ She tutted reprovingly.

      ‘Your stubbornness is enough to make even a saint swear, Amelia,’ he assured her through gritted teeth, and he resisted her efforts to tug the tightly tailored jacket back over his shoulders despite the added discomfort it gave to his aching arm.

      She gave him an exasperated look. ‘And those scars upon your chest and back attest to your never having been that!’

      Gray stilled at this reminder that Amelia had seen his scars the evening before. Honourable scars, if she did but know it, from injuries he had received during his years of working secretly for the crown. Years when Gray had necessarily allowed all who knew him—including his brother Perry and his family—to believe he was something of a rake and a wastrel who preferred not to involve himself in the messy business of war. No wonder, then, that Amelia had twice now referred to those scars as having been gained dishonourably rather than honourably …

      ‘Your waistcoat and shirt now, if you please,’ Amelia murmured with satisfaction, having taken advantage of Gideon Grayson’s brief distraction of thought to pull the jacket ably down his arms before removing it altogether.

      ‘I have no intention of taking off any more of my clothing in your presence—Amelia, cease this instant!’ He raised his voice as she moved to stand in front of him and deftly began to unfasten his waistcoat.

      Amelia ceased. Not because Gideon had instructed her to, but because of a sudden awareness of the tension that emanated from him; his jaw was set grimly, eyes blazing darkly, and his hands were clenched into fists until the knuckles showed white as they rested on his muscled thighs.

      She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I am only trying to help, Gideon …’

      He breathed deeply as he continued to glare at her, that nerve pulsing rapidly now in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘What you are doing, Amelia, is playing with fire,’ he warned her harshly.

      Amelia could barely breathe as she looked searchingly into that arrogantly handsome face. At the way the unhealthy pallor of Gideon’s skin gave his eyes a dark and dangerous appeal as they blazed up at her. At the grim set of his jaw and those sculptured and sensuous lips.

      She began to tremble, to shake at how desperately she wanted to feel those lips against—devouring!—her own …

      ‘Do not, Amelia!’ Gray groaned as she stepped between his parted thighs and even the light brush of her gown became an unbearable torment against his ultrasensitive erection.

      ‘Do not what, Gideon …?’ She placed her gloved hands on his shoulders beneath the silk of his waistcoat.

      A touch that instantly burned, seared through the thin material of Gray’s shirt. Making him long for there to be no barrier at all between Amelia’s hands and the bareness of his chest.

      She easily held his gaze with hers as she stepped closer still, the warmth of her legs a delicious torment now as they pressed softly against the inside of Gray’s thighs, causing him to become harder still.

      Gray had been in one state of arousal or another since first setting eyes on this beautiful and desirable woman. Physical. Emotional. Temporal. Amelia—with her courage, her honesty, her undeniable beauty—challenged him on each and every one of those levels.

      He closed his eyes briefly before looking up again. ‘If you do not step away now, Amelia, I cannot be responsible for what happens next!’

      Instead of doing as he asked, Amelia smiled. Slowly. Invitingly. СКАЧАТЬ