Page 29 of Wicked with Him

Unfortunately, he could only bear her kissing down his spine for a few minutes before flipping over, capturing her, and kissing her witless. They’d made love for what had seemed like hours after that. She could hardly recall the evening without her cheeks heating anew. Was her reaction unusual or did all women react this way to him?

Although she’d like to talk to him about the pleasures they’d shared, she wasn’t quite ready to voice them yet. She had so many questions and thoughts on what they’d done last night, and what they might do next if he wanted to share her bed again.

If.

She sighed. It was still very early, and she was loathe to wake him up. Last night had been exhausting—especially for him, given the way he had flipped her this way and that, supporting her body weight as they made love all through the night. There was still plenty of time for him to leave before full sunrise yet, or perhaps he might stay and make love to her again. She’d like him to stay. Perhaps longer than he might want to, though.

Her stomach suddenly gurgled its need for nourishment, and since neither of them had eaten last night, Amity carefully climbed out of bed and drew on her nightgown and then grabbed her largest and warmest shawl to throw around her shoulders. She crept from the room as silently as she could and pulled the door shut behind her. She wanted a cup of tea and a chance to think about what she really wanted from Roman Crawford before the maid came to start her day.

She ought to feed Roman too. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she could at least heat water for tea and toast stale bread on the fire if hers could be stirred to life.

She glanced out the window, just able to make out the shape of the nearest houses. All were dark still and she saw no one out and about, so she let the curtain fall again. By now, the villagers might have heard that Roman was her husband and would likely see nothing wrong with him spending the night. They would imagine they’d made up and resumed their marriage, along with all the usual benefits of one. She had to admit that so far, the benefits had exceeded her expectations. Her new friends in the village would probably approve of their so-called reconciliation. They had all cautioned Amity not to give up on her marriage, or her handsome husband.

But Roman would leave, and then what would they think of her? She’d be blamed for driving him away. He surely must go, though. He had a life elsewhere to live. Her brother to torment. Another woman to mourn the loss of, even though he claimed to be over her.

Amity might have found Roman’s revenges alarming in the beginning, but she had seen a certain rightness in them in the end. George had used Melody’s ruin to line his own pockets. He’d claimed her, and she suspected George had somehow managed to extort money from her family, too, to keep things quiet. And George had continued to laugh at Roman’s loss for all to hear in public, setting him up for ridicule by others. All of it within Melody’s hearing but the woman had never once protested or asked him to stop. She remained silent, complicit. Allowing a good man to be maligned.

It was one of the reasons Amity could never truly think of Melody as a sister. She seemed to enjoy living in the center of a difficult situation. Roman deserved far better, in her opinion. She hoped when he returned to London that he might find other interests one day.

Amity padded silently through the house. She knew all the spots where the floorboards creaked and protested her slight weight.

She went to the room where she and Roman had first made love and quickly tidied the space, pushing their chair back in line with the rest. Satisfied there were no clothing belonging to either one littering the floor, Amity headed for the kitchen—but found the maid already there an hour earlier than she ought to be.

Amity winced inwardly and adopted a happy outward mien. “Good morning.”

The maid looked up from stirring the fire to life. “Good morning to you, too, Madam. You’re up very early today.”

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep and came to make tea,” Amity said quickly, feeling her cheeks warming with a blush as she thought of the man asleep in her bed. “Have you been here long?”

“Not very long but I’ll have tea ready in a moment.”

“Thank you.” Amity smiled and glanced around discretely. As usual there was bread for toast, and cheese already out, too. Easily enough for one hungry lover.

The maid straightened and dusted off her fingers, a look of worry on her face. “I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t eat the food I set aside for your dinner last night. Was it not to your liking?”

“I’m sure it was but I found I wasn’t hungry then.” She’d had her fill of her pretend husband instead. He was all she was able to think about last night. She prayed he did not come stumping down the staircase at any moment, looking for her. She’d be embarrassed and married women were not supposed to be embarrassed by having entertained their husbands.

The maid brightened. “Would you care for porridge this morning, perhaps? Can’t have you fading away to nothing. You must be famished.”

She had no idea if Roman liked porridge, but Amity was hungry enough to eat last night’s supper, and porridge, too. “Yes, please.”

“It won’t take too long.”

Amity, however, hovered at the kitchen doorway, watching the maid set out a meal and listening, dreading, hearing movement from above or the direction of the stairs behind her. When the maid paused, clearly almost ready to serve her, Amity cleared her throat.

“Mary, why don’t you take the day off.”

The maid looked at her in surprise. “What for?”

“Surely you’d rather be doing something else than scrubbing dirty pots in my kitchen.”

“Not really. You’re an easier employer than my last,” the maid promised with a broad smile that fell away just as suddenly. “Begging your pardon. I shouldn’t have said that.”

The maid had come with the house. Fairbridge had hired the local woman, so Amity knew little of her past. “Who did you work for before starting here?”

“I shouldn’t say, madam.”

Amity took a step into the room. She absolutely hated it when she didn’t have the whole story spelled out to her. “Mary?”