Page 67 of A Necessary Wife

She was a dangerous woman.

She made him forget who they had promised to be to each other.

The intense pleasure they’d shared…he had not expected it to exist. Nor for her to respond so eagerly. Demanding that he enjoy her.

None of it.

He drew closer as she moved again, revealing her breast. His hand was reaching out and he made himself cover her, tuck the sheet around her body so she would not become chilled. It was a privilege to take care of Amelia as no one else in her life ever had. He was lucky to have won her hand in marriage. She had refused to consider marriage at first. Several times.

He dragged a hand over his jaw, realizing what he would have missed if he’d not offered what her heart desired most…children to care for.

He had come second in her thoughts at the time they’d married. That filled him with unease now. He was not the most important person in her thoughts even now after all they’d shared and he wanted to be. Amelia would forever be the most important woman in his life.

I should not want more.

Wanting a wife was dangerous. Wanting had made him weak once before. It made him feel things he had sworn never to feel again—things he’d felt for his first wife.

Yet all he had to do was look at Amelia, even asleep, and the vow to maintain a distance frayed a little more each day.

He drew back, unsettled and uncertain of what to do. He quietly dressed in fresh clothing but could not find his pocket watch. Fearing it had been lost during their rushed return upstairs, he slipped from the room and retraced his steps. He walked the silent corridors of Stapleton Manor looking carefully, thankful that the servants had not stirred yet.

He reached the Refuge without meeting anyone. He slipped inside and drew in a deep breath. The chaise lounge where he’d lain Amelia bare and pleasured her all night long made his breath catch. The feel of Amelia’s hands on him, her breathless pleas for more, the way she’d ridden him with a hunger that had undone him more than once.

He had never felt so out of control with a woman.

Nor as free.

The depths of her passion unbalanced him even now.

He found his pocket watch under the chaise, tangled with one of Amelia’s silk stockings. His hands trembled as he separated them, gulping back a curse.

He was still not in control of his desires completely. And he hadn’t the faintest urge to fight the feeling as he held Amelia’s stocking against his cheek. He wanted her in the worst way even now…and they had agreed that desire wouldn’t be denied between them.

Milo returned directly to their chamber to wake her with a kiss and then perhaps breakfast later. He was impatient to see her again, touch her again, taste⁠—

He entered the room, only to find the bedding turned back on a rumpled and empty bed. The sheets, when he ran his hand across them, were still warm, and he could smell the scent Amelia wore.

He trembled anew and rushed to the window and looked out upon the grounds. Amelia’s habit of rising early would apparently deny him the opportunity to wake her with kisses. He should never have left her side.

But he was in luck. She sat on a stone bench below, cloak wrapped tightly around her, face lifted to the sun. Morning sunlight covered her in soft golden light, highlighting her hair and the gentle slope of her slender shoulders. He should have known she’d be out on the grounds early again.

But right now, she was…simply too far away.

Milo fled the room, rushed downstairs, and went to her at once.

When she heard his steps, she quickly stood and turned. “Good morning, my lord.”

He nearly tripped over his feet as she cast a blinding smile in his direction.

“Lady Chatham.” He hesitated, unsure how to behave after the excesses of last night. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” she said warmly enough, though the tiredness around her eyes betrayed the exertions of the evening before. She resumed her seat and he sat beside her, hands folded in his lap, unsure where to place them.

He hated this ever-present uncertainty between them after intimacy. Last night she had opened herself to him—her body, her trust, her desire—and he had responded like a man with no control whatsoever.

He’d reacted like a man in love.

Milo gulped. “How are you this morning?”