Passion for Him

the two, both figuratively and literally.

“I have come to the realization that passion is not as the poets would have us believe,” she said.

There was a suspicious choking sound from the opposite squab, but when she shot a narrowed glance at St. John, his face was studiously impassive.

“I am quite serious,” she argued. “Prior to these last weeks, my life was orderly and comfortable. My equanimity was intact. Ware was content, as were both of you. Colin, too, had an existence that was progressing in its own fashion. Now all of our lives are in disarray. You’ve no notion of how it pains me to realize that my resemblance to Lord Welton is more than skin deep.”

“Amelia. That is absolute nonsense.” Maria’s voice was stern.

“Is it? Have I not done exactly as he would do? Cared only for my own pleasure?” She shook her head. “I would rather be a woman who lives for duty than one who lives for her own indulgences. At least I would have honor then.”

Concern filled Maria’s dark eyes. “You are overwrought. It has been a long journey and the inn in Swindon had little to recommend it, but we are almost to Bristol, and then you must rest for a day or two.”

“Before or after the duel?” Amelia asked testily.

“Poppet-”

There was a distant shout heard outside, and then the carriage turned. Leaning forward, she looked out the window and watched a long, manicured lane empty into a circular drive graced by a sizeable center fountain. The lavish manse beyond that was breathtaking with its graceful columns and massive portico flanked by abundant, cheery flowerbeds.

The line of carriages rolled to a halt before the steps, and the front door opened, allowing a veritable swarm of gray-and black-liveried servants to flow out. St. John exited first. He then assisted Maria and Amelia down to the graveled drive.

“Welcome,” Ware said, as he joined them. His mouth curved in a rakish half smile as he lifted Amelia’s gloved hand to his lips. He looked dashing in his garb of pale blue breeches and coat the exact color of his eyes, and the strained smile she returned had true appreciation for his charm behind it.

“Your home is lovely, my lord,” Maria murmured.

“Thank you. I hope you will find it even lovelier once you are inside.”

In unison, they turned to look toward Colin’s coach. Amelia steeled herself inwardly for his appearance, expecting that he would look at her as he had done all of yesterday-with entreaty in his dark eyes.

Sadly, no preparation on her part could mitigate the effect he had on her as he vaulted down from his carriage and approached with an elegant stride that was entirely sensual. Damn the man. He had always moved with an animal grace that made her tingle all over. Now that she knew how well that latent sexuality translated to bedplay, the response was worse.

She looked away in an effort to hide the irresistible attraction she felt.

“My lord,” Colin said, his smooth voice roughened by obvious dislike. “If someone could kindly provide direction to the nearest inn, I will be on my way. Mr. Quinn will return later to make the necessary arrangements.”

“I would like you to stay here,” Ware said, startling everyone.

Amelia looked at him with mouth agape.

“That is impossible,” Colin protested.

“Why?” Ware challenged with both brows raised.

Colin’s jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”

“What is it?” St. John asked, a note in his voice alerting Amelia. Apparently he saw something in the exchange that she did not. “Allow me to help you.”

“That will not be necessary,” Colin said stiffly. “Keep Miss Benbridge safe. That is all the assistance I require.”

“If you are in danger,” Maria said, “I would prefer to keep you close. Perhaps we should stay at the inn as well.”

“Please,” Ware said in his customary drawl, as composed as ever. “Everyone will be safer here than in a public venue with frequent traffic.”

“St. John,” Colin said. “If I could have a moment of your time.”

St. John nodded and excused himself. The two men moved a short distance away and spoke in tones too low to overhear. They became more animated, the conversation more heated.

“What is going on?” Amelia asked Maria.

“I wish I knew,” Maria replied.

“Allow Mrs. Barney to show you to your rooms,” Ware said, gesturing to the housekeeper who waited on the lower step with a soft smile.

“I want to know what is happening,” Amelia said.

“I know you do,” Ware murmured, setting his hand at her lower back and leading her toward the manse. “And I promise to tell you everything as soon as I know it.”

“Truly?” She looked up at him from beneath the brim of her hat.

“Of course. When have I ever lied to you?”

She understood the message. I am not Mitchell, it said. I have always been true to you. Grateful for him, Amelia offered a thankful, shaky smile. Maria joined her, and together they followed Mrs. Barney into the house.

Colin watched Lord Ware lead Amelia toward the manse and fought the urge to wrench her away. It was unbearable to see her with another man. It ate at him as acid would, burning and stinging and leaving a gaping hole behind.

“I think you should stay,” St. John said, drawing Colin’s attention away from Amelia’s departing back.

“You do not understand,” Colin argued. “We have been followed ever since we left Reading. If I keep my distance from Miss Benbridge, I will draw the danger away from her.”

St. John looked grim. “Unless she has a mind to follow you again,” he pointed out. “Then she will be far more vulnerable than if she were to remain here.”

“Bloody hell. I did not think of that.” Lifting a hand to the back of his neck, Colin rubbed at the tense muscle that pained him. “In her present mood, I do not think she will go to the trouble.”

“But you cannot be certain, and neither can I. Therefore, I think it best to err on the side of caution.”

“Can you not deter her in some way?” Colin asked. “Cartland cannot be allowed anywhere near her. If he suspects how much she means to me, he will exploit her.”

“Have you been able to deter her? Do not expect miracles from me.” St. John smiled. “My wife is considered the Deadliest Woman in England, and she taught her sibling everything she knows. Amelia can cross swords with the best of men, and she can throw a knife better than anyone, even me. If she decides to follow you, she will find a way.”

Colin blinked, then gave a resigned exhalation. “Oddly enough, I am not as surprised by that revelation as I should be.”

“I would have liked to have met their mother. She must have been extraordinary.”

“I do not have the time to socialize,” Colin growled. “I must be either the hunter or the prey, and the latter role does not suit me.”

St. John nodded. “I understand.”

“I wish Mademoiselle Rousseau would believe Jacques’s witness of the events of that night, but she refuses. I cannot collect why. Why dismiss him so completely? How can she trust Cartland’s word over anyone else’s?”

“I do not know what it is she seeks, but I will lend you whatever support you need. There is little that requires your attention tonight. Allow my men to begin the search in town. You can pick it up tomorrow. I think one night of domesticity will soothe Amelia enough to keep her from haring after you.”

The thought of spending an intimate evening in the company of Amelia and Lord Ware was a torment unparalleled.

“Will you stay?” the earl asked, joining them. “Rooms are being prepared for you and your acquaintances as we speak.”

“Thank you.” It was all Colin could manage. “I will tell the others.” He turned on his heel and walked away.