My Favorite Major (Heroes Returned Book 1) (20 page)

Once inside the Hertford Street home, Philip gestured Byrne into Cordie’s green parlor where they found former Private Kelly sitting all by himself, sipping a cup of coffee. That was strange. Had the man frightened both Amelia and Cordie away?

“
Kelly,” Philip greeted the one-time soldier, “have you seen my wife?”

Kelly rose from his seat, sloshing a bit of coffee on his drab coat in the process. “Aye, sir. Delightful lady, she is,” he said as he dabbed at the wet spot on his coat with his bare fingers.

Philip agreed with a nod. “Indeed. Do you by chance know her whereabouts?”

Kelly frowned as he looked back at Philip. “Her ladyship said Mrs. Moore retired to her room.”

In their room? Well, there was no time like the present to smooth things over with his wife, was there? “I see,” he replied. Then he slapped Byrne’s shoulder, promised Higgins would be along soon with a cup of coffee, and carefully climbed the stairs.

He leaned heavily on his cane as his leg had begun to ache after his stroll through Mayfair. Then, standing before his door, he took a steadying breath before entering the chambers. “Amelia,” he began, but she wasn’t there.

Philip’s mouth fell open. Where the devil was she? Kelly had said she had gone to their room, hadn’t he? Dread settled in Philip’s belly. No. He’d said
her
room. Not his, not the room they’d shared since even before their marriage. She must be angrier than he’d suspected.

He lumbered back into the corridor, wondering which room belonged to his wife. He certainly didn’t want to find the one her parents occupied by mistake. Fortunately, he spotted a chambermaid at the end of the hallway and he gestured her forward. “Which room belongs to Mrs. Moore?” What a dolt he must sound like, not knowing the answer to the question himself.

The maid bobbed a curtsy and pointed to a room a few doors down on the left. “That one, sir.”

“
Thank you.” He nodded, then stepped past the servant and made his way down the corridor to stand at his wife’s door. He knocked. “Amelia?”

But no reply came from within. What he did hear, however, sounded like muffled crying.
Crying
? He’d reduced his sweet wife, who’d sat by his sick bed for weeks on end, to tears. Bloody perfect. He was no better than his damned father. How lowering that was to realize.

“
Amelia,” he said softly, but when she still didn’t answer, he turned the handle and stepped inside her chambers, prepared to do whatever it took to keep her from shedding one more tear.

She lay across her bed, crying into her pillow. Philip’s heart constricted at the sight that reminded him so much of how he’d often found his own mother when he was a boy. Of course, no one had been around to comfort Mother in those days, not the way she needed. It would never be like that with Amelia. It couldn’t. She deserved so much better. Philip heaved a sigh, then crossed the room to his wife’s four-poster.

“
Amelia,” he said again, and this time her head jerked up as though she’d been startled by the sound of his voice.

Her cheeks were tear-stained and her pretty blue eyes were rimmed red. “My mother hates me.” Her lips trembled.

“
Impossible.” Philip sat on the bed beside her. “No one could hate you.” He caressed one of her cheeks with the pad of his thumb, smoothing away the tears he found there.

Amelia shook her head. “She does. She hates me, Philip.”

Then Mrs. Pritchard was a bigger fool than Philip had suspected, though he thought better of saying as much about his mother-in-law at the moment with Amelia so upset. He let his cane drop to the floor and he leaned back on Amelia’s bed. “Come here, love.” He patted his chest.

She did as he bade her and leaned her head on his chest. Philip wrapped his arms around his wife and simply held her as she cried. He wasn’t sure what to say to make the situation better, to make her hurt less, but he would have done anything in that moment to alleviate her pain. So he smoothed his hand down her back and whispered how wonderful she was, how kind, how devoted, how beautiful.

Amelia choked back her tears and pushed up on her hands to look at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He’d show her how beautiful she was. It might be just the thing to soothe her pain, as well as assuage the nearly incessant need he’d had for her since before he’d been shot. The memory of tasting her beautiful breast in Cordie’s green parlor echoed in his mind, and Philip’s course of action was as clear as any battle plan he’d ever seen.

Amelia blinked at her husband when his very serious expression transformed to a roguish smile. “Have I not told you often enough, Amelia, how beautiful you are?”

How could he find her beautiful with splotchy cheeks and red eyes? Before she could say as much, he drew her closer and pressed his warm lips to hers. Amelia’s eyes fluttered closed and tingles raced across her skin.

“
What a bad husband I’ve been,” he muttered across her lips. “Neglectful.”

A watery laugh escaped Amelia. “You have been recovering from a gun shot wound.”

“
I’m all recovered,” he growled, then he captured her lips once more, this time harder, more insistent.

Was he recovered? He seemed to be doing better, but Amelia wasn’t so sure he should be exerting so much strength. Philip sucked on her bottom lip, coaxing her to open for him. When she did, he delved inside, deepening their kiss, which melted her insides to mush and jumbled all the thoughts in her mind.

He pulled back a bit and smiled as his fingers brushed her lips with the softest touch, then they trailed down her neck to settle at her bodice. “So beautiful.”

Philip nibbled her neck and moaned as one of his hands cupped her breast. Heat shot to Amelia’s core and she pressed herself closer to him. One of his fingers swept beneath her
décolletage
, and Amelia thought she might expire on the spot when he caressed her now peaked nipple.

“
Philip!” she gasped as his other hand made quick work of her buttons.

Before she knew how it happened, Philip tugged her dress over her head, leaving her in only her chemise. He sat up and shrugged out of his jacket, then tossed his waistcoat aside as well. “I think it’s high time for you to become my wife in more than just name.”

Amelia’s heart pounded and her mouth went dry. This was the very last thing she’d expected when she woke this morning, but she found she now wanted it more than anything.

Philip yanked his boots from his feet, letting both drop to the floor with dull thunks.

Amelia gulped when his now heated gaze settled on her. A desire she didn’t quite understand washed over her, settling deeper in her core.

Philip slid the buttons on his trousers through their holes, one by one. And she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. Each time he slid another button home, he exposed a bit more flesh, and her breath caught a little more in her chest. She was bound to be lightheaded and pass out from lack of air at any moment.

Once he dispensed with his trousers, she saw all of him. The dusting of dark hair that trailed down his belly, leading to…the part of him that truly did rob her of the last of her air.

“
Breathe,” he directed as a self-satisfied smile settled on his face.

He was arrogant. But he had every reason to be
—
he was magnificent in all his splendor, which didn’t quite alleviate Amelia’s sudden trepidation at the moment. He caught her eyes again, and the intensity of his gaze darkened, nearly halted every thought in her mind and filled her with a promise she didn’t quite understand. “Don’t be afraid, Amelia.” His husky voice rumbled over her, and she found herself nodding.

Philip’s large hand skimmed down her side, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched. He rolled her to her back and pressed his lips to hers once more, soothing her worry with one of his soul-searing kisses. His tongue tangled with hers and the only thought in Amelia’s mind was how to hold him there, just like this, forever.

“
Don’t be afraid, love,” he whispered across her lips just as his fingers trailed from her side and across her belly to settle in the springy curls at her apex. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised right before one questing finger went lower still, gently circling a little nub she hadn’t known existed. But she knew it now. She nearly leapt from the bed the moment he touched her there, sending a sensational jolt through her body.

“
Relax, my love,” he crooned. Then he slid his finger inside her most private of places, caressing her with a rocking motion of his hand. Then he circled her nub again with slick fingers and Amelia thought she might melt right into the counterpane. “That’s it,” he praised her. “Open for me, Amelia.”

Open for him. Gladly, if he’d just keep touching her. Amelia let her legs fall open. “Like this?” she asked, hating the quiver in her voice.

“
Perfect.” A reassuring smile lit his face and he nodded. “Trust me?”

Amelia smiled in return. “I do.” And she did. She’d trust him with her life and with…this.

He worked his finger deeper within her, and his slow, sensual rhythm gradually increased its pace. A pressure began to build inside Amelia as though she was within arm’s reach of a most delicious precipice. A moan she didn’t recognize escaped her. And when his thumb brushed across her sensitive nub once again, she gasped as euphoria washed over her right before she splintered into a million glorious pieces like a summer Welsh rainstorm.

Philip lifted the hem of her chemise, letting the silk slowly glide up her body before tossing it to the other side of the room. Amelia ran her hands across the dusting of hair on his chest, feeling the corded muscle just beneath his skin. He was so handsome. So strong. So supremely male.

He captured her questing fingers against his skin and lifted her hand to his lips. The desire reflecting in his dark gaze nearly made her splinter once more.

Philip guided her knees further apart, then he settled himself between her legs. “My wife. My very beautiful wife.” He ran his fingers along her bare belly, and once again trailed them lower until he cupped her most private place, nearly driving her mad with want.

The need for him to be even closer swamped her and she moaned, “Philip,” as she edged lower on the bed where he was positioned between her legs.

“
I’m trying to go slow.” He smiled. “Though I do appreciate your eagerness.”

Slow? She hadn’t thought he’d been moving slow at all. Or was it his injury? “Are you hurt? Did I do something?” Panic flared in her heart.

But he shook his head. “I have wanted to make love to you for so long, Amelia. I just want it to be perfect.”