The Longing (13 page)

“Lift your gown,” he breathed near her ear,
but he didn’t wait for her to do so. He trembled and shifted off
her, then wrestled with something until the bed shook. An instant
later he reached down and pushed her gown to her waist. He moved
over her and settled himself between her legs, his bare skin
brushing hers as he pressed himself into the juncture of her
thighs.

That’s when she realized he’d removed his
pants.

His intense gaze left no doubt in her mind
that he was ready to consummate their marriage. Now.

“Unbutton the front of your gown,” he said,
his voice hoarse, his eyes so dark she was suddenly afraid not to
obey him even though she knew she wouldn’t. “I don’t want anything
between us.”

It was more than her gown between them and
Amelia knew without a doubt Kyle wouldn’t be able to accept it.
He’d made it clear during their wedding reception that a woman’s
virtue mattered to a man—to
him
.

Despite his hard-edged manner and rigid
standards, there was gentleness in Kyle, and Amelia wanted a chance
to know that private side of her husband. It felt too good to be
held in his arms, to be touched and kissed and have glimpses of his
tenderness, to risk losing it all because his opinion of her might
change. She wanted more from him and from their marriage. If not
love, then at least respect.

Kyle balanced his weight on his elbows as he
waited for her to disrobe, but Amelia didn’t move.

“Just pull your arms out of the sleeves,” he
said, as the weight of his hips began pressing her thighs
apart.

She stiffened her legs to hold him back. “I
don’t want to,” she whispered, afraid to look at him, afraid to see
his reaction.

He hooked her chin with his thumb and forced
her to meet his eyes. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t ask
that tonight. Just relax your legs for me.”

In her heart, Amelia wanted to please her
husband, but to submit to him would destroy their future. She
squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he said quietly, then shifted his
hips to better accommodate himself.

Oh God.

She braced her hands against his chest. “This
is too soon.”

“Do you need me to touch you again?” he
asked, his arms trembling from holding himself back, the hardness
of him brushing her private place. She could feel the tension in
Kyle’s body like a drawn bow, waiting to be released.

She shook her head. “I just want to stop,”
she whispered.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, his breath
soft against her ear.

His promise chilled her. Those were the exact
words Richard had used before he’d annihilated her hopes. Kyle was
her husband. He had a right to her body. But at the moment he
simply seemed to her like just another man who was going to take
what he wanted. She couldn’t stop him. Kyle would force the
consummation and he would hate her.

Amelia arched her back and shoved at his
chest. She refused to spend the rest of her life trying to live up
to his high standards without having a chance to win his love. No
matter what mistakes she’d made in the past, she deserved a chance
at happiness.

“What are you doing?” Kyle grabbed her arms
to keep her from toppling them off the bed.

Tangled in the sheet with her legs straddling
his hips and his hands gripping her arms, Amelia felt an endless
wave of panic cut off her breath. She couldn’t let him find out.
Not yet.

He pinned her beneath him, staring down at
her in shock, panting from the struggle as he sprawled across her
trembling body. “What is the matter with you?”

His hips were still between her legs and
there was nothing to stop him from pushing inside her. Her throat
closed and tears of shame rolled down her cheeks. They hadn’t even
had a chance to talk yet, to become friends, to fall in love.

She didn’t even know what he liked for
breakfast.

She shoved his hand off her waist, knowing it
wouldn’t matter how many times she pushed him away. Kyle was even
stronger than Richard. She turned her head and buried her face in
the crook of her arm.

“God, Amelia, I’m sorry.” Kyle brushed her
hair off her face. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted off her and Amelia jerked her knees
up, pressing her thighs together, but Kyle didn’t pry them apart
like Richard had done their last time together.

Kyle moved to her side. “I didn’t mean to
frighten you.”

He hadn’t. It was her fear of his hatred that
had made her panic. “I’m sorry,” she said, meeting his eyes, her
own blurred by tears. “I truly am, Kyle, but I...just can’t do this
yet. I know you can force things if you want to.”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped his face.
“I will
never
force you.”

“I couldn’t stop you.” She turned her face
away, despising the tremble in her voice. At seventeen she’d been
too young to understand that an impassioned man could turn violent
when a girl changed her mind about making love. But she knew
without a doubt that Kyle’s inflamed body was demanding release and
that it was cruel for her to deny him.

He cupped her jaw and forced her to look at
him. “Who hurt you?” he asked quietly. “Was it the same man who
taught you how to kiss?”

A horrified gasp burst from her and she
stared at him, praying he hadn’t guessed her secret.

“A woman doesn’t kiss like this unless she’s
done it before.”

Amelia didn’t respond, couldn’t begin to tell
him what Richard had taught her that summer, what mix of pleasure
and shame he’d introduced to her life.

“I have never played with a woman's
affections or taken anything they didn’t willingly offer. I can’t
say it any plainer than that, Amelia. I expect us to be intimate,
but when I take you to bed, I don’t want to see your eyes filled
with fear.”

Her throat ached. This was supposed to have
been the best night of her life. This was supposed to be a
celebration of love and passion, not guilt and dread.

In her shame, she couldn’t respond. Kyle
heaved a sigh and flopped to his back, draping an arm over his
eyes. The clock on the nightstand ticked in the silence and mingled
with his ragged breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so
sorry.”

With a hard sigh, he turned away, giving her
a shadowed view of his back and wide shoulders. “I’ll wait a
night.”

Sunlight
streamed in through the huge bedroom window and Amelia squinted as
she braced up on an elbow. She rubbed her eyes, feeling disoriented
and anxious. The room was wide and long and filled with light.
Thick oak beams glowed warmly overhead. The bedcovers were dark and
masculine beneath her curious fingers but wonderfully soft against
her skin.

Her gaze settled on the fireplace, cold now,
but familiar enough that Amelia remembered where she was. She had
sat in one of the burgundy brocade chairs the night before,
drinking tea with her husband, then she’d slept in his bed all
night without consummating their marriage.

Shame burned through her and Amelia glanced
over her shoulder expecting to see Kyle stretched out beside her,
but he wasn’t there, the coolness of the sheets indicating he’d
been gone for a while.

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand
and nearly stopped breathing. God only knew how long Kyle had been
waiting for his breakfast. She threw back the covers, leapt from
bed, and yanked on her lightweight wrapper.

She rushed into the hall, but stopped outside
the bedroom door, uncertain which direction to head. There was a
door across from her and another to her right at the end of the
hall. To her left and several feet down, the hallway appeared to
open into a large room that Amelia assumed to be the main part of
the house. She hurried in that direction and found herself in the
parlor that Kyle had carried her into last night. Diagonally across
from her was another open door and Amelia rushed forward, praying
it was the kitchen.

The room was occupied by a small bed and
dresser instead of a stove and sink. Frustrated, she swept her
tangled hair behind her shoulders, and turned back, her eyes
frantically scanning the parlor.

Kyle leaned in a doorway across the room
watching her.

Amelia gasped and pressed a hand to her
chest. “I had no idea it was so late. I was just looking for the
kitchen.”

“It’s in here.” He gestured with his chin
toward the room behind him.

He was dressed for church, wearing a navy
blue jacket and trousers with a white dress shirt and navy bow tie.
Remembering how he’d looked last night with his skin bare and his
hair mussed, his eyes stormy as his hands and mouth moved over her
body made Amelia’s insides melt. She’d lain awake for hours aching
to finish what they’d started, knowing she couldn’t. Seeing him
now, so handsome as he stood in a swatch of sunshine angling
through the parlor window, reinforced her desire to share a loving
union with him.

“You should have woken me,” she said, tugging
the belt on her wrapper tighter as she started toward him. “I’ll
have breakfast ready in a minute.”

“It’s already on the table.”

Her head snapped up and her footsteps
faltered.

“Habit,” he said with a shrug. “I’m used to
doing for myself.”

“I’m sorry, Kyle.” Amelia hung her head. Not
only had Kyle been cheated out of his rightful wedding night, but
he’d had to make his own breakfast. “I’d hoped to do a better job
than this.”

She heard the fabric in his clothing whisper
as he moved forward, saw his black Sunday shoes stop in front of
her. He tipped her chin up until she looked at him. “I don’t care
about breakfast.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do this.”

“You’ll probably wish I hadn’t when you taste
my eggs. Come on. They’ll be worse if they get cold.”

Two plates filled with eggs and toast sat on
a sturdy oak table in the middle of a gorgeous room. To her
surprise the kitchen was accented by wallpaper in deep greens and
rich burgundy swirls of color that brightened rather than darkened
the room. A six-plate Acme stove was centered along the wall to her
left, and straight ahead was a small icebox and a large sink
surrounded by several feet of counter. Overhead a string of
beautiful oak cabinets lined the wall. A small oak door, which she
assumed to be the pantry, and a large window filled with sunshine,
consumed the wall to her right. Awed by the beauty of the room, she
stared at Kyle. “This is lovely.”

“My brothers helped me build the house. Boyd
made the cupboards and did most of the wood trim. I didn’t have the
patience for it.”

He pulled out her chair, then joined her at
the table where they ate in awkward silence. Amelia inherently
understood that Kyle wasn’t one for small talk, but it rattled her
that she knew nothing personal about her husband except that he had
the ability to both frighten and excite her. She sensed a private,
tender side that he guarded, but she also knew Kyle was every bit
the tough businessman people believed him to be. How on earth was
she going to find a way to appeal to both men?

The eggs were perfectly cooked, but Amelia’s
nervous stomach would only accept half of the meal he’d put on her
plate. Kyle had finished ahead of her, but he waited until she’d
wiped her mouth with the napkin and laid it beside her plate.

She glanced at him. “It was kind of you to do
this.”

He tipped his head in a slight nod of
acknowledgment, but his gaze lingered, his eyes framed with an
abundance of black lashes that she hadn’t noticed last night in the
shadows. His chest lifted and his lips parted, but whatever he’d
thought to say stayed in his mouth.

Conscious of her messed hair, Amelia
finger-combed it back and hooked it behind her ears. She stared
down at her plate, embarrassed by her looks and by the awkwardness
between them she didn’t know how to lessen. “I should get ready for
church.”

As if eager to escape the tension, Kyle slid
his chair away from the table. “I’ll harness the horses. Will
twenty minutes be enough time for you?”

“Yes. It’ll only take a few minutes to clean
up and get dressed.” Amelia shoved her chair back and reached for
the plates in one motion. She scooped up their silverware and
stacked the plates together, but before she could straighten up,
Kyle reached out and stilled her arm with a firm but careful grip.
She clutched the plates and glanced up at him.

“I can wait for you, Amelia.”

Her stomach flipped and her face heated. Was
he purposely repeating the words he’d spoken last night to reassure
her that she could trust him? Or was it his way of reminding her
that he’d only promised to wait one night?

o0o

Surrounded by friends and family, Kyle sat in
church beside his wife and new mother-in-law, feeling more alone
than he ever had in his life. He’d always thought marriage would
banish that empty feeling, but somehow it only seemed to emphasize
it.

He didn’t blame Amelia for needing time to
settle in to their marriage and grow comfortable with him any more
than he blamed Catherine for refusing to meet his eyes when he’d
greeted her on the way into church. Even now, he could see
Catherine out of the corner of his eye, sitting beside Richard with
her face turned slightly away as if fighting the temptation to
glance in Kyle’s direction.

He knew it was respect and consideration that
motivated her, not anger or resentment. Catherine still loved a man
named Simon who’d died in the war. She’d confessed to Kyle after
their first intimate engagement when he’d been so shocked by
Catherine’s unexpected virginity that he had proposed out of
obligation. Kyle also learned that Alfred Cameron had married
Catherine, a woman twenty years his junior, in hopes of ending his
sudden impotency, but Catherine’s beauty and voluptuous body hadn’t
corrected his problem. The only thing they’d shared in their
marriage had been friendship.