He drove into her, filling her until it was hard to tell where his body stopped and hers started. Their hearts, pounding and thundering, were like a chorus. Amanda continued to writhe and tremble in his arms, glorious evidence that she was still in the throes of her climax.
He kissed her again and continued to move with her, until finally the last shuddering vestiges of her release faded into memory.
She sighed and wound her arms around his neck. “That was so remarkable.”
“You are remarkable,” he told her, wrestling her closer to him—if that was possible. “Amanda, I love you so very much.”
“And I, Jemmy, love you.”
“But I am so different from—”
“Shh,” she told him. “I love you. The man I discovered in Bramley Hollow. You have given me my life, let me find my heart, shared with me your soul. You made me feel beautiful.”
He kissed her, softly, slowly, thankfully. “Make you feel beautiful? You are gorgeous.”
She shook her head. “Not like one of those London ladies.”
“Amanda, forget those shopworn cats—their beauty is purchased on Bond Street and fades like yesterday’s flowers.” He toyed with a strand of her hair. “Your beauty is that you don’t realize how lovely you truly are—and it shines from within. It glows in your eyes, it radiates from your heart. It is like a gift that has awakened me. You let me find my heart, my life…” he glanced down at his scarred and once broken limb. “My leg. You’ve taught me to walk again. Not just up stairs and across the lawn, but to walk with the living.”
She grinned and reached down to stroke his bare thigh. “Your leg does seem quite improved.”
“Aye,” he said, marveling at how limber and mobile it was becoming. “Perhaps my leg is like your beauty,” he said, nuzzling her neck and then stealing a kiss from her willing lips. “When it isn’t put to good use, it doesn’t stand a chance of being seen.”
“Then thank you for helping me shine,” she whispered, and reached up and kissed him, and with a nudge of her hips, let him know she was ready to shine again.
Amanda didn’t know when they’d fallen asleep, but it was the creak of the jail’s front door that awoke her the next morning. Beside her, Jemmy stirred but didn’t awaken. At least for the moment he still clung to the peace and serenity of his dreams.
She glanced around and realized not only was she still naked, but she was unclothed with Jemmy.
Whatever she’d said last night about her desire to be ruined was all well and good, but in the light of day it was hardly proper.
No matter the fact that her days were numbered, it was hard to shake four years of a Bath education at Miss Emery’s.
“I left them right in here,” the constable was saying. “Right and proper, of course.”
And if being caught by Mr. Holmes wasn’t enough to send her to her eternal reward, the voices that followed his should have done her in right there and then.
“Of course it is proper,” Lady Finch said. “My son is always a gentleman!”
“Right and proper, she says!” a man huffed. “Lady Finch, this is an outrage. To even suggest that our Hortensia is—”
Amanda’s mouth fell open. “Father,” she stammered, diving under the wool coverlet in hopes it would cover her completely. Or better yet, the stone floor would open up and swallow her into the depths of perdition.
“Hmm,” Jemmy murmured, finally stirring. “Come here, love,” he whispered huskily, his arm winding around her and tugging her beneath him. He kissed her before she could protest, before she could tell him to stop.
To tell him they were no longer alone.
But in truth, she needn’t have worried, for her mother did that for her.
“Dear God,” the woman shrieked. “Your son has some doxy in there!”
Amanda peeked out from beneath the blanket. “No, Mother, ’tis me.”
“Hortensia!” her father bellowed. “Get out from beneath that libertine!”
“That libertine,” Lady Finch shot back, “is my son, and I will not have you implying that he’s… he’s done any—” She glanced in the direction of the cell and flinched. “Jemmy, come out from beneath that blanket and explain yourself.”
“I would, Mother,” he said, “but I fear I haven’t any clothes on.”