The Illegitimate Montague. Sarah MalloryЧитать онлайн книгу.
a grey twilight hung over the clearing. She was lying in a man’s arms, their naked limbs fitting snugly together in the most natural way and she felt relaxed. More than that, she felt cherished. Loved. She had been an innocent maid when she had married Bernard, and he had been a selfish lover, their coupling had left her feeling lost and dissatisfied. At the time she had not known why but now, lying here with Adam, she understood.
Adam. She moved slightly, tentatively touching the lean body stretched beside her. They had not met since they were children, yet she had felt an immediate affinity with him. Perhaps it was because he had come to her rescue once again. She smiled in the darkness. It was more likely his magnificent physique. She recalled how she had reacted to the sight of his naked chest, when he had removed his wet shirt, the firelight glinting on his wide shoulders, the rippling muscles of his chest. Just the thought of it sent shafts of aching lust running through her again.
Reluctantly she moved away from his warmth and curled herself into a ball. How wanton he would think her. How shocked she was that she had thrown herself at him! Amber had no idea what had come over her. Could she blame it on the wine, perhaps, or on their situation, surrounded by the gently billowing fabrics, as if they were in some exotic pavilion? No, nothing could excuse her behaviour. She had thrown caution to the winds and given herself to Adam. Something within had taken over, compelled her to kiss him, and after that, she was lost.
Amber sat up, fear chilling her heart. She had never been so completely out of control before. Adam had withdrawn early, so there could be no baby, no lasting evidence of her weakness, but what if it happened again? She must make sure it did not, or she would risk losing everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
She had been a widow for more than seven years, in charge of her own life, and this sudden vulnerability was terrifying. She had known nothing like it before. Amber had been fifteen when her mother died and she had stepped into her shoes, taking over the accounts and running the shop. It had not been difficult; she loved the business and as a child she had spent all her spare time in the warehouse, learning about the different fabrics, talking to the customers and accompanying her father on his business trips. She had soon realised that while her father was an excellent salesman, it was her mother who knew which fabrics to buy and how much to spend to keep the finances in order.
Amber had inherited her mother’s natural flair for business and she had hoped that her father would listen to her advice, that with a little economy they could make the savings and investments needed to expand. Instead, without his wife’s moderating influence, he had spent his money foolishly and within the year it was clear that the business would need substantial investment if it was to continue. Bernard Hall had been a gentleman by birth and knew nothing about trade, but he had had a little money which he was willing to invest. Amber knew now that she had been the bargaining tool her father had used to entice Bernard into partnership. She had resisted his advances for three years, but at eighteen she had given in to the pressure from Bernard and her father and become Mrs Hall.
It had not been a happy time. They had needed Bernard’s added investment to continue, but his strong, bullying personality had dominated her father and Amber had been obliged to watch the business she loved sinking further into decline. She had thought that by marrying Bernard she might have more influence, instead she had merely become his chattel, to be used or ignored, and any remonstrance had been met with a swift and violent rebuttal. He had constantly belittled her; she had been reduced to the role of a servant. Amber could admit now her relief when Bernard had died less than two years after their marriage. By then her father was a broken man and she had taken up the reins of the business, dragged it back from the brink of disaster and with steady perseverance she had built it up.
It had taken her years to recover from Bernard’s constant bullying and at the same time she had struggled against prejudice, customers and suppliers who thought that because she was a woman alone they could cheat her—or seduce her. They did not succeed and over the years she had grown stronger, more confident. Independent. She would not allow anything or anyone to prejudice her position.
So what was she doing here, lying with a man she hardly knew?
Adam sighed and rolled over, slipping one hand around her hips. Immediately her body responded, relishing the contact, the way he moulded himself against her. Amber tensed, trying to ignore the siren call of her own desire.
She felt his breath on her thigh.
‘Is anything wrong?’
Something close to panic engulfed her. She must not give in. She must not allow these new and terrifying feelings to possess her, to swallow her up. This man was a danger to everything she had lived and worked for. If she allowed him to take her in his arms again she would be lost. He must be set at a distance. Like a drowning man she clutched at the only lifeline she could see.
Summoning every ounce of resolution, she gave a careless laugh.
‘Wrong? No, of course not. But I have to get on. There is a lot to do here.’
Immediately he released her and she could not ignore the little stab of disappointment that he did not argue. She said brightly, ‘I have my business to think of, and you will be returning to Lancashire very soon, will you not?’
‘Tomorrow, if matters work out well for me.’
Amber nodded. How right she was to distance herself from him! Adam threw back the covers and got up.
‘Where are you going?’
He turned back to look down at her, a rueful smile quirking his mouth and setting loose a net full of butterflies in her stomach.
‘To get dressed. I cannot lie with you naked beside me and not make love to you. I think that would be beyond any man.’
She blushed. ‘No, of course.’
She watched him walk away to gather up his clothes and pick up his saddlebag. He moved gracefully; his naked body was lean and lithe in the morning light, like any hero should be. She was grateful he had been hers, if only for one night.
‘I will take myself over there,’ he said, pointing to a clump of bushes, ‘and allow you to dress here undisturbed.’
He disappeared into the green undergrowth and Amber hunted for her own garments. The sight of them scattered around reminded her of the passion that had made it necessary to divest herself of them so haphazardly last night. Her blood heated at the very thought of what they had done, but almost immediately she shivered.
Such wanton, abandoned behaviour was quite shocking. If anyone learned of it her reputation would be lost and her business would almost certainly be ruined. She did not think Adam would speak of it to anyone. She trusted him, even more than she trusted herself. Hurriedly she picked up her chemise and scrambled into it.
Adam shook out his clothes and sighed. They were dry, but sadly crumpled and muddy from their time in the river. He had a clean shirt and neck cloth in his saddlebag, but had not thought to pack anything else.
A rueful smile touched his lips. He had not expected to rescue a damsel in distress and get a soaking for his troubles! However, the night that had followed had been more than ample reward. His mind drifted to lying beneath the stars with Amber in his arms. His lack of control troubled him. It could only be the consequence of the fight: he knew from experience how one’s senses were heightened by a battle. The exhilaration of victory made men reckless. That would account for the immediate, overwhelming attraction he had felt for her. It was completely foreign to him, but then all his other battles had taken place at sea and by the time they had reached port his euphoria had died and the harlots on the quay had held no appeal for him. He told himself it would be no different with Mrs Amber Hall, in the light of a new day. They could go their separate ways and think no more of each other. Thank goodness he had withdrawn in time, and there could be no risk of an unwanted child to complicate matters.
He shrugged on his jacket and raked his fingers through his hair one final time. No, she would be dressed by now, that luscious dark hair scraped back into some semblance of order, and they would be able to treat each other as polite, distant acquaintances.
Unfortunately