A Passion For Him Part 22

"No, that is not true."

"I t is." The pain in her chest intensified until she could hardly breathe. "I 'm so sorry," she whispered. "I wish we had never met. We might have been happy."

His eyes widened. "Dear G.o.d, do not say such a thing! Never. You are the only thing that has ever brought me happiness."

Suddenly, she felt so old and so tired. "Leaving your country and your family, traversing the Continent risking your life to gather information for the Crown...That is what you call happiness? You are deluded."

"d.a.m.n it," Colin growled, s.n.a.t.c.hing her by the shoulders. "You are worth it, all of it. I would do it again a hundred times over to become worthy of you."

"I never thought you were unworthy, and you did not harbor these feelings of inferiority until you met me. That is not love, Colin. I do not know what that is, but I know what it is not."

Made anxious by Amelia's sudden composure, Colin considered ways to keep her connected to him. Last night they had been as close as two lovers could ever hope to be, and now they were as distant as strangers. "Whatever doubts my revelation may inspire, do not belittle my feelings for you. I love you. From the moment I first saw you, I loved you, and I have never stopped. Not for a moment."

"Oh?" Amelia wiped at her tears with hands so steady, he felt a p.r.i.c.kling disquiet. "What of the times when you gained the expertise at lovemaking you displayed so beautifully last night? Were you in love with me then?"

"Yes, d.a.m.n you." He pulled her closer, pressing the full length of his heated body to hers. "Even then. s.e.x is s.e.x to a man, nothing more. We require the spending of our seed to be healthy. I t has nothing to do with elevated feelings."

"Simply slaking your needs as you did behind the store when we were younger?" She shook her head. "Last night, with every touch...every caress...I wondered how many women you must have entertained in order to acquire such skill."

"Jealous?" he lashed, bleeding inside and frightened by her rapid retreat. She spoke with no inflection, no feeling, as if she cared not at all.

"Do you wish it had been you who served my baser needs with no emotion or caring? No affection or concern?"

"I am jealous, yes, but also sad." Her beautiful eyes were empty. "You lived a full life without me, Colin. At times, you were likely content with your lot. You should not have come back. Those women did not make you wish to be someone you are not, as I do."

"I never think of them," he vowed, cupping her beloved face in his hands. "Never. All the while I thought of you and how deeply I wanted you. I wished they were you. I t was an ache that never faded. I learned, yes. I became skilled, yes. For you! So that I could be everything to you, so that I could satisfy you in every way. I wanted to be all you needed, all you wanted."

"How miserable," she said. "I t breaks my heart to know that I have prevented you from being happy."

Furious at his helplessness and confused by the turns the conversation was taking, Colin held her still and took her mouth, thrusting strong and sure into the hot, moist depths.

He tasted her pain and sorrow, her bitterness and anger. He drank it all, stroking across her tongue with his, before sucking fiercely.

Clutching his forearms with both hands, she moaned and trembled in his arms. Her body could not resist his, even now. I t was a weakness he hated to exploit, but he would if necessary.

"My mouth is yours," he said hoa.r.s.ely, brus.h.i.+ng his wet lips back and forth across hers. "I have shared kisses with no one but you. Never."

He caught her hand and held it over his heart. "See how strongly it beats? How desperately? Because of you. Everything, everything I have ever done has been with you in mind."

"Stop..." she panted, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s thrusting against his arm with her labored breathing.

"And my dreams." He pressed his temple to hers. "My dreams have always been yours. I aspire to be a better man to be worthy of you.""And when will that day come, Colin?"

He pulled back, frowning.

"All these years, and yet you still found reasons to put me aside until last night when I forced your hand." Amelia sighed, and he heard a note of finality in the forlorn sound. "I think we saw in each other only what we wanted to see, but in the end the gulf between us is too wide to cross with mere illusions."

Colin's blood froze, a not inconsiderable feat with her body pressed so tightly to his. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that I am tired of being left behind and forgotten until some preordained time arrives. I have lived the whole of my life under such a cloud and refuse to do so any longer."

"Amelia-"

"I am saying that when we leave this room, Colin, it will be farewell between us."

The slight scratching on the open door drew Simon's attention from the maps spread out across his desk. He looked up at the butler w ith both brow s raised. "Yes?"

"There is a young man at the door asking for Lady Winter, sir. I did tell him that neither she nor you w ere at home, but he refuses to leave."

Simon straightened. "Oh? Who is it?"

The servant cleared his throat. "He appears to be a Gypsy."

Surprise held his tongue for the length of a heartbeat. Then Simon said, "Show him in."

He took a moment to clear aw ay the sensitive doc.u.ments on his desk. Then he sat and w aited for the dark-haired youth w ho entered his study a moment later.

"Where is Lady Winter?" the boy asked, the set of his shoulders and jaw betraying his mulish determination to get w hatever it w as he came for.

Simon leaned back in his chair. "She is traveling the Continent, last I heard."

The boy frow ned. "Is Miss Benbridge w ith her? How can I find them? Do you have their direction?"

"Tell me your name."

"Colin Mitch.e.l.l."

"Well, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l, w ould you care for a drink?" Simon stood and moved to the row of decanters that lined the table in front of the w indow .

"No."

Hiding a smile, Simon poured tw o fingers of brandy into a gla.s.s and then turned around, leaning his hip against the console w ith one heel crossed over the other. Mitch.e.l.l stood in the same spot, his gaze searching the room, pausing occasionally on various objects w ith narrow ed eyes. Hunting for clues to the answ ers he sought. He w as a finely built young man, and attractive in an exotic w ay that Simon imagined the ladies found most appealing.

"What w ill you do if you find the fair Amelia?" Simon asked. "Work in the stables? Care for her horses?"

Mitch.e.l.l's eyes w idened.

"Yes, I know w ho you are, though I w as told you w ere dead." Simon lifted his gla.s.s and tossed back the contents. His belly w armed, making him smile. "So do you intend to w ork as her underling, pining for her from afar? Or perhaps you hope to tumble her in the hay as often as possible until she either marries or grow s fat w ith your child."

Simon straightened and set dow n his gla.s.s, bracing himself for the expected-yet, surprisingly impressive-tackle that knocked him to the floor. He and the boy rolled, locked in combat, knocking over a small table and shattering the porcelain figurines that had graced its top.

It took only a few moments for Simon to claim the upper hand. The time w ould have been shorter had he not been so concerned about hurting the lad.

"Cease," he ordered, "and listen to me." He no longer draw led; his tone w as now deadly earnest.

Mitch.e.l.l stilled, but his features remained stamped w ith fury. "Don' t ever speak of Amelia in that w ay!"Pus.h.i.+ng to his feet, Simon extended his hand to a.s.sist the young man up. "I am only pointing out the obvious. You have nothing.

Nothing to offer, nothing w ith w hich to support her, no t.i.tle to give her prestige."

The clenching of the young man's jaw and fists betrayed his hatred for the truth. "I know all of that."

"Good. Now "-Simon righted his clothing and resumed his seat behind the desk-"w hat if I offered to help you acquire w hat you need to make you w orthy-coin, a fitting home, perhaps even a t.i.tle from some distant land that w ould suit the physical features provided by your heritage?"

Mitch.e.l.l stilled, his gaze narrow ing w ith avid interest. "How ?"

"I am engaged in certain... activities that could be facilitated by a youth w ith your potential. I heard of your das.h.i.+ng near rescue of Miss Benbridge. With the right molding, you could be quite an a.s.set to me." Simon smiled. "I w ould not make this offer to anyone else. So consider yourself fortunate."

"Why me?" Mitch.e.l.l asked suspiciously, and not w ithout a little scorn. He w as slightly cynical, w hich Simon thought w as excellent. A purely green boy w ould be of no use at all. "You don' t know me, or w hat I'm capable of."

Simon held his gaze steadily. "I understand w ell the lengths a man w ill go to for a w oman he cares for."

"I love her."

"Yes. To the point w here you w ould seek her out at great cost to yourself. I need dedication such as that. In return, I w ill ensure that you become a man of some means."

"That w ould take years." Mitch.e.l.l ran a hand through his hair. "I don' t know that I can bear it."

"Give yourselves time to mature. Allow her to see w hat she has missed all of these years. Then, if she w ill have you anyw ay, you w ill know that she is making the decision w ith a w oman's heart, and not a child's."

For a long moment, the young man remained motionless, the w eight of his indecision a tangible thing.

"Try it," Simon urged. "What harm can come from the effort?"

Finally, Mitch.e.l.l heaved out his breath and sank into the seat opposite the desk. "I'm listening."

"Excellent!" Simon leaned back in his chair. "Now here are my thoughts..."

"Why did you say nothing to me?" Maria asked when the tale was finished, staring at Simon as if he were a stranger. She felt as if he were.

"I f I had told you, mhuirnin," Simon said softly, "would you have withheld the information from your sibling? Of course not, and the secret was not mine to share."

"What of Amelia's pain and suffering?"

"Unfortunate, but not something I could alleviate."

"You could have told me he was alive!" she argued.

"Mitch.e.l.l had every right to make himself worthy of Amelia's esteem. Do not fault him for pursuing the woman he loves in the only manner available to him. Of all men, I understand his motivations very well." He paused a moment, then spoke in a calmer voice. "Besides, what he did with his life was no concern of yours."

"I t is a concern of mine," drawled a voice from behind them, "now that it affects Miss Benbridge."

Maria turned in her chair and faced the man who approached. "Lord Ware," she greeted, her heart sinking.

The earl was dressed as casually as she had ever seen him, but there was a tension to his tall frame and a tautness to his jaw that told her leisure was far from his mind. His dark hair was unadorned but for a ribbon at his nape, and he wore boots instead of heels.

"This is the fiance?" Mademoiselle Rousseau asked.

"My lord," Christopher greeted. "I am impressed by your dedication."

"Until she tells me otherwise," the earl said grimly, "I consider Miss Benbridge's welfare one of my responsibilities."

"I have not had this much fun in ages," the Frenchwoman said, smiling wide.

Maria closed her eyes and rubbed the s.p.a.ce between her brows. Christopher, who stood at her back, set his hand on her shoulder and gave a commiserating squeeze."Would someone care to fill me in?" Ware asked.

She looked at Simon. He raised both brows. "How delicately should I phrase this?"

"No delicacy required," Ware said. "I am neither ignorant nor cursed with a weak const.i.tution."

"He does intend to marry into our family," Christopher pointed out.

"True," Simon said, though his gaze narrowed. He relayed the events leading up to the present moment, carefully leaving out names like Eddington's, which could not be shared.

"So this man in the mask is Colin Mitch.e.l.l?" Ware asked, scowling. "The boy Miss Benbridge fancied in her youth? And she does not know it is him?"

"She knows it now," Tim muttered.

"Mitch.e.l.l is telling her as we speak," Christopher explained.

There was a thud behind them, and they all turned to find Pietro, who stood gaping with a dropped valise at his feet. "That isn't possible!" the coachman said heatedly. "Colin is gone."

Maria glanced at Simon, who winced.

"This grows more fascinating by the moment," Mademoiselle Rousseau said.

"You are a vile creature," Simon snapped.

Looking up at Christopher, Maria signaled her intent to stand, and he stepped back. "I should go see how things are progressing."

"No need," he murmured, his gaze trained beyond her.

All heads turned toward the hallway that led to the private dining room. Amelia appeared with reddened eyes and nose and disheveled hair, the picture of tormented heartbroken loveliness.

Mitch.e.l.l came into view directly behind her, and the sight of him took Maria aback, as it did everyone who saw him. Elegantly attired and proud of bearing, he left no traces of servitude clinging to his tall frame. He was an arrestingly beautiful man, with dark, sensual eyes framed by long, thick lashes and a voluptuary's mouth framed by a firm, determined jaw. He, too, looked devastated and gravely wounded, and Maria's heart went out to both of them.

"Amelia..." Ware's cultured drawl was rough with concern.

Her verdant gaze met his and filled with tears.

A low growl rumbled from the earl's chest.

"Colin." Pietro's agonized tone deepened the trauma of the day's revelations.

Distracted by the many unfolding events, Maria did not foresee Ware's intent until he stalked up to Mitch.e.l.l and asked, "Do you consider yourself a gentleman?"