Chapter Eleven

Amelie flips me into the pile of pillows on the floor for the hundredth time today. I jump to my feet letting out a growl of frustration. Why can't I master this during sparring? Practicing slowly with her verbal instruction had been so easy, but trying to use these new skills while she actively tries to prevent me from succeeding is a whole new beast.

We have been at this for days, practicing whenever the time allows and tomorrow the arrival of Arthur's parents, will no doubt bring a wave of changes to the comfortable rhythm we have acquired. Breakfast and dinner with Arthur and William every day, and the remainder of the day to train and spend time with Amelie.

Her light-yellow dress fits her so perfectly, I am jealous of the way she isn't impacted by ridiculous layers of material. Surely, they are unnecessary when Amelie can look that good in so few layers.

Amelie resets and holds up the small stick of bread I had been trying to take from her for almost half an hour. "Remember," she says patiently. "Do not leave yourself open to attack while attacking."

I nod and prepare myself. Amelie launches forward and I am positive this isn't even a fraction of the speed she is capable of, and I am grateful for her patience as a teacher. I sidestep the bread as she tries to ‘stab' me with it. I slap her arm away and hook my leg around hers as she moves forward with her momentum. She twists out of my hold before I can execute it properly and she turns on me again wielding her bread stick and a huge smile.

Amelie lunges, and I barely block it in time. Twisting again I grip her leg with mine and we tumble to the ground. I manage to keep her bread wielding arm pinned to the floor with my knee and I straddle her hips as I hold my own stick of bread to her throat.

I don't know who is more surprised about our position, but I find a smile spreading across my lips at my success. Amelie looks up at me with dark eyes and I cannot help the way my eyes flit down to her lips. How easy it would be to lean forward from this position and take them in my own.

We stay like this for long moments. My breathing is heavy, and my dress is far too cumbersome to be this physically active. But Amelie had insisted I would likely be attacked while dressed and need to be able to respond while in the garment.

"Well done," she says in a low voice. She makes no attempt to get out from beneath me, although I am positive she is more than capable.

"I did it," I say with pride. "I bested you."

Suddenly the world spins and I find I am pinned to the floor with my hands above my head and Amelies face mere inches from my own.

"I wouldn't go that far," she says with a smile.

The primal look in her eyes has my hips shifting towards hers without my permission. Oh heavens, why does she have to look at me like that?

Her eyebrow raises and I realise she has felt my unseemly hip movements. "Elizabeth?" she asks gently.

How can my name be said in a way that is like a thousand unspoken questions. "You will be the death of me," I say with a groan. Hating the way my body thrums at the nearness to her and the desperate way I want there to be no barriers between us.

My hands are released, but Amelie remains straddled across my hips. I drop my hands to my side and let out a small gasp as my fingertips brush the skin of her calf. I swallow as I realise, her dress is hiked up around her knees. My eyes slam shut to prevent the immediate desire I have from being acted upon.

This infatuation I seem to have for Amelie only seems to worsen the more time we spend together. Never in my life have I felt so comfortable around another person. Never in my life have I desired someone the way I do her.

"I wonder," Amelie says playfully as fingertips lightly trail the exposed skin of my decolletage. "What would happen if you didn't fight so hard to hide those thoughts that are so obviously raging through you?"

"Anarchy," I reply simply, keeping my eyes shut.

She laughs. "Life needs chaos."

"This kind of chaos would upend everything," I say dryly. Both desperate for her to stop and for her to continue the trailing of her fingers.

She shifts and suddenly lips brush my ear as she whispers, "Who says that would be a bad thing?"

A knock at the door has Amelie gracefully rising to her feet and pulling me up with her deceptively strong body. I try to catch my breath and do my best to make it look like it is because of the physical exertion, and has nothing to do with our previous proximity. I look at her, sure she had just discreetly encouraged me to act on my desires.

I shake my head. Those are just the deranged thoughts of a lust addled brain.

Amelie opens the door and Arthur and William stand on the other side. The pair are immaculately dressed in complimenting colour sets and together they make a striking vision.

Arthur holds up a letter. "I have received word from your father, may we come in?" Amelie looks to me and I nod my assent and she steps aside to let them through. "Have you received word from your mother?"

I shake my head. "Although it is not surprising. Mother detests writing and reading. She claims it to be overtly manly."

Arthur shakes his head. "With everything I learn about your family, I am constantly surprised by how wonderfully different you are from them."

I smile at his flattery. Arthur is very good with his words. No wonder he has a trail of women who throw themselves at him whenever he is in town.

"You are kind," I say.

He passes the letter to me, and I look over it, relief and tension pooling in my stomach. I skim through the letter, learning a local merchants son named Henery had died in a drunken brawl the day before I had left, causing father a delay in the arrival of some furniture and how unprofessional it all is. Some details about what father expects to be handed to me in the form of titles, but right at the end of the letter are the words I am meant to see.

"Father has agreed to have the wedding moved to the end of next month," I say slowly.

"Wonderful news, is it not?" Arthur says happily.

I glance at Amelie and find myself once again cursing the fact that I seem to have been born with the desires of a man. How is it I cannot even pretend to feel a greater connection with Arthur? He is essentially a perfect man.

The silence extends for far too long, and I struggle to find words that won't somehow increase the awkwardness that has filled the space. Arthur's face becomes concerned and even William seems to show a curiosity as to my response instead of his general distain.

Amelie seems to pick up on my internal struggle and smiles. "How wonderful," she says with a clap of her hands. She places her hand on my arm. "There is no need to worry about the shortness of the timeframe to prepare the wedding. I am sure it will be perfect."

I smile at her quick thinking. "There is just so much to do," I reply.

Both men seem to relax at Amelie's explanation for my silence over what should have been joyous news. But since arriving at the estate, no further attempts on my life have been made. The idea of bringing our union, and in particular our wedding night, closer is a thought that has suddenly inspired a great deal of anxiety within my chest.

I keep the smile plastered to my face as Arthur grins at me. "Anything you need will be at your disposal. I do not wish for this to be a stressful event for you."

Why does he have to be so perfect?

Guilt builds in my belly. "I will be sure to let you know as soon as I have my thoughts sorted."

"I will leave you lovely ladies to it," he says with a bow. "Will you still attend dinner tonight?"

"Of course," I reply easily. Arthur is very easy to get along with and I actually enjoy his company. I glance at Amelie and clench my jaw. But it is not him I wish to be romantically entwined with.

The two men leave and as the door shuts behind them Amelie immediately begins setting about making a pot of tea. We drink the beverage so often, Amelie somehow managed to appropriate a pot for boiling water from the kitchen. Together with an assortment of my favourite tea leaves so we can have them without interrupting the servants every hour or so.

"I should make more time to spend with him," I say as I flop into the chair by the fire, not even caring at how undignified it must look.

"It is normal not to feel a deep bond with someone you have been arranged to marry," Amelie says. "From what I understand, feelings of attachment develop over time."

I stare at her in disbelief. If feelings develop over time, why am I constantly fighting off fantasies of Amelie being the one I am to marry? I have only known her one day longer than Arthur.

I let out a sigh of frustration and Amelie glances my way. "It could be worse," she reminds me.

"It could also be better," I mumble.

***

A woman with flaming red hair peers at me with such intensity that I have to fight not to squirm under her gaze. The man beside her, almost as round as he is tall looks at me with a grimace.

I keep the smile on my face as I stand under the scrutiny of my soon to be in laws. Arthur stands to the side dressed impeccably as he casts concerned looks between us. I can tell he is prepared to step in, the moment anyone steps out of line.

"Is she pregnant?" the small round man asks. I literally feel Amelie tense beside me, and I have to fight not to look at her.

"Roger!" The red headed woman basically squawks at him.

"We have ways to deal with that if she is," Roger continues as if Arthur's mother had not spoken. "Marriage is not the only avenue."

Amelie steps forward and I indicate ever so slightly with my hand, and she pauses although her outrage is obvious.

"I am not pregnant," I say as politely as I can.

Roger huffs and turns his back on me, wandering over to the table laden with food. Other guests mill around the room pretending not to notice the indecent comment launched at me from a man I have only known for about three minutes.

The woman steps forward and takes my hands in hers. "Please forgive Roger," she says gently. "He is not eloquent with words."

I nod. "It is already forgotten."

"You are very pretty," she says looking me over. "Dark hair like yours, with eyes like that is certainly a flattering combination."

"Thank you," I stutter feeling a flush colour my cheeks at her comment.

She turns to Arthur. "Do you feel she is an appropriate match for you?" she asks.

"I do Mother," Arthur replies without a hesitation I could not have managed.

"Then that is all I need," she says with a smile. She turns back to me, "I hope your family is fertile. I need grandchildren," she declares. "As many as you can squeeze out!"

"Mother!" Arthur says in a voice obviously laced with shock. "We are not yet even wed."

"You are two and thirty Arthur," she says casually. "How much longer are you going to make your mother wait before she can hear the pitter patter of small feet?" she turns to me with a wink. "I thought I would leave this world before he finally got around to marrying."

Arthur steps between me and his mother as the music played by the pianist in the corner starts to flow through the room.

"Elizabeth, would you dance with me?"

His mother looks a confusing mixture of outrage at this obvious thwarting of her intense line of questioning and pride at his heroic attempts to liberate me from it.

"I would love to," I reply as I eagerly take his hand.

He whisks me into the middle of the room where other couples are only just starting to waltz around the space.

"I am sorry about my family," he says as he places a strong arm on my waist and guides me around the space.

"It is okay," I say honestly. "But thank you from saving me from continuing that conversation."

"Oh, it was entirely selfish," he says with a laugh. "I wanted to escape just as much as you, and now I get to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room."

My eyes flick to Amelie who stands off to the side of the room, her eyes firmly locked on my body as it moves around the dance floor. William stands beside her with a scowl.

I look up at Arthur and smile, "You and your flattery will get you into trouble one day," I say playfully.

"It hasn't yet," he says with a grin.

He twirls me around and I find he is a wonderful dancer and surprisingly elegant on his feet for a man as broad as he. The song speeds up and our dance changes. He lifts me into the air with a firm grasp on my hips in time with the other dancers around the room.

As the dance winds down, we exit the floor, and I cannot help but feel elated at Arthur's surprise ball. I suspect it was deliberately aligned with the arrival of his parents, to create a barrier to the intense interrogation they obviously want to put me through. Before we arrive back by the fire, I stop Arthur and look up at his deep green eyes and his auburn hair.

"Thank you for saving me," I say and tilt up to my tip toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"With that kind of reward," he says with a smile. "I shall endeavour to do it as often as possible."

I swat his arm playfully. "If I remember my fables correctly, rescuing someone is not supposed to be done for a reward."

He lets out a full bellied laugh. "I shall keep it in mind."

"It won't stop you though, will it?" I ask with a smile.

"Not a chance," he is quick to quip back.