Chapter Nine

My back presses against the cold stone wall as I am forcibly pushed into it by strong firm hands. I look into deep blue eyes framed by long wavey locks of ash blonde hair, my eyes dart down to the coy smile as she leans in and takes my lips firmly in her own.

She is so soft! My brain struggles to process anything but the way she touches me and all I can do is follow her lead. I groan into the kiss as she nibbles at the plump flesh of my lips and she has me rocking my hips towards hers, working my body up in the most expert manner possible.

Tongues tangle, and I twist my hands into her surprisingly soft hair, relishing in the ferocity it brings out in her as I am pinned to the wall more firmly. Hands squeeze my hips as lips travel down my neck to nip at the exposed skin there, and I desperately want her to go lower. Even though I know the dress won't allow it.

I grip at her waist and growl in frustration at how many layers I will have to get through before I can reach her skin, but before my brain can properly calculate the logistics, Amelie drops to her knees in front of me and grips my hips. They twitch ever so slightly in her direction, and my heart hammers in my chest with the intense look in her blue eyes.

Her hands slip under the skirts and fingertips ghost over the skin of my ankles, touching everywhere as they move smoothly up my legs. My hands slip into her hair as her fingers travel gently up the skin until she reaches my knees, and her touch becomes firmer as she slowly moves towards my pelvis. Not once does she break eye contact, as I am flooded with sensations that would have made it impossible to remain standing if it were not for the wall behind me.

"Amelie," I whisper as my legs weaken while fingertips travel to the apex of my thighs. To almost where I need her, but so far away it is almost physically painful. "Please," I whimper, not really sure what I am asking for but desperate to have it.

She lets out a low rumble of laughter. "Elizabeth," she says with a voice that sends shivers through me. "Your first time will not be with my hands."

"Not with–?" my words are cut off as she lifts my skirts and dashes under them, leaving hot kisses and sharp, but delightful nips to my inner thighs.

I drop my head back against the cold stone wall as my heart hammers in my chest and excitement swirls in my lower stomach. Noises fall unbidden from my lips as I try desperately to touch her, finally settling on holding her head through my skirts as warm breath ghosts across my centre. I take a breath to steady myself, but it does nothing to prepare me for the feeling of her tongue as it glides along me.

"Heavens!" I cry, gripping her head tightly through the dress, as an overwhelming onslaught of sensations rocket through me at her touch.

Pleasure rolls through my body like it never has before. I had no idea it could produce such desirable and consuming feelings as it sends tingles everywhere with each of her tongue strokes. The feeling spiralling out from my core to every fibre of my being as she does things to me, I never believed possible, let alone from another woman. My legs are pushed apart, and I grip the windowsill behind me for balance as she moves lower and presses her tongue inside me.

"Amelie!" I moan as the shock of something inside me for the very first time comes with an explosion of pleasure so profound, literature has never done it justice.

My body vibrates with feeling as she pushes her tongue in and out and I can feel myself gripping her tightly, desperate not to let her go with each of her thrusts. Her hand snakes out, and I take hold of it grateful for the anchor to reality as she pushes me to heights I never imagined possible.

"Amelie," I call out again as a pinnacle comes upon me, and I can tell without any experience, that this is about to be a more profound feeling than any that has come before it.

"Elizabeth," Comes Amelie's voice, and it takes a moment for me to realise, she shouldn't be able to speak right at this moment. "Elizabeth," the voice comes again.

My eyes fly open, and I can feel my breathing and my body is bathed in sweat. My eyes lock onto the subject of my dream, and I have to fight not to pull her down in an attempt to re-enact it.

"Amelie," I say, noting my voice is much huskier than it normally is.

"Are you well?" Amelie asks, looking over me from where she lay perched on one elbow in the bed beside me, one hand holding mine tightly. "Is anything hurting?"

"Hurting?" I repeat, dimly staring at the lightening chamber around me and remembering where I am.

"You're sweating and your breathing is quite heavy." She says, her beautiful eyes filled with concern. "I need to check you do not have any infections in your injuries."

I stare at her for a long moment, well aware of the moisture on my thighs and the throbbing between them. "I am okay," I insist dropping my head back in the soft pillow, desperately wishing she had waited just another minute before waking me.

I glance over at her and the way her hair spills over her shoulders, slightly tussled from her sleep and clothed in only a shift. I can see two peaks under the fabric clinging tightly to her chest and I regret the look almost immediately as desire surges through me once more.

"Are you sure?" she asks gently, her soft voice sending a wave of goose bumps across my skin, which I desperately hope she interprets as a result of the chilly air in the room around us.

I rub my face as my aching centre screams, ‘I am not!' but instead I manage, "It was just a dream. I am well."

She lays back down but watches me with an intensity that reminds me of the gaze from my dream. I close my eyes and focus on slowing my breathing and I try to sort through why my brain had created such an interaction with Amelie. I have gazed upon my handsome husband to be, yet it was not him my brain had created such a passionate dream about. Not him I longed to reach out to now. Frustrated at my brain's inappropriate decision, I fling myself from the bed startling Amelie once more.

"Elizabeth?" she ventures carefully.

I swallow and turn to her with a small smile. "I just need a cup of tea and I will be much better," I say gently.

She begins to rise, the blankets falling to her waist, and my traitorous eyes drift over the form I can see revealed through the thin material by the dim flickering of the firelight. I feel my own nipples harden and I quickly cross my arms over them.

"Stay in bed," I insist. "I can ring a bell."

Amelie looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "I will stoke the fire and would love a cup of tea as well."

I sigh and nod accepting my fate. "Thank you, Amelie," I say as I dart from the room, collecting a small blanket from the back of a chair in the entry room and wrapping it around my shoulders.

I move over to the small golden bell and pull the cord. It makes a soft jingle and I move around the room as the light spilling through the edges of the heavy curtains steadily grows brighter. An older woman appears at the door in less than three minutes, and I look over the portly form with red lines on the side of her face. I smile as realisation dawns on me that she must have fallen asleep in the kitchen. Judging from the lines on her face, her own hand had been the pillow.

"Mornin' Miss," she says in a rich, bubbly voice. "How may I help?

"Good morning," I say my smile growing wider. "Could I please have a pot of black tea, two cups and some biscuits brought up?"

She dips her head. "O'course Miss. Right away." She turns and scurries away down the hall.

Two men sit across from my door playing cards on a small table between them. "Everything all right, Miss?" The older man with salt and pepper hair asks.

I smile. "Yes. It just seems I have risen early this morning."

He dips his head. "Slept well, Miss?"

"I did. Thank you," I say looking for a way to end the conversation and return to the rooms which are significantly warmer than the hall. I am also painfully aware my only form of modesty right now is my blanket. "I will leave you two to your game," I say politely and shut the door.

I put my back against it and let out a sigh. That wasn't my smoothest exit, but also not my worst either. Amelie pokes her head around the bedroom door and waves me towards her. I hurry over and she slips the door shut behind me. Closing the warmth of the now roaring fire of the hearth into our small room. It is going to warm up in here fast.

I throw the blanket onto the armchair. "Why do women not have over gowns for their night wear?" I grump as I head towards the bed.

"Because we don't want to impede on the view of a woman in only undergarments?" Amelie suggests as she add more wood to the fire.

I roll my eyes. "Women should have an overgown for nighttime, something fluffy and warm," I add as I wrap my arms around my chest for warmth.

"I shall endeavour to make it so," Amelie says with a laugh as she rises to her feet.

We climb back into the heat of the bed and sit with blankets wrapped around our shoulders as we listen to the crackling of the fire. It doesn't take long before there is a knock at the door and Amelie darts out of the bed faster than I can pull aside the covers. She returns with a silver platter loaded with a tea pot, cups and a huge pile of biscuits with a large dollop of jam in the centre.

She sets the tray down on the bed and pops one into her mouth with a smile. "They are still warm," she groans.

A smile crawls across my lips, and I lean forward to take one of my own. I bite into the warm biscuit and my smile grows larger. These were worth being woken up for. Of course, one more minute of sleep would have been infinitely better.

Amelie pours out the tea and hands one to me before she returns to the warmth of the covers with one of her own. We sit and eat far too many biscuits as we work through our pot of tea. I cannot help but feel how right this is. Panicking, I force the thought away quickly. Not only have I known Amelie for a little longer than a day, but she is a woman, and this pattern of thought cannot be allowed to continue.

But why? The little voice inside my head asks. If we can be forced to marry a man we just met, why can't we fall for the woman who is supposed to protect us?

I force my eyes shut, as if the strength of me holding them closed will somehow push away the thoughts too. Damn it. Perhaps mother was right about reading making me too much like a man.

Amelie nudges my side with her elbow. "You can talk to me if you want."

I laugh and only just keep back the bitterness of my predicament. The only person I can talk to about this is also the one person, I should really not talk to about this.

"Have you ever wondered," I start, surprising myself that the words have slipped out.

"Wondered what?" Amelie asks gently.

I look into the fire "If this is all there is to life? Where the best a woman can hope for is an arranged marriage with a man that is tolerable."

"Is tolerable not enough?" Amelie asks surprised.

I shake my head. "What of love?"

There is a long pause. "I think, in this world, love is a rare thing."

"Then should it not be acted upon?" I say in frustration. "If it is such a precious thing, why do we shove it aside for status or money."

"Elizabeth," Amelie says looking at me with such an intensity, I become worried she might actually be able to see into my thoughts. "Are you in love with someone?"

I drop my head back into the wooden headboard. "No," I say with a huff. I roll my head to look into her blue eyes and my heart thumps with just a little more energy inside my chest. "But what if I could be?"

There is a knock at the door and a woman's voice calls. "Miss Hawkford, Lord Stacks has arranged for breakfast to be ready in the dining room downstairs in half an hour. He wished me to advise you and to bring you this." The bedroom door opens slowly, and the maid holds out a bunch of long-stemmed red and white roses.

Amelie slips out of the bed and takes the roses from the maid. "I shall put these in water right away."

The maid turns and faces me expectantly and it takes a moment to realise, I am required to send back a message. "Please thank Lord Stacks and let him know, I look forward to attending breakfast."

She dips her head and hurries from the room. Amelie appears holding up the dress from the night before. "We should get dressed."

I withhold the groan and climb from the warm bed.