Compromising Positions (16 page)

Sam clicked his tongue and gently slapped the reins against the horse's flanks. Prissy broke into a quick walk and then a trot as they headed out to the main road. The steel runners hissed softly beneath them and the clop of the horse's hooves echoed through the trees.

Instead of turning into town Sam took a different route down a quiet, less-traveled country road as the sun set behind them. Prissy took to her task with controlled energy.

“Thank you for this,” Amelia said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I want you to remember this night,” he said. “How quiet and beautiful the woods are. I want you to remember how much you want me to kiss you.”

When they reached the end of the road, the woods around them opened up to a view of the river. Though the sky was darkening, Sam could make out a few details around them made visible by the two carriage lamps, the flames flickering in the soft wind.

“I can't believe it's been just a week since we met,” Amelia said. “It seems like we've known each other forever.”

Sam pulled the horse to a stop, then turned to her, taking her hands in his. “We've talked a little bit about the future, but we haven't made any firm plans. I have one thing I need to do before you leave.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an old velvet box.

Amelia gasped, her gaze darting between his face and the box. “Stop,” she said, shaking her head. Her hand came down on his, resting softly and covering the box. “I don't want you to do this now.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Sam asked.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You first.”

She cleared her throat. “I'd expect that's a ring,” she said. “And I assume that you're going to propose.”

“I do have a proposal,” he said. “But I don't have a ring.”

“Sam, it's not the right time. There's so much we have to figure out and this is all so wonderfully romantic and I'm not sure I'd be able to say no. So please—”

“I'm not going to propose marriage,” Sam interrupted. “I was going to make a different kind of proposal.”

Amelia frowned and Sam opened the small box. The light from the lantern was just enough to make out a beautiful, heart-shaped filigree locket on a fine chain. “This belonged to my great-great-great-grandmother.”

“It's lovely,” she said.

“My great-great-great-grandfather gave it to her when he went off to fight in the Civil War. They weren't married, but he didn't want her to forget him when he was gone.” Sam smiled. “I don't want you to forget me, Amelia.”

“How could I ever forget you?”

He removed his gloves and carefully fastened the chain around her neck, tucking it beneath her scarf. Then he bent close. “Don't forget any of this, Millie,” he whispered. He cupped her face in his palm and kissed her lips. “Or this.”

Amelia smiled. “I won't forget,” she said, teasing at his tongue with hers.

“And you'll never forget this,” he said, slipping his cold hand beneath her jacket and under her sweater to cup her breast.

“Cold,” she murmured. “But nice.”

“We don't have to stop. As long as we stay beneath the lap robe, we'll be fine. I can guarantee you'll never forget getting naked in the middle of a snowy forest.”

“You want me to take all my clothes off?” Amelia asked, her face etched with disbelief.

Sam nodded, a devilish smile curling his lips. “It's no fun unless you go all the way.” He pulled the lap robe up around his neck and slipped out of his jacket. “Now you,” he said.

Amelia never backed down from a challenge, especially one that had to do with sex, and he watched her wriggle out of her clothes. He reached for her beneath the lap robe. To his surprise, she'd also removed her sweater and unbuttoned her shirt.

“Now you,” she whispered.

As they worked at each other's clothes, the air around them was still. Every now and then a branch laden with snow would crack and break, the sound like a gunshot echoing through the night. They twisted and struggled to remove the rest of their clothes, shielding their bodies from the freezing temperatures beneath the warmth of the thick blanket.

The cold seemed to heighten every sensation, and when she finally wrapped her cool fingers around his stiff shaft, Sam felt a delicious rush of warmth race through his body.

His hands skimmed over her body, tugging her close. How would he ever live without her? Sam had grown accustomed to having her in his bed, to waking up each morning to the feel of her body curled against his. He'd been free to touch her and kiss her at will, but that would all end tomorrow.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I don't even feel the cold.” She bent closer and kissed him, her warm breath clouding around their faces.

With a soft growl he slid down and pressed her legs apart. He pulled her lower, until the blanket was bunched around her shoulders. Then he disappeared beneath the lap robe. A few seconds later his tongue found the spot he knew so well. He parted the damp lips between her legs and found her clit, licking at it until she couldn't help but arch against his mouth.

Sam had learned to read her reactions over the past week. He knew when she was growing close to release and he could slow his pace to drag the tension out even further. He loved to make her wait so her release would be shattering. Sam needed that now, her complete and utter surrender.

She was gasping for breath, her fingers twisted in his hair. He didn't feel the pain. Instead he felt himself slowly climbing to his own release. She wasn't even touching him and he was flirting with the edge.

Sam waited as long as he could and then waited a little longer. When the first shudder rocked her body, he quickly grabbed her legs, yanking her against him, her legs hitched on his hips. In one fluid motion he plunged inside her.

Amelia cried out, then dissolved into deep spasms, her orgasm overwhelming her. Sam followed her a few seconds later, his chin raking against the soft flesh of her breasts as he held her close.

Every time they shared this deep and physical connection, Sam thought it couldn't get any better. But then it did. With each joining, their connection grew stronger, an invisible thread drawing them closer and closer. Just not close enough.

“Are you all right under there?”

Sam pushed the lap robe down until his face hit the cold night air. “I think so. How about you?”

She smiled. “I'm fine. I'm not cold at all.”

“Me, either. Now we should do what I've heard the Swedish do after sex.”

“What is that?”

“They throw themselves into the nearest snowbank.” He grabbed her waist. “Come on, let's do it. It will be refreshing.”

“It will be crazy,” Amelia said, wriggling away from him. “You can go ahead if that's what you want to do, but I got undressed. That was daring enough.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “I'm just going to make it really quick. Just lift the blanket for a second, then pull it back.” He counted down from three and slipped out from beneath the blanket.

Sam jumped out of the sleigh and into the snow beside the road. His body sank into the deep powder. At first he didn't feel the cold, but then it hit him suddenly, a million little pinpricks to his skin.

He jumped up and began to brush the snow off his naked body, then rushed back to the sleigh. But when he grabbed the edge of the blanket, Amelia shook her head.

“No way you're crawling under here while you're all wet,” she said.

But he managed to wrest the blanket from her hand. When he got underneath, he pulled her body against his and she screamed. But Sam covered her mouth with his, waiting until her gasps turned to laughter.

He kissed her, smoothing the hair back from her face. “See, that's not so bad,” he murmured.

“You're freezing,” she said, her naked body trembling. “You're a very bad boy.”

“I know,” he said. “But you like a bad boy.”

“I like you,” she whispered, leaning close. She nuzzled her face into the curve of his neck, hugging him tight until his body began to warm.

Sam gazed up at the starlit sky and realized he was happy. Through Amelia's eyes he saw Millhaven and the inn in a new light, one not shaded by his resentment.

Was this the life he wanted, though, if it didn't include Amelia?

* * *

A
MELIA
SNUGGLED
DOWN
into the soft quilts on the bed, pulling them up over her nose to fight off the early-morning chill. The first rays of dawn were lightening the windows in the stone kitchen and Sam was still sound asleep beside her, his naked body radiating enough heat to keep both of them warm in even the coldest conditions.

She nuzzled her face into his chest and inhaled, trying to commit his scent to memory. Right now, she felt as if she could recognize him in the middle of the darkest night. But her memories would fade. The conversations they'd shared would gradually escape her mind until she remembered only his most interesting turn of phrase or the dearest admission of affection. None of the little memories would survive.

When she'd arrived in Millhaven a week ago, she'd never imagined her visit would turn into a romantic relationship. She'd thought she'd pick up the George Washington bed and head back to Boston. But then everything had gotten complicated.

From the moment Amelia had moved out of her parents' home and walked away from her engagement to Edward, she'd had a very detailed plan. She'd just forgotten to include romance in her agenda.

Was it any wonder? After Edward, the last thing she'd wanted in her life was another man to please.

Her entire life had been spent trying to live up to someone else's expectations. Her earliest memory was a moment spent on her grandfather's lap as he'd lectured her on what it meant to be a Sheffield.

But a year ago she'd decided to live her life on her terms, to build a career and to start to dream of bigger things than just a solid society marriage and a bunch of entitled children, giving birth to just enough boys to take over the family business and enough girls to make important marriages.

She could understand Sam's unhappiness with taking over the family business. Like her, he'd also been saddled with expectations, unable to choose the life he wanted and yet refusing to share the burden with anyone who offered.

Amelia didn't want to end up in another dead-end trap. She loved Sam. She loved the inn. She could be making beds or washing dishes or dusting yet another Federal-era table and the work seemed entirely satisfying.

But was she being honest? Would running the inn with Sam be enough to fulfill her professionally? Or was she just trying to convince herself of something that she knew wasn't true? The only way to find out was to leave.

She slipped her arm around him and snuggled closer. Sam took a deep breath and opened his eyes, pulling back to meet her gaze. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning,” Amelia said. She crawled on top of him and stretched her body out over the length of his. As she kissed him, she felt his shaft grow hard between them, the heat branding her belly.

“Stop,” he murmured, catching her wrists in his grasp.

“What's wrong?”

“I can't do this,” he said, rolling her over beneath him. “Not this morning. I can't make love to you and then just let you walk out the door and drive away. It's not possible.”

Sam tossed the covers aside and crawled out of bed, his body unaffected by the chill in the air. He walked over to the hearth and began to rebuild the fire. When the flames engulfed the birch logs and illuminated the dark room, he sat on the floor and stared into the flames.

She watched as the light flickered over his bare skin, his shoulders and arms outlined by a golden light. He was more beautiful than any man she'd ever met. If there was a perfect match for her, then Sam was as close as she was going to get. Amelia looked down at the locket he'd given her the night before.

Once she'd had a chance to look at it in more detail, Amelia had realized how lovely it was. Exactly the kind of thing she'd have chosen for herself, a vintage setting with beautiful details. “Maybe it's like ripping off a bandage,” she murmured.

“What?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“You're right. We shouldn't prolong the goodbyes. I should just pack up and go. The more we drag it out, the harder it will be.”

“Yes,” he said.

Amelia crawled out of bed and found a long-sleeved T-shirt draped over a nearby chair. She tugged it on before she realized it was Sam's shirt. It was soft and faded and felt great against her skin. Then she found her cardigan and pulled it on over top.

“That's not your shirt,” he said.

“I'm appropriating it. If I can't sleep with you, then I'm going to sleep with this shirt. You can take whatever you like from my bag.”

“Anything?”

She nodded. Sam got to his feet and picked up her bag from the upholstered bench at the end of the bed. He pulled open the zipper and began to dig through the contents.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“I'll know when I find it.”

Eventually he pulled out her shampoo, untwisted the top and took a deep breath. “Apples,” he said. “Your hair smells like fresh apples.”

“Are you going to sleep with my shampoo?”

“No,” Sam said. “I'm going to wash my pillowcases in it and then I can pretend you're in bed with me.”

Amelia grabbed her cell phone, selected the camera app and snapped a photo of him looking all dark and moody. “You could also take a photo.” She took another picture of Sam, then admired it, especially the naked butt.

He chuckled and turned around. “Give me that!”

She quickly snapped another shot before he could grab the phone and look at it. “Now you,” he said. “Lie back.”