he could either leave Amelia here to fend for herself and retreat to the safety of the rest of the deserted house, or he could ensure she would not die from the cold in what remained of the night.
Now she was up here in his bedroom Edward had to suppress the trepidation that was creeping through his entire body. He had shut himself away from the world to avoid exactly these sort of interactions. After the fire he hadn’t wanted anyone to venture into the house, into the space he had shared with his family. This was their private domain and he had tried to keep the memories alive by not allowing anyone else in.
Tonight, with Amelia shivering in the armchair his late wife used to sit in, Edward felt as though he’d already somehow desecrated those memories.
‘You need to get out of those wet clothes,’ Edward barked, knowing he was taking his displeasure out on Amelia, but unable to temper his tone. As he spoke they both glanced down to the almost-transparent chemise and Amelia shifted in embarrassment.
‘I’ll give you a nightshirt to wear. It’ll be far too big, but at least it will be warm and dry.’
Edward crossed to his chest of drawers and selected a nightshirt, shaking out the creases as he returned to Amelia’s side. Living alone, with no servants to surprise, Edward normally slept naked, but he had a nightshirt from the days the house had been bustling and full of life.
In the chair Amelia hadn’t moved and Edward had to pause before he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
‘Will you be able to undress yourself?’ Edward asked.
The image of him having to peel the wet chemise from her body, lifting it inch by inch to reveal the silky skin underneath, had imprinted itself in Edward’s brain. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and rallied. He had been without a woman’s touch for a long time, but that was no excuse for the entirely inappropriate thought.
He didn’t wait for her reply, instead throwing the nightshirt down on the empty armchair by the fire and striding out of the room.
Once outside Edward rested his forehead against the cool stone wall and tried to quash the contempt he was feeling towards himself. For three years he had consoled himself by promising to always remain true to his late wife, and the first time he was tested, the first time a pretty young woman stepped into his world, he allowed his imagination to run wild.
He waited a few minutes, then knocked on the door. When he didn’t get a reply he hesitated before opening the door and stepping back into the room.
Amelia had managed to finish undressing herself and don the nightshirt Edward had found for her. The bloodstained chemise was hanging over a chair. Now it wasn’t plastered to her body Edward could see just how much blood there was.
‘What happened?’ he asked sharply, pointing at the bloodstains.
Amelia turned and looked at him with vacant eyes and just shook her head.
Part of Edward wanted to drop the topic. What did it matter to him how she had got to be covered in blood and running through a storm? She’d be gone tomorrow, out of his life never to return.
‘Tell me or you can leave,’ Edward said firmly.
The frightened eyes that looked back at him were almost enough to make him regret the threat.
‘I was attacked,’ Amelia said.
‘You’re hurt?’
She shook her head. ‘I fought back.’
For now that would have to be sufficient. Edward knew enough about human nature to be sure Amelia wasn’t a threat. He didn’t want to be drawn in to whatever trouble she was in, so he let the matter drop.
‘Get to bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
He turned and began to walk towards the door, pausing only when he realised Amelia had not even made an attempt to move.
‘You’ll be warmer in bed,’ he said more softly.
She nodded her head, a minuscule movement which seemed all she was able to do. Edward waited for a few more seconds, just to see if she would move, before realising she was just too exhausted to take the few steps to the bed. Cursing under his breath, Edward strode back to her side and without asking permission he swept her up in his arms, carried her over to the bed and deposited her underneath the covers. The encounter must have only lasted ten seconds and throughout Edward gritted his teeth and concentrated on not becoming aware of the contours of Amelia’s body in his arms.
Efficiently he pulled the sheet and blanket up to Amelia’s chin, stood back and nodded in satisfaction. For a man who had barely spoken to anyone for three years he was rather pleased with his hospitality.
Amelia’s teeth began chattering and he could see her body spasming under the covers. Gently he leant over and touched her cheek. Her skin was still icy cold and had that worrying clammy feel to it. Edward hesitated. He wanted to leave, to retreat to another part of the house and sit out the night, waiting for the moment he could send Amelia on her way. He glanced down at Amelia again. Her lips had an unhealthy blue tinge and there were deep black rings surrounding her eyes.
Edward didn’t want Amelia here in his bed or in his house, but now she was he wasn’t going to let her die. He couldn’t have another death on his conscience. He knew the best way to warm a freezing body, but it felt wrong. Amelia let out a pained moan, her whole body convulsing, and Edward heard her begin to sob.
‘You’re going to be all right,’ he said as he slipped into the bed behind Amelia and looped his arm around her.
Through the covers he felt her stiffen as he made contact with her body. He wondered if she would throw him out, demand he leave her alone despite her desperate need for warmth. After a few seconds of indecision Edward felt her relax a little and bury her body closer to his, luxuriating in his warmth.
It was an unfamiliar sensation, having a young woman’s body pressed up against his own, and Edward found he kept having to remind himself exactly why he was doing this. He would take no enjoyment out of this situation, but despite his determination he found himself gripping Amelia just a little tighter. For years he had denied himself any human contact. Only now he was lying with a strange woman curled up against him in bed did he realise quite how much he’d missed another’s touch.
Amelia awoke slowly, revelling in the warmth of her bed and the comforting presence beside her. For just a few moments she was back in India, lying beside her cousin Lizzie, and her life was easy and pampered. Her eyes fluttered open and as she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling the events of the past few days came crashing back.
Warily Amelia turned her head and almost jumped from the bed with shock. Lying beside her, an arm flung casually across her waist, was the man who had rescued her from the cold, wet night and given her shelter. Forcing herself to remain calm, Amelia tried to piece together what had happened the previous night. She remembered seeking refuge from the storm and nearly dying from fright when Edward had surprised her as she’d undressed in front of the fire. After that her recollection of events was patchy at best. She had a vague feeling he had carried her through the house, but she couldn’t remember how she had got out of the rest of her wet clothes or just
