Shocking pleasure exploded through her body, reminding her of those dazzling days before she had discovered the truth of this man. Amelia had never comprehended passion until she had first felt the brush of Justin’s slender fingers and the heat of his hard body as he had swept her across the dance floor. From that moment he had only to be near for her body to shiver with aching need.

She had blamed that shivering awareness for why she had been so easily deceived. If she hadn’t been so blinded by his sweet seduction, she might have been wise enough to realize his seeming affection was no more than a cruel ploy.

Ridiculously, she had assumed discovering the truth of her husband’s treachery would destroy her vulnerability to his raw masculinity. Now she realized she had been a naïve fool.

She hastily turned her head to the side, shuddering as his lips skimmed over her cheek and down the curve of her throat.

“Halt that,” she husked, infuriated by the pleasure searing through her.

“Halt what?” He pulled back to study her flushed features. “Greeting you as any husband would after being parted from his wife for the past year?”

“We may possess a marriage licence, but that does not make me your wife,” she snapped.

“No, I have yet to claim you as my true bride, but that is about to change.” The golden eyes smouldered with a wicked amusement. “Tonight.”

Her heart came to a precise halt. “Justin—”

“Do you know what today is?” he asked, overriding her protest.

“No.”

“Yes you do, my love.” His hand shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “It is the anniversary of our wedding.”

She had known, of course. The thought had plagued her the entire day. Not that she was about to admit as much to her aggravating husband.

Thankfully the sound of approaching footsteps had Justin stepping away from her, his handsome face tightening with anger as Sylvester appeared on the landing.

“Is everything well, my dear?” Sylvester asked, his avid gaze taking careful note of Amelia’s obvious discomfort.

“Leave us,” Justin barked.

“Really, sir. There is no need to behave as a savage—”

Sylvester’s words were cut short as Justin moved with astonishing speed to grasp the smaller man’s elaborate cravat. “I said, leave us.”

Sylvester paled at the threat, intelligent enough to realize that Justin could crush him without effort. “Yes. Of course.” He held up his hands and backed away. “So sorry to have intruded.”

Once again alone with her husband, Amelia slammed her hands on to her hips and glared at him with a rising fury. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” she hissed. “You cannot force your way into my home and embarrass me before my friends.”

A feral smile curved his lips as he abruptly turned and, without warning, swept her off her feet. “Never underestimate what I can or cannot do, my love,” he growled, heading for the stairs.

“No.” She slammed her fist against his chest. “Put me down at once. Damn you, Justin.”

Climbing the marble steps to the upper floor, Justin glanced down at her with a lift of his dark brows. “Such language from the lips of a lady.”

Amelia trembled, telling herself it was pure outrage that made her pulse race and her breath so oddly elusive. “But I am not a lady, at least not as far as you are concerned, am I?” she gritted.

“I presume that has some deep, philosophical meaning?”

“So far as you are concerned I am no more than a means to an end. You were in desperate need of wealth and I was a convenient means of acquiring a ready fortune.”

“Convenient?” His humourless laugh echoed through the silence as he made his way unerringly down the hall to the master bedchamber. “Not even you can be that naïve, Amelia. You have haunted and tortured me for the past year.”

“Liar.” She blinked back her ridiculous tears. She had sworn a year ago that this man would never hurt her again. “You have ignored me since you were given the rights to my dowry. I do not doubt you forgot you even possessed a wife.”

A dangerous emotion darkened the golden eyes. “I was not the one to turn my back on our marriage.”

Amelia nervously licked her dry lips, barely aware of Justin reaching down to shove open the door to her private rooms.

“You made no effort to halt me from leaving,” she accused.

His mouth tightened, as if she had struck a nerve. “I was stupid enough to hope that with time and distance your wounds would heal and we could begin again.”

“You thought I would forget you seduced and tricked me into marriage?”

“Do not pretend you were without your own selfish motives.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I was not alone in desiring what our marriage offered,” he drawled. “You were frantic to be independent of your mother.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. She should have known he would have been perceptive enough to realize it would take more than the humiliation of being caught in a compromising position to force her into marriage once she discovered he was no more than a fortune-hunter.

In truth, she had been determined to call an end to the hasty wedding once her supposed friends had arrived at her home to reveal that the gossips were busy whispering that Lord Spaulding had been quite cunning in acquiring the funds he so desperately needed. She would rather have withdrawn from society in shame than wed a man she hated.

But, at the last moment, the thought of being forever trapped with her mother had halted her impetuous need to be rid of Justin. Mrs Uhlmeyer was not an evil woman. But as the daughter of a wealthy merchant who had managed to capture a husband who could move along the fringes of the ton, she had been obsessively consumed with her desire to see Amelia married to an aristocrat. She would have made her daughter’s life a misery if she were to decline a proposal from the Earl of Spaulding.

“Fine,” she gritted. “We both have what we needed from our unholy union. So why are you here?”

“Because I do not yet have everything I want from this marriage.”

She frowned, a strange chill inching down her spine. “You have my money, I have nothing else to offer.”

“You could not be more mistaken.”

His smug expression made her wish she had the small pistol she carried in her reticule. Her frustration would be considerably eased by lodging a bullet in his arse.

“What do you want from me?”

“It is quite simple, Amelia,” he murmured. “I want a son.”

Two

Taking advantage of Amelia’s momentary shock, Justin carried her over the threshold and headed directly towards the canopied bed in the centre of the vast room.

Laying her on the mattress, he briefly savoured the sight of his wife’s lustrous skin, which possessed the sheen of the finest pearl in the candlelight. Bloody hell, she was a tempting minx with her fiery curls tumbled about her delicate face and her green eyes filled with fury. Even when his wife had been a shy wallflower attired in the hideous gowns her mother had insisted upon, Justin had been acutely aware of her hidden beauty. It had caused more than one sleepless night. Now …

Now her beauty had ripened, becoming even more breathtaking with the air of confidence she had acquired since he last caught sight of her.

He swallowed a groan as desire slammed into him with the force of a kicking mule.

Damn it. When he had made the decision to travel to London it had been with the full intention of taking his place as Amelia’s husband. In her life. And in her bed.

But he had not intended to fall on her like a ravaging beast the moment he entered the house.

Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, he forced himself to turn his attention to the connecting rooms that had once belonged to his parents. He was prepared for the lavender satin wall panels and delicate rosewood furnishings that had replaced the dark, decidedly ugly furniture preferred by his ancestors. He had, after all, been aware of every alteration made to the townhouse. A rueful smile found his lips. He might have been willing to give Amelia the time and distance needed to heal her wounds, but he hadn’t been prepared to leave her unprotected. Which was precisely why he had ensured that several members of her staff happened to be his own loyal servants.

“Lovely,” he murmured in genuine appreciation. “I knew that I could leave the renovations of this house in your capable hands. You have always possessed exquisite taste when not being ridden roughshod by your mother. I am anxious for you to turn your talents to Rosemount.” He turned back to watch Amelia scramble to sit upright, her eyes dark with an awareness she was clearly determined to deny. “Unlike my relatives I find little to be admired in shabby medieval furnishings and dour portraits of long-dead Spauldings. I wish you to make the manor house a home.” He paused, giving her a smile of anticipation. “Our home.”

“I did not refurbish the townhouse to please you.”

“And yet I am pleased.” His smile widened as his gaze lowered to the enticing curve of her breasts. “Very pleased.”

Her chin tilted, but Justin did not miss her tiny shiver. “I want you to leave.”

He reached to thread his fingers through her satin curls, which shimmered like flames against the pure ivory of her skin, his arousal pressing painfully against his breeches.

“Not until I have what I have come for,” he said, huskily.

“Are you batty?”

His lips twisted. “There are many gentlemen who would consider me mad to have waited so long to take what is rightfully mine.”