Earl Lessons: The Footmen’s Club Series

by Bowman, Valerie

  He had no one to blame but himself for his misery. Annabelle had made it clear from the moment they’d begun their lessons that she wasn’t looking for a husband. And David had been the idiot who’d gone and…fallen in love with her.

  The partygoers were having a quiet, light supper this evening in expectation of the large wedding feast and ball that would be held tomorrow night after the morning wedding, but David had sent down his regrets to the dinner table tonight. He simply hadn’t been able to stand being in the same room with Annabelle, especially if she was at the side of that horse’s arse, Murdock. David wanted to kick the man (in defense of the dog) every time he saw him.

  Now, David was in his bed, tossing and turning, completely unable to sleep. A slight knock on his bedchamber door caught his attention. Shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his breeches, he threw back the covers and strode to the door. Who could it be? Hopefully not his sister having second thoughts about marrying into such an illustrious family. He’d never seen a couple more in love than Marianne and Beau, and his sister was more than good enough to be a marchioness. He was hardly able to recount all the reasons why Marianne would make an excellent marchioness. He only hoped she knew it because David was still having difficulty thinking of himself as an earl. There were still days he wanted to grab his sister’s hand and take the first mail coach back to Brighton, renouncing the title the same way their father had.

  But when the door swung open, it wasn’t Marianne, it was Annabelle. She stood there with a glass of champagne in her hand, an inscrutable expression on her face. She was wearing a lavender gown with a gauze overskirt and a white sash around her middle. Her hair was swept up in a chignon and diamonds dangled from her ears. His mouth went dry just looking at her. But why was she here? After she’d rejected him soundly last night, he was determined not to see her again, and this time he meant it.

  “Annabelle,” he muttered, knowing what a useless thing to say that was. If anyone saw her standing outside his bedchamber door, she’d be ruined.

  “May I come in?” she asked in a sultry voice, arching a blond brow.

  He bit his bottom lip. “You know, we never precisely covered this in our lessons, but I don’t think it’s proper for a lady to come alone to a man’s bedchamber in the middle of the night.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware. There’s nothing proper about this visit.”

  David gulped. He stuck his head out of the door to quickly look both ways to ensure no one was watching before standing back to allow her entrance to his room. The moment she stepped in, he closed the door behind her.

  David lit a candle on the table next to the bed, then turned back to face her.

  “Your shirt is off,” she said.

  He couldn’t help but smile at that. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one saying obvious things tonight.

  “I don’t sleep with it on,” he informed her. “Too many nights in camp when it was wet and too cold to wear.”

  Her gaze traced his naked chest. “I, ahem.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t say it’s an unwelcome sight.”

  He laughed outright at that. “I’m certainly glad to hear it. Would it make you more comfortable if I put on a shirt?”

  “No!” she nearly shouted, before clearing her throat and saying. “I mean, if you like. Whatever you prefer.”

  He grinned at her and remained shirtless.

  Annabelle held up her champagne glass, studying the bubbly liquid inside. “Do you know my brother doesn’t drink? Ever. Not even on the eve of his wedding.”

  “I do know that,” David replied, nodding. He’d never seen so much as a sip of alcohol pass Bell’s lips. Had she truly come to his room in the middle of the night, risking ruination, to inform him that her brother didn’t drink? “But you do drink, I see.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I do. Do you know why?”

  David shook his head, still bemused as to where the conversation was headed. “No, why?”

  “Because I can control myself when I drink.”

  David frowned. “Are you saying Bell can’t?”

  Annabelle shrugged. “To my knowledge, he’s never tried. But there’s every reason to believe he might not be able to control himself.”

  David continued to frown. “What does that mean?”

  She slowly walked toward the canopied bed and stared down at the mattress as if it were a foreign object. “Why weren’t you at dinner?”

  The conversation had taken another turn. It took everything in him to keep from asking her why she cared, why she’d come, but instead he rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I didn’t feel up to it tonight.”

  She traced a finger along the top of the bedspread. “Up to what?”

  David blew out a deep breath. When he’d first seen her at the door, he’d been concerned that she was foxed, but she wasn’t. Now that he’d spoken to her, he could tell that she was perfectly sober. Then why had she risked scandal to come to his door? And how would he ever get her back to her own room without her being seen? But first he had something to say. He’d been wanting to apologize to her all day. But apologizing to someone you had no intention of coming within fifty paces of was difficult. Now that she was in his bedchamber, he might as well take advantage of the opportunity. However unexpected.

  “Look, Lady Annabelle,” he began, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Lady Annabelle?” she echoed. “So formal? I thought we were long past titles, David.”

  She wasn’t making this easy for him. He cleared his throat. “You’re right. Fine, then. Annabelle. I want to apologize for my behavior last night.”

  “Which behavior?” she asked, blinking at him in an adorable manner.

  He couldn’t think clearly when she was standing that close to his bed. Images of their naked bodies intertwined atop it kept scorching through his mind. What had she just said? Oh, yes. He supposed he deserved that last question. “I shouldn’t have questioned your decision not to marry. It’s none of my concern. I’m sorry.” There. He’d apologized. Now he could truly move on with his life. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman, but he’d gone about it all wrong. He’d ham-handed his attempted courtship and been nothing but an ass about it. He’d told her she was speaking in riddles, that she made no sense.

  “David, I owe you an explanation…”

  “You owe me nothing,” he continued, shaking his head. “Least of all an explanation of why you’re not interested in me.”

  A short burst of laughter escaped her lips. “I’m not interested in you? Why, that’s news to me.”

  His brows shot up at that pronouncement, but he was determined to set things straight and leave them there. This was his last chance. “Whatever your reasons for not wanting to be courted or to marry, they are your own, and I had no right to demand an explanation from you.”

  “Do you want to know something?” she asked, leaning a hip against the mattress.

  He eyed her warily, not wanting the conversation to take yet another turn. “What?”

  “I don’t even like Lord Murdock.” She lifted her nose in the air.

  “Really?” David arched a brow. This time he couldn’t help himself. “Then why are you spending so much time with him? The man kicks dogs, for Christ’s sake.”

  She drained the champagne glass and set it on the bedside table and stared out the window. “I could ask you the same question. Why have you been spending so much time with Lady Elspeth?”

  “To my knowledge, she’s never kicked a dog,” he shot back, hand on his hips again.

  “I’m not defending Lord Murdock,” Annabelle retorted.

  “Fine, but you still didn’t answer me. Why are you spending so much time with him if you don’t even like him?” Why was he continuing this argument? He’d said what he needed to say. It was over. He should be escorting her to the door and praying the corridor was still empty.

  Annabelle wrapped her arms around her middle. “Becau
se…because…he’s an ass.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s all become so complicated—but none of that matters. I suppose I danced with him that first night at the Talbots’ because…I wanted you to care.” Her voice was broken.

  “What?” His voice was hoarse now, shaking slightly. The question was completely different than the same word he’d just uttered moments before. He stalked toward her and spun her around to face him. Clutching her upper arms, he stared deeply into her ice-blue eyes. “Damn it, Annabelle. You already know I care. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wondering what you’re going to do next. I think about you every minute. I want you every second. I can’t stop.”

  Annabelle’s eyes were wide as moons as she stared up at him. “What did you say?” came her nearly silent whisper.

  “I said I can’t stop,” he repeated.

  She froze, tears pooled in her eyes. “Before that?” she whispered brokenly.

  He pulled her into his arms. “I want you every second,” he repeated, his lips inches from hers. “But I can’t keep doing this, Annabelle. You’ve made it clear you don’t want me.”

  “But I do want you, David. That’s why I came here tonight.” She reached up and wound her arms around his neck. “Make me yours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hope and lust flared in David’s chest. “Are you certain, Annabelle?” He searched her face. She needed to be sure beyond any doubt.

  “I’ve never been more certain about anything. There’s only one thing I ask…” She bit her lip.

  “What’s that, love?” He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and traced his finger along the line of her cheek.

  “I cannot get with child.”

  He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. “I’ll make sure.” It stood to reason that she would ask such a thing. Their wedding might not be for months, and a scandal would ensue if a baby came too soon.

  She nodded, relief washing over her features.

  That was enough. David allowed the lust to win. He was going to make love with Annabelle. First, he reached behind her and unbuttoned her gown. Then he slowly untied the sash. Next, he helped her pull the gown over her head, so she was standing in front of him with only a chemise and stockings. She’d already kicked off her slippers.

  He let his gaze roam over her. “You’re gorgeous, Annabelle. Do you know that?”

  “So are you,” she said with the hint of a smile on her face. She reached up and placed a hand on his rough cheek.

  He leaned down and gently kissed her lips, but Annabelle clearly didn’t want things to be gentle. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with abandon. David reached down to pull her chemise over her head. She helped him and the garment was soon discarded on the floor.

  David sucked in his breath. The sight of Annabelle clad only in her stockings would be burned in his memory forever. Her body was lithe and slender. Her legs long. Her breasts, supple and perfectly rounded. She looked like Venus having just emerged from the seashell.

  Annabelle pulled the pins from her coiffure and placed them on the table beside the bed. Then she shook out her long blond hair so that fell in thick waves over her shoulders. He watched, in awe of her beauty.

  “Take off your breeches,” she ordered after allowing his gaze to roam over her thoroughly.

  “With pleasure, my lady.” He unbuttoned the fall of the garment, and pulled them down to his ankles, where he kicked them off.

  It was Annabelle’s turn to look at him. “You’re gorgeous, David,” she breathed. Stepping forward, she placed her hand on his chest and moved it along the muscles of his flat abdomen where the skin jumped in reflex to her touch.

  He closed his eyes briefly, allowing her to caress him. Her hand slipped down between his legs, and she closed her fist over his cock. David sucked in his breath. He clutched the canopy post, bracing himself against the unholy surge of desire that nearly brought him to his knees.

  He had to control his breathing and his body’s reaction to her or he’d embarrass himself tonight, and all he wanted to do was make it special for her. So special. He allowed her to squeeze him inexpertly at first, but learning fast. Too fast. He plucked her hand away. He lifted her in his arms and laid her gingerly on the bed. Then he climbed in after her and lowered himself atop her. They kissed and rolled until they were in the center of the mattress.

  “Please tell me I can take these stockings off of you,” he growled, his cock so hard it ached.

  “Please do.” She pushed herself up, bracing against her wrists, giving him a seductive look from beneath her lashes.

  David intended to enjoy every moment of this. He moved his hands down the soft plane of her belly, skimming over her womanhood, before caressing the outsides of her thighs. He started at the scalloped edge of the stocking, licking his lips, before reaching out and rolling it down her thigh, inch by silken inch.

  Annabelle pulled up her knee to give him better access, but David took his time, moving the stocking down her leg, trailing his hot fingertips along with it.

  * * *

  Annabelle let her head fall back, her hair skimming the mattress behind her. She stared at the canopy and just allowed herself to feel David’s strong hands on her quivering thighs. He was going so slowly it was driving her mad. When he finally pulled the first stocking off her foot, she lifted her head and met his dark-blue gaze. His eyes had turned into deep pools. His jaw was hard, and his cheekbones pronounced in the soft candlelight.

  She watched him this time as he went about removing the second stocking with the same excruciating slowness. “Are you trying to torture me?” she asked, panting a little in anticipation.

  “How did you guess?” he replied, his tongue flicking out to lick his bottom lip.

  She groaned in the back of her throat.

  When the second stocking was off, he balled them both together and tossed them high over his shoulder. Annabelle couldn’t help but laugh when one of them landed on the edge of the canopy, hanging from it.

  They were both completely nude now and stared at each other in awe, their gazes skimming each other’s bodies to take in every inch.

  “Can I touch you, David?”

  “God, yes.”

  Annabelle reached up and caressed his chest, moving her hand down along his abdomen again. David closed his eyes.

  “What does it feel like when I touch you?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Torture,” he replied, opening his eyes again. “Can I touch you now, please?” The side of his mouth quirked up. “With my tongue?”

  Her eyes flared. What precisely did he mean by that? She wasn’t entirely certain, but she desperately wanted to find out.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  David pushed her gently down on the mattress and covered her with his body. Then he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her ear, her neck. He nuzzled down to her collarbone and hefted each breast in his hand, sucking the nubs and gently biting them. Annabelle’s back arched off the mattress. She pulled at his shoulders, wanting more.

  He lavished first one nipple then the next with his rough tongue, sucking just enough to make her core ache. Her legs moved fitfully against the sheets. Her hands tangled in his hair. When he began to move lower, kissing her belly, her breath caught in her throat.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice was hoarse.

  “Kissing you…everywhere.”

  She gulped, her breaths coming so hard it hurt.

  His head moved lower, and he wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulling them apart gently. Annabelle forgot to breathe.

  David’s tongue nudged between the folds of her sex, finding the same nub of pleasure he’d found last night. Only this time, he licked it. He sucked it into his mouth and nibbled it ever-so-lightly with his teeth. Then he brushed his tongue over it again.

  Annabelle was mindless. Her legs turned to water, and she clutched at his dark head. She glanced down to see his mouth wo
rking between her legs and whimpered. If she’d thought last night had been unforgettable, tonight was going to break her.

  David’s tongue settled into a pattern of stroking her in tiny circles again and again all while his strong arms kept her thighs locked in place. His tongue flicked out again and again to torture her and she arched her back again, bracing against her wrists once more.

  Her eyes rolled back, and her breathing hitched as he kept up the gentle assault with his tongue until her thighs tensed and her knees quivered and she cried out, clutching at his head, wanting him to come up and kiss her, while spasms rocked her body.

  David licked her until her tremors subsided before obliging her by moving up her body and kissing her deeply.

  She moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue.

  He parted her legs and moved his hand down between her thighs. “Do you know how wet you are?”

  She nodded.

  “Wet and ready for me.”

  Her eyes went wide but she nodded again. “Take me, David.”

  * * *

  David positioned himself between her legs and nudged gently into her wet warmth. It was unholy torture moving so slowly, but he remained determined to make this good for her. He slid into her an inch and stopped. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

  “You’re not.” Her arms were locked around his neck.

  He nodded, sweat beading on his brow. He nudged in another inch, this time using the expression on her face to gauge whether she was enjoying it.

  He inched in again. “You’re all right?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Take me.”

  David’s resistance broke. He pushed into her all the way, expelling his breath in a rush, then groaning. She felt so damn good, hot, and wet, and so tight she clutched his cock like a vise.