“No.” He cupped her breast and watched her blush. “I want to see you.”
She grinned. “And I definitely want to see you.” She ran her hand over his chest and then pushed slightly. Did she want him on his back? She pushed a little harder. Apparently.
He flopped down on the pillow. He would let her have the lead if she wished, though it was hard to imagine where her inexperience would take them. “What are you doing?”
She pushed herself up to her knees. “You said I could continue what I’d been doing once we were lying down.”
“Huh?” He was having trouble thinking. The sight of her glorious red hair tumbling over her shoulders and breasts was extremely distracting. Add to that her slightly parted knees that allowed him to see the hair between her thighs and a hint of her entrance where he would finally be in just a short while, and he was doing well to remember his name. “I, ah, thought you wanted me to continue doing what I was doing.”
“In a little while. I’ve discovered I want a turn now.” She directed her attention to . . .
Zeus! He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Anne was kissing his cock. Her lips moved lightly, maddeningly, all over it. If only she would . . .
She did. She touched him with her tongue, tentatively at first as though she were taking the slightest taste of him, and then more boldly. Much more boldly. She put her mouth—
“Anne!”
“What?” She frowned and bit her lower lip. “Don’t you like this? I thought you did. You were making little noises and moving about.”
He’d swear he actually blushed. “Of course I like it, but I’m afraid I can’t take any more.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “You’ve brought me to the brink, Anne. I want to be deep inside you when I finally lose control.”
“Oh.” Anne blushed, too.
“Come.” He tugged gently on her hair. “If you don’t object, I think we must leave the long, slow lovemaking for another night.”
“I don’t see what the hurry is,” she said, but she allowed him to guide her down onto the bed.
The moment her back hit the mattress, he came over her, his lips latching onto one of her nipples. If he hadn’t been on top of her, she was sure she would have shot right up to the ceiling.
Perhaps she did understand the need for haste.
His mouth moved to her other breast while his fingers played with the one he’d just left. Her hips twisted. She understood it very well. She was feeling rather desperate herself. She spread her legs wider to give him the hint he should move in that direction.
He was a very intelligent man. He proceeded promptly to exactly the location she needed him to be. Soon he would do what Brentwood had done, but this time it wouldn’t hurt; it would be wonderful. It would—
Her head shot up. He couldn’t be . . . He was between her legs and he was . . .
“What are you doing?!”
He raised his head. “Kissing you.”
“There?”
“Don’t you like it?” He dipped his head and flicked his tongue over the tiny, throbbing point hidden in her curls. “I’m just kissing you the way you kissed me a few moments ago.”
“Ohh.” She moaned as his tongue slid slowly over the point again. He was drawing her tighter and tighter, as he had in the green sitting room. Very, very shortly she would shatter, but this time she wanted him with her. She reached for him. “Stephen, I need you.”
“In a moment—”
“No. Now.” She couldn’t wait. “I want you now.”
“Yes, madam.” Stephen rose up over her. He paused and looked into her eyes. “You are certain? This is your last chance to tell me no.”
She had no breath left to waste on words. She grabbed his hips and pulled him toward her.
“I will take that as a yes,” he said, and then he was sliding into her.
She shivered. This was nothing like the time with Brentwood. There was no pain; there was only pleasure. She was in a warm bed, naked, with the man she loved, his body heavy on hers, his hard length deep inside her, and his heat all around her. It was heaven . . . well, a very carnal heaven.
He slid almost out and then back again slowly. In and out. The tension kept growing until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She gasped and gripped him so tightly she might leave bruises on his back and hips. She was close . . . so close.
“Ahh.” She was there. The tension peaked and shattered. Pleasure washed through her and in the midst of it all, she felt the warmth of Stephen’s seed spurt deep into her womb.
Had he given her a child? She hoped so.
He relaxed onto her. He was sweaty and heavy—and he was still inside her. She wrapped her arms around him. She never wanted to let him go.
“Are you all right?” He was looking concerned again.
“I am wonderful.”
He laughed. “And I am too heavy for you.” He lifted himself off, leaving her very cold and empty.
She stretched up her arms. “Don’t go.”
“I—”
Someone knocked on the door, and they both jumped.
“Who can that be?” Stephen whispered.
“I don’t kn—”
“Anne, the door is locked.” It was Evie’s voice. “Are you all right?”
“Tell her you’ll be right there,” Stephen murmured, “or she’ll set the household to searching for you.” He moved soundlessly out of the bed and across the floor.
“I’ll be right there, Evie.” Anne’s nightgown came sailing through the air to her. She glimpsed Stephen’s white arse like a moon low in the corner, before she scrambled into her clothes. He had his breeches on by the time she emerged from the voluminous white fabric and was pulling his shirt over his head. She’d never seen anyone get dressed so quickly.
“Anne!”
“I’m coming.”
Stephen stopped her as she hurried toward the door. “Sleep well, love.” He kissed her quickly. “I can’t wait until we’ll sleep together.”
“Yes, I—”
Evie rattled the doorknob. “Anne.”
“Go.” He gave her another quick kiss and headed for the window.
By the time she reached the door, Stephen had disappeared.
Stephen stretched, linked his hands behind his head, and grinned up at the bed canopy. His heart literally felt as if it would burst from his chest, he was so happy. Well, and that wasn’t the only organ swollen with joy. He glanced down to where his cock was making an obvious tent in the bedclothes. His valet, MacInnes, would be rather startled if he happened to come in and see this display.
He sighed. If only Anne were here, he could address the issue very satisfactorily.
His damned eager cock leapt at the thought.
Last night had been so different from his previous encounters he might as well have been a virgin himself. He’d engaged in sexual congress many times with many women, but the act had always been merely a pleasant physical release. One woman was as good as another, assuming she was relatively clean, free of lice, and unlikely to be carrying the pox. And while he’d always striven to help his partner find release—he was a gentleman—the effort had sprung more from pride in his performance than from any true concern for the woman.
All that had been different last night with Anne. Oh, his animal instincts had been very much involved, of course, but so had his heart. He was making love to Anne, not merely enjoying a quick tumble between the sheets with some willing female. Every touch, every kiss had been for Anne, with Anne. He’d have been happy to forgo his pleasure if that were necessary to give her hers.
He snorted. Well, not happy, but he would have done so without a second thought.
And he’d never wanted any of the other women here in his own bed. He’d not even wanted to sleep with them; it had made Maria cross as crabs that he always left her room shortly after he left her body. But Anne . . . He wanted her here with him. If she were . . . He grinned again. She’d still be naked from their lo
vemaking the night before. He’d just roll over and . . .
His cock was going to poke a hole in the bedclothes if he didn’t get up. He’d splash some cold water over himself and confine his appendage with breeches and a sturdy fall before going out to procure a special license. He wanted Anne as his wife as quickly as possible—and in his bed immediately thereafter.
He was just heading to the washbasin when MacInnes opened the door. The blasted valet saw his cock—it was rather hard to miss as it was roughly the size of a carriage axle and stuck straight out from his body—and raised one of his damn Scotch eyebrows. “Had some pleasant dreams this morning, then?”
Stephen wished he’d already washed so he’d have a wet towel to throw at his impertinent valet. “I am going out; you may help me dress.”
“Aye, ye’ll need some help getting that into your—”
“MacInnes!”
MacInnes laughed. “Testy, are you? Well, I’m afraid you’ve got more annoyances in store for you. You’ve got a visitor.”
“Oh?” Stephen could tell by the glee in MacInnes’s eyes there was something odd about this caller. “Who is it?”
“A female calling herself Mags.”
“Damn.” Mags would only come here if she had urgent news of Brentwood. He grabbed the first pair of breeches that came to hand.
MacInnes handed him a shirt. “At least this woman has solved the problem of getting your fall buttoned.”
Stephen glared at the man and then pulled the shirt over his head. “Where have you put her?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Give her some tea, will you, and tell her I’ll be down immediately.” Stephen pulled a pair of socks out of his clothes-press.
“The female doesna look like she drinks tea.”
“Then get her some brandy—just don’t let her go until I’ve spoken to her.” Where the hell had he put his shoes?
“I’ll tie her to her chair if I need to.” MacInnes stopped at the door. “If you’re looking for your footwear, I see one shoe under the desk.” He grinned. “Were ye drunk on brandy or Lady Anne’s kisses last night?”
Stephen feared he was blushing. He grunted noncommittally and bent to peer under the bed. “Just go deal with Mags.” Ah, there was the other shoe, but he’d have to crawl almost halfway under the bed to fetch it. He didn’t care to entertain MacInnes with that spectacle. He glanced back at his valet—the man was still standing by the door. “Well, go on.”
“Aye, I will, but first . . . Well, I just wanted to say we’re all—even your parents—happy about Lady Anne, ye ken.”
Stephen was definitely blushing now. How the hell did his valet know his parents’ thoughts on the matter? Not that it was surprising, really. No one stood on ceremony at the Priory; everyone knew everyone else’s business.
“Yes, well . . .” He cleared his throat. “I plan to get a special license today as soon as I hear what Mags has to say.”
MacInnes grinned. “Splendid. I will go deal with her immediately.”
“You could have dealt with her more immediately if you hadn’t stayed to tease me,” Stephen muttered after MacInnes left. He scrambled under the bed, rescued his shoe, and followed his valet.
When he arrived in the kitchen, Mags had a glass of brandy in her hand, and MacInnes was watching her as if she might steal the silverware—which she probably would if given the chance.
“Thank you, MacInnes. That will be all.”
MacInnes folded his arms, assuming his threatening mad Scot look. “I’m happy to stay.”
“That will not be necessary.” Did the man think he couldn’t handle Mags? He must know better—MacInnes had seen him win battles with much more intimidating opponents.
MacInnes hesitated long enough Stephen feared he’d have to bodily eject him, but fortunately it didn’t come to that. “Verra well. I’ll be just outside if ye need me.”
“And don’t have your ear to the keyhole,” Stephen murmured as MacInnes walked past. MacInnes gave him an innocent look, which confirmed he’d be eavesdropping. Oh, well. Mags couldn’t have anything of a confidential nature to disclose.
Mags took a long swallow of brandy and sighed. “That man’s got a fine arse. You know I’ve always liked Scots.”
“I didn’t know that, Mags,” Stephen said, hoping MacInnes was listening.
Mags nodded. “Aye. I swear they’ve the biggest cocks—don’t you think so?”
Good God. “I have not made a study of male genitals.”
Mags laughed. “No, I guess you haven’t—but I have.” She looked at the kitchen door. “Think he knows about the Temple?”
“I have no idea.”
“Tell him, will you?” Mags winked. “I’ll give him special service.”
“Ah. Yes. I’ll be sure he knows.” He’d wager MacInnes would not be interested. In their travels together, he’d found the man as fastidious about such matters as he was. “Now tell me why you’re here.”
Mags gazed longingly after MacInnes a moment more before she apparently shook herself out of her lecherous woolgathering. “Oh, right. I came about Brentwood, of course. He showed up last night, drunk. Said Lady Noughton had found out he was all rolled up and had shown him the door.”
Damn. He should have realized Maria would confront Brentwood immediately.
Mags took another swallow of brandy. “I told him I knew it, too. We had it out—quite a brangle—and I showed him my door.” She grinned. “Had him tossed out on his arse—I much enjoyed seeing Lord High-and-Mighty in the gutter.” She downed the rest of the brandy. “But you’d best be careful. He’s mad as a buck, and he knows you’re behind his troubles. I’d say he’s looking for revenge.”
Bloody hell, he had to warn Anne. “And you waited until now to tell me?”
Mags shrugged. “Had another customer. I am a business woman, you know.”
He wanted to shake her for delaying even a moment. Instead, he swallowed his bile and slipped a sovereign into her open palm. “My thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me? I have urgent business to attend to.”
“But how am I to get home?”
He put more money into her hand. “Take a hackney,” he said, and then jerked open the door. Sure enough, his valet almost tumbled into the room. “Perhaps MacInnes here can help you.”
It looked like rain.
Anne sat by her window, gazing out over the back garden, nibbling on the toast a maid had brought up with a cup of chocolate. She hadn’t wanted to go down to breakfast and risk encountering Clorinda, Evie, or the boys. She didn’t want to be with people yet. She wanted to savor this moment in private.
For the first time in ten years her heart felt light. She’d told Stephen her shameful secret, and he’d accepted it. She giggled. If she had been a virgin, she definitely wasn’t one now.
She saw Harry appear, sniffing at the base of the tree Stephen had climbed last night. Oh, dear. Had someone let him out by himself? That was not a good plan—the dog was quite capable of escaping from—No, there were Philip and George. Good.
She took a sip of chocolate, cradling the cup in her hands. Now, in the morning, it was hard to believe last night had not been a dream. But it had indeed happened—the ache in a particular part of her body confirmed it. Stephen had actually been here in this room, in that bed—in her.
The place he’d been most intimately throbbed at the memory, and she shivered with pleasure. She wanted to do it all over again as soon as possible.
To think the same body parts had been involved in her encounter with Brentwood, yet the experiences had been as different as night and day.
The boys were throwing something at each other, and Harry was barking furiously at them. Lady Dunlee would not be happy about the noise. She should go out and stop them. She would, in a moment.
Could she have conceived Stephen’s child?
She’d prayed so hard ten years ago that she wasn’t enceinte. She hadn’t been able to sleep, she’d been so full of dr
ead, and during the day she’d burst into tears with no provocation. It had been such a relief when her courses had started. But now . . .
She laid her hand over her belly. She hoped Stephen’s seed had taken root.
She frowned. There was still the problem of Stephen’s travel. He would be gone so much. Yes, he’d said she could come with him . . . until they had children.
She put aside her chocolate and toast.
She could not put her children through what Papa and Georgiana had put Evie and the boys through—being raised by their older half sister and servants. Well, and she’d missed Papa, too, when she was younger.
But if she stayed home . . . how would she bear the months and months Stephen was gone? She’d pine for him and worry about him.
She looked out the window again. The boys and Harry were no longer in the back garden. Where had they gone? The clouds looked quite threatening. She’d best go see; there was no telling what mischief they could get into. There would be hell to pay if Harry was disturbing Lady Dunlee’s precious Miss Whiskers again.
She got up and shook her skirts out. In any event, a breath of fresh air would be most welcome; she’d always loved the windy, slightly wild air before a storm.
She had the bad luck of running into Clorinda in the corridor.
“How are you this morning, Anne?”
Clorinda looked genuinely concerned. Why? Oh, right—her excuse to stay home last night. “I’m very much improved with sleep, thank you, Cousin. It was a passing upset.”
Clorinda’s face lit with comprehension; Anne’s face, she was certain, lit with embarrassment. Blast, had Clorinda guessed her secret? No, she couldn’t have; she looked amused, not angry.
“So you had troubles of a female nature, did you? Why didn’t you just say so? We all have—or in my case, had—that time of the month.”
“Er . . .” Her “troubles” had definitely been of a female nature—last night’s events would never have occurred if she weren’t female—but her courses for this month had come a week or two earlier.
“I’m sorry I doubted you when you said you were unwell,” Clorinda was saying. She matched her step to Anne’s as they walked down the stairs. “I don’t know why I did. I should have realized you wouldn’t wish to miss seeing your betrothed.”
The Naked King Page 27