Jordan shook his head. “You don’t fool me, Medford. I’ve long believed that deep down you’re harboring a secret much more deep and dark than printing illicit pamphlets, even.”
A footman walked by just then and Medford tapped him on the shoulder. “Might I trouble you for a glass of gin? And please bring one for my friend here too.”
If the footman was surprised that a gentleman had just ordered gin, the opiate of the masses, he didn’t allow his opinion to show on his face. Gentlemen rarely drank gin. But the servant merely nodded and hurried off to the sideboard.
“Blue ruin, eh?” Jordan raised a brow. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s a blue ruin sort of evening, I’m afraid.” Medford shook his head. “Now as for what I came to tell you.” He reached into his fob pocket and pulled out a brass key. He flipped it over in his palm and held it out to Jordan. “Here is the key to your room.”
Jordan furrowed his brow. “I already have the key to my room. Thank you.” He fished in his own fob pocket and retrieved another brass key.
Medford plucked the key from Jordan’s fingers. “No. That is the key to my room.” He tossed the key he’d been holding into the air and Jordan caught it in his palm.
At Jordan’s questioning look, Medford continued, “I saw Lily earlier, and she told me she’d put us in the wrong rooms.”
Jordan expelled his breath. “I always stay in the same room when I visit Colton’s estate.”
Medford’s grin covered his entire face. “Stayed, my good man. Past tense now. You always stayed in the same room. There is a new lady of the manor at Colton House and methinks she has her own ideas about who stays where.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Every once in a while I forget Colton’s gone and got himself leg-shackled. But no matter. I don’t much care where I stay. One room is as good as another ’round here.” He slipped the new key into his pocket.
The footman returned with a tray holding the two drinks. Jordan traded his brandy glass for the gin glass and Medford plucked his drink from the tray with a smile on his face. The footman bowed and disappeared into the crowd once more.
Medford turned to Jordan and hefted his glass. “To a blue ruin kind of an evening.”
Jordan laughed and shook his head. “Very well, to a blue ruin kind of an evening. Whatever that means.”
Medford smirked at him. “Tell me something, Ashbourne. I wonder if you’re still able to outdrink me. Like you could in our days at university.”
Jordan’s brows shot up and he nearly spat out his drink. “Are you serious, Medford? Do you honestly intend to challenge me to a drinking contest?”
Medford nodded to the glass in Jordan’s hand. “You know, I think I do. Now, do you intend to talk all night, man, or get started?”
CHAPTER 40
Jordan made his way up the stairs, a bit unsteady on his feet. Damn that Medford. The bloke had put up a good show, but he’d been a deuced fool to think he of the barely-a-drink-with-dinner set could outimbibe Jordan. It had been absurd, actually, his challenge, and in the end, Jordan had handily defeated him. But he didn’t gloat … much.
He’d had about three glasses of the stuff before Medford had acknowledged his defeat, and as a result, Jordan was feeling little pain, yet not completely obliterated the way he’d spent many of his evenings with Colton at Cambridge. Yes, in fact, he’d barely gotten a good drunk, really. Just went to show how wrong Medford had been to test him.
Jordan climbed to the second floor and glanced around the darkened landing before heading toward his room. He dug in his pocket for his key before snapping his fingers. Ah, yes, he’d been assigned a different room and Medford had given him the new key. He pulled the key out, and followed the directions Medford had given him. Apparently, the new room was at the end of the opposite hall. He turned on his heel and headed that way.
Blasted wives and blasted ladies of the manor changing the blasted rooms. That’s what leg-shackled got Colton. Women were always wanting to change things. They didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. He shook his head and kept walking.
He’d stayed up, talking to Devon in his study after Medford had retired, and now he was headed to his room to escape the last vestiges of the ball. God forbid he return to the ballroom and encounter Annie. Again.
It had taken nearly everything he had to pretend they were merely acquaintances earlier. To forget what had happened at his house. To forget that her skin felt like satin and her hair like silk. Her exuberant laugh was like a balm to his ragged nerves and her outrageous antics often reminded him of, well, himself. A younger version of himself, at least. Annie had the kind of passion for living he’d had once. The kind of excitement and faith and belief in things that he’d long since forgotten. He growled. Annie reminded him of things he was better off forgetting. Things that made him wish for something indefinable and almost heartbreaking.
Yes, Annie had that knack, didn’t she? Of making him forget all his promises and vows to himself, all his intentions and well-meaning strictures. Annie had the ability to make him feel like the young man he’d been before … Georgiana.
Jordan shook his head to clear it of such destructive thoughts. He hadn’t allowed himself to so much as think her name in five years. And now here he was, unable to push the past to the dark recesses of his memory. Damn it. And Annie was to blame. He knew it. He hadn’t felt any of these mixed emotions before his little stint as her chaperone came about.
He made his way to the door at the far end of the hall and fumbled with the key in the lock for a few seconds before turning the brass doorknob. He pushed open the solid oak door with his boot.
Jordan stumbled into the barely lit room and closed the door behind him. Something was off. Why hadn’t his valet waited up?
He squinted into the darkness. Only two candlesticks burned on either side of the wide bed. Jordan glanced up and looked twice. A canopy over the bed cast a shadow, but through the gossamer fabric he recognized the outline of a dark-haired woman sitting with her back against the pillows. He rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands and started forward. Nicoletta? No. It couldn’t be.
He took two steps toward the bed and stopped, sucking in his breath. No. Not Nicoletta.
“Annie,” he breathed.
She reclined on the bed wearing a diaphanous chemise and the décolletage alone was enough to pop Jordan’s eyes from his head.
She nodded almost imperceptibly. “Good evening, my lord,” she said with what he could only describe as a sensuous smile.
He closed his eyes briefly and groaned. “I don’t want to ask what you’re doing here, do I?”
This time Annie shook her head. “Probably not.”
He made his way over to the bed and stared down at her. “You’re up to no good, aren’t you?”
She reached up and pulled his neck down to her face and breathed into his ear. “No good at all.”
Jordan couldn’t take his eyes off her. He lowered himself to the bed, the entire time watching her full wet lips. “Oh God. This is your room, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
He let his head drop into his hands. For a moment he considered staying. Perhaps he had had too much blue ruin. “I need to go. Now.”
She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek. A shudder passed through him.
“Why would you leave?” she asked in a husky whisper.
Jordan groaned. “Because this is an exceedingly bad idea.”
“Is it?” she asked, tracing a fingertip along his earlobe.
He caught her hand. “Yes.”
“Why?”
He let go of her hand. “Because it goes against every rule of decorum and comportment I’ve had drilled into my head since I was a boy.”
Annie smiled at that. She moved up to her knees and knelt beside him. “Rules are made to be broken.” She wound her fingers into the starched folds of his cravat. “I thought you knew that.”
His warm hand c
aptured her fingers again. “What are you doing, Annie?”
She smiled into his eyes. “Breaking the rules. Don’t look so worried, Jordan. Let’s see if you really are just like Lily. Would you ever actually break a rule?”
That was it. Jordan pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up passion he felt for her.
She gasped. “What are you doing?”
“You’re sorely mistaken, Annie. My ilk and I invented rule breaking. I’m just showing you how it’s done.”
He kissed her, long, deep, slow. He caressed her neck, ran his fingers over her arms, let his mouth move to her earlobe, her chin, her décolletage. Something dormant had awakened in Jordan, the young man he used to be, carefree, fun-loving. Annie moaned and Jordan’s brain snapped back to reality momentarily. He couldn’t be carefree with Devon’s sister-in-law.
Could he? No. No!
Jordan pulled his mouth from hers, let go of her, and hastily moved toward the door. “I can’t do this. God knows I want to, but I can’t.”
Annie scrambled from the bed and hurried to the door. She got there first, and slipping the lock into place, she turned and pressed her back to the door. Eyeing Jordan with a challenge in her dark eyes.
Jordan closed his eyes. He braced his hand on the door above her head. “Annie, step aside.”
“Not only will I not step aside, but I’m about to do this.”
Jordan opened his eyes to see her chemise fall away from her breasts. She was standing there half naked and lovely. Jordan clenched his jaw.
“Please…” he murmured.
“Jordan, just kiss me once more. And if you still want to leave you can go.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his head down to meet hers.
Jordan lost the battle then. He pulled her lush body against his and kissed her deeply. He swung her up into his arms and carried her back to the bed.
The next sound Annie heard was the tear of fabric as he ripped her chemise from her body. Annie’s hands flew to the top of the garment to hold it in place, to tease him. The ghost of a smile played on her lips. They were both breathing heavily. Staring into each other’s eyes.
“Untie your cravat,” she whispered.
Without taking his eyes from hers, Jordan pulled at the fabric at his neck and unwound the cloth. He pulled it away and tossed it onto the chair next to the bed.
“Your turn,” he challenged.
* * *
Annie saw the hint of chest hair beneath Jordan’s open shirt and the challenge that lurked in his silver eyes. He was testing her. Taunting her. “Well?”
“Well, by all means, Lord Ashbourne, show me more.”
The compromising sort, indeed.
He slowly removed his shirt, pulling it over his head from behind with both arms. He tossed the garment into the corner. Annie glanced at his chest and gasped. The firelight played over his bare skin, highlighting the muscles and planes. If she’d thought he’d looked like Michelangelo’s David before, he did even more so now. His skin was like velvet, firm, wonderful velvet. The firelight glinted over his hard abdomen and the six muscles there that stood out in sharp relief. Oh God, her nipples ached. She wanted to fling herself against his chest and rub herself against him.
Annie still clutched the chemise to her chest to shield her nakedness. But she watched Jordan undress in the firelight with unadulterated enjoyment. First, he shucked his boots, then he unbuttoned his breeches. His eyes never left hers.
Annie shuddered. He was calling her bluff. Thank God. They were really going to do this. She’d planned this tonight, half expecting him to order her from the bed or to stomp off himself. But now that he was here, looking into her eyes, making her want to run her fingers along his perfect body and pull him on top of her, there was no way she wanted to stop.
She’d made her peace with this decision and now she had no intention of doing anything other than enjoying herself. She’d decided to lure Jordan to her bed and the devil may care about the consequences. But she was not doing this to trap him. No, never that. She had too much pride to ever attempt anything so foolish or calculating. Besides, she didn’t want a husband who was forced to the altar. She was doing this for one reason and one reason only. To spend the night—with Jordan. She knew full well he might not ever marry her. She was doing this because she had to know what it felt like to be with him. Even if only for one night. She would love him, truly love him, forever, and regardless of the consequences, she had to spend at least one night with the man she loved.
* * *
Jordan squared his shoulders. He pulled off his breeches and slipped under the covers with Annie. He took a deep breath. What in God’s name was he doing? Apparently it was a blue ruin kind of an evening. But something about seeing her lush and nearly naked waiting in the bed made him so hard he ached … He had no thought other than losing himself in Annie’s sweet innocence.
But he must prepare himself. It was true that Annie had been clothed and decent both times she and Eggleston had been interrupted in the middle of the night on the way to Gretna Green, but that was not a foolproof method of assessing her innocence. She and Eggleston had been alone together for hours, and Jordan knew from personal experience how tempting she could be. It was entirely possible that Annie was not a virgin. She didn’t seem to prize innocence that much, and damn it, he couldn’t blame her. But on the other hand, slightly inebriated or not, he had to be prepared for the possibility that she was a virgin. That would be a different story altogether. But there was something about tonight, the way she looked at him and challenged him. It made him wonder.
He pulled her into his arms. “Annie,” he whispered. “Are you…?”
“Innocent?” she asked, blinking at him with those beautiful brown eyes.
He nodded.
She bit her lip and pressed herself against him. Her body aligning with his, she touched her hand to his cheek. “I suppose I should be offended by that question. But what do you think?” she whispered. She glanced down to his chest. “I’ve been to the Gray Horse Inn with Arthur twice.”
Jordan’s head spun. There it was, her admission, the truth. He’d be a hypocrite if he blamed her, but a bigger hypocrite if he didn’t admit to himself that his emotions were torn upon learning the truth. One part of him felt overjoyed that he could do this, make love to Annie without worrying that he’d be ruining her; the other part regretted that he wouldn’t be the one to initiate her in the act of lovemaking.
* * *
Annie swallowed and kept her eyes downcast. Very well, so she hadn’t been completely honest with Jordan. She’d deliberately made him think she wasn’t a virgin, but the actual words hadn’t exactly left her mouth. She hadn’t lied … precisely. But this was part of it. Jordan was too decent to make love to her if he thought she was a virgin. She had to imply that she was not. He would forgive her, wouldn’t he?
He would be surprised, no doubt, and perhaps even angry, but she’d already decided that even if she and Jordan never saw each other again, she wanted him to be her lover. She was counting on his not stopping in the middle of the act itself—oh God, she hoped he wouldn’t—and she would have time later to explain everything to him, make it clear to him that she would never expect him to marry her. He would never have to worry about being trapped by her. This was something they both wanted, without promises or regrets.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she could merely announce that she was still a virgin. Jordan wouldn’t touch her then. She was Devon’s sister-in-law and the unspoken male code would dictate that he not take her innocence. It was better this way. He’d understand once she explained it to him. Yes. It was better this way and it was about to get even better. Jordan’s hot mouth was on her earlobe driving her mad.
“It’s all right, Annie,” he whispered. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Guilt tugged at her conscience again. But all she could do was tilt up her head and offer her kiss-swollen mouth t
o him.
Jordan ran his fingers over her shoulders, her wrists, her perfect breasts. He was half mad with wanting her already, and he had barely even started. He softly pushed her back and leaned over her, bracing his elbows on either side of her head. He shifted his weight on top of her.
Instinctively, Annie clamped her legs together.
“Shh, darling. I won’t hurt you,” he murmured. His mouth dipped to her breasts, kissing them, nuzzling them, playing with her nipples.
Annie head moved fitfully on the pillow and she threaded her fingers through his dark hair. The things this man made her feel. She was hot and wet and wanting him. Ready to do anything to have him. Even lie. She shook her head to dispel it of that unwelcome thought.
But then his hand found her, and she ceased thinking altogether.
Jordan’s sure fingers moved inside of her and Annie moaned. One finger, that’s all it took. He had her begging him, whimpering in his ear, pleading with him. All thoughts of being frightened evaporated, and Annie spread her legs, willing to allow him to do anything, everything he wanted.
She brought her hand down to touch his hard shaft, wanting to feel his smooth velvet again, but he moved his hips away, obviously intending to retain control.
He slowly moved his finger up to the little nub of pleasure between her legs. Annie kissed him fiercely while he nudged her in perfect little circles until her hips were writhing against him in unreleased pleasure.
Jordan moved fully atop her then and Annie shuddered at the weight of him. He felt so good. So right. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the pent-up longing she felt for him.
“Annie, look at me,” Jordan commanded, his voice harsh, his breathing ragged. “I want you.” His face was sharp in relief against the candlelight. “So much.”
Annie nodded, her eyes half closed.
“Do you want me, Annie?”
Annie could have wept. Here was this man, this perfectly attractive man, asking her in the most humble way possible if she wanted him. Of course she wanted him. She was mad for him, had to have him. But he was giving her this moment, this one moment before they did something they could never undo, to tell him no if she wanted to. He would stop if she said so.
Secrets of a Runaway Bride Page 24