Brothers In Arms 05: Retreat From Love

by Samantha Kane

  Brett grabbed Anne’s hips and tried to hold her still, but she was a wildcat on his cock. His balls ached as a burning sensation tore through them and traveled up his cock and then sheer, unadulterated pleasure made him cry out wordlessly, a high-pitched trembling cry and the heat and force of his ejaculations inside Anne drove all thought from his head. He arched his back, thrust into her, giving it all to her, and he felt the pulse of Freddy’s cock, felt the heat of Freddy’s semen inside her as Freddy released. For a moment Brett felt as if he were falling, lightheaded and disoriented, then sensation came slamming back to him and his back bowed as the pleasure became so intense it was almost pain.

  When it was over Anne collapsed on his chest, and Brett realized she was crying. Her tears scalded his chest, her sobs shaking him and the bed.

  “Anne, Anne,” he said, panicked. He pulled out of her, still hard, and vaguely saw Freddy do the same. He cupped her cheek and forced her head up as he rolled to his side, dumping Anne on the cover beside him. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Christ, what’s wrong?”

  Freddy scrambled up and leaned over Anne, gently pulling her tangled hair away from her face. “Anne, God, what’s wrong? Tell us. I’m sorry, Anne, I’m sorry.”

  Anne shook her head violently. She swallowed and said brokenly, “Nothing. Nothing is wrong. Everything is so perfect.”

  Brett’s heart slowed its galloping beat and he fell back against the bed. “Christ, you scared me. I thought,” he shook his head, “I thought I’d hurt you.” He put a shaking hand to his head, ran it through his sweat-soaked hair. “I thought that while I’d been coming inside you, dying with the pleasure of it, you’d been hurting and crying and I hadn’t noticed. I can’t bear to hurt you, Anne.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d revealed that. But his brain was not functioning yet. How could it, so soon after being inside Anne?

  “Oh Brett,” Anne sighed with a hiccup, and she draped her arm around his neck and kissed his shoulder.

  Freddy lay down weakly next to Anne. “It was perfect. I can die a happy man now, my dear.”

  In Brett’s arms Anne went stiff. She spun around to face Freddy and hit him in the arm with all her might. “Don’t say that!” she yelled. “Don’t ever say that!”

  Her reaction shocked both men, but Brett understood where Freddy looked completely mystified. Brett touched her shoulder and rolled over to spoon her from behind. “He didn’t mean it, Anne. He’s not going to die.”

  Anne threw herself on Freddy’s chest, hugging him tightly. Freddy looked absolutely stunned. “Please don’t leave me, Freddy,” Anne said, as weak now as she’d been violent a moment ago. “I couldn’t bear it.”

  Freddy wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Anne,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. He rubbed his cheek against her hair and looked at Brett, regret in his eyes. Brett smiled reassuringly at him, but inside he was a trembling, weak, besotted, broken-hearted fool. No, Freddy wasn’t going anywhere, but it was clear that Brett would soon be leaving.

  Chapter Thirteen

  March 27, 1812

  My Dearest Anne,

  We are on the move again. Have you heard? Ciudad Rodrigo right after the new year. And now we march farther into Spain. The mail has been unreliable here. We haven’t received a letter from you in almost two months. All the men ask about you. I know it is the post, but still I can’t help but worry, and hope that you are all right.

  Brett carries your handkerchief everywhere. He doesn’t think I know, but I do. I let him believe it is his little secret, but I thought you’d like to know how much it means to him, and what a comfort it is to him. I have mine tucked into your letters. I know that one of your reasons for giving me embroidered linen was to make me laugh at the thought of you sitting and stitching, tears of boredom streaming down your face.

  I am melancholy, Anne. Will this wretched war never end? Napoleon is extraordinarily thoughtless for making us march around here shooting at his army. They actually have the gall to shoot back, and one of these days my luck may run out. Brett can only save me so many times, after all. That was a joke, Anne.

  I have told Brett that he is coming home with me. He doesn’t believe me. But tell Jerome to prepare a room and kill the fatted calf. We shall rout these French bastards soon and we will both be home by summer.

  Your Devoted, Tired Servant,

  Bertie

  * * * * *

  Freddy came to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs on his way down to the entry hall. He could hear Brett and Anne laughing behind him. They’d lingered over breakfast in his drawing room and were now going to try to spirit Anne home in the carriage with no one the wiser. Clearly that plan would have to be altered.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” his mother said coolly from the bottom of the wide staircase. She was removing her gloves, and he saw footmen carrying in luggage. Off to the side stood an older man and a young woman unabashedly staring at him.

  “Good morning, Madame,” Freddy said without skipping a beat. He took a casual step backward, hoping to intercept Brett and Anne before they stumbled into an awkward scene.

  “We have arrived a few days early,” the duchess continued, handing her gloves to Reeves, who met Freddy’s eyes with regret. The anger that had been rising at what he’d assumed was Reeves’ treachery cooled quickly. Reeves hadn’t known she was coming either. How his mother loved her little surprises. “I’m sure we shall not inconvenience you, Your Grace. Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe was anxious to make your acquaintance.”

  Oh Lord, Freddy thought, not another one. He smiled politely. “Was she? How delightful, I’m sure.”

  “Our early arrival will simply provide the ladies with more time to plan the betrothal ball,” the strange gentleman said, beaming. When he had Freddy’s attention he bowed deeply. “Your Grace, how do you do?”

  “Fine, thank you. And you?” Try as he might Freddy could not remember ever meeting the man. What were they all prattling about? His pulse began to pound as he heard the trill of Anne’s laughter behind him. His mother tilted her head with a frown and narrowed her eyes at Freddy. Freddy just smiled. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to brazen it out. Then his mother turned her head and aimed her displeased expression at the unfortunate man whom Freddy could not remember. Why was she angry with him?

  “Thank you, Lord Carlton-Smythe,” she said in a voice that indicated she was not thanking him at all. “I’m sure His Grace has no interest in the plans for his betrothal ball.”

  Well, that caught Freddy’s attention. “My betrothal ball?”

  His mother turned to him with a smile, which instantly put Freddy on the alert. “Don’t trouble yourself, Your Grace. I shall take care of everything.”

  Freddy took a few steps down the stairs. “And how, Madame, did you know that I was planning on marrying?” He was becoming so angry he was afraid of what he might say or do, so he stopped in the middle of the steps.

  Lord Carlton-Smythe guffawed with laughter, but the pretty girl next to him had a look of dawning horror on her face. Clearly she was smarter than her father. The duchess was rather smart too.

  “I signed the betrothal papers in your absence, Your Grace,” she said sweetly, “as you requested.”

  So she thought to corner him by making him support her lies. That may have worked when he was young, but not anymore. “I did no such thing.”

  Freddy’s flat statement caused Lord Carlton-Smythe to choke on his laughter, and his daughter stepped over and gave him a resounding thump on the back. He glared at her and she shrugged helplessly then backed away.

  “Frederick,” his mother said in a chilling tone, and Freddy knew she was upset. She hadn’t called him by his given name since he’d become duke.

  Anne and Brett chose that moment to walk through the door to the entry hall. They were laughing, Anne hugging Brett’s arm as Brett lowered his head close to Anne’s, too close for a mere acquaint
ance. It was clear to everyone in the hall they were on intimate terms. Freddy heard his mother gasp, the sound carrying in the cavernous, marble-lined space, and Anne’s head whipped around. Freddy saw the shock and horror on her face before she stumbled to a halt.

  “What is she doing here?” the duchess asked with obvious shock. “Reeves, please escort her out through the servants’ entrance.” With that the duchess turned away and walked toward the Carlton-Smythes, arrogantly assuming her orders would be obeyed.

  Freddy’s vision wavered for a second as pure rage boiled to the surface. He knew this little scene was about more than the dubious betrothal and Anne’s presence. It had been years in the making and Freddy had no one to blame but himself for not taking control of his estates and his life long ago. He knew his anger was the result not only of his mother’s current behavior, but other things, such as Bertie’s letters, the way she’d taken out her hatred of his father on Ashton Park, and the way she’d treated Anne and her mother to name a few. She had a whole host of crimes she needed to pay for. But not in front of strangers and the servants.

  “Reeves, did you have time to call for my carriage?” Freddy asked quietly.

  Reeves looked between Freddy and his mother with trepidation. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent.” Freddy turned and held out a hand to Anne, who stood frozen next to Brett. “Come, my dear. The carriage shall take you home. Brett can accompany you and I shall see you this afternoon.” Brett urged Anne forward and she took a hesitant step toward the stairs, then another. By the time she and Brett reached him and Anne placed her hand on his arm the duchess had stopped in the middle of the entry hall and was looking back at them, an incredulous look on her face.

  Freddy continued down the stairs unperturbed, although he could feel Anne’s hand tremble on his arm.

  The duchess glided effortlessly into their path. They were forced to stop, and Anne clutched Freddy’s arm so tightly he knew he’d have bruises. “Frederick, I do not think it appropriate that you allow this woman in the same room as your betrothed.”

  “This woman is my—” Freddy stopped as Anne grabbed his arm with both hands and gasped.

  The duchess looked like a hound on the scent as her eyes narrowed again. “What?”

  Freddy sighed and looked at Anne who had her eyes fixed on him desperately. She wouldn’t look at his mother. Anne pleaded with her eyes, and he knew she just wanted to leave and avoid a scene. He looked coolly at the duchess. “Excuse us, Madame. I will see Miss Goode out, and then we shall meet in the library.”

  The duchess went from cool to livid in the space of a heartbeat, although the only indications were her pallor and a twitch of her left eye. She turned to Anne. “How dare you attempt to snare another of my sons with your lewd behavior?” She spoke very low, and from the corner of his eye Freddy saw Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe attempt to shove her father further out of earshot. He made a mental note to thank the young lady.

  He was furious, and yet his fury had created a dark stillness inside him. He had crossed a bridge here. He no longer cared what his mother did or said. She was a stranger to him. He was about to speak, but Anne’s voice startled him to silence.

  “I do not understand you.” Anne spoke quietly but firmly, and she realized her trembling had stopped. She felt as if she had finally confronted her fear and it was nothing but a shadow on the wall and not the beast she had expected. She felt free of the duchess’s weighty censure at last.

  The duchess misunderstood her meaning. “You understand me perfectly. I have taken steps to protect Frederick from you. He shall marry as befits his station, and you will never rule here. Never.” The last word was said with such satisfied venom that Anne had to fight recoiling from the older woman.

  Anne just shook her head. Beside her Brett slid his hand along her arm and squeezed and Freddy took a small step closer to her side. But both men remained silent, and Anne recognized that they were going to let her deal with the duchess, and she was grateful. This confrontation had been too long in coming.

  “You had them. You had all of them—Uncle Ash, Jerome, Bertie, Freddy—and you threw them all away.” Anne’s utter bewilderment at the duchess’ stupidity was clear in her voice. “You could have had them always. You could have had friendship and love, but you threw it away for appearances and position. Do you understand what you’ve lost? Do you?”

  Brett’s hand tightened involuntarily, and Anne knew he was thinking of Bertie. The duchess had never mourned him, not really. She’d worn her black and said the right things, but there had been no real feeling behind it. Anne’s rage over what had been lost to them all simmered inside her.

  “You took Bertrand away long before he died.” The duchess rose to her full height, almost as tall as Freddy. “He chose to align himself with a girl of no family connections, no position and no wealth. Do not speak to me of Bertrand. It is he who threw his privilege and position away.”

  Anne continued as if the duchess hadn’t spoken. “He never understood why you couldn’t love him. Did you know that? He was always trying to make you care, make you pay attention, but you never did. You simply took Freddy and left him behind, as if he were a shoe damaged beyond repair.” Anne had to stop and breathe deeply, trying to get herself under control. “Bertie was too good for you. Uncle Ash adored him, and you left him here for father and son to love one another. For that, both Bertie and Uncle Ash were grateful. We were all grateful.”

  At the mention of the late duke the duchess’s lips thinned until her mouth was nothing but a slash of hatred.

  Anne hugged Freddy’s arm to her. “You threw them away, and you stole them from Freddy. And for that I shall never forgive you. Never.” Anne let go of Freddy and Brett and walked around the duchess, sweeping her skirts aside deliberately to show her disdain for the older woman. The duchess hissed in a breath as she passed. Anne stopped in the doorway and turned to look at the duchess. She seemed smaller in Anne’s eyes, diminished, bitter, a woman with nothing. “I do not understand you, and I hope I never will.”

  With that Anne turned to walk away, but she was stopped by the presence of a beautiful, elegant young woman and an older man standing far off to the side. The duchess’s words repeated in Anne’s head. He shall marry as befits his station. Without being told Anne understood that this was the girl Freddy was to marry, and for a moment she felt lightheaded, and then reality returned with a rush and her stomach recoiled. She somehow managed to get through the door, giving the footman there a weak smile.

  “Your things, Miss Goode,” the footman said kindly, handing Anne her gloves and shawl and reticule.

  She had forgotten about them. She took them and held the gloves as if they were a precious heirloom. “Thank you, James,” she said quietly.

  Behind her she heard Freddy give instructions to Reeves to show the Carlton-Smythes to a drawing room and bring refreshments, and he told his mother to meet him in the library. She jerked in surprise as a warm hand glided around her upper arm. Looking up, she saw Brett standing there on the steps next to her, looking at her with pride and sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, Anne,” he said softly. “I would not have had our night end like this.”

  Anne smiled at him tremulously. “Yes, well, I can certainly say that neither would I.”

  Brett huffed out a little laugh. “You were marvelous. She deserved that.”

  Anne shook her head. “Perhaps.” She turned and they took the steps down to the drive and the waiting carriage. “I look at her now and I see a bitter old woman. If I were a true Christian I would pity her.”

  “Then I am no true Christian,” Brett said wryly.

  It was Anne’s turn to laugh softly. “We will not tell Mr. Matthews,” she joked. She was surprised when Brett’s arm stiffened beneath hers. Before she could ask him what was wrong she heard footsteps behind them and turned to watch Freddy descend the stairs.

  When he reached her he came far too close for propriety and kissed
her hand lingeringly. With a breaking heart Anne realized that the duchess was right about one thing at least. Freddy needed to marry as befit his station, and as much as Anne cared for him she could not commit adultery with him. She had no other choice but to walk away when he married.

  “Anne,” he whispered, holding her hand to his heart. “I am so sorry, darling. She had no right.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and Anne’s resolve firmed. He couldn’t help what he was doing, though it surely marked her as his mistress to all who saw him treat her so in public. He was so loyal, so passionate. She must remove herself if she was to help him maintain his appearance and dignity as the Duke of Ashland. She smiled bravely, hoping he couldn’t see what she was feeling.

  He saw, but he misunderstood. “She’s upset you, my dear, and that is the last thing I ever wanted to happen by inviting you to Ashton Park.” He kissed her hand again. “I adore you, darling Anne. You vanquished her. Her power here is gone.”

  Anne shook her head. “She is still your mother, Freddy. You must treat her accordingly.”

  Freddy’s lips thinned, giving him an uncomfortable resemblance to his mother. “I shall treat her accordingly, Anne, never fear.” He took a breath and let her hand go. “But I must deal with this situation.” He looked at Brett. “Do you mind taking her home, Brett?”

  “Freddy,” he chastised. “Of course I don’t mind. But I am worried about leaving you with the duchess.”

  Freddy laughed mirthlessly. “I think I am old enough to handle my mother, Brett.” He squeezed Brett’s shoulder. “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me.” He backed away smiling. “Until later, Anne my love.” With a wave he turned and went back up the steps to the entry.