“You can take your flower,” she said, shoving the rose in his face. “I don’t want it.”
“Don’t be silly. Take it back.” He made a conscious effort to soften the expression on his face. “Please? It was a gift from me. I wanted you to have it.”
With a shrug, she accepted it.
“I made a mistake, and I’m sorry for it,” he insisted. “Do you forgive me?” He tried to look as pitiful as possible.
“No.”
Eldrinn moved closer to her, touching her cheek. She didn’t welcome his caress, but she didn’t recoil from it. “I hope you won’t hate me forever.”
“I don’t hate you. Hate is too strong of a word.”
“But you’re angry?”
“Affronted,” she said. “Insulted.”
Undaunted, Eldrinn sprung to his feet and offered her a hand. “Your mother and my friend are returning. We should join them.”
“Very well.”
As they walked back to the house, Eldrinn was all she could think about. She could still feel his hands where he touched her, and it wasn’t a good feeling. Like a fairy princess waking from a spell, she was disenchanted with him. From now on, Evangeline knew she would have to be more careful when choosing a husband. She wondered if she should have accepted Lord Trevelan’s offer. She’d known him all her life, but his hands and lips had never ventured to improper places.
All afternoon, she thought about Eldrinn. She might have thought about him all night, if her trip to the library hadn’t landed her in the company of another man. When she saw Jonathan bent over a table reading a book, her heart stopped. Eldrinn Fairweather became the furthest thing from her mind.
“J-Jonathan.” She silently chided herself for stuttering his name. It had been so long since she’d seen him, and she wanted to be the pinnacle of composure.
When he saw her, Jonathan closed his book and got up. “Good evening, my lady.” He lowered his eyes and tucked the book under his arm. “I suppose I should excuse myself.”
He nodded politely, almost professionally, and walked past her. Without another word, he headed for the door.
“No… Jonathan… I…”
When Evangeline turned around, he was already gone.
She tried to convince herself his quick exit didn’t bother her in the least. Why should she care if Jonathan left the room as soon as she came in? If he was any other servant, she wouldn’t think anything of it. Her deep despondency had everything to do with Eldrinn’s bad behavior, and nothing to do with Jonathan’s cold reception of her.
Deep down, she knew better.
As quick as Jonathan left, Evangeline fled from the library. She marched back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She closed her eyes and made a shrill noise, so pained and so sharp, it sounded a bit like a rat getting its tail stepped on. Lying face-down on the bed, Evangeline buried her head in her pillow. All at once, the tears fell from her eyes. She grabbed both sides of the pillow and pressed it against her face, as if smothering herself. She groaned and sobbed, bucked and kicked, and thought about how much she hated men.
When she was all cried out, she wiped the tears from her face and sighed. Why was she crying? Evangeline never cried. She decided to blame her tears on Jonathan Winters, because placing the blame on him made her feel better.
And a little bit worse.
Chapter Twenty Two
As she sat in front of the looking glass, Anne ran a comb through her ebony hair. With each stroke of the comb, she tried to think of a reason why she shouldn’t allow herself to care for Nicholas. She came up with the same reasons she always came up with, but they sounded more tired than ever.
He was younger than her.
She was recently widowed.
It would be scandalous.
Sighing, she laid the comb on her dresser and leaned forward. The lines around her eyes looked more prominent than ever. She was still a passably handsome woman, though she had never been a beauty. Anne thought she was lucky to have kept most of her looks. Even so, she looked older than she used to. She certainly felt older, too. So why would Nicholas pursue her? She wasn’t capable of catching the eye of a man like that, was she?
But what if she had? What if Nicholas, the new Lord Penworth, was genuinely smitten with her? What if she kept her mind open to the possibility?
As much as she tried to deny it, Anne liked him. She liked him a great deal, as a matter of fact. If he ever lost interest in her, or if he ever found another woman, she knew her heart would ache. In a short time since his arrival, he’d become a very important person in her life. When she woke up in the morning, she looked forward to seeing him. When she walked down the hall, she hoped to run into him. When he entered a room, she strained to keep the smile off her face.
His mere presence set her heart aflutter and, try as she might, it was getting more and more difficult to pretend he had little effect on her. She cared for Nicholas more than she ever cared for her husband, a man she had known for two decades. In fact, she cared for him a great deal more than she ever cared about her husband.
The more she thought about it, the more Anne wondered how deep her feelings really were. Were they the beginning of some greater emotion? Could she perhaps be...falling in love with Nicholas Grey?
As much as she resented the idea, it thrilled her. Most women, if they were fortune enough, found love much sooner in life. Regardless of her age, Anne counted herself lucky to have found a man worthy of her love. He was kind and gentle, and showed genuine compassion for her. Not to mention, he was as handsome as any man she’d ever seen. No—he was the handsomest. Anne Fremont had never seen a face more perfect.
So, what was holding her back? He had clearly expressed an interest, so much that he practically invited her into his bed. Did Nicholas’ age really bother her? Was she really resisting him out of respect for her husband’s memory? Anne laughed at the thought. Her husband had been nothing more than that—a husband. He had done his duty. He provided her with a daughter and stability, but he’d expressed no feelings for her. Nicholas was completely different. Over the last few weeks, Nicholas had shown so much feeling for Anne, the thought of him made her heart leap.
Anne couldn’t help but wonder: what would it be like with Nicholas? How would his fingers feel on her skin? How would his lips feel pressed against her neck?
As she sat in front of the looking glass, staring at her frowning face, Anne realized what a fool she’d been. Nicholas offered her a chance to experience something she’d never experienced before. It was her first chance, her only chance, her last chance—and what a fool she had been! Would she ever find another lover like him, handsome and doting, warm and attentive?
Not in a million lifetimes, she decided.
Now that she had come to this realization, Anne didn’t want to waste any more time. She tossed her brush onto the dresser, rose from her chair, and ran from her bedroom. She walked hurriedly down the hallway, practically sprinting, as her mind reeled with possibilities. She didn’t know if she’d gone mad, or if she’d been mad all along. Either way, she knew what she wanted to do. Nothing would stop her.
When she stood outside Nicholas’ door, she hesitated a moment. Her heart was banging against her chest, like a prisoner against a cell door. This was it. What would he think when he came to the door and saw her standing there—in her nightgown, no less. How would he receive her? Would he still want her?
Well, there was only one way to find out. Anne raised her fist, preparing to knock on the door. A curled knuckle came forward, barely tapping the door. All of a sudden, her throat felt dry.
“What am I doing?” she said aloud, her throat squeaking a bit. “Maybe I have gone mad.”
He mustn’t have heard her soft knock, for there was no answer. There was, of course, the possibility that he wasn’t in his room at all. When Anne reached for the door, her heart was hammering harder than ever. She opened it ever-so-slightly and peered inside. It was dark inside his be
dchamber. Only a single candle lit the room, and it was nearly snuffed out. Nicholas was lying on the bed. From her current angle, she couldn’t be sure if he was asleep or not.
“Nicholas,” she whispered his name. “Nicholas?”
He didn’t stir in the slightest.
Anne tried to swallow, to ease her arid throat. She pushed open the door and slid into his room, silent as she could. She had never been more nervous in her life. Without making a sound, she tiptoed across the room and stood at the end of his bed. Her shadow, crafted by the soft candlelight, spread across his sleeping form.
“Nicholas?” she whispered his name again. He made a mumbling sound, but she wasn’t sure he heard her. “I’m here, Nicholas. I came.”
Nicholas opened an eye. When he saw her standing over the bed, the other eye quickly joined it. He studied her for several seconds before finally asking, “Am I dreaming?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m really here.”
When Nicholas sat up in bed, his blankets slid from his chest. It was obvious, at that point, that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. It was very possible he wasn’t wearing anything at all, but Anne couldn’t be sure.
If she had her way, she would find out soon enough.
“Have you come to me?” A delighted smile curled across his lips as he spoke to her. The sight of his smile, wicked as it was, made her weak in the knees. Nicholas was always a handsome man, but when he smiled, he could melt hearts. Anne had to summon all her strength to keep her legs from crumbling beneath her.
“W-what do you mean?” she stammered a belated reply.
He chuckled at her naiveté, hoping his laughter wouldn’t scare her off. In many ways, Anne Fremont was like an innocent young woman, completely ignorant of men. “Have you come to be with me, Anne?”
Anne looked down at the floor. Try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of her emotions. The sight of Nicholas in his nearly-naked state, looking devilishly handsome, was too much. She was quivering with anticipation, longing for his touch, but too ashamed to ask for it. “I… I suppose so.”
“Come here,” Nicholas whispered as gently as possible, choosing his words as carefully as he could. If he said something to make her change her mind, he would never forgive himself. “Come sit beside me.”
Nicholas held out a hand, reaching for her. She sat beside him, close enough for Nicholas to catch the scent of lavender on her skin. He took her hand and kissed it, then held it against his cheek. So far, she wasn’t shying away from his touch. Nicholas wasn’t sure how far her willingness would extend, so he decided to test her slowly.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said. Her thumb brushed against his lips as he spoke. “You’re a good woman, Anne. I swear, I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”
“I want to be your lover, Nicholas,” she said, putting an end to his reluctance. “If you’ll have me...”
“I want that more than anything.”
“I-I want you to care for me.”
“I do. More than anything. More than you’ll ever know.” He turned his head, kissing the palm of her hand.
“I’ve never been with a man,” Anne confessed, “…not passionately. Not in the way I want to be with you.”
All of a sudden, Nicholas grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. She gasped a little, but she didn’t pull away. After a few seconds, she settled onto his lap quite comfortably. Anne lowered her hand to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, absorbing his unmistakable strength. Nicholas closed his eyes, enjoying the soft caress of her hand.
“I can feel your heart beat,” she said, trying to stifle a nervous giggle.
His hand circled her wrist, feeling her pulse, strong and rapid. “And I can feel yours.” Nicholas leaned forward and laid his head against her shoulder. “It feels so nice, to have you on my lap. I can’t believe you’re really here. I still feel like I’m dreaming.”
“But you’re not.”
As soon as she said those words, Anne’s head descended, and her mouth captured his. Nicholas responded immediately, suckling her lips, tasting her tongue. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible, crushing her body against his. Anne responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. She kissed him until she was breathless, until she had to turn away and gasp for air.
“Oh my…” Her eyes were wide and dazed. “I never thought… I never knew a person could kiss like that.”
Nicholas acknowledged her statement with a grunt and proceeded to trail kisses along her neck. When he finally lifted his head, he cupped her cheek in his hand and stared into her eyes, gently and intently. “Meeting you was the best surprise of my life,” he whispered. He slipped his hand between her neck and nightgown, slowly easing the material off her shoulder. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on the exposed flesh. “I want to see you.”
Anne wasn’t so naïve as to misunderstand him, but she had to tease him nonetheless. “You can see me right now, can’t you? It’s not too dark.”
As he chuckled at her response, Nicholas’ lips brushed across her collarbone. “I want to see all of you, silly goose.”
“I’m right here,” she continued to tease him, hoping to ease her tension with humor. “Part of my foot is under the blanket, though. Perhaps I should move it?”
He was too drunk with passion to appreciate the joke. And he was too drunk with passion to wait for her approval. In one quick motion, he swept her off his lap and laid her on the bed. Nicholas’ hand went under her nightgown, and he started to slide it over her thighs. As the fabric moved over her body, he kept his eyes on her face, checking for any sign of resistance. She looked alarmed, but not because she was worried about the removal of her clothes. Having moved from under the blanket, Nicholas had exposed his naked body. She was silent and agape, staring at his naked form.
“You sleep in the nude,” she noted casually.
Nicholas laughed. At the moment, he was tugging her nightgown over her hips, yet she was still as poised as ever. “How good of you to notice.” He bent his head, kissing her above the knee. Taking one last look at her face, Nicholas pulled the nightgown to her waist, over the triangle of curls between her legs. He stared at her for awhile, as if in awe.
“I’ve never been naked in front of a man before.” Her voice cracked when she tried to speak. “Never in my life.”
And it was true. Her husband never stripped her completely. She never thought anyone would lay eyes on her most intimate parts.
“I want a closer look,” Nicholas whispered, his voice strained. He lifted her calf from the bed and pulled her legs apart, just a bit. Then, with a trembling hand, Nicholas reached for the candle beside his bed. He brought the candle closer to her body, bathing her in the light, drinking in the sight of her. “God, you are exquisite.”
Anne struggled to draw a breath. She wanted his hands on her, but how could she possibly tell him such a thing?
Setting the candle aside, Nicholas resumed his task. He continued to raise the nightgown over her body until he had it over her head. She was completely naked, stretched out in front of him like an offering to a god. He held out his hand, but he didn’t know what to touch. In a way, he thought she was too perfect for his touch. Every curve of Anne’s body looked like it had been molded by some divine power. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Anne’s back made an involuntary arc, as if asking him to touch her. Nicholas didn’t miss the invitation. His hand glided over her stomach and into the valley between her breasts. His fingers ascended slowly, grazing over her breast, massaging the soft flesh. His mouth found the other breast, and by that time, Anne’s mind was reeling. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful.
“Your touch feels amazing.” She spoke so softly, he barely heard her voice. “I never want it to end.”
Answering her plea with a moan, he continued to suckle her—every inch of her. His lips and hands
were starving for her. His orientation of her body seemed to last for hours, and Anne didn’t mind one bit. Everything he did set her skin on fire.
There was only one place he had not touched. When his hand slid between her legs, Anne gasped.
Nicholas kissed her forehead, but his hand stayed where it was. “If you want me to stop, you have to let me know.”
“No. Don’t stop.”
Nicholas looked down at his hand. His fingers dipped and explored, and her hips rose from the bed. When he touched her, he touched her with all the tenderness in the world. In all her years, Anne had never experienced pleasure like this. He wanted to give it to her. He wanted to give her everything.
He had to admit—her reaction gave him equal pleasure. She tossed her head from side to side, and bit down on her lip. Her legs clamped down on his arm, holding him in place.
When he was done, Nicholas covered her body with his and kissed her. Deeply.
Anne turned her head away from his kiss, so she could whisper in his ear. “Oh, Nicholas. I don’t think I can stand any more of this!”
His brow furrowed with concern. “Is it not good?”
“Too good,” she responded breathily. “I’m not sure I’d ever want it to end!”
Nicholas kissed her on the nose. “My dear, do you realize what a contradiction you are?”
She nodded and grinned. “If it’s too good, I’m afraid I’ll want you for the rest of my life.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Nothing this good can last forever.”
“It can,” he said, kissing her head again. “I promise.”
Anne lifted her hand and held his cheeks, framing his face between her palms. She couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed. When she woke up that morning, she had no idea what the night would have in store for her. If she hadn’t been so bold, she might never have known what she’d been missing. “I give myself to you,” she whispered to him. “Completely.”
Nicholas smiled, relieved by her consent. Despite her apparent willingness, he had been wondering how far he could take the night’s activities. Now he had his answer. Rubbing her inner thigh, Nicholas coaxed her legs apart. When he eased himself inside of her, his mind was flooded with bliss.
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