Anne fought the flicker of annoyance. “Was I to watch him today?”
“No, no,” Mary rushed out. “I guess I’m just so used to your…” She waved a hand. “Of course, you’re to enjoy the picnic with us. Charles’s parents, Louisa, Captains Benton and Wenworth…Oh, it shall be a most pleasant day!”
Mary was obviously nervous, hosting even such a small event. The staff was capable and the day as sunny as promised, so Anne had no worries on those particulars. Archery, fishing, lawn bowling, and plenty of opportunity for the young people to interact. The guest list, however, was more than enough to put a damper on the coming festivities. She could just imagine the contortions Louisa Cosgrove would employ to show off her lithe figure. A prickle of jealousy teased her belly. Oh, she could imagine Patrick succumbing to the girl’s tactics, for she knew firsthand he was a man with healthy appetites, but what of the romantic Captain Benton? Would both of them pant after Louisa’s transparent efforts?
“Who are they to me?” she grumbled as she went out to the kitchens. One past indiscretion and one future disappointment. Neither man would touch her heart today. She vowed it.
Pity she sincerely doubted her ability to keep that promise.
By the time all of the guests had arrived, Anne was out of excuses. She had to join them in the gardens. There was nothing else for it. Steeling herself, she stood in the parlor and gazed through the glass doors at those assembled. Her eyes quickly found Captain Benton, smiling brightly and paying courteous attention to something Charles was saying. Oh, he was dressed quite finely today, casual elegance personified. The sun glinted off his blond hair, giving him the look of an angel.
A large figure stood at the edge of the terrace, with the very look of Lucifer about him. Her heart dropped so swiftly to her belly she gasped. Patrick Wenworth. So tall and strong-looking, the sun causing blue to show in his midnight hair and caressing every rough-hewn angle of his face. Her traitorous body began to tremble as it had in Captain Benton’s presence two days past. Oh, how she longed to trace her fingers over that hard mouth, to see if his kisses were as demanding as she remembered. To relive the memory of those big hands of his, skimming her body and tempting her to surrender more than her heart. Her own hand trembling, she reached out and turned the door handle.
Taking a breath, she stepped out into heaven and hell.
Chapter 4
Patrick couldn’t attend what the girl was saying, not really. Something about the weather or the dinner the other night, but her giggling and fluttering of hands seemed to push any sense away. Louisa Cosgrove was on the hunt to be sure, and he wondered idly if he should just let himself be caught. His part in the war was over, his fortune achieved and intact. It was time to get on with his life. It was time to take a wife.
Unbidden, Anne’s visage floated before him. Jon’s interest in her shouldn’t surprise him, but he had been startled to hear he’d found her beautiful. It had seemed back then that he was the only person to see her beauty beneath the downcast exterior, the luscious body hidden in those plain clothes. The sharp mind behind her apparent serenity. Damn her to hell anyway.
She’d been so sweet then, so responsive. His cock began to stir at the memory of touching her silken skin. Then he thought of how it ended. She’d been so duplicitous and self-serving. Yet his desire had not eased one whit. He was damned to want her forever, even if he could only have her in his mind.
“Ooh, you look quite intense, Captain Wenworth,” Louisa said, her voice low. “Most romantic.”
“Romantic?” He shook off his reverie and flashed her a smile. “Now will you begin to spout poetry like Captain Benton?”
She laughed, a nice-enough sound, and placed her hand on his sleeve. “I daresay poetry doesn’t draw me, Captain.”
He saw the promise of something in her eyes, an offer a girl of her age and station shouldn’t make. He felt no stirrings of desire in response, however. His shaft quickly brought itself back under control.
“Miss Cosgrove,” he began, unsure how to rebuff her. “You and I—”
“Oh, there is Miss Ellis,” the girl said, lifting her chin toward the wide glass doors leading into the house. “She looks passing pretty today.”
He froze, every muscle changing to stone. Turning in the direction Louisa indicated, he saw her at last. The sun found her, dancing over her remarkable figure clothed in a yellow frock. Her face beneath her fetching bonnet, heart-shaped and flushed, was framed by curls he knew were as silky as they looked. Her mouth was parted as she audibly gasped, her green eyes filled with something he couldn’t name. Triumph? Regret? He had no notion, but he was damned if he didn’t grow hard in his trousers again. Certainly harder than her mere memory had wrought.
Her hands, white and delicate, clutched at each other. How he longed to have them around his shaft as he plundered her mouth. To feel her grabbing at him urgently as he brought her to climax with his own hands.
“Come join us, Miss Ellis,” Louisa said. “Captain Wenworth and I were discussing the prospect of an assembly in the village.”
He feigned agreement, for he had no recollection of the girl’s conversation. Hell, he barely attended her now.
“You missed our dinner the other evening. Allow me to introduce you to Captain Wenworth.” Louisa grabbed his arm possessively. “Captain, this is my brother’s sister-in-law, Miss Anne Ellis.”
“Captain Wenworth,” Anne said with a nod.
Ah, her voice was as he remembered it. Like a caress along the length of his spine, soft with an undercurrent of strength.
“Miss Ellis, there you are!” Jon said as he approached from the other side of the terrace. “Wenworth, at last you’ve met Miss Ellis.”
Patrick’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. He nodded, unable to tear his gaze from Anne’s. Was she thinking about how altered he was, how much older and worn? She looked older as well, but he couldn’t find that a flaw.
“Yes, Benton,” he said. “Miss Ellis, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Jon stared at him for a long moment, worry in his gaze, then beamed a smile. “Miss Cosgrove, Wenworth, will you excuse us? I was just about to ask Miss Ellis to accompany me to the lake.”
Anne blinked her long lashes then turned to Jon and favored him with a smile. “I would like that, Captain Benton.”
Jon held out his arm and Anne placed her hand on him. Patrick stared at her fingers, almost feeling their warmth himself. Watching as they walked away, he wondered at Jon’s intentions toward her. And marveled at the curve of her sweet ass beneath her skirts.
Jon wanted her. That was clear. He was smooth and would never show anything but courtesy in company, but down at the lake? While the other guests were busy with conversation and social shuffling, he would push his desires as far as he could. Patrick waited for the stab of jealousy and was surprised when it remained absent. He thought of Jon taking Anne in his arms, perhaps kissing her remarkable mouth until she sighed. Would she welcome Jon as she had him five years ago? She was older now, perhaps not even pure any longer. Just how far would she let Jon go? How many liberties would she grant him there in the shade under the willows?
He needed to know. And, God help him, he wanted to watch.
Turning to Louisa Cosgrove, he smiled as best he could. “Would you excuse me, Miss Cosgrove? I shall take a walk about the grounds.”
“I can accompany you if you like.”
Not bloody likely. The speculation that would arouse was something he didn’t want at present.
“I am grateful for the offer, but I think not,” he said in an even tone.
The girl nodded with apparent reluctance. “You’ll join me for the games later?”
“I wouldn’t miss them.”
He left her to her musings, taking the opposite direction Jon had taken with Anne lest anyone guess his true destination.
* * * *
“You look beautiful today, Miss Ellis,” Jon said, turning her toward the thick t
runk of the willow tree. “As fresh as a lemon ice and twice as delicious, I’d wager.”
She blushed. “Captain Benton, your speech is daunting.”
He grinned at her. “Ah, but you agreed to call me Jon.”
She stared up at him, no maidenly coyness about her. “Jon. Then you must call me Anne.”
He felt her close attention like a caress, straight down to his cock.
“Your blushes serve to turn your eyes into emeralds, Anne.” He stepped closer, knowing the many draping willow branches hid them from the rest of the party. “Multifaceted, like the lady herself.”
She laughed then, a throaty sound and nothing like the simpering giggles other ladies gave him in very large doses. “Perhaps you should read less poetry and more prose, Jon.”
He laughed with her. “Would you recommend a few books for me, then? Perhaps something gothic and dark.”
She shivered, a delicate motion that sent sensual awareness through his body. “I do like a mystery. My life is so dreadfully dull.”
She attempted to sound flip, but he guessed her words skated quite close to the truth of the matter.
“You are not challenged, are you?” he asked.
She looked down, toeing her sexy satin slipper in the grass beneath her feet. “I am challenged enough, I suppose. My life is predictable, to be sure. I had adventure once. I’m quite certain I’ll never have such again.”
Her tone spoke of something dark and brittle in her past. He could well guess the source of that shadow.
“You speak of Wenworth,” he stated.
Her head shot up and he saw the pain she tried to hide. “No!”
He took her hands in his, her bare skin smooth and soft against his palms. “Yes, Anne. You do not have to dissemble with me. I know Patrick quite well, and he has pain too.”
“Of my infliction,” she said on a whisper.
“Perhaps,” he brought her hands to his face, breathing deeply of her floral scent. “Fresh and sweet, Anne. Like honeysuckle.” He dragged the tip of his tongue over the knuckles. “Mmm.”
“Captain Benton.” Her fingers wriggled in his hands, slightly and with little intent to escape that he could sense. “You shouldn’t.”
“Whyever not?” He kissed her skin now, moist kisses as he watched her bosom rise and fall. “I am a free man, and you are without attachments.”
“Y–yes.”
He tugged her closer, lifting his eyes to stare into hers. “Is there something that’s holding you back from me?”
“I am not what you presume, no matter Captain Wenworth’s opinion of me.”
He heard the pain in her voice again and longed to soothe it. When she bit her bottom lip he couldn’t wait another moment.
“Sweet Anne,” he murmured, bringing his mouth to hers. “Let me taste you.”
She gasped, or sighed, then met his lips with hers. He nibbled and tasted, finding more honey there. His tongue traced over the fullness of her lower lip before stroking inside her mouth. She could kiss, that was certain. She was woefully innocent beyond that, however. He amended that opinion as she pulled her hands from his and clutched him to her.
“Oh, Jon,” she said, pressing close against him. “Oh, your kisses.”
“Has it been long, Anne?” he asked, dropping his head to kiss the tender skin of her neck. “Have you needed a man’s kisses?”
“Oh, yes.” She nodded vigorously, letting her head fall back. “Five years is long enough to wait, don’t you think?”
“For what, pray?” He needed her to say it. Longed for her to divulge her every desire to him. This woman affected him like no other before. “What are you waiting for.”
“A man’s touch, Jon.” She leaned against the stout tree trunk, pulling him with her. “Touch me?”
His fingers itched to do so. She was lost in the moment, her eyes closed as she bit that ripe bottom lip. Glancing around, he made certain no one could see them. He inched her pretty skirt up over a remarkable pair of legs, stroking the fine stockings and fingering the ribbons holding them in place. They were yellow, like her dress. Her drawers were thin and damp as he pushed them aside and stroked her pussy. Bringing his mouth to hers again, he kissed her and began to ease a finger inside her.
She kissed him with an eagerness that stole his breath. She clutched at his shoulders as she spread her smoothly-muscled thighs wide to accommodate him. Her clit was swollen, and he plucked at it as she moaned against his mouth. Juices flooded his hand as she began to sob.
“Jon,” she whispered. “Make me come. Please.”
He longed to lower his trouser flap and drive into her, to feel her sweet, wet cunt around his cock as they both found release, but he couldn’t. Not with her feelings for Patrick between them. Nor with Patrick’s for her despite his assertions to the opposite.
He lifted his head and found her staring at him, her eyes green fire now. He quickened his motions and felt her orgasm start.
She began to keen softly, her body tense against his. In the next moment she broke, trembling as a lovely pink blush spread over her. He held her close, waiting for her breathing to slow as he fought back his own desires. There would be time for that, he knew. He would have her completely, but not until he discussed the matter with Patrick. Anne would not be a one-time lover. No. He suspected he would want to keep her sweetness to savor again and again.
“Lovely Anne,” he said softly, kissing her cheek, her ear. “You opened like a flower for me, like a honeysuckle. Fresh and wild.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him. It was unrepentant and bright and sent a stab of want through him. He could love this woman, were the way clear. How could that be, after so short an acquaintance? No wonder Patrick still mourned her loss.
“Thank you, Jon.”
He pressed his lips to hers once more, then let out a groan. “I daresay you must return to the party without me.”
Her brow furrowed then her gaze dropped to the bulge between them. “Do you wish me to ease you?”
He nearly swallowed his tongue. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I shall be fine, Anne.”
She fixed the tilt of her bonnet and shook out her skirts. “I had no notion…Well, this was a very stimulating walk, Captain Benton.”
He grinned despite his discomfort. “Up to the house with you.”
She smiled again then left him to stroll back toward the terrace. She’d been amazing, so free and without the worry he constantly saw wrapped around her. He could give her satisfaction, to be sure. He could take her as a mistress, but she wasn’t made for that life. He might not know what the future held for him and the lovely Anne, but there was one matter that was a clear as the lake before him.
He had to talk to Patrick and soon.
Chapter 5
Anne steeled herself for her return to the picnic. It wouldn’t do to let what had just happened show to those assembled.
Captain Benton, Jon, had given her pleasure she hadn’t felt in years. His touch was different from what Patrick’s had been, but her climax had been just as startling. And satisfying. To give up her control for those brief moments had been a kind of bliss she’d never expected to feel again. She wouldn’t regret it. No matter the cost, she would hold the memory as closely as she did those of her short time with Patrick. She would feel no shame for those memories, either.
“Anne, there you are!” Mary said. She stilled then ran her eyes over her. “Are you warm? You look a bit flushed.”
“I was walking with Captain Benton,” Anne said.
Mary’s brow furrowed. “Where is that gentleman? Captain Wenworth has disappeared as well. Louisa is quite put out.”
“I am unsure of Captain Wenworth’s whereabouts, but I believe Captain Benton is down at the lake.”
“The lake,” Mary repeated.
“I’m certain he’ll rejoin the party soon, Mary. What could draw him there for long?”
“You were down there with him, then?”
Mary tilted her head to one side, then shrugged dismissively.
“Perhaps we should begin the games, then. The man must be bored indeed to go to the lake with you.”
“Thank you,” Anne said flatly.
Mary apparently missed her meaning and hurried away, no doubt in search of Charles. Host and hostess. Again, Anne said a silent prayer that none of this was her responsibility. Yes, she longed for her own place, her own children. She gazed wistfully toward the lake. Perhaps it was time to find her own future.
“Miss Ellis!” Louisa called, gliding over to her. “Why, where is Captain Benton? I thought for certain he would return before you.”
Of course you did. “I assume he is walking the grounds, Louisa.”
She pouted, an expression as cunning as the girl surely intended. “The games are to begin. I had hoped to play with one of them.” She tried to hide a sly smile and failed. “Or both.”
Anne held herself in check. “I must go see to Charlie.”
“You take prodigious care of the child,” Louisa stated.
“It is my pleasure,” Anne returned. “If you will excuse me?”
A glance at Louisa told Anne she was no longer paying a modicum of attention to her. No, the girl’s gaze raked over all in attendance as she searched for her beaux.
“Miss Ellis!”
Anne ignored the pull of Captain Benton’s voice, the way her body tugged toward him. Her stomach in a knot, she attempted to keep her steps even as she hurried into the house. A figure blocked her path and she glanced up. “Excuse me.”
Patrick stood there, a bland look on his face. “You seem in a hurry, Miss Ellis.”
“I am going to see to my nephew, Captain Wenworth.”
His lip twitched, his brows drawing together for a moment before his previous expression settled over his features. “As cold as ever.”
She trembled with the effort to keep her heat inside. “If you will excuse me,” she said in a clipped tone.
Josie Dennis Page 3