Josie Dennis

by Wicked Persuasion

  He caught a glimpse of that man’s expression. Patrick knew him well and could see he was becoming besotted with her. He could read the sexual intent beneath the polished exterior as well. Jon wanted Anne, and for more than a frustrating few moments beneath a willow tree. Inevitably the memory of their kiss came to him. So sweet, so soft. That was Anne. She had been like a drug all those years ago, and it seemed he was no more resistant to her than he’d been as a green lad.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Captain?” a man said beside him.

  He turned to find Charles Cosgrove eyeing him. He forced a smile and nodded. “Quite, thank you.”

  Cosgrove’s eyes were as intent as Louisa’s. “You and my sister seemed to enjoy a few dances together.”

  He wouldn’t admit he was thinking about Anne, so he decided to let him believe him interested in his sister. “She is lovely,” he said in honesty. “Our dances were enjoyable, yes.”

  The man beamed. “Capital. Say you and Captain Benton will come to dinner at our home three days hence. My wife would be thrilled to welcome you. Louisa will attend, of course.”

  Anne lived there as well. Was she forced into the secondary role even at home? “What of your sister-in-law?”

  Charles blinked, as he had when asked about Anne at the Cosgroves’. “Anne shall be there, of course.”

  Patrick knew he’d said something to confound the man. “I am certain Captain Benton would enjoy the evening,” he added.

  Realization dawned on the man’s pudgy face, precisely as Patrick had intended. “Ah, the captain does seem taken with Anne.”

  Taken? Not precisely. Not yet, anyway.

  “I believe I can answer for Captain Benton, then. It should be our pleasure,” Patrick said. He sketched a bow and left the room for the fresh air outside.

  So Charles believed him interested in Louisa, and Jon interested in Anne. Well, the latter was certainly true. As for Patrick? He didn’t want to spend even the space of a dinner with Miss Louisa Cosgrove.

  He wanted Anne. And for more than the length of a dance.

  Chapter 7

  “Anne, do hurry,” Mary admonished. “You cannot stay in the nursery tonight. We’ve guests to attend.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” she said. Not really. The maid they shared continued to work on Anne’s hair. “I’ll be down directly. You have my word.”

  Mary sniffed and checked her own image in Anne’s cheval glass. “Charles springs this dinner engagement on me after the assembly and you keep yourself abovestairs all of the day. However am I to manage on my own?”

  Anne bit her tongue. Mary might depend on Anne for little Charlie, but she reveled in social gatherings, something Anne had never done. As the maid twitched a curl into place beside her temple, she simply nodded.

  “Well, I’m off to make certain Cook has everything in readiness,” Mary said. She ran a gaze over Anne now. “You look quite pretty, Anne. It will be good to give Louisa a bit of competition tonight. She must decide which gentleman to pursue.”

  Neither one, if Anne had her way. “Among whom, pray?”

  Mary fixed a look of exasperation at her. “Why, the captains of course! Oh, if only our aunt were here.”

  Anne pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t look to Lady Russell for advice.”

  Mary tilted her head. “But she told me to wed Charles, Anne. I owe my very happiness to her.”

  Anne studied her. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

  Mary gave a swift nod. “Now, do hurry.”

  With that, she fled the chamber and Anne finished her own preparations. She thanked the maid and stared into the mirror atop the vanity. Lady Russell had urged Anne to take Charles, especially after she’d dismissed Patrick. Charles wasn’t for Anne, however, which she’d known from when they were children. No, Mary was happy with him and he with her. Lady Russell had gotten lucky on that count, for had her original plan for their neighbor come to pass both Anne and Charles would be miserable now.

  She stood and stepped over to the cheval glass. Her dress was a mossy green, making her eyes sparkle. She couldn’t help the feelings coursing through her. She was almost afraid to see Patrick and Jon again but eager as well. There was something between herself and Jon. That was undeniable. Every touch of his hand to hers as they’d danced caused a riot of feelings.

  She’d seen Patrick watching as she’d danced with Jon, though. His dark eyes had followed every motion. Tonight she would have to endure Jon’s attentions, keeping evidence of her own desires from her visage. Unfortunately she would have to withstand Patrick’s close attention as well. And most assuredly his censure. Lovely.

  “Let Louisa have him,” she told her reflection.

  Even as the words passed her lips she knew they were false. She didn’t want the girl to take Patrick any more than she wanted her to have Jon. Steeling herself, she left the chamber for the parlor.

  By the time she descended the Cosgroves had arrived. Louisa was going on about her success at the assembly while Mary nodded excitedly.

  “I daresay I was much in demand,” Louisa tittered.

  Anne forced a smile. “You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

  Louisa shrugged. “Of course, Miss Ellis. You as well, I wager. You had a dance with Captain Benton. It surprised me, I admit.”

  Anne tamped down her frustration. She supposed she had no one to blame but herself for everyone’s opinion of her, but it still rankled. She was the one who kept herself apart since leaving her heart with Patrick.

  “Anne has always been an excellent dancer, Louisa,” Mary put in matter-of-factly. “I enjoyed seeing her do so at the assembly.”

  Anne blinked at the compliment. “Thank you, Mary.”

  Mary flashed her a quick smile, then was pulled back into Louisa’s recitations of her own singular success at the event.

  Patrick and Jon soon arrived, and Louisa began to fawn and preen in earnest. Jon sent her a warm glance from where he stood beside Louisa, and her pulse quickened. Patrick’s gaze was fastened to the front of her dress and she wished she’d worn a fichu. Alas, there was little to do about the flush spreading through her. Surely the others in the room would have noticed if their attention had been directed toward her. For once she was grateful all assembled gave her little notice. Her skin felt tight, hot. Her drawers were damp as she stared at Jon’s capable fingers. Her lips tingled as she gazed upon Patrick’s brutal mouth. It was a kind of torture.

  Midway through dinner she amended her opinion on the matter. Withstanding the meal was beyond torture. Both Patrick and Jon continued to watch her closely, one across from her and the other close beside. They each paused now and again to make the requisite comment to Charles or his parents, but she could feel every press of Jon’s arm as he brushed hers. Patrick watched the contact as well, seemingly more in interest than pique. What was the man thinking? For that matter, what was Jon? Goodness knew she couldn’t sort out her own thoughts at the moment.

  Louisa continued to dominate the conversation, thankfully sparing Anne from making any sort of contribution. Her tongue felt frozen in her mouth, her mind in a fog induced by her body’s reactions to her two men. She swallowed thickly. When had she begun to think of them as hers?

  “Foolish girl,” she murmured to herself.

  “What is that, Miss Ellis?” Jon asked.

  All eyes turned toward her. “Nothing, I assure you.”

  Everyone but Jon and Patrick returned their attentions to the other people at the table, hang them both. That was until Louisa broached the subject of a trip to Lyme, however.

  “I daresay I have been away from the sea for too long,” Jon quipped. “Wenworth and I had been talking of that very thing.”

  “What say you, brother?” Louisa asked Charles. “Can you and Mary bear to leave little Charlie and take us all to Lyme for a pleasure trip?”

  Charles looked to Mary, who shrugged. “I suppose a few days at the shore would be enjoyable,” she allowed.

>   Anne’s heart sank like a stone tossed into the sea. It would be assumed that she would stay behind to keep an eye on the child, of course. For really, what pleasure could Anne expect to find by the sea?

  She both feared the thought of the excursion and resented the fact that she would not be invited.

  “And you will come, Miss Ellis?” Jon asked.

  Again, everyone attended her. “Of course,” she answered, proud that she managed to keep her voice even.

  Jon grinned at Patrick, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Her stomach did a little flip. What was going on?

  She somehow withstood the remainder of the evening, her mind in a muddle. When the sexes separated after dinner, the men to their brandy and the ladies to their gossip, Anne chose to step out onto the terrace. She was blessedly alone for the moment, and drew in a deep breath of cooling summer-evening air.

  “Seeking another assignation beneath the willow tree?”

  She started at the sound of Patrick’s voice. Turning slowly, she affected what she hoped was a calm countenance. “I do not know of what you are speaking, Captain Wenworth.”

  He blew out a breath then stepped closer. She could smell him now, that pleasingly masculine scent that had always clung to him, and her pulse gave a jump.

  “Tell me you don’t seek to continue your relations with Captain Benton.”

  “I came out here to be alone, not that it is any of your concern.” At his look of incredulity she bristled. “You are no true friend to think such about Captain Benton, I daresay.”

  His eyes darkened, glinting in the sliver of moonlight. “Would that you would have defended me so when others spoke ill of me.”

  She gasped. He obviously enjoyed giving her pain. “You are as deft with that tongue as you undoubtedly are with your sword, Captain. And as lethal.”

  She began to pass him when he grabbed her as he had at the picnic. His hands were on her bare arms, the heat of his palms sending tingles through her body. “Unhand me,” she whispered.

  “I shall not.” He hauled her up against him. “I’ve watched you, flirting with Benton while everyone else attends their own concerns.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “Didn’t you? I admit, it cut me to the quick.”

  He cupped the back of her head and she instinctively curled into his body. “Please don’t do this.”

  “What, pray?” he said, tilting her chin so she could see his eyes. They were fathomless in the near-dark. “Don’t do what.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t make me fall in love with you again.”

  He sucked in a breath and dropped his hands from her. She felt the chill of his withdrawal to her bones. “Again? Never say you loved me then, Anne?”

  “Of course I loved you,” she admitted. It was as if a clenched fist unfurled in her chest. “Oh, it feels wonderful to admit that.”

  “Then why?” He raked his fingers through that thick dark hair of his and shook his head. “Why the devil did you spurn me?”

  The shame of it stabbed at her. “I was young, Patrick. Easily influenced.”

  “Persuaded, you mean. By that bitch.”

  She bowed her head. “I was a fool, but I will not be so again.”

  “Ah, Anne.” He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her as before, but tonight there was a tenderness there as well.

  Letting herself sink against him, she opened her mouth and tasted him. He’d imbibed Charles’s brandy, then. She imagined she would grow intoxicated if she continued this madness.

  Bracing her hands on his chest, she pushed away. “No!”

  His body was rigid, his shaft pulsing against her hip. “Why the devil not?”

  He felt so good against her, his hands cupping her bottom as he shifted to settle against her center. Why not, indeed? She knew the reason full well, of course. As did he, aroused though he was at the moment.

  “You hate me,” she said softly.

  “I…”

  “Do not deny it. You cannot stand the sight of me.”

  Patrick stared at her, his nostrils flared and his breath fast.

  “He cannot deny that,” came another voice.

  “Jon!” She recovered herself. “I mean, Captain Benton.”

  Jon stepped out of the shadows, his blue eyes on her. “Captain Wenworth cannot deny that he hated you, once.”

  Patrick said nothing to that.

  “Once?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

  Jon smiled and stood close to her side. “He wants you, Anne. As I do.”

  Anger suffused her. “So the two of you think to take what the poor spinster has to offer, is that it?”

  Jon’s eyes rounded. “God, no!”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Patrick said.

  “Then what?” She knew she had precious little time to speak her piece before the others came looking for their favored guests. “Tell me your meaning, sirs.”

  Jon answered her by taking her in his arms and kissing her. His tongue stroked hers and she melted. He tasted of brandy as well, but different from Patrick. She would know him again, she knew. From his taste alone.

  “Oh, Jon,” she sighed, dropping her head back as he nuzzled her throat.

  Patrick took her mouth then, startling her. His big hands were on her bottom again as Jon began to caress her breasts.

  “You are such a delicious handful, Anne,” Jon said.

  Patrick muttered something as his kisses grew more passionate. She felt without moorings, adrift in the sensations of two fit men working her like the complicated rigging of a ship. She could scarcely tell where she ended and they began. It was too much!

  “Release me.” She pulled away from them, her head spinning as she struggled to catch her breath. “What do you mean by this?”

  Jon opened his mouth then turned his head sharply as voices could be heard through the terrace doors. He kissed her again and grinned. “All will reveal itself in Lyme, Anne.”

  She blinked at him then looked at Patrick. He seemed quite disturbed, his body held rigid even as a tenderness stole into his eyes. “What of you?” she had to know.

  He rubbed a hand over the bulge in his trousers. “I think it’s clear I can more than stand the sight of you.”

  She gaped at them as they exchanged another mysterious look before they both left her alone once again. What was going on? They both wanted her?

  She turned away from the doors, cupping her hands over her breasts as she sought to ease the ache they’d started. It was futile, really. As ridiculous as the notion that two such men could want a woman like her. There was no mistaking their arousal. That was certain. Or her own. She shook out her skirts, seeking air to cool her burning woman’s flesh.

  She was to go to Lyme, then. She had no notion of what would happen while on that holiday, but suddenly, inexplicably, she was much looking forward to the trip.

  Chapter 8

  “I’m thinking of begging off on this trip,” Patrick said.

  “Why the devil would you do that?” Jon asked.

  Patrick shook his head, settling into the chair nearest the hearth. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “What, share a woman with me? You’ve had no qualms about that in the past.”

  Patrick fixed a glare on him. “True, but this is about the particular woman in question.”

  Jon recalled everything they’d done to Anne during their short time on the darkened terrace, reliving for a moment how she’d responded to their not-so-innocent caresses. She’d been hurt by Patrick’s words. Hell, he’d been stung to learn that she believed they both thought to use her. His poet’s heart beat faster whenever she was near. To touch her was to take flight. As they’d both kissed and caressed her he’d been flooded with the desire to hold her forever.

  “I find I want none other than this particular woman,” he told Patrick. “Tell me you feel differently, for if you do I’ll declare you a liar for the first time in our long acquaintance.�
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  “I want her, Jon. How could I not?”

  Unease flitted through him, a worry that he would lose what he’d only just found. “Tell me you do not want to share her, then.”

  “It’s clear she wants you,” Patrick said easily. “I wouldn’t keep her from you if I could. You have nothing to fear on that count.”

  Jon felt suffused with joy at his friend’s words. “That is a relief, I admit. Then what is the problem?”

  “If we take her, if we indulge in Lyme, how will that ever be the end of it?”

  “The end of it?” Jon blew out a breath. “It’s the bloody beginning, Patrick.”

  Patrick stared at him for a long moment. “You care for her.”

  Jon sank down in his chair. “I believe I could do more than care for her. She is beyond beautiful to me, yes. But I find myself consumed with thoughts of her and in more places than bed.”

  “You’ve known her for such a short time!”

  Jon fixed a gaze on Patrick’s troubled expression. “And precisely how long did it take for you to fall in love with her five years ago?”

  Patrick shook his head with a frown then let out a string of curses. “All right, I concede to you on that point. But I don’t know if I can risk that love again.”

  “Then you are a bloody fool.”

  “What? Why?”

  “If any man were to ever call you a coward I would run them through. Yet you sit here, quaking in your boots at the thought of loving the sweetest creature on earth. A veritable angel come down from heaven to lift us to salvation.”

  “There you go, with your poetic phrases again.”

  Jon waved a hand. “Deny it. She is grace personified, Patrick. Did you not see how she comports herself in the face of such blatant disregard by not only her family but by all in Dorset?”

  “They are fools, all of them.”

  Jon waited for him to say more, but nothing more came from him. It was enough to prove to Jon that she was meant for them and they for her. It was clear Patrick still held her in high regard.