What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 6)

by London Casey

  His features went taunt, his gaze intense. “Anne, I never wanted to be married. I never wanted to inherit—never, ever wanted to be the Earl of Ruel. I thought it meant giving up all my personal liberty and ability to follow my interests without hesitation. But through your eyes, the way you see things related to Whitecross—the way I feel about you—I think everything could be very different. I feel that you and I could be quite harmonious and happy together.”

  “Yes, you feel this. It is not based on any rationality.”

  “Does it need to be?”

  “All decisions on life should be based on thought and carefully measured. Not so long ago, you decided to marry Maria Waterbury. So your feelings changed. Your feelings will change about me as well. You will spend your energies on one mistress after another.”

  He gaped at her. She could almost believe he appeared to be hurt. But she couldn’t be sorry for her words. They were the truth.

  “Anne, I thought I wanted a marriage based only on mutual understanding and respect. I thought Maria was the woman to give me that. I didn’t think married love with a woman of my own class was possible, due to the expectations and power dynamics of marriage at our level. I thought I might find love someday with some opera dancer.”

  “And so you still might,” Anne snapped.

  “No, I found love with you. I was wrong in my views of marriage. You made me see that.”

  How seductively tempting it was to believe him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am merely your latest bauble. A piece of petticoat. A conquest. And it just so happens that you’re ready to wed at this moment as well. Ready to fill your nursery. Some odd fluke has made you think I am the woman to do it. It doesn’t matter. You’ll grow just as bored with being a husband and father as any nobleman ever did. I had one disinterested husband. I don’t wish for another.”

  He gaped at her a moment. She’d never seen him at a loss. It made him look younger. Vulnerable. He jammed his hand into his hair at the back of his head.

  “Damn it, Anne, that’s not fair. You can’t compare what we have to anything that happens with other marriages. I know how easy it is to do that, but it isn’t fair. Not to you and not to me. We deserve a chance to make this work between us.”

  No, no. She couldn’t let him sway her. He put too much faith in sensual and emotional matters. Once she’d given him her all, given him children, who would so desperately need a father, he’d leave to seek his pleasures and distractions elsewhere.

  She would be crushed then. Far more so than she would be to leave now. She still had enough of herself left to make a dignified exit.

  Yes, she’d adore being Ruel’s wife, with him all the time. But she couldn’t bear to share him with mistresses and serving maids as she had William. And yes, it would be wonderful to be the Countess of Ruel. He owned an estate twice the size of Whitecross and other properties besides. But all of that wasn’t worth the emotional price and risk. This was no measured risk—it was a dangerous gamble on everything, her whole heart and soul.

  It would be an emotional decision on her part. Something wholly unforgivable. A betrayal of herself.

  Her whole life, she’d been able to trust herself and no one else. She had no reason to believe things would change now just because her youthful body held momentary appeal for some gentleman. Better she cut the ties now and settle into her new life in Ireland and depend only on herself.

  She also had a responsibility to Dorothea now. She donned a frosty expression and squared her shoulders. “I should like you to leave so I may dress and meet my carriage today.”

  He jolted out of the chair and approached her.

  Her heart began beating triple its normal speed.

  He sat on the bed and drew her into his arms. “Stop it, Nan. Stop acting as if you don’t need me. We both know you do. You’re going to marry me and we shall have a wedding trip and if you still must go to Ireland, well then, I shall take you.”

  She pulled away and glared up at him. “You need me to need you.”

  He blinked, looking taken aback. “Yes, of course. That’s how it works, Nan.”

  Fierce longing tugged at her heart. He was offering her everything. Everything she hadn’t known she’d wanted. However, she didn’t trust it. Fear pressed hard on her. “Forget about Scotland. I am going to Ireland.”

  “So no matter the love you declared for me just last night, you will withdraw your promises to me as suits your mood of the moment?”

  Something beneath the hard, arrogant tone tugged relentlessly at her heart. She hardened against it. “Go back to London, to your mistress. I am sure she feels neglected.” She spat the words in pure self-defence.

  Silence hung between them.

  Then he laughed.

  Always he made sport of everything. Always. That he would do so at a moment like this put a welt over her heart, to rival the ones on her arse.

  Just look at how being in this house, among his regular companions, had changed him. The other had been an illusion. A beautiful dream. This was the real Jonathon Lloyd. He was truly a fickle and shallow man, despite all the care and attention he’d given her while living in the cottage in the woods.

  He sighed, one long sound of sheer exasperation. He released her and stood staring down at her. “You have the body of a woman but you’re just a scared little girl inside.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Little girl? How dare you—”

  He held up a forestalling hand. “Enough. You’ve made your feelings clear. All right. Go running back to your little cloister at Whitecross Hall. I won’t stop you.” He walked to the door. Then he paused with his hand on the knob. “But when you’ve had enough self-punishment, just send word and I’ll come for you.”

  She gaped at the door for a long time after it had closed.

  Two hours later, Anne wandered alone, lost in the large, unfamiliar house. Thunder broke the eerie stillness, rumbling around the walls, and the corridor was dark. Light shone from an open door. She approached hesitantly.

  “Well, come on in, darling,” Lady Waterbury’s throaty voice called.

  Anne entered slowly. Lady Waterbury lay on the bed, naked and cradled in David Kean’s strong arms.

  “Looking for Ruel?” he asked, his voice low and lazy, his eyes hooded.

  Anne nodded.

  Kean dropped a kiss on Lady Waterbury’s dark red hair, then he disengaged from her and arose, tightening the belt on his dressing gown as he did. “He went into Bedford, to see about your carriage.”

  “Oh,” Anne said. Soon she would be back at Whitecross Hall. She’d expected to feel relief. Instead her stomach sank to the floor.

  “He left a couple of hours ago,” he said from the sideboard where he was pouring a brandy.

  Anne shifted on her feet, uncomfortable under Lady Waterbury’s languorous, grey gaze. What did one say? What etiquette rules were at play here? “I am sorry…about last night.”

  Lady Waterbury waved her hand. “Do not worry. I know Ruel well. He has never been very mindful of others’ feelings.”

  Discomfort twisted through Anne’s insides at the emphasis Lady Waterbury put on ‘I know Ruel well.’ Yet at the same time, she was relieved that the lady did not seem put out over the broken engagement. Perhaps things had been drifting towards ending their engagement before last night. Before Anne had even met Jon. Yes, that must be it. She dreaded any sort of conflict and so she was grateful for it. Still, it seemed that Jon had been inexcusably rude to a woman he had invited to their bed.

  “Well, he’s not usually so insensitive,” Anne said.

  Lady Waterbury’s laugh sounded husky and sensual. She exchanged a glance with Kean. His lips twitched slightly. She turned back to Anne.

  “Oh, darling, he’s really cut a sham with you, hasn’t he?” Lady Waterbury’s tone dripped with sympathy.

  Anne didn’t know what to say.

  “Don’t take it personally. He treats everyone else t
he same way. Life is strictly one amusement after another for men like him.”

  Kean turned and shared another meaningful glance and a wink with the naked lady gracing his bed.

  Anne’s ears burned and hurt bloomed in her chest. She crossed her arms over her breasts, feeling like a stupid schoolroom chit who had wandered into the ballroom unawares.

  Maria expression hardened and her gaze cut Anne sharply. “You think you know him so well, don’t you?”

  Tongue-tied by the sudden change in mood, Anne hugged herself tighter. “I suppose I should be going.” She turned to Kean. “But first, I want—”

  “Did you know we were engaged to be married? Did you know he has broken with me, over you, his newest interest?” Maria asked stridently, her eyes glowing with anger.

  “Yes. He told me this morning.”

  “You stand there so calmly, so aloof. I couldn’t imagine that you knew. Oh, you are a cool one, aren’t you?”

  Anne’s heart began to pound and a slight queasiness set her stomach aching. “I thought it was a mutual break. That you both agreed it was best to end the engagement.”

  “What other choice would I have? Once Jon sets his mind to something, there can be no changing it. Only the fickle wanderings of his own thoughts and desires can change his course.”

  “Jon said it was to be a marriage of convenience. He said there was no great affection between you. Did he tell me wrongly?”

  “There was no grand passion, that’s true. But there were promises. I was to be the next Lady Ruel.”

  “You still can be. I-I have refused him.”

  “Then you have merely increased your desirability in his eyes, as perhaps you have meant to. But let me tell you something about the Earl of Ruel. He once pursued me with heated passion. As he does every new interest. I have known him forever. The war changed him. He’s a jaded man now—nothing touches him.”

  “Maria, you’re disturbing her. Look, she’s gone quite white,” Kean said in a chiding tone.

  “No, she should know exactly what kind of man Ruel is.”

  But I do know, Anne wanted to say. However, she would never reveal herself so much. Not in front of these two.

  “Where is Tiberia?” she asked, wanting now only to be gone.

  “She’s in my study.” Kean drained his glass. “Would you like me to take you there?”

  Anne nodded.

  He set the glass down and held out his hand to her. “Come then.”

  She glanced at his hand, not wanting to take it. But with no other choice except to appear rude, she laid her hand in his. It closed over hers, large, hot and slightly damp. She jerked her gaze to his face, noticing once more how handsome he was. His green eyes glittered with open lust. Heavens, he was handsome. Blindingly so. Any woman would be thrilled to have him gaze upon her like this.

  She could become like Ruel. She could become part of this world and take lovers and become decadent.

  She didn’t want to.

  Why had he made her stay for the party? Why had he shown her that side of herself?

  Kean squeezed her hand. “I won’t bite you.” A slow grin curved Kean’s full, sensual mouth. “Oh, darling girl, why do you have to be Ruel’s? And why do I have to be so damned honourable?”

  Lady Waterbury’s laugh rang out again and he darted another meaningful look in her direction. “Honour’s overrated, I daresay. Anne darling, why don’t you stay here with us and pass the afternoon until your dear Jon returns? What he doesn’t know shan’t hurt him. At least not much. And after all, you’ll soon have to share him with his many cats in London. The man collects quim like other men collect wagers.”

  Kean’s laugh resounded, rich and mellow. “Oh, you do have a mean streak when you’re crossed, my lady. But think of what cost your revenge would be to me. Want to see me run through, do you?”

  Her hand still imprisoned by Kean’s, Anne glanced between the couple. It jarred her, the way they both seemed to assume she would acquiesce to their proposal. Indeed, she did feel the tug, the pull. The desire to please. To be compliant.

  Ruel had called it submissiveness.

  There was more to it than that. Last night, the seductive allure of the orgy had awakened something within her. A desire to experience novelty. To be voyeuristic. The thought of letting this handsome—and yes, charming—man make love to her while Maria watched was arousing.

  She had not wanted Maria with Jon. Anne had been too jealous to allow that. But here now with Kean, a desirable man for whom she had no particular soft feelings, well, it felt different.

  God, her newly awakened carnal nature was like a beast within her. Frightening her to her core. Threatening to overpower her better sense. To overcome her. And she longed, most ardently, for Ruel’s protection in this moment. But if she were to live independently, she’d have to learn to control this dangerous force of sensuality within herself. For her own protection. It had already made her too weak with Ruel. It had made her love him and lose her very soul to him. But while her desire to please with Ruel had always brought her inexpressible joy, she knew with her every sensibility that to give in to this, here, with these people, would only degrade her.

  But she realised that with Ruel it had been her choice, even from the first, to submit to his will. It had been her gift of love to him and it was her choice to give it or not. Just as it was her choice to say the time of giving it to him was over now. Always her decision, always her choice. Why then did it make her feel so devastated?

  Because she loved him.

  But she couldn’t ever have him. He was a typical aristocratic gentleman. Spoilt by his wealth, bored in a world that could offer him only transitory delights but never satisfy his jaded senses.

  I don’t want to become like these people.

  At least in her isolated life, she’d had her love of books and the pleasure of solitude.

  She wished she’d never met Ruel. Never allowed him to show her the sexual side of herself and the joy of being his. Wished she’d never let herself fall in love with him.

  But there hadn’t been any real choice to it. She had fallen naturally.

  He could never be hers. He didn’t know how to be steadfast. He couldn’t be. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t hers. It was simply the way it was.

  Her throat burned like fire with unshed tears and she pushed them down.

  “I want to see Tiberia,” she said, making her voice quite firm. “Now.”

  Lady Waterbury chuckled, deep and sultry.

  Anne jerked her gaze up. The older woman ran a caressing hand over her lush breasts. “Kean, take the child to her little dog and then come back to me, and I shall show you exactly how mean I can be.”

  Kean’s expression turned suddenly serious and he squeezed Anne’s hand. “Come, dear, shall we go see Tiberia?”

  He led her down the corridor to his study. Inside, Tiberia lay sleeping on a blanket. Anne gasped at the bandaged paw. Hearing that the leg had been amputated was one thing, but to actually see the bandage on the too-short appendage was shocking. She dropped down on her knees to get closer.

  “I dosed her with something to make her sleep. She shouldn’t be too active,” Kean said, crouching down beside her, so close that his thigh pressed hers. He touched her hair. “Don’t worry over her, sweeting, I shall do my best to see she’s healed up properly.”

  She began to turn towards him, to tell him to back away from her, to take his hands from her.

  “Your carriage is here, Lady Cranfield.”

  The cold voice hit her in the stomach and she turned to see Ruel standing in the doorway. His icy blue eyes bored into her. Her innards immediately tied into knots.

  He strode over to her and reached down a hand. “Come along.” His voice sounded terse.

  “She wanted to see the dog,” Kean said.

  Ruel shot him a cold, lethal look. It sent a chill straight to Anne’s bones and she quickly sought his hand, expecting that he would help her up.
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  Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder and held her down. “Kean would do anything to see your body bared. He told me this.”

  His harsh tone sent a curl of apprehension through her. She flicked a glance at Jon’s face. His expression was fierce. It reminded her of when she had first met him, before she had seen his softer, warmer side.

  “Would you like that, Anne, to show yourself to him?”

  She gaped at him. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at Kean.

  “Answer me, Anne.”

  “I would prefer not to, Jon.”

  He moved his hand from her shoulder to her head and he stroked her hair. The methodical, firm caress sent a wave of lassitude through her. Sexual heat flared in her pelvis.

  He turned to her.

  She lowered her eyes immediately.

  “Unbutton my fall,” he said tersely.

  The chamber seemed to tilt, then turn. “What?”

  “You heard me, Anne.” He caressed her head with a firmer touch. Then he swept his hand over the mass of it, grasping it up in his hand. Gently but resolutely pulling her head back. “Show him, Anne—leave no doubt in his mind that you are completely mine. Completely.”

  Fire flared in her loins. Her sex pulsed with need. The need to obey him. No matter how illogical. No matter if it was all over for them. With shaking fingers, she found his buttons and began working them.

  “That’s my good girl,” he said softly.

  He was growing erect, making it difficult for her to force the buttons from their holes. Her hands brushed the turgid length and he throbbed for her. As if he was aching for her touch.

  Her mouth watered. She wasn’t thinking of Kean any longer. She was thinking only of Jon. His need for her. Her need to please him. She wanted to feel his cock in her mouth.

  But his buttons were so damned difficult. And her hands shook harder and harder from the desire to feel his bare, heated flesh.

  Finally, the last button beneath his fall came open. His erection sprang into her hand. She circled her hand about his thickness and squeezed him. His lubrication wetted her hand in an uncontrollable profusion. She stroked him.