She quickly obeyed, but when she stood beside the bed, ready to demonstrate her newfound knowledge, he shifted away.
“Sit beside me.” He patted the coverlet. “Don’t be shy.”
Anna slid onto the bed. Why, it was almost as if they had woken together—as they would once they were married. How agreeable of him to give her an early taste of that life.
Her legs pressed against his, and she could feel the warmth of sleep still clinging to his skin. He took her hands, his fingers stroking her palms.
“Why, you’re chilled my dear. Let me warm you.”
Before she could say that the hearth would be heating the room soon, he pulled her against him. She sprawled against his chest in a most unbecoming way.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“Actually, I’d rather—”
“Let’s try this. You sit atop me.”
“I… what?”
“Astride.”
She stared at him. What he was suggesting was outrageous!
Then again, there was so much she didn’t know about intimate relations. He had said he would show her, so she must be willing to learn. This was her future husband, after all. Slowly, she sat up.
“Very good,” he said. “Yes, that’s it. Lift your dress and climb on me. One leg to either side.”
She lifted her skirts, exposing her legs most shockingly. “Like this?” It did not seem at all the thing.
“Yes, yes, just so. Now slide forward a bit… ahh.”
There was an odd lump beneath the covers, just where she was sitting. Did the poor man have some sort of condition?
“Are you well?” she asked. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“No, not at all. You’re performing your duties most excellently.”
She adjusted her skirts, trying to cover herself, but he shook his head.
“Let me see you, Anna. You’re lovely—no need to hide from me.”
She supposed it was true. A husband and wife had nothing to conceal from one another, and certainly not once they were sharing the same bed. Giles was merely getting an early peek.
He folded her skirts back, until her legs were entirely bared. Smiling, he began to run his hands up and down her thighs. Each stroke ended closer to the edge of her drawers, where a peculiar, throbbing heat was beginning to build.
“You’ve shapely legs,” he said. “Let me see your arms.”
Feeling vaguely like a horse being assessed by a buyer, she pushed her sleeves up and held her arms out for his inspection. “Here they are.”
“No, no.” He laughed. “I must view your entire arm. Take your dress off from the shoulder.”
It was a very improper command. Then again, everything here was improper: she was alone with him, in his bed, sitting atop him, with her legs exposed. Revealing her shoulders certainly could not make matters any worse. She pushed down the sudden impulse to hop off the bed and flee the room.
Slowly, she pulled down one shoulder of her dress and slipped her arm free, then repeated the action on the other side. She had not been able to bear the cloth of her maid’s costume against her bare skin and had, perhaps unwisely, brought her finely embroidered shift. She was careful to don it only when Martha’s back was turned. No one would see it beneath her dress. No one except Giles. She clutched her dress, so that it would not slip down.
“Still so modest?” He shook his head. “It won’t do. Lift your arms above your head.”
“But… my dress will fall.”
“Exactly.” His smile was predatory.
It was shocking , to hear him speak so. To have his avid gaze fastened on her, as if she were a bon-bon ready to be devoured. True, he had a reputation as a rake, but until now she had not understood what that meant. But this was Giles, who had smuggled her love notes and arranged to meet with her secretly. She should not feel so reluctant. After all, weren’t they on the verge of an understanding?
Unclasping her fingers, she let the dress fall, then lifted her arms. He made a low sound in his throat, his eyes moving to her breasts.
Then his hands went there as well, and she nearly stopped breathing. The thin fabric of her shift did little to protect her from the heat of his touch. He cupped her, his palms brushing against her nipples. Her breasts tightened, pressing against the cloth, and he took the tips in his fingers. Fiery sensations sped through her as he fondled her. He began moving beneath her, rocking her up and down, while his breath came faster. Faster.
She felt giddy. The lump beneath the covers rubbed against her in a strangely satisfying way. There was an ache at her center—a yearning that spread through her entire body. She felt like she was stretching wings she’d never known she’d had.
Giles let out a yelp and fell back against the pillows. He lay there without moving, one arm flung across his face, though she could see the satisfied smile on his lips.
“Excellent work, Anna,” he said, without removing his arm from in front of his eyes. “You may go.”
What? She was dismissed, just like that? The sensations inside her began to ebb, leaving a restless dissatisfaction behind. Awkwardly, she climbed off the bed. She slipped her arms through her sleeves, then shook down her skirts, her throat dry with disappointment.
Then he levered himself up on his elbows and smiled at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, of course. Good day, Anna.”
That smile, so warm and intimate, lifted some of the unhappiness from her lungs. She mustn’t be so downhearted, just because their encounter hadn’t been quite what she had expected. Obviously there was a great deal for her to learn.
All of this would be easier if she didn’t have to continue her disguise—but clearly Giles was enjoying the deception. She supposed he wasn’t troubled at the thought of being found out. If that happened, all he would need to do was propose to her immediately. Scandalous gossip would reach London, of course, but their marriage would still all but the fiercest tongues.
Though her mother would be upset, once she found out the particular details of Anna’s adventures.... A surge of guilt accompanied the thought, but Anna pushed it away.
Certainly Giles was going to propose soon. There was nothing to fear.
It wasn’t until she was descending the narrow servant’s stairs that she realized he hadn’t kissed her. After the trouble she’d gone to, for nothing! Well. She would just have to make sure that tomorrow, they kissed.
Anna leaned against the fence near the stables, idly weaving grass-stems between her fingers. She had nearly forgotten it was her half-day, until Mrs. Foutch had shooed her out of the parlor while she was dusting. Now she had the entire afternoon free. Originally, she had thought to walk the few miles to the Caswell’s and secretly meet with Belinda, to gossip and giggle over Giles and her own daring disguise. Yet, somehow, she didn’t have the heart for it.
Instead, her feet had taken her out the kitchen door and through the gate. Past the dairy and the brick wall where Jonathan had shown her what a true kiss was. She had fetched up at the stables, an odd restlessness running through her.
If she were Anna Harcourt, instead of Anna the maid, she would direct one of the grooms to saddle a mount for her. She’d head for the open fields and let the wind against her face cool her impatience. Ah, she missed her gray mare, Isolde.
But there was Windsor—she could not mistake that impressively large black shape—being led from the stables. She leaned forward… but no, the man with him was not Jonathan. They entered the ring, where the groom began to put Windsor through his paces. The horse had a wonderfully fluid gait. No wonder Giles had purchased him.
She wandered closer, the scent of sweet clover in the fields mixing with hay and earthy manure. When she reached the fence surrounding the ring, she realized someone else was standing in the shadows, watching the horse.
Jonathan.
Her stomach tickled, as though she had swallowed a bee, and she hesitated.
“Miss Anna.” He glanced over at her, a
s though he’d been aware of her presence all along. “Join me?”
“Good afternoon, Jonathan,” she said, coming to stand beside him. “Are you making sure Windsor is behaving?”
He smiled, as though her use of his given name pleased him. “He is, now that the stable-boys know how clever he can be at slipping out of his stall.”
“Why aren’t you working with Windsor? Aren’t you in charge of him?”
“Not any longer.” He sounded displeased.
Curiosity pricked her—but it wasn’t her place to ask what had happened. He turned back to watch the horse, and she studied him covertly. His jaw was set, his lips firm, but she knew how soft and coaxing they could be…
Drat. Why was she thinking of such things, when she loved Giles? And he loved her in return—of course he did. Why, just look at how intimate he had been with her this morning.
Then why had it not felt quite like love?
Letting out a sigh, she rested her folded arms on the top rail. This adventure of hers was becoming rather too complicated.
“Have you ever done something you regretted?” she asked.
Jonathan looked at her, and she caught her breath at the intensity of his gaze. “Why do you ask?” he said. “Are you sorry about our kiss yesterday?”
“No! Not at all.” She dropped her eyes to the buttons of his coat. How thoughtless of her. “That is… I didn’t mean to imply…”
There was a subtle self-mockery in his voice. “Indeed, of all the things I regret, that kiss is certainly not one of them.”
She peeked up at him. “You are very skilled—have no fears on that account.”
He laughed, sudden and bright, and the shadow of sorrow left his face. “I’m glad you think so. But tell me, Anna. What’s troubling you?”
For a foolish moment, she nearly confided everything to him. But then he would know she was more than a maid, and the easy companionability between them would freeze and break. Jonathan was the only person at Wildering Hall she felt at all comfortable with, and she would not put that in jeopardy.
“I’m beginning to think I’ve misjudged a situation,” she said.
It wasn’t until she put the feeling into words that she realized it was true. She did not know exactly what was wrong between herself and Giles, only that something was.
Jonathan looked at her closely. “Then you’re probably right. I’ve found that those kinds of suspicions often prove correct.”
She nodded, grateful that he was not pressing for details. “It’s just that—I’m a bit impulsive, you see.”
“Are you?” There was dry humor in his tone. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“I don’t go about kissing gentlemen every day, I’d have you know.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but she was no good at pretending to be in a temper when she truly was not.
“Yes, it was a special case—I understand that.” His expression sobered, and he reached for her hand. His fingers were warm against hers. “Anna, is there anything I can do to help you?”
Just being near his solid, sympathetic presence was helping tremendously. He was right—she should heed her intuition. Tomorrow morning she would ask Giles straight out if he was merely toying with her affections. And if he was? She couldn’t bear thinking of it, not now. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
She looked up at Jonathan. “You’ve already done a great deal, and I thank you for it.”
“If you need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask. If you can’t find me, the stable-hands will direct you.”
It was kind of him to offer, though she didn’t know what a groom could do to aid her in the event she required assistance. Still, it made happiness curl through her that he would try.
And she must admit, he had an air of competency—even command—about him.
“Were you in the army?” The question popped out before she had time to consider it.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Not one that she could confess, at any rate.
She stared at their clasped hands. It felt so natural to touch him, yet exciting too. Comforting and delicious, like a pot of chocolate. It was a whimsical notion, comparing Jonathan to hot chocolate—yet somehow fitting.
From the ring, Windsor gave a sharp whinny, and Jonathan straightened.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I must speak with the stable-boy.” He did not, however, release her hand.
“Of course. Thank you for the conversation.”
He gently squeezed her fingers. “I hope to see you tomorrow, Anna. Look for me here.”
“I will.”
Watching his broad shoulders as he walked away, she could not help thinking what a well-made man he was. Oh, and what a contrary goose she was! Of the two men she planned to speak with tomorrow, she was most eager to see the servant, and not the master.
Belinda would be shocked, but somehow Anna could not regret it. The only worrisome thing was, what if Giles did not love her after all? The thought made her stomach knot with dread. She would have to leave the Wildering’s mansion immediately.
Would she ever see Jonathan again? The thought was a pin poked into her heart.
Anna had opened the drapes, coaxed the coals back to life, refilled the ewer, and still Giles slept. Well. She must wake him—and she knew just how. First, a kiss. And then, her question.
He lay in the center of the big bed, with barely enough room for her to lie beside him. In slumber, his face looked soft. Nothing like Jonathan’s rugged features. But still very handsome, of course. She bent and pressed her lips to his.
Giles gave a somewhat ungentlemanly snort, but his eyes did not open. His lips, however, began to move hungrily against hers. Then his arms came about her. Remembering what she had learned, she opened her mouth. If kissing Jonathan had been lovely, how much sweeter would it be with Giles?
Surely that wave of pleasure would wash over her at any moment. She pressed against Giles, waiting. When he swept his tongue into her mouth, she was ready—but where was that bright, dizzying sensation?
Perhaps she needed a little more time to become accustomed to his kiss. It was pleasant enough, if a bit sloppy, and she did like the feel of his hands roaming over her shoulders. He pushed the sleeves of her dress down, baring her collarbone. Then he tugged harder, exposing her breasts and pinning her arms to her sides with the fabric.
His hands were eager on her breasts, his mouth ferocious against hers, and she felt warmth begin to tingle through her. Still, she had a question to ask him. She broke the kiss, though he still held her tightly.
“Wait,” she said. “I must know—”
“Not now,” he said. “Lift your skirts. I must have you.”
“But—”
“Anna, you are driving me mad. Quickly, now.” His hands were insistent, his face flushed.
Desire for her was printed on those handsome features, yet she hesitated. She was beginning to understand that desire was not the same thing as love. And a kiss was not an answer.
“Don’t you think we ought to… wait?” she asked.
“Wait for what?” He took a handful of her dress and hauled it up.
“Well…” She took a deep breath and pushed her skirts back down. “Until after the wedding.”
“The wedding?” He looked at her blankly. “Oh. My congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. But surely you aren’t a—”
“Our wedding, Giles!” She pulled away and stared at him. “Don’t you love me, at least a little?”
His look of shock quickly gave way to disdain. “Love you? By god, you think that I’d marry you, just because I invited you into my bed? Stupid girl, to look so far above your station. You’re only a maid with a pretty face.”
Each word was a knife stabbing into her. Terrible, terrible, the knowledge of her own blindness and stupidity.
Giles had never recognized her. Did he even know that Miss Harcourt’s given name was Anna? He had no idea who she was. He thought her a servant
!
Fury and mortification blazed through her. She leaped off the bed and grabbed the ewer of water on the nightstand.
“Why, you’re nothing but a rake!” she cried. “How could you? You… you’re contemptible!”
Wrapping both hands around the ewer, she flung the water over him. It made a satisfying splash, and an even better sight—Giles soaking wet and spluttering in his now-damp sheets.
“You’re sacked!” he yelled. “No pay—and don’t ever let me see your face again.”
As if he would even recognize it.
“Gladly.” Anna threw the ewer down on the carpet.
“Go—and send Martha to me at once.”
Without bothering to reply, Anna turned and stalked out of Giles’ bedroom. She made sure to slam the door loudly behind her.
It took a moment for her to realize she was shaking. What a dreadful affair. Anger and shame chased through her—hot, then icy, then hot again.. She could never let anyone know what had happened. And she must depart Wildering Hall at once.
Holding her head high, Anna found Mrs. Foutch in the blue parlor and informed her that she was leaving service immediately. She did not give any further details, but the housekeeper gave her a sharp look. Even if the woman suspected the truth of the matter, there was very little she could do about it.
“Very well,” Mrs. Foutch said, after a long pause. “I’m afraid I can’t give you a reference. Fetch your things and go.”
Anna did not argue, though had she been a maid in truth she would have been in desperate straits. She stumbled once on the narrow stairs to the servant’s quarters, barking her shin. The sharp pain was a welcome distraction from the ache swirling inside her. What a fool she had been, imagining that her dreams were reality. She’d built an intricate castle of clouds, thinking it was solid and sure, and the wind had blown it to tatters.
“Watch yourself!” It was Martha, going down the stairs with an armful of linens. “How clumsy you are, Anna.”
The girl’s hostility made sense, now that Anna could see the situation clearly. Giles trifled with the maids. It was reprehensible and most ungentlemanly, but she had the uneasy feeling that it was not uncommon, either. Clearly, Martha fancied herself in love with the master, though she knew better than to expect any offer of legitimacy. Likely Giles gave her a trinket or two—but if the worst happened, that was hardly enough to keep the girl.
Maid for Scandal - a Regency Novelette Page 3