An Invitation to Sin (4 page)

She returned to the shelf. Avoiding
Forbidden Affections,
she chose
Cruel Matrimony.

When she opened it, she realized with surprise that it had never been read. The pages weren’t even cut. She could read the first page, however.

“Was any woman so profoundly miserable as beautiful Melisande de La Fleur when the dreadful news descended upon her? She was to wed the dread lord of Breadalbane? Never!”

“Enough,” said the earl disdainfully, swallowing more brandy. “So you
can
read, and with an educated accent, too. Who the devil are you?”

Anna cursed her carelessness in letting her servant’s tones drop, and knew she was turning red with guilt. “I was raised gently, yes, my lord, but have no choice now but service.”

“Plunged into dire poverty, are you?” His voice gentled as he said, “Perhaps we can find you an alternative to base service, my dear. Loose your hair.”

It took a moment for Anna to guess his meaning, but then her breath caught. “No. Please, my lord—”

“Obey me.” It was said without great emphasis, yet it chilled her protests.

Anna heard a whimper, and knew it was her own. She should scream, but who would hear?

What would happen if she told him who she was? Would the wicked Earl of Carne continue his vile seduction when he knew she was the gently bred daughter of his neighbor?

If he did, said the logical part of her, then he’d care as much later as now. Perhaps he was just playing with her and would let her go in a little while. After all, she was hardly the sort of girl to drive men wild, especially a man like this.

So Anna took off her ribbon and fingered her dark hair loose, knowing her naturally rosy cheeks were apple red.

He eyed her over the rim of the glass, studying her dispassionately from tousled head to naked toes. “Very pretty. How old are you?”

“But sixteen, milord.”

“There’s no use putting on that servant’s burr again, sweetheart. Sixteen’s a good age.” He drained the glass and placed it on a table by his elbow. “Come here.”

The slight slur in his voice alarmed her. She suspected he’d not been entirely sober when he came in, and was now worse. Any belief that he would be rational was weakening and she glanced around in search of a weapon. There wasn’t so much as a penknife.

“Please, my lord, let me go. I’m sorry for having intruded—”

“But having done so, you must pay the toll.” His eyes were hooded. “A kiss,” he said with wicked softness. “No more, Maggie, or not yet. My word on it. Come here.”

Anna discovered that her feet simply wouldn’t carry her over to him. “I can’t …”

He raised his brows. “I could threaten to dismiss you tomorrow. Yet why do I feel that wouldn’t sway you? So, I’ll make another threat. If you don’t come here and be kissed, my sweet mysterious Maggie, I’ll come to you and do much worse. And you have my word on that, too.”

After a moment, he added, “That trembling innocence, the hands over the mouth, the eyes wide with panic, will not sway me. It’s actually quite arousing, you know. We men are such perverse creatures. You’d do better to appear bold and willing. I ’d probably dismiss you on the instant.”

Anna realized she was reacting exactly as he said, but she
was
a trembling innocent. “I wouldn’t kn … know how to act bold, m … my lord,” she stammered. “Have mercy.”

“Damnation, girl,” he said without heat, “it’s a kiss I’m demanding, not a life of sin. You’ll be the better for getting over these nervous tremors.
Come here.”

The snapped authority in the last words had Anna walking toward him before she thought. He caught her nightgown before she could retreat and pulled her onto his lap. She did scream then, and struggled, but it did no good. He just laughed. “Squirm away, Maggie. It’s quite interesting, and in moments your legs will be naked as the day you were born.”

Anna went very, very still.

“Wise girl,” he said, and even smoothed her nightgown back around her legs—a touch that sent a jolt right through her.

He ignored it, and spoke soothingly. “There, see, the heavens haven’t fallen. Satan hasn’t appeared to drag you off to hell. Kissing is not a cardinal sin. You might even enjoy it. I suspect I will.” He caught her chin, smiling as a thumb rubbed along her jaw.

Anna twitched. “My lord!”

“Oh, do stop my lording me, girl! If we’re to share a kiss I’ll make you free of my name for a while. It’s Roland.”

“Roland?”
Astonishment temporarily overwhelmed even fear.

He continued to rub along her jaw, gently, confusingly. “Why the amazement, sweetheart? Perhaps my parents had high hopes of me.”

“It … it’s an unusual name, my lord. You are called for Charlemagne’s hero?”

He grinned. “No. I’m called for a rich great-uncle who obligingly left me his all.” His finger was tracing the edge of her lips now, as if learning of them.

Or perhaps he knew the extraordinary effect it could have on a woman …

“Roland was a noble character, though, my lord,” Anna said desperately. In a moment she was going to have to tell him who she was. “
Roland est preux …”

“She speaks French, too!
Chérie,
you are wasted in the kitchens. Let us proceed with your metamorphosis to a higher order.” He deftly moved her more intimately to his body and dropped a light kiss on her tingling lips. “You’re as tasty as a rosy apple, sweetheart. I think I’ll call you Pippin.”

At that use of her father’s pet name, it was as if he were here, witness to her shame.

Anna burst into tears.

The earl froze, but did not let her go. To her astonishment, after a moment he held her closer and even rocked her a little. “Hush, Pippin. What the devil’s the matter with you? We’re talking a kiss here. It’ll go no further today if you’re not of a mind to it. I’m no rapist and we’ve plenty of time …”

His very reasonable and rather bemused tone calmed Anna’s worst fears. She peeped up at him cautiously, sniffing.

But perhaps seducers always behaved like this …

“That’s better,” he said soothingly, thumbing tears from beneath her eyes and stroking strands of hair off her face. “Just a kiss, a taste, Pippin. And then I’ll let you leave. This time.”

Heart pounding, Anna held on to that. One kiss and she could go.

And she would never come back here again!

But when his lips brushed over hers—a gentle, brandy-flavored roughness—she flinched away instinctively. He was ready for it and trapped her head, preventing all effort to avoid the deepening of the kiss.

Anna tried to protest, but since her mouth was now covered by his, it came out as only a mewling sound. Her hands were trapped against his body and she truly feared that if she squirmed she would reveal all.

God help her, what would happen if her parents ever found out about this?

He ignored her struggles and protests, but released her mouth long enough to say, “You’ve the sweetest-tasting mouth I’ve known in a long time, Pippin.”

“My lord, please—”

But then he was kissing her again, pushing her mouth open, touching her tongue with his so she squeaked and struggled violently. But then, abruptly, like a wave crashing over her, Anna realized there was pleasure in it.

There couldn’t be.

But there was.

It was like the first time she had eaten oysters. She hadn’t liked the thought of it at all, and hadn’t liked the first attempt much. But then, somehow, she had overcome the thought that the shellfish were alive, and that they were a little slimy, and had discovered they were delicious.

She had never liked the idea of this kind of kissing, and hadn’t liked the first mingling of his mouth with hers, but now she found that he, too, was delicious—sweet and spicy beneath the tang of brandy.

In moments the moist heat of his tongue seemed as natural as her own, and that acceptance spread downward through her body, relaxing her …

He released her mouth with slow, parting kisses, smiling more warmly now, more like the youth in the portrait. “That’s it, Pippin, my rosy, juicy little apple. You see what’s in store? You needn’t fear I’ll mistreat you. I’ll take care of you …”

Anna suddenly realized that his hand was sliding
under
her nightdress and took in the meaning of his words.

She kicked against his touch. “No, my lord! Truly, I cannot be your mistress!”

Despite her squirming, his hand ventured slightly higher, up to her knee. “You didn’t think you’d like kissing, Maggie. Let’s see how you like this …”

“No …
Help!”
Anna tried to put the full force of her healthy lungs behind it but he clapped a hand over her mouth and laughed at her struggles.

So much for his promises!

As he looked down with interest at the leg her struggle was exposing, Anna saw the glint of the glass he had set down. She stretched out, seized it, and swung it with all her strength to crash against her ravisher’s head.

With a cry, he relaxed his hold.

Anna tore herself free.

He was cursing now and holding his head. Anna was dreadfully afraid that she’d done him some terrible injury, but that was even more reason to flee.

She raced into the hall and up the steps, her heart thundering, her breath mere gasps of panic. In moments she was through the door and back in her bedroom.

She slid to the floor in limp relief, offering earnest prayers of thanks to the deity who watched over foolish virgins.

Which made her think of lamps.

Which made her realize a terrible thing.

She’d left the candlestick!

At that moment, Anna Featherstone nearly fainted.

She wanted to huddle under her covers and pretend none of the recent events had happened but if she didn’t retrieve the candlestick, it would be obvious she’d been there. Quite apart from the fact that she would be short a candlestick, it was probably identifiable as from this house.

What on earth would happen to her? What if she’d done some terrible injury to the earl? What if he was lying on his library floor breathing his last?

Would they hang her?

At least, said a voice, if he’s dead he can’t identify his assailant.

But the candlestick could.

There was only one thing to do.

Anna’s legs felt weak as wet paper, but she forced herself to her feet. Still shaking and struggling not to sob, she opened the secret door again to re-enter the Earl of Carne’s cursed house.

She staggered out onto the landing, listening carefully for any hint of what was happening. She heard a voice. It was the earl, apparently calling for a servant.

Anna almost collapsed with relief again. He didn’t sound at all dead. But in that case, how was she to retrieve the evidence?

Then she realized that he was heading for the lower floor, shouting for his servants. She leaned over the stair rail and saw him, holding a white cloth to his head, disappear in that direction.

It almost demanded too much courage, but Anna forced herself. She ran down the stairs, tracking that distant voice all the time, dashed into the library, grabbed the candlestick, and raced back to her own room.

Once there, she flung herself into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and swore that she would never, ever, give in to curiosity again!

“Miss Anna! Miss Anna! Wake up.”

Anna stirred, resisting the call to wake. She’d been sleepless half the night worrying over the consequences of her actions.

“Miss Anna! Are you all right?”

Anna forced her eyes open. “Yes, Martha. Of course I’m all right.”

Martha frowned at her in grave concern. “I’ve never known you to be a slugabed. Are you sure you’re not sickening or something?

Anna struggled up, trying to appear her usual cheery self. “Of course I’m not! I must have just stayed up reading longer than I intended.”

“The state of the candle tells
that
story, miss,” said Martha with a glance at the candlestick.

Full memory rushed back and Anna winced at the thought of the story that candlestick could tell. Along with memory came anxiety. What would Lord Carne have done when he couldn’t find Maggie? Had he called in the Bow Street Runners?

One thing was certain, Anna must make sure the man never set eyes on her. She leaned back against her pillows. “Perhaps I might be catching a cold,” she said in a suffering tone. “My head aches a little …”

Martha came back to the bed and studied her. “You don’t look yourself, Miss Anna, and that’s the truth. Why, you’ve even taken off your ribbon and got your hair in a tangle. You must have been fevered in the night.” She shook her head. “You’d best stay in bed for now. I’ll bring you breakfast here and tell Lady Featherstone.”

Martha left and Anna groaned. Her hair ribbon. She’d left evidence after all!

It wasn’t a disaster, though. A candlestick was one thing, but a plain white hair ribbon could belong to anyone. It fretted her, though, so she was in danger of becoming truly ill through anxiety.

She took refuge in planning. The first thing was to stay out of sight for as long as possible, and being sick was an excellent excuse. It would be tedious, but far better than bumping into Lord Carne on the doorstep!

What was she going to do, though, if he intended more than a brief visit to his London house?

She rubbed her hands over her face. She should have known her mad behavior would lead to disaster. At the thought of what might have been, she shuddered. If that glass hadn’t been to hand, she might have been ruined beyond all repair!

To a young lady raised in the country, known by all and well-guarded, it scarce seemed credible that a chance encounter—no matter how peculiar—could have ruined her life, but it was so.

Lord Carne could have stolen her virtue by brute strength. Truth obliged her to admit that he might have managed to steal it by clever seductions.

Anna stared sightlessly at a grinning gargoyle and absorbed the fact that she had almost been seduced by a stranger.

Lady Featherstone was no believer in innocence as defense against ruin. She had informed her daughters about carnal matters, and warned them that the perils of the flesh sometimes included the temptations of pleasure. Her instruction was to avoid occasions of intimacy in case their consciences turned weak on them.