Practically Wicked (22 page)

“And quite liked it, but I’d not heard you laugh quite so freely. Nor so loudly. You laugh like a toddler.”

She sputtered a moment, dumbfounded by the comment. “I beg your pardon?”

“From here.” He stepped forward and brushed his fingers across her abdomen, taking her off guard. “You laugh from the belly. Part of why it’s so low, I think.”

His touch sent a shiver along her skin. She ignored the conflicting instincts to both step away and move closer. “I do not. It is not.”

“No need to take offense. There’s no greater laughter than that of a small child. It’s uninhibited, completely devoid of artifice. It is the unencumbered, unabashed sound of pure joy.”

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “I don’t like anyone being hurt, but I clearly enjoyed your run-in with that tree.”

“Mm-hm. It’s the surprise that did it, I think.”

“But I’m not an innocent child.”

“No, never that. Your laughter shares a few common traits, that’s all.” He grinned at her. “Just as my humor does on occasion. There’s nothing wrong with either.”

She felt herself smiling in return. “No, I suppose there’s not.”

Admittedly, if there had been, she’d likely still have let the matter go. She was in too fine a mood to go worrying over the fault in things. Why waste time on what might be wrong when it was so much more fun focusing on what was right?

And it felt ever so right to sit with Max in the grass and play with her new puppy. They tossed sticks for her to chase (which Hermia mostly ignored) and used the rope for games of tug-of-war (which Hermia mostly won) and otherwise spent the next half hour enjoying themselves immensely.

Such a simple thing, to sit in the sun, play with the puppy. Simple but not common, at least not in Anna’s experience, and she was happy to see that Max, with all his experience and sophistication, seemed equally content.

When it came time to return Hermia to her family, Max once again carried her back to the stable. “Next time, we can bring some scraps to lure her into behaving on a lead.”

Anna hid a smile at the words “next time” and “we,” and stole a glance at Max as they stepped into the shadow of the stable. He’d given her a wonderful present, an unforgettable morning. She only wished she had something to offer in return.

Perhaps she did, she mused as Max set Hermia down with her littermates. “You know, if you’d truly prefer it, I could keep your mishap between the two of us.”

He lifted a single dark brow as he walked out of the stall, closing and latching the door behind him. “That is a very generous offer.”

Anna watched Hermia take three steps, then plop to the ground for a nap. “It can be…unpleasant, to be the center of unwanted attention. I hope I did not wound your feelings by laughing so hard.”

“My feelings are far more steeled than that, love. My pride, on the other hand, will require some restorative care. Tell me I’m handsome.”

She laughed again and wondered if she’d ever had a day as fun as this.

He nodded at the sound. “I thought so.”

“What?” she asked, turning from the stall.

“You’ve a lovely sense of humor, Anna. And, I think, a fondness for silliness.”

She considered the events of the day and her reactions to them thus far. “It is possible I do.”

And wasn’t that a fine thing to learn about herself? How very unlike an Ice Maiden.

“I imagine there was little of it to be found at Anover House,” Max commented.

She blinked at that, surprised by his insightfulness. “It wasn’t common,” she admitted.

Her mother’s parties were terrifically obnoxious, nothing more. And Mrs. Culpepper, while a wonderful companion, was simply not a woman inclined to silliness.

Max nodded in understanding. “My childhood home was the same. I much preferred Caldwell Manor.”

“Did you spend a great deal of time here?”

“I did.” He glanced out one of the stable windows at the house. “Even after Lady Engsly passed and Caldwell became a less welcoming place. I still chose it over McMullin Hall.”

“Did you know the first marchioness well?”

“As well as a child can, I suppose. I knew she was a marvelous woman, a true lady. She taught me how to laugh at my mistakes rather than define myself by them or turn myself into knots dreading their consequences. And she taught me how to find the humor in every situation…She tried, rather,” he amended. “I was not as gifted a student as Gideon.”

“I’d say you fare well enough.” It wasn’t every peer of the realm who could laugh at himself for running into a tree. “She was very important to you, the marchioness,” she guessed softly.

Max didn’t immediately respond except to nod his head once. He turned from the stall and gestured her forward in an invitation to continue their walk. It wasn’t until they were clear of the stable that he spoke again.

“You asked me once why I tend toward overprotectiveness where Lucien and Gideon are concerned.”

Anna snuck a sideways glance at his face, but found she couldn’t read his expression. “You said you would tell me another time.”

He nodded, cleared his throat. “I promised Lady Engsly I would watch over her children. I made that promise to her on her deathbed.”

He couldn’t have been more than a boy at the time. “That was very selfless of you.”

“She asked it of me.”

“Asked it?” That couldn’t be right. “How old were you, exactly?”

“Not more than thirteen.”

“Good heavens.” What sort of burden was that to put on a child? Pretty flowerpots or not, the woman was an idiot.

“You would judge her for it,” Max guessed and shook his head. “Don’t. She didn’t ask for herself, or for her children. She asked it for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It gave me a purpose,” he explained. “It made me feel…trusted, valuable.”

“Didn’t you otherwise?”

“I was the second son of parents who felt they really only needed the first.”

“They were wrong.” In every way imaginable, they were wrong. “I am sorry your mother and father were not able to see your worth.”

“Ah, well.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “It’s not an uncommon story, is it? And in hindsight, I know I was valued as a friend by Lucien and Gideon, and as a brother to Beatrice, and even Reginald on occasion. But at the time, I’d felt rather…beside the point. One of Lady Engsly’s last acts was to grant me a sense of importance until I was old enough to find it on my own.”

“Which you’ve done with aplomb,” Anna teased, thinking that perhaps Lady Engsly’s request had not been wholly idiotic.

Max grinned at her. “Do you think?”

She laughed softly as a memory came to her. “Do you recall telling me I had to do what you said because you were a viscount?”

“Good Lord, no. I assume I shared that gem at Anover House?” He snorted in amusement. “I’m fair surprised you sat with me as long as you did, and that you wanted anything to do with me after. I must have been near unbearable, drunk as I was.”

“To be honest…I found you adorable. Though I am glad to see you’ve tempered that vice in the years since. That kind of behavior wouldn’t be quite so endearing if it occurred on any sort of regular basis.”

His footing faltered. “Adorable.”

“Yes, quite.”

“I see. I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.” He repeated the word quietly, as if tasting it, then made a face as if he didn’t care for the flavor. “You’ve not shared that sentiment with anyone else, have you?”

“Only Engsly,” she assured him. “He’s the one who told me you’ve tempered your drinking and—”

“
Only
Engsly? Good God, woman.” He let out a pained laugh. “Between the tree and your professed opinions of me, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He’d never hear the start of it, as she was lying. It was just so much more fun to watch him squirm than it was to speak of deathbed promises and heartless parents.

“Adorable?” he asked again, slanting her a pleading look.
“Truly?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Not handsome? Or dashing? Or wickedly charming?”

Oh, yes.
“Sorry, no.”

“Devilishly rakish?”

“You just ran into a tree.”

“Right.” He reached out and gently caught her elbow, stopping them in a small copse of trees where they were hidden from view of the house. His eyes settled on her, determined, and he took a purposeful step forward. “Right, then.”

Before she could utter a word, he slipped an arm around her, strong and sure, and pulled her close.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, the question being, of course, entirely rhetorical. A blind man could see what he was about.

He bent his head, a wicked smile playing at his lips. “Remedying a misconception,” he whispered.

And then he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers in gentle demand.

It didn’t occur to Anna to pretend maidenly affront. It might be wrong, irresponsible, and reckless, but in that moment, she didn’t care…unexpected or not, the kiss was welcome.

Rather than pull away, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him back.

And she thought,
This is wonderful
. It was even better than the kiss in the nursery, because it was a kiss she’d never thought to have again. And of course, because sobriety and four years of maturing had changed Max from a boy who could turn over a girl’s heart with charm and sweetness to a man who could devastate a woman with confidence and skill.

Anna grabbed handfuls of his coat and pulled him closer. She felt wicked and free and terribly impatient. As wonderful as the kiss was, she wanted more. She wanted him closer, his grip tighter, her hands moving over him faster. And she rather thought she was going to get what she wanted, which was why she was stunned when Max pulled his lips from her suddenly. He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers briefly dug into her shoulders, and then he released her and stepped away.

Anna stayed where she was, breathless and dazed while Max planted his hands on his hips and bowed his head in the manner of one catching his breath.

She licked her lips, found them pleasantly tender. “Why did you stop?”

His gaze snapped up, hard and disbelieving. “You’d rather I hadn’t?”

Yes. No.
“I don’t know.”

He swore softly. “I’d rather I hadn’t.”

Then why the devil had he? “Well—”

“You should return to the house.”

“I…” She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. Had she done something wrong? Was he already regretting the kiss? “Are you sorry?”

He looked taken aback by the question. “I’ll beg your pardon, if you feel it’s necessary—”

“No, not that sort of sorry.”

“Oh. No.” His features softened, just a little. “No, love. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry in any sense of the word.”

“Good.” She squared her shoulders, tipped up her chin. “Good. Because I’m not either.” And to prove it, she stepped forward and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

She felt him go taut and still. His breath was hot against her cheek as the moment stretched out and the tension between them built anew. “It’s time for you to go, Anna.”

Pulling back, she took a careful look at him. His jaw was locked tight, his nostrils were flared, his breathing had not yet fully settled. He was, she realized, still quite wound up. And God forgive her, she liked knowing it.

Damned right
he wasn’t sorry about kissing her.

His eyes dropped to her mouth and stayed there. “Go inside now, Anna.”

She nodded. She didn’t want to leave, particularly, but if Max needed time alone, she could surely grant him that courtesy.

“Until this evening, then,” she murmured and, with one last smile, turned and left.

Max stared at Anna’s retreating back and thought that
this
was what it meant to regret one’s ambitions.

He was acquiring Anna’s trust and friendship, just as he’d hoped. But they were coming along faster than anticipated, which was both a pleasant surprise and a worrisome development. He wasn’t completely certain what he wanted from her yet. Nor did he have the slightest idea what she hoped to gain from him. And until he had a firm grasp of expectations, it was madness to continue forward at their current pace.

He was no longer five-and-twenty, foxed, angry at the world, and willing to propose after a half hour’s acquaintance.

He was now nine-and-twenty, completely sober, and ready to pull a lady down on the grass like a maniac.
Then
propose to her.

Max dragged a hand through his hair. They needed time, the both of them. There was no need to rush things along. He wasn’t off for the continent with his regiment. She wasn’t besieged by suitors and marriage proposals.

He wasn’t a bloody maniac.

But damn if he didn’t love the taste of her mouth and that tantalizing warmth that had seeped through her gown to his hands. The rush of desire that had come the moment he’d touched her had taken him by surprise. The wave of need that followed had nearly swamped his control.

Max rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He didn’t like losing control.

A little time and space to think things through before he pressed forward, that’s what he needed. Two or three days to clear his mind and plan a sensible course of action.

Probably just the two, he decided, watching the seductive sway of Anna’s hips as she climbed the terrace steps. He wasn’t planning a military campaign, after all. Two days was plenty. More than, really.

Anna glanced over her shoulder just once, before disappearing inside the house.

Maybe one day was long enough. A solid twenty-four hours. That way, he’d miss dinner and two morning strolls. It was ample time to work things through to his satisfaction and, hopefully, everyone’s benefit.

At the very least, it was time enough to shore up what was left of his self-control.

 
 
Chapter 14