Retreat From Love (28 page)

“So, you are brilliant when it comes to financial matters?” Anne asked Brett, catching a drop of wine on the tip of her finger as it slid down the side of her glass. She sucked the drop off while Brett watched avidly from a comfortable armchair he’d 140

Retreat From Love

pulled over next to her. The chair was covered in orange upholstery with large cream flowers on it. The delicate nature of the chair emphasized his overt masculinity as Brett sprawled there. His legs were stretched out and crossed on a yellow ottoman, his cravat undone and tossed aside, his jacket and waistcoat unbuttoned. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and his cheek was pressed against his fist as he smiled at her. Anne smiled at him suggestively and sucked the finger longer than she needed to. Brett’s small smile brought out the slashing dimple in his cheek and the hunger in his eyes.

The cleft in his chin seemed darker, deeper, dangerous, mysterious. Freddy wanted to dip his tongue into it and taste the heat and hunger of him.

Brett shrugged modestly at Anne’s question. He took a drink of his own wine and licked the rim clean when he was done. Freddy saw Anne’s eyes darken as she stared at his mouth. Freddy’s own mouth watered at the two of them as they worked themselves into a fine state of arousal for him.

“He is beyond brilliant, my dear,” Freddy assured her as he leaned forward and set his glass down on the table beside him. He sat at the other end of the sofa from Anne.

He could feel the heat of her unshod feet as they pressed close to his thigh. He wasn’t sure what it was about Anne’s feet. He wanted to rub them, massage them and then let Anne rub him all over with those feet. The thought had his cock stirring with interest.

Well, that would wait for another time. He had other plans this evening. He forced his mind back to the conversation.

“Brett has made himself a tidy fortune, darling. He was being quite modest the other day. He has also made fortunes for several of our friends. He plays the Exchange as if it were a chess game. It is the one thing that has interested him since he returned from the war.”

“Not the only thing,” Brett murmured. Freddy glanced over at him and was

arrested by Brett’s intense gaze, focused on Freddy. Freddy suddenly found it difficult to think and breathe at the same time. Did Brett mean what he thought he meant? That he’d been interested in Freddy? But he hadn’t been, although it appeared that might be changing.

Anne groaned in mock despair. “Ugh, I hate chess. I can’t figure out the moves. My father despaired. He and Uncle Ash used to spend hours playing, do you remember, Freddy? Although Uncle Ash swore he never would have won if my mother hadn’t come around periodically to take pity on him and whisper the right moves in his ear.”

Brett laughed, his dimple flashing again, his white teeth gleaming in the

candlelight, the little lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling attractively. Freddy was mesmerized. Had he ever seen Brett laugh like that?

“Well, it is similar to chess, actually. There’s a great deal of strategy involved, anticipating certain moves, gambling on investments the same way you gamble when you attempt to check your opponent’s queen.” Brett sounded as if he were going to go into a long explanation. He leaned over the arm of his chair and set his glass on the floor.

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Anne held up a hand and rolled her eyes. “Stop right there. I am lost already.”

Freddy laughed at the consternation on Brett’s face.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I didn’t mean to drone on.” Brett’s look was sheepish.

“I didn’t give you the opportunity to drone,” Anne said with a grin. “So no apologies are necessary.”

“So you don’t like chess?” Freddy asked innocently. He was delighted. Anne and Brett had followed his lead beautifully.

Anne was sipping her wine and shook her head as she swallowed. “Mm, no, I’m afraid not. Why? Were you planning on a chess session this evening?” Her smile was teasing, a come-hither grin that challenged.

Freddy responded to her challenge. “No. I had another game in mind.”

Anne started to take another drink but Brett leaned forward and plucked the wineglass from her hand. He set it down next to his own. “I have a feeling, Anne, that neither of us can afford to drink more if we are going to play Freddy’s games.”

Anne looked taken aback. “Really? Why? What kind of games does Freddy like?”

Brett laughed again. “The kind that requires dexterity and sensitivity, as well as a clear head,” Brett told her, but he was looking at Freddy. His look scorched Freddy right down to his Hessians. Oh yes, Freddy had plans to play with Brett too. “Although I can’t really be sure. I’ve only ever played with Freddy two times.”

“Only ever played with him two times? Whatever are you talking about, Brett?”

Anne asked in confusion. “You’ve known him for over five years. Surely you’ve played games together?”

“Not this kind.” Freddy spoke from where he sat at the end of the sofa, one arm draped across the back, the other resting on the arm. His legs were crossed, and he still had his damn cravat on. He hadn’t trusted himself to start undressing as Brett had.

Freddy had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he’d been in no hurry to rush the evening to its inevitable conclusion. He was glad they’d talked for hours, learned more about one another. It had reaffirmed his goals. They were meant to be together, Brett and Anne and Freddy. Now he just had to convince these two.

Anne blinked several times as understanding dawned. “Oh those kinds of games. I should like to play those kinds of games.” She sounded as thrilled as a child presented with a gaily wrapped package and Freddy knew this was the kind of gift she craved, this excitement, this heady air of expectation and desire.

“I’m very glad to hear you’re in a playful mood,” Freddy said with a grin. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around Anne’s foot. He kept the friendly smile on his face.

“The first rule is Anne has to be naked.”

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December 27, 1811

Anne,

Your gifts arrived. I am stunned that you have remembered me so. I hold the handkerchief in
my hand and can hardly believe that the last hand that held it was yours. The embroidery is
beautiful, Anne. Bertie was very impressed. He said you were never one for sitting at needlework
for long, tedious hours. And yet you did it for us. For me. I trace the delicately wrought initials,
the ivy pattern and the flowers, so small and perfect. You did this for me. Someday I will do you
a turn, Anne. I will repay your kindness.

The greatest miracle of all in a season of miracles was your letter, Anne. When Bertie read it
aloud, and I heard my name there in the salutation, I didn’t know what to say or do. I am trying
not to hope too much. But I cannot help it. All my hopes, all my dreams, they reside with you
now, Anne. Bertie’s laughter at your greeting, his humorous comment about learning to share
lodgings in your heart, which is bigger than our tent, I couldn’t breathe for the hope choking me.

It’s too much. I want too much.

Brett

* * * * *

“Naked?” Anne laughed. “Who made these rules?” She stood up, and Freddy

regretted the loss of her foot, but not for long. She turned her back to Brett. “Undo me?”

she asked playfully. Brett started to stand.

“No,” Freddy said, his fingers playing along the seam of the sofa cushion. He was thrilled when Brett stopped halfway out of his chair and then slowly sat back down.

“It would appear that Freddy is making the rules.” He looked at Freddy with narrowed eyes. “For now.”

Freddy smiled at them both. God, he wanted them, and he wanted them on his terms. He’d played their games, he’d done it their way, he’d given them what they asked for. It was his turn.

“The second rule is Brett can’t touch Anne until Freddy says he can.” Freddy waited with bated breath for Brett’s response.

Anne’s came first. She laughed out loud and clapped her hands in glee. “Oh I love it, Freddy! Is this game called torture Brett?”

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Brett’s eyes narrowed even more. His face tightened, his cheekbones becoming more prominent, his nose a little flatter across the bridge as his nostrils flared, his lips thinning even as he fought a smile. “I’m not sure I like this game.”

Anne laughed harder and Freddy let a very satisfied smile settle on his mouth.

“Freddy,” Brett drawled warningly. Freddy ignored him.

“We are all going to enjoy this game,” Freddy told Anne. “Now come here and let me get you naked.” He gestured languidly with one hand as he uncrossed his legs and indicated Anne was to stand between his knees. She came with delightful alacrity and stood docilely while he made short work of the fastening on her dress. He slid the dress off her shoulders and followed it down her arms, pushing the sleeves off over her hands. With a lingering caress he ran his hands back up her arms and over her shoulders, making Anne shiver.

Very gently Freddy ran just the tips of his fingers down between her shoulder blades and she broke out in gooseflesh.

“Freddy,” she murmured in a satisfyingly shaky voice. “Finally. I thought you’d never touch me.”

Standing, Freddy leaned forward and kissed the bump of her backbone right above the edge of her petticoat. He pushed the dress down until it pooled at her feet and he helped her step out of it and then removed her slippers. He stood behind her again.

“Never?” He ran his fingers down her back again until they found the laces of her petticoat. “It’s only been two days, Anne. Surely not that long.”

“It’s been a lifetime.” Anne shifted restlessly. “I want you two touching me all the time.”

“I can’t,” Brett said with real regret in his voice. “Freddy won’t let me.”

Freddy looked away from the silken skin and delicate vertebrae of Anne’s back to see Brett’s hands holding on to the armrests of his chair. His pose was still negligent, but Freddy could see the tension in the corners of his eyes. Freddy turned his attention back to Anne. He leaned forward and licked the same bump he’d kissed a moment ago.

Anne’s breathing grew faster with each caress. He let his tongue travel along her spine, over and down each exposed vertebra. Anne let out a little whimper.

“You’ll love this game, Brett,” Freddy told him softly, pulling the laces of Anne’s petticoat loose. Anne raised her arms and Freddy pulled the garment off. He set it on the sofa and immediately reached down and pulled her chemise off as well.

Brett groaned as Anne’s torso was bared. She stood in nothing but stockings and garters, and Freddy grew hard looking at her. He couldn’t even see her breasts yet, although Brett could. Freddy was aroused just by her back. It was long and shapely, her waist curving in, her full hips swelling outward just past the dimples in her lower back.

His gaze ran down her back as if it were the slope of a hillside, until he reached the rounded globes of her bottom, full and high and luscious. He sat back down and cupped the right cheek gently and kneaded it, and then he ran his thumb lightly down the shadowed crease. Her whole body shook.

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“Do that again,” Brett whispered.

Freddy did, and Anne moaned as she shuddered.

“Christ,” Brett said roughly. “Her breasts shake when she does that, when you do that. Her nipples are so hard it looks painful.”

“They are painful,” Anne said weakly. “I would very much like someone to soothe them.”

“Freddy?”

Brett’s voice was hopeful. Freddy grinned evilly. “No.” He left his hand on Anne’s bottom and placed the other on her bare stomach. “Anne, pinch your nipples. Show Brett how you like it done.”

“Oh God,” Anne moaned. Brett’s answering curse told Freddy Anne was doing as she was told. Freddy ran both hands down Anne’s sides, starting at her shoulders and then following the curves and slopes down to her hips. “Freddy.” She sounded so weak, so helpless, so aroused it was all Freddy could do to keep to his original plan and not throw her down and fuck her right then.

“Spread your legs, Anne.” Freddy held up a hand and Anne grabbed it for support as she did as she was told.

“Jesus Christ, Freddy,” Brett gasped as Freddy shoved a hand between her legs.

Anne moaned and moved on his hand.

“I do believe Anne likes this game, Brett.” Freddy loosened his hold on her mound, drawing his hand back slowly. He traced his forefinger along the dark hot crease separating the cheeks of her gorgeous behind again.

“Freddy,” she begged, “please.”

“Do you see how she likes her nipples to be touched, Brett?” Freddy asked. Freddy was hoping that seeing another man touch her, being denied the right to touch her himself, would bring Brett to his senses. But in the heat of the moment, Freddy was losing sight of his original intent. He found himself enjoying both their torment too much. He liked being the one to touch, to drive them mad, to arouse them, to dictate their pleasure.

Brett chose that moment to change the rules.

“Like this?” Brett’s voice was husky. Anne had never heard him sound like that. It was a decadent sound, aroused and powerful. She’d heard him desperate, but this wasn’t desperate. This was deliberate, and it skated over her skin with a shiver. Behind her Freddy was frozen for a moment. She looked over at Brett and what she saw made her moan out loud. Her sex felt as if her heart had slid down to rest right there between her legs, pounding mercilessly.

Brett still lay sprawled in the chair, but his jacket and waistcoat were spread wide, as was the neck of his shirt. His shirt was pulled down to expose the right side of his chest. He was pinching his nipple roughly. He let go and the small, brown point was 145

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hard, surrounded by a dark brown circle almost lost in the swirl of his dark chest hair.

He ran his index finger around his nipple, through the hair, and then pinched it again, between his thumb and his middle finger, pinching and rolling. He pulled on it, and the pleasure made him moan as his head fell back against the chair.