Sally MacKenzie Bundle (250 page)

He kissed her cheek. “Sounds like a dreadfully dull topic, but I’ll try to listen if you wish to talk.” His mouth hovered over hers. “Open for me, will you?” he whispered.

He did not mean her mouth.

Where was Harry when she needed him? With his head hanging out in the wind, silly dog. He was a terrible chaperone.

“Please, Anne?” He slipped his fingers between her thighs. His eyes were deep blue pools of temptation.

And she was a terrible, needy woman. She parted her legs.

His large, warm palm slid slowly, tantalizingly, up the inside of her thigh.

“We are in public.” Sadly, her body didn’t seem to care where they were, but her mind was still fighting.

“We are in my coach.”

“Someone could see us.”

“No one is looking, and it is not so easy to see inside a coach.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “We will be most discreet.”

Discreet! Good God, they were being anything but that. Her knees were exposed, and Stephen’s hand was under her skirts. But he was correct—no one was looking. Traffic proceeded placidly along on the roadway, completely oblivious to the scandalous goings on in this vehicle.

“And what would be the penalty if we were discovered? We are already betrothed.”

“Um.” The small spark of rational thought that still struggled to make itself heard in her sensation-drugged brain begged to differ with the man’s assessment of the situation, but that voice was easy to ignore, especially as her poor body was begging most strenuously for her to allow his hand higher. A certain spot was weeping, it was so frustrated.

His thumb was now drawing circles on her bare skin.

She spread her legs a little wider.

His eyes, still looking into hers, got bluer—and hotter—as his palm slid up another inch. His fingers were
so
close. He reached the very top of her thigh—and stopped.

She was panting. Just an inch—less than an inch. She needed him to move just the smallest measure of space toward her center. If he only touched her
there
, she’d explode like she had last night. She tilted her hips, twisting, trying to move him closer. She whimpered.

“Now, Anne?”

Words were far beyond her abilities. She nodded.

He moved, brushing his fingers lightly over the hard little point, once, twice—and then the now familiar waves of intense pleasure radiated through her. She clung to him so she wouldn’t be washed away entirely; he covered her mouth with his to muffle the little noises she made until the last wave passed and she collapsed against him.

“Oh.” She couldn’t move. She should feel embarrassed—Stephen’s hand was still covering her under her skirts—but she was far too satiated to feel anything but deeply, oddly content. She lifted her head—it took more effort than it should—and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Mmm.” Far more than all right.

She dropped her head back to his chest and listened to the clop of horse hooves, the rattle of carriage wheels, the steady, comforting sound of his breathing. She never wanted to move again.

Finally he cupped her chin, turning her face up to his. “I’m very glad I seem to have stolen away your senses, my love, but you need to try to return to the present now. We are approaching the Tower.”

“What?”

He grinned, but she thought his eyes looked a little tense as he slipped his hand out from under her skirts, brushing them back into place. He flinched a bit when he moved as if he were in pain . . .

She looked down at his breeches.

“Oh, you poor man.” She reached for him.

He dodged her hand. “Don’t.”

“Why not? You must be most uncomfortable.”

He smiled rather tightly. “It will pass.”

“But can’t I—” She reached for him again, but he captured her hand in his. “But you’re so . . . stiff. Surely I can help if you’ll just tell me what to do.”

“What you need to do is change the subject. Shall we discuss our siblings in the other coach?”

“What?”

He shifted gingerly on the seat. “You remember Nick and Evie—my brother and your sister? They’re in the carriage behind us.”

“Oh, yes, well—”

Harry started barking wildly. He looked as if he were going to squirm through the window.

“Harry!” Anne grabbed his leash. “What is it?”

“Damn.” Stephen was looking out the other window.

“What? Are we not at the Tower?”

“Oh, we’re there all right.” He sat back and dropped his head into his hands. “And so are my parents.”

Chapter 15

“Your parents!” Anne gaped at him. “As in your mother and father?”

“Yes, of course.” He ran an expert eye over her. He’d done a good job of keeping her clothing and hair in order, and the shock of his parents’ arrival seemed to be draining away her heightened color.

Something needed to drain the blood from his poor cock or his father, if not his mother as well, would immediately discern what he’d been doing. Damn these tight breeches and cutaway coats. He’d have to hide behind Anne’s skirts. “What did you imagine—I sprang from the ground fully formed?”

His tone was sharper than he’d intended, but frustrated desire was making him tetchy.

“Aren’t they in the country?”

“Obviously not.” He had to get a grip on his emotions. It wasn’t Anne’s fault Mama and Da had tracked him down. He should have waited at his rooms for them, but who’d have thought they’d follow him to the Tower?

Heh. How appropriate. If only he were here to have his head chopped off.

“What will they think of me?” Anne had clearly moved from shock to panic. That would be all he needed.

“They will love you, Anne. Why wouldn’t they?” He’d swear he could see the whites of her eyes, as if she were a horse ready to bolt.

“I’m Crazy Crane’s daughter. I haven’t been brought out; I’ve never been to London before; I have no polish. I’m old.” Her lovely voice was thin and rising; she was talking too fast to breathe properly. “And I was just doing”—she turned beet red again, damn it—“what I was doing with you.”

He forced aside his sexual frustration and tried to speak soothingly. “No one can tell by looking at you what we’ve been doing.” What they could tell by looking at him was a different affair, but fortunately his dimensions were finally shrinking. “Just smile and try not to look guilty.”

He should have left off the bit about not looking guilty. She flushed again.

“Truly, you have nothing to worry about.” He laughed. “Though you might try not to glare at me.”

“I’m not glaring at you!”

He elected not to argue the point. “Anne, my mother will be over the moon I’m engaged. I’ve just turned thirty, and my older brother and younger sister are both married and have presented her with grandchildren. She was hounding me at my nephew’s christening to find a bride; in fact she made it painfully clear she planned to turn her full attention to my marital status as soon as possible. Your appearance has saved her a great deal of trouble, I assure you.”

“But the odd circumstances of our betrothal! That
must
cause her dismay.”

“Not at all. You know our family specializes in odd circumstances and scandalous marriages. Jane was enceinte when she wed Motton, and John had compromised Meg many times over. The tittle-tattle was in all the papers.”

She flushed again, but not so violently. “Yes, it was.”

“So there you are; the manner of our betrothal was almost expected.”

She didn’t look completely convinced, but at least she had calmed down—as, thankfully, had his cock. There was no time to say anything else in any event. The coach was finally swaying to a stop. Harry had his nose to the door.

“Sit, sir,” Stephen said. “I cannot let you out if you crowd me so.”

Harry obligingly backed away. Stephen closed the window, and then opened the door and let down the steps.

“Stay,” he commanded as Harry tried to bolt.

He climbed out and reached back to help Anne. Harry scrambled down behind her. Nick, Evie, and the boys had already got out, and Nick, good man, was occupying Mama and Da with introductions.

“How did they find you?” Anne whispered as Harry tried to tug her over to the group.

“I imagine my valet told them where I was going. They’d stopped by my rooms earlier, but I was out.”

Mama must have had one eye on their coach, because she turned almost immediately to smile at them, her sharp eyes missing nary a detail. Thank God his male organ had finally resumed its normal proportions. He saw Da put a hand on her arm to keep her from rushing toward them.

“Here we go then. Don’t be nervous,” he muttered to Anne. He was the one who was nervous. He led her over to his parents, feeling a bit as if he were Daniel and they were the lions.

“Mama, Da, what a surprise.”

Mama’s brows dropped and she gave him one of her looks. All right, yes, it was a silly thing to have said, but he was fresh out of witty conversational gambits.

“I don’t know why you should be surprised; I’m sure Nicholas told you we were in Town.”

“Ah.” He couldn’t very well deny it with Nick standing right there. “Yes, well, in any event, let me make known to you Lady Anne Marston, the Earl of Crane’s daughter.” He turned to Anne. “Anne, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Parker-Roth.”

“And who might this be?” Da asked. Harry was sniffing his boots and breeches.

“That’s our dog, Harry, sir,” Philip said. “He’s quite friendly.”

“I can see that.”

“We are taking him for a romp in the park after we’ve visited the menagerie.”

“The menagerie, eh? I haven’t seen the menagerie in years,” Da said. “May we join you?”

“Of course, sir,” Philip said. He and the others started up the path to the Lion Tower. Mama stayed with Stephen and Anne.

“Are your father and stepmother here in London with you, Lady Anne?” Mama asked.

She must know they weren’t; Stephen felt sure she’d ferreted out every detail of Anne’s visit to Town the moment she’d learned of their engagement.

“No.” Did Anne sound the slightest bit bitter? “My father and Lady Crane are currently in Greece, investigating a new discovery of antiquities. But my cousin, Miss Clorinda Strange, is acting as our chaperone—or, my sister’s chaperone. I am far too old to require her services.”

“Oh, yes, I can see you are indeed ancient.” Mama laughed. “Don’t be nonsensical, Lady Anne. You are in the prime of your life.”

Anne flushed. “Oh, no. That is, I’m twenty-seven. Quite on the shelf.”

Mama raised her brows in a manner that clearly said, “Are you a complete cabbage-head?” “Perhaps you
were
on the shelf, my dear; now I understand you are betrothed to my son.”

Anne’s flush deepened. Her mouth opened and closed twice, and then a determined look entered her eyes. Damn. She was going to tell Mama the complete story. He couldn’t let her do that.

He put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm and squeezed gently. She glared at him, her mouth opening once more. He squeezed harder. Her eyes narrowed, but at least she snapped her lips closed.

He felt Mama scrutinizing them. She must suspect something—with six children she had perfected her ability to sniff out even the slightest whiff of subterfuge—but at least she couldn’t know exactly what was amiss.

“Yes, indeed, Mama. Lady Anne has made me the happiest of men.”

“This is somewhat sudden, isn’t it?” Mama directed her question to Anne, obviously having concluded she would have far more success extracting the truth from her.

“Yes and no.” Stephen spoke quickly to forestall Anne’s reply. “We met years ago at a house party. I was too young to consider marriage then, but I couldn’t banish Anne from my thoughts.” Mama’s eyes widened. It
was
quite a plumper to swallow, but Mama was a romantic at heart—perhaps she wouldn’t choke on it. “When I saw her again, I had to propose.” He smiled and delivered his winning thrust. “I grant you, I was a bit impetuous, but I’m definitely old enough to marry, as you were just telling me at Jack’s christening.” He grinned. “So you see you are at least partly responsible for our betrothal, Mama.”

Mama nodded, acknowledging a direct hit, but she was a fighter where her children were concerned. She wouldn’t give up easily. “At whose house party did you meet?”

“Baron Gedding’s.”

Mama’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you were on intimate terms with the baron.”

“One doesn’t need to be on intimate terms with one’s host to get an invitation.”

“I don’t remember you ever attending such a gathering.”

He raised his own brows. “I hesitate to inform you, Mama, but I’ve attended many gatherings of which you are not aware.”

She frowned and pressed her lips together. To give her her due, she had never tried to keep any of her children in leading strings. She might not be completely happy about it, but she recognized her sons needed their freedom, and though she kept her ears open for any gossip that came her way, she didn’t actively seek it out or pry into their personal affairs.

She looked at Anne again. “And were you also taken with my son?”

Anne blushed. “Oh, yes.”

Zeus, she sounded sincere; Stephen hadn’t thought her that accomplished an actress.

Was
she acting? Could she possibly have developed a tendre for him? An odd, warm feeling started in the vicinity of his heart.

He shook himself mentally. He’d started believing their Banbury tale. He’d not actually been at Gedding’s gathering; he hadn’t met Anne before their encounter in Hyde Park. Of course she had no special feelings for him.

The warmth faded, leaving behind a cold, irritable feeling. As cork-brained as he admitted it was, he wished Anne truly was in love with him.

Nick walked toward them, almost dragging Harry barking insistently behind him.

“My heavens, what is all the commotion about, Nicholas?” Mama asked.

“Harry took exception to the lions, I’m afraid.”

Stephen laughed. “Perhaps he thinks they are merely overgrown versions of Lady Dunlee’s cat, Miss Whiskers.”

“Lady Dunlee!” Mama grimaced. “Surely you haven’t been associating with that woman?”