The Beautiful One (22 page)

She lifted a hand tentatively to her throat. “Well, really, my lord.” She didn't know how long she'd manage to keep from laughing, but she conjured a straight face and reached slowly and a bit awkwardly around behind her and undid the top button in back.

She brought her hands in front of her and clasped them.

“On consideration, I don't believe, actually, my lord, that this is within my duties.”

“It is. Governesses are expected to undertake other duties as assigned. Kneel down so I can undo the others.”

“Perhaps this would be easier if you spoke in French, my lord. I'm used to speaking French during lessons.”

He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her, which was ridiculously haughty since he was beneath her, sitting, and she repressed a grin. Sighing with put-upon resignation, she turned and knelt in front of him, and he undid each of the tiny buttons marching down her back. She smiled as she heard a muttered comment about the miniscule size of the buttons, and then he was done.

She stood up and turned and pulled the neckline wide, letting the gown fall. At his quick intake of breath, a thrill ran through her.

“The corset.”

Very slowly, she worked at the ties fastening her corset, then stilled her hands. “I'm feeling cold. I have a thick gray wrap in my room. Perhaps I should go get it.”

“I will warm you up.” His voice held a husky note that made little flames lick through her. She finished loosening the corset and it dropped to the floor, which left her wearing only her chemise.

“Come here,” he said. Slowly, her eyes locked on his dark gaze and her mouth curled up with irrepressible mirth. She moved toward him. He uncrossed his arms.

“Sit.”

She looked down at his bent legs, the thigh muscles long and hard under the soft fabric of his breeches. “I don't think there's room.”

He caught her hand and pulled her forward so that she stood straddled over his legs, making her chemise ride up the outside of her legs. When he tugged her down, her naked bottom came against his thighs, and he groaned. Beneath her legs, he was warm and hard and incredible.

Will grabbed the hem of Anna's chemise and pulled it up over her body and tossed it away. He wanted her totally naked. The rise of her breasts was before him, the soft, petite mounds irresistible, and he pressed his face against them, his cock aching. She had just about unmanned him with her governess act, and now he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her.

He'd left a French letter on the bedside table when he'd come to tidy the place earlier. He was determined to marry her, and he desperately wanted to make love to her properly. But it would be her decision.

He rubbed his face against her breasts and kissed them lavishly, smiling when he heard her sounds of pleasure. Dragging his lips along her skin, he came to her nipple and closed his mouth over it.

“Oh, my lord!”

He smiled.

They were both breathing loudly in the quiet room, caught up in the growing passion between them. She tugged at the fastening to his breeches, and they opened to release him.

Her slim fingers gripped him, and he shuddered with need. He wanted to touch her everywhere, now. He pushed his hand between her legs and found her hot and wet. She moaned softly as he rubbed her.

“I want you like this. Open to me,” he said.

She writhed as he slipped his fingers among her folds, and kissed her neck, her cheeks, and her soft mouth. He wanted to drink her in, all of her.

She pressed herself against his fingers, but he teased her, going everywhere but the sweet place where she wanted him, until he relented and rubbed the magic little spot. Her helpless sounds of pleasure only made him burn hotter.

And then she did something that was so unexpected, so adventurous, he'd never even allowed himself to imagine it. She leaned back a little, bent downward, and kissed him. Opened her mouth and took him inside.

He nearly lost his mind. “Sweet heaven, Anna—”

He pushed his hand into her hair, clutching the silky black cascade as he groaned with almost unbearable pleasure. Tentatively, she swirled her soft tongue over him, and he nearly exploded.

She pressed her lips lightly against his length. “Perhaps the viscount has things to learn as well,” she said. “What shall we call lesson number one?”

“Playing with fire,” he ground out, gently pulling her up to kiss her. “We'll explore that more later.”

He stood up with her in his arms and put her on the chair while he stepped out of his trousers and ripped off his shirt. Both of them were utterly naked, at last.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he laid her. The moonlight shimmered in her eyes and draped her in silver and shadow, his beautiful, adventurous Anna.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, sitting down next to her. “So badly. I'm burning for you.”

“I…want that too,” she said, and he could almost hear her blushing. “But I can't take the chance of creating a baby.”

“What if we weren't taking that chance?” And then, while he slid his hands over her hips and traced the curve of her waist and kissed her nipples until she was shuddering, he told her about French letters.

“Yes,” she gasped when he'd finished, and he was thrilled to hear the eagerness in her voice.

“Thank God,” he said hoarsely. “But there's something else I need to do first.”

“What could you possibly…” she started to say, sitting up, but he gently pushed her back down and positioned himself to kiss the insides of each pretty knee. He moved higher, nudging her legs wider, and she writhed, moaning incoherently, and clutched the top of his head.

“Wait,” she murmured. “You can't—”

“Can and shall,” he said, and took possession of her. As he used his tongue to push her to the edge, her sounds of pleasure made him nearly delirious with desire.

Anna was desperately close to finding her release when Will took his mouth away.

“Please,” she whispered, needing him with an urgency that shocked her.

But he took his time, kissing across her belly until she was grinding her teeth and panting.

“Will,” she ground out, and he laughed, but it was a very husky laugh. He reached for the table, and then he was putting on the French letter.

He climbed over her and settled between her legs, and she could feel him at her entrance. He looked into her eyes, and she thought he was going to linger there too, until she lost her mind.

“Please. Now.”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't,” she said fiercely. “Do it quickly, and that part will be over.”

A sweet, hot, possessive light burned in his eyes. “Anna,” he said, his voice catching as though her name did something to him. “You
would
refuse to be fragile.”

And then he honored her wish and came into her in one quick thrust. It hurt for only a moment, making the pleasure that had been building flee, but then he began to move and the pleasure built again, and more.

He felt like absolute heaven—hot, real heaven. He stroked her until she burst into a shower of stars. Wonder washed over her, along with a feeling of timelessness.

Once, twice more he plunged into her, then he finally gave a strangled cry as he found his own release and collapsed on top of her.

They lay panting together as though having just returned from a run up a mountain. After a few minutes, he rolled off her and did something with the French letter.

He handed her a handkerchief and she tidied herself up, then he lay down behind her and pulled her to him.

Lying nestled in his arms, Anna had never felt so complete in her life. So utterly filled, so deeply joined. No use looking away from such a bone-deep truth anymore: she loved him.

She'd never felt more alive than she had since she'd come to know him. He'd opened her eyes to so much she hadn't known was missing: playfulness, pleasure, confidence in herself as a woman, a feeling of being valued for herself. She was so grateful to him.

But the love she felt for him was bittersweet, because she knew that for him this was just affectionate fun.

Yes, he'd offered her marriage, and she
could
say she'd changed her mind and agree to be his wife. But their marriage would be a disaster. He'd been clear that it would only be a partnership; doubtless from his perspective, a very agreeable one, but she couldn't be playful with her heart. Just thinking about what it would be like to marry him when he didn't love her felt like falling toward the dark, hollow depths of a bottomless cavern.

And even if she'd wanted a future of heartache for herself, she still couldn't marry him—that book of drawings was in the process of thoroughly and publicly ruining her, and she could never allow him to be part of the disaster it would bring.

He stirred and pushed the hair away from the back of her neck. “I never knew how much fun a governess could be. We ought to come out here every night.”

She smiled even as a lump formed in her throat, and allowed herself to savor the wonderful sensation of being in his arms. Tears blurred her vision as his breathing fell softly against her neck. She blinked away the wetness and forced her quivering mouth into a straight line.

“As the only sensible person here,” she said as lightly as she could, “I must point out that it won't be night forever, and it's rather a walk back to our proper bedchambers.”

“Spoilsport,” he said, and kissed her neck again. But they did get up and dress. Their lovemaking seemed to have robbed them of words, or perhaps, Anna thought with a pang, it had already expressed everything that could be said.

They walked back to the manor almost silently. Under the weeping willow by the terrace, she kissed him quickly and whispered good night.

Will sat at his desk in the library the next day going over accounts he should have saved for the evening so he could accomplish some work at the cottages while the sun was shining. But he didn't feel like going to the cottages, where there wasn't much left to finish. Although
someone
had brought the Willow Glen sign out to the hamlet and left it there.

He didn't feel like paying attention to the accounts in front of him either—instead, he was focused on the terrace outside the French doors, which had been opened to the noontime air of a gentle summer day. Anna and Lizzie and Judith had arranged themselves out there with plates of sandwiches and tea, which they were nibbling in between various pursuits.

He could hear snatches of their conversation, the soft tones coming to him like a random melody. Judith sat at one table with the tea and food and a pile of envelopes, while Anna and Lizzie sat at another. Anna's head was slightly bent as she listened to Lizzie reciting French verbs, and she was rhythmically petting Tristan, who had come to stand beside her. Lucky beast.

Last night at the folly had been incredible. Anna had been so open to him and to the pleasure they created together. One more interlude ought surely to be enough to change her mind about what fine partners they'd make in marriage. When he asked again, it would be a proper proposal she wouldn't be able to resist. He'd do it tonight.

He put down his quill and rested his chin in his hand and surrendered to watching the women.

After a bit Lizzie got up and went to Judith's table for some tea, and Judith smiled up at her in a way that was so familiar to Will from his youth. She'd tried so hard to win him over when he was younger, and he'd felt so justified in not respecting the woman who'd tempted his vulnerable father.

She didn't seem like such a villain anymore. She, like Anna, had pushed him to accept Lizzie. Judith was the one who'd forced his hand over the ball, and though her purpose had been to urge him toward matrimony, she'd also insisted on how important it could be for Lizzie, and she was right.

He thought about how harshly he'd judged Judith for what she and his father had done when his mother was dying. Their affair had been wrong, but human, and considering all he'd experienced in the last year, he realized he didn't feel comfortable judging them anymore.

He felt a little ashamed now as he acknowledged that, at nineteen, he couldn't allow himself to be angry at the only parent he had left, and so he'd hated Judith. She hadn't deserved having such a concentrated force of enmity directed at her.

He supposed in some ways that, having looked at her through a poisoned lens all these years, he didn't really know her at all. And he probably never would. Tommy still didn't know she'd been their father's mistress. He still thought that their parents had had a perfect marriage, and Will didn't see why Tommy or Lizzie or anyone else should ever have to know otherwise. It was just better that way.

He sighed and returned to the columns of figures before him.

* * *

Anna was listening to Lizzie's verb recitation and trying not to look in the direction of the man seated at the desk inside the library.

“It's a regular
ir
verb, Lizzie,” Anna said, waiting for Lizzie to come upon the correct form of the French verb “to finish.” She sipped her tea.

Lizzie nibbled a piece of gingerbread and pondered. “
Tu
finisses
?”

“
Oui
,” Anna said.

Tommy emerged then, coming from the direction of the stable, his windblown hair indicating that he'd been for a ride. Anna sensed Lizzie stiffening as he neared the terrace and wondered anew at the way the two of them had behaved at breakfast that morning. They'd obviously been avoiding speaking to each other, as if they'd had some sort of argument. But what could they have had to argue about?

Tommy took the steps by twos and offered a general greeting.

“Tea?” Judith asked, smiling up at him.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, sitting down near her and neatly avoiding looking toward where Lizzie and Anna sat. Judith poured his tea while he put away several small sandwiches and a jam tart.

“
Je
finirai
,
tu
finiras
,
il
finira
,
nous
finirons
,
vous
finirez
,
ils
finiront
,” Lizzie conjugated in a somewhat defiant tone.

“
Oui
.” They'd been proceeding entirely in French, but Anna felt she'd seem to be in collusion with Lizzie against Tommy if they continued, so she switched to English. “Now an irregular future.
Aller
.”

“Is there any gingerbread?” Tommy asked Judith.

“Yes,” Judith said. “There are a few pieces on the plate near Lizzie.”

He glanced in their direction.

“
J'irai
,
tu
iras
,
il
ira
,” Lizzie said, pointedly ignoring him.

“Never mind.” He got up and went over to a stone bench, near where Tristan was sunning himself.

“Does Tristan know any tricks, Judith?” he asked as Tristan lifted his head for petting.

Judith chuckled. “I believe Tristan thinks it more than satisfactory of him to behave with decorum and that little else must be expected of so noble a being.”

“Bah,” Tommy said. “If he's allowed indoors, he ought to have some courtly manners. He's certainly intelligent enough to shake hands, at the very least.”

“Courtly manners are nothing but a smooth surface that easily hides a shallow being,” Lizzie said without looking up.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Good manners are a way of being respectful toward others,” he said in a tone that seemed to carry some hidden meaning.

“Not when there's nothing genuine behind them,” she parried.

Fortunately, before this testy exchange could progress further, Tommy turned his attention to the dog. He dropped to his haunches before the animal and said, “Shake, Tristan old boy,” as he swept one of the dog's forelegs off the ground. He then repeated the command without the action. Tristan stared placidly at his instructor without moving.

“You might try encouraging him with cheese,” Judith said.

“Nonsense. He'll come along.”

Tristan, however, did not share Tommy's enthusiasm and shortly got up and made his way over to Lizzie, who looked up from her book with a triumphant expression when he appeared by her side.

She held out a corner of gingerbread. “Paw.” He neatly lifted a foot to her hand and had his cake.

“People who try to get their way by cunning are destined to fail,” Tommy said darkly.

Lizzie was drawing in an outraged breath as Anna searched for something innocuous to say when Judith, who was reading a letter, said, “Well!”

“What's that?” Anna asked, grateful for the disruption.

“It's that bizarre story about that scandalous book. You know, the one with the mysterious beautiful woman.”

“Oh yes, I read about that in the paper,” Lizzie said. “Did you hear about
The
Beautiful
One
, Anna?”

Anna, hoping desperately that she wasn't blushing, mumbled, “Yes.”

“The Marquess of Henshaw has promised to reveal the identity of the mystery woman at his house party, along with a new painting of her,” Judith said. “But now there's a rumor that the model disappeared before the painting could be finished, leaving him on the canvas alone with a blank space for his Aphrodite.”

Lizzie laughed. “
And
in danger of being made into a complete fool!”

“Yes,” Judith agreed. “Now he's apparently gone chasing around the countryside after the model, like a hound after a hare. The poor girl. How awful for her.”

Anna thought that all the blood must have drained from her face. She forced herself to lift her cup of tea and drink from it nonchalantly. She'd known Henshaw was looking for her, but to hear all the details and his plans to release her name, to have all this published in the paper—it nearly undid her.

“Ha!” Tommy said. “Wouldn't that be something, if he can't finish the painting? I ran into him on the way here, and he made such a production about that book. After getting everyone in the
ton
to promise to come to his party, he's going to have a fantastic audience for his folly if he can't find her.”

Anna's stomach dropped.

Tommy had seen Henshaw somewhere on the way between London and Stillwell, only a few days before.

All this time since Tommy had arrived, she hadn't known that important detail. The marquess could be at the gates of the estate at that very moment, for all she knew.

“Have you seen the book, Tommy?” Judith asked.

“No, actually.” He lifted an eyebrow roguishly. “Can't say I'm not interested, though.”

Judith frowned. “It's utterly reprehensible of Henshaw to be chasing after the woman. If she's disappeared, it's likely because she doesn't want all this attention. Though I do wonder where the poor thing is. Probably in hiding.”

“Maybe we don't need to feel sorry for her. Maybe she's having an adventure,” Lizzie said.

Tommy crossed his arms and treated Lizzie to a withering glare. She crossed her arms and glared back at him. He let his eyes wander toward Anna.

“Why, Anna, the air of Stillwell must agree with you. It's put such roses in your cheeks.”

“Yes, hasn't it?” Will said, emerging through the French doors, every inch the responsible viscount in his coat of dark green superfine.

Anna felt certain her face was far beyond rosy by that point. Every drop of blood in her body seemed to be rushing through her like a storm-swollen river, and yet she must not show it. She reminded herself that just because she'd heard news of Henshaw, it didn't necessarily mean he would arrive there any minute. That was superstitious. She was using a false name. And he likely hadn't been to Rosewood yet, or he might have found her already. He could be anywhere now.

But he might also be right on her trail.

Will allowed his lazy gaze to rest on her, as if he were merely a considerate gentleman and not the man who'd been with her at the folly last night. Oh, how well-named that building was in her case! It had been folly to meet him, to let herself fall more deeply in love with him. And it was a folly, she had just been reminded, that must not continue.

She couldn't stay at Stillwell much longer. All the thoughts she'd pushed away and the indulgences she'd allowed herself with Will must end. Reality was pressing in.

The reason for her being there to begin with—Lizzie's need for a home—had already been resolved. Anna had promised to stay the whole month, but Lizzie had Will and Judith now, who would care for her. Anna would have to leave sooner than she'd thought.

But she would stay for the ball the following night. It would be Lizzie's first introduction to society, and Anna wouldn't abandon her at that special moment. Her one relief was that apparently Henshaw was controlling who saw the book. She would take the chance that no one in the neighborhood had seen it, knowing that she would be leaving anyway—the morning after the ball.

“Doubtless I've merely taken too much sun,” she said, and stood up. “Lizzie, I think that will do for today. It's getting quite warm, isn't it?”

“But you're not done here already, are you?” Will said, and he came close and pressed something against her hand. She felt it to be a paper folded very small.

“Yes. Lizzie and I really must go in.” Which was true anyway, as she wanted to talk to Lizzie about whatever was going on between her and Tommy.

“We are certainly done here,” Lizzie announced in the general direction of Tommy without actually looking at him.

As Anna went in through the library doors, she could hear Will asking Judith about Tristan's capacity to hunt, and realized it was the first time he'd tried to make friendly conversation with his stepmother.

As Anna followed Lizzie up the stairs, she surreptitiously glanced at the note.

Meet me in the wine cellar at midnight. W.

Her heart felt lower with each step upward. She knew what she was going to have to do that night, and she hated it.

In the corridor, Lizzie asked if Anna had finished the painting, and Anna invited her into her bedchamber to see it.

“Why, it's a marvel!” she said, beaming at Anna. “You really are so talented.”

“Thank you. Though I merely filled it in, in places.”

“Nonsense, you've added much to it. Robins and flowers and color—it's wonderful! Has Grandville seen it yet?”

“Oh, no…”

Lizzie grinned and marched over to the window, which was already open, and thrust her head out.

“Lizzie, really,” Anna said ineffectually as Lizzie called hoydenishly out to the terrace.

“You must all come up and see Anna's artwork!”

She turned around. “They're coming up.”

“Oh, for the decorum lost among the docks of Malta,” Anna said, covering her eyes with her hand.

Lizzie moved closer and took her hand. “Now that I'm staying, I think that if I asked him, he would let you stay on as my companion. Would you like to do that? Because I truly can't bear the thought of you leaving in a few weeks.” She looked down shyly. “You're like family to me.”

Anna's heart squeezed. “Oh, my dear.” She touched Lizzie's cheek, drawing her gaze. “That is so very, very kind of you, and I wish I could stay. In fact, he did ask me to stay. But I'm sorry to say that much as I would love to do so, I cannot. My aunt is expecting me,” she said, hating that she had to lie.