The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel) (3 page)

Chapter 4

Inniswood Place

December 31, 1898

From the window of his darkened library, Anthony observed revelers making their way along the lighted sidewalk below. As they stepped in and out of the circles of illumination cast by electric streetlights, their costumes offered a brilliant array of dazzling color. Pinpoints of light flashed like thousands of diamonds across the snow-covered ground while Londoners celebrated the coming of the New Year.

Boughs of evergreen, swathed in white and silver tissue, hung above every doorway and window of Inniswood Place. Red-velvet bows provided stark relief against the shimmering cloth. Ivy and sprigs of red-berried holly filled huge pots throughout the enormous ballroom.

A massive fir tree held place of prominence in the center of the drawing room. Adorned in strings of brilliant lights and draped in silver gauze, the conifer glowed. Artificial doves covered in a profusion of white feathers, as well as dozens of blown-glass ornaments, were artfully displayed throughout the branches. Fairy lights illuminated the ballroom and other areas open to his guests.

The lights were first introduced in 1881 at the Savoy Theater, and Anthony had stared in awe at the tiny incandescent bulbs. For his tenth birthday, his mother had taken him to London to see the display. Engrossed in the exhibition, he hadn’t noticed a man’s approach until a hand came down on his shoulder. It was then Anthony had met his biological father—and his world changed.

The sounds of music and laughter drifted up from the ballroom, drawing him back to the present. He’d been inundated by beautiful women who’d made quite obvious their willingness to share his company and his bed for the evening. After welcoming his guests, he’d slipped away to the privacy of his library and the solitude he desired.

Anthony took a sip of Holiday Punch and blinked. If the mixture of champagne, Madeira, Curacao, rum, and brandy didn’t keep the party lively, the concoction would send his company seeking quiet places to indulge in private trysts. He lifted the glass and caught the scent of oranges, lemons, and raisins. Even with the addition of seltzer water, it was a potent drink.

Within the hour it would be 1899, the last year before the turn of the century. At twenty-eight, he had amassed a large personal fortune and reestablished his title and estates as solvent. His investments were sound and he had more money than he could spend in his lifetime. He should be content, but he was not.

Anthony pondered his earlier conversation with Hodges. His butler always had an opinion. Whether his manservant chose to share it, was something else entirely. One thing was evident, Anthony needed his life to be of importance to someone.

He knew the type of union he desired. He would choose a woman to satisfy his visceral needs, keep his home, and bear his children. More importantly, he wanted a wife who would be his friend, companion, and lover throughout life. A woman to keep safe, who would complete him.

He didn’t imagine the search would be easy. Once Parliament adjourned and this business concerning the artifact was concluded, he would begin his quest.

Anthony turned from the window. His regard shifted from one priceless painting to another before moving on to the antique coins displayed under glass. As a collector of fine art and antiquities, his knowledge was considerable.

The library door opened and closed softly.

Annoyed at the interruption, Anthony all but cursed. “These are private rooms. Guests are not allowed in this part of the house.” He glanced over his shoulder.

A woman stood in the shadows.

He sighed. Apparently, and against his wishes, his friends had found him a companion. “Thank you for your time, madam, but I’m otherwise occupied for the evening. You may join the other guests, if it pleases you.”

“It would please me to stay here with you, my lord.” Her voice, velvet soft and alluring, sent a quiver up his spine.

He set his glass aside and leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. “Would it, now?” He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to discern more of the shadowy figure.

“It would.” At her throaty response, his awareness heightened.

“Come closer.” He reached for a small gas table lamp.

Her hand fluttered to the mask covering her face. “Leave it. You would not wish to dispel the mystery, would you?”

Her speech held a soft, rolling inflection. The woman drew nearer, letting her gray cloak slide to the floor. At the sight of her body swathed in gossamer, a wave of pure, physical desire swept through him. A craving so intense and hot, it stunned him.

The woman seemed all glistening silver and shadows. Pale blond hair, coiled loosely at her nape, gleamed in the subdued light. A half-mask of ghostly lace and white feathers ended at the tip of her dainty nose, concealing most of her face.

She came nearer, slipping the cords of a small purse from her wrist to lay the reticule on a nearby table. Her perfume, faint and elusive, hinted at something familiar; the sweetly-soft fragrance of orange blossoms.

She moved into the glow of the firelight and he forgot to breathe. This was a woman in the full bloom of her beauty.

Anthony’s loins tightened and heat suffused his body. Consumed by sheer lust, he fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her.

Damnation
.

Though tall and lissome, she appeared as fragile and delicate as the spun glass ornaments on his tree. Her costume did little to conceal the rounded fullness of her breasts, the soft curve of her hips, or the long slide of shapely legs. Then he caught a glimpse of the subtle shading at the apex of her thighs. His mouth went dry.

God almighty
.

“This room is warm.” She drew her fingertips across her bosom and his gaze followed. A long, slender digit touched the red rose resting snugly between the ivory mounds before she smiled, displaying a row of even white teeth.

He knew the game she played, and played well.

Eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea looked back at him. One moment a luminous blue with glimpses of green, then, in the changing light, hints of gray appeared.

His assessment moved to her shoulders, her skin like flawless porcelain. Anthony’s desire, to run his fingers and mouth over such perfection, intensified. His gaze slid to pert nipples and the barely discernible areolas beneath the thin trappings. His peripheral caught the way her hands fidgeted at her sides.

“Are you nervous, beauty?”

“Do I have reason to be?”

He shook his head. “No. You have nothing to fear from me.”

She seemed to consider his reply. “You would be far more comfortable if you removed your coat.”

He deftly shed his black evening jacket, laid it over the nearest chair, and reached for her.

She eased away. “No.”

He leaned back against his desk and set his palms on the edge. “I am not one for games, at least not this sort. Neither do I care for a tease. So tell me, why are you here?”

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “Can we not say I wanted to get to know you?”

“There are many ways to
know
someone, but since you’re here in my private rooms, I can only assume you mean in the
Biblical sense
.
Correct me if I’m wrong.”

She remained silent.

Anthony straightened and stepped nearer, only to have her retreat. Despite what he’d said, the pressure in his groin increased as his body responded to the chase. One by one, he released the buttons on his silver-embroidered waistcoat, slipped it off, and laid it across the chair next to his coat. His white tie followed.

Her gaze traveled slowly down his body, pausing briefly at the bulge he knew filled the front of his trousers, before she jerked her eyes away. She crossed to the window. “Snowflakes are so beautiful.”

He followed to stand behind her, resting his hands on her upper arms. Her skin felt silky-smooth beneath his fingers. “What is your name?”

She swiveled to face him. “My name is not important.” Her lips curved softly. “You’re quite handsome. In fact, stunning. Your eyes are so dark I thought they were black. Instead, they’re the deepest blue I’ve ever seen.” She came up on her toes to press her lips to his.

For a fleeting moment her mouth moved against his, warm and moist and silken, then she eased away.

He studied the flimsy scrap of material covering her face and the tiny black mole nestled at the corner of her mouth.

She turned to glance again at the window and falling snow. “May I hold one?”

“Of course.” He opened the casement and moved to the side, allowing her to slip by him. The heat from her body intensified the faint scent of orange blossoms.

She reached out a slender hand and let a flake settle in her palm. “How fragile,” she whispered, watching the snowflake melt.

“No two are alike.” He clasped her hand and flicked his tongue across the damp palm before closing the casement. She shivered.

“Come away from there.” Anthony used his body to guide her back into the shadows, the occasional slide of her leg against his spiking his desire.

Once again enveloped by dimness, he drew her firmly against him where she would feel his heavy arousal. Her lids descended, but not before he’d seen the flare of desire.

With a gentle glide of his palm down her back, he urged her closer. At the rounded curve of her bottom, he lifted, forcing her abdomen and hips into his. She uttered a soft noise and cradled his throbbing member between her thighs.

He nearly groaned aloud.

Anthony nuzzled the side of her neck, the erratic beat of her heart pulsing under his lips. “Take off your mask, beauty.”

“I cannot.” She slid her hand behind his neck and brought his face to hers. “Kiss me.”

He caressed her mouth in whisper touches, biding his time while he enjoyed the feel of her.

She pulled back and frowned. “A real kiss.”

He almost laughed. “They’re all
real
. Some are merely more ardent than others.”

“Show me.” She breathed her request.

If this was a game, she was damned good at it. Anthony nibbled and sucked at her lower lip, expecting a customary response. Her lips remained closed. “Open for me.”

She seemed startled by the demand, but her lips parted and he slid in to savor and caress. As he ran the tip of his tongue across the roof of her mouth, she made a throaty little sound much like a purr and plunged her fingers into his hair, pulling his head closer. At the soft glide of her tongue in response, he did groan aloud. He sensed her withdrawal before she moved.

“I had no idea it could be like this.” Her warm, sweet breath fluttered across his lips.

He clasped her hand. “Come with me. My bedchamber would be more comfortable.” She shook her head. He spun her in his arms and pressed her back against his chest. “Are you an innocent?” He’d never deflowered a maiden, and no matter her trade, he would not begin now.

“No.” One word, uttered softly.

He splayed a hand against her belly and cupped a rounded breast with the other. Then squeezed, flicking his thumb over the peak of a nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch. Her head fell back and she quivered. He caught the tender lobe of her ear between his teeth and tugged lightly.

She reached back and clutched his hips. “Please, don’t let me regret this.”

“I promise you won’t.” Anthony slid an arm around her waist and lowered them both to the thick carpet, settling her on his thighs. She twisted in his arms to cup his face in her hands. He felt the flick of her tongue at the side of his mouth before she sucked gently on his lower lip. Every cell in his body erupted with need.

Rational thought fled, to be replaced with an all-consuming desire to have her, to slide deeply inside her luscious body until she moaned and cried out with release.

In one slow movement, he laid her back and stretched out beside her. Although he wanted to see her face, if he tried to remove the mask it might break the fragile spell between them. He plucked the deep-red rose from between her breasts and ran the velvet-soft petals over the tempting flesh before setting the flower aside.

“My name is Anthony. Let me hear you say it.”

“Anthony,” she uttered in a throaty sigh.

He closed his eyes. “You have bewitched me, lass.” He trailed a line of kisses across her collarbone to the side of her neck. Her pulse beat like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings beneath his lips. He swiped his tongue across the spot, testing its cadence, and then bit down lightly. Never had he marked a woman but with her, he was inclined to brand her as his own.

Anthony rested his weight on one arm and slid a hand up her side to cup a breast, tracing the rounded swell with his fingers. He flicked open the silver clasps securing the material at her shoulders, and tugged the bodice down.

“So beautiful.” He drew on her breasts, sucking, tonguing, and teasing the nipples to tight peaks, then blew softly over the damp surface. Her chest rose and fell with shuddering, uneven breaths. It took all the willpower he possessed not to lift her gown and find immediate release. He’d promised she would not regret their time together and he would make certain she found her pleasure—over and over again.

As Anthony reclaimed a breast with his mouth, she arched, her fingers gripping his skull. He trailed his fingers up the side of her leg and she stiffened.

“Tell me now, sweetheart, if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Do not let me think, Anthony.”

He wanted her to think, wanted her to feel everything he would do with her. To her. He brushed his fingers across the damp curls at the apex of her thighs. Her body bucked and jerked. She was remarkably sensitive, stunningly responsive, and ready for him.