The Sergeant's Lady (12 page)

“I know what you mean.” He remembered how awkward he had felt around Dan and Juana when they first began keeping company. “But your brother and his wife must be an old married couple by now. And didn’t you mention a niece?”

She smiled. “Yes. They even named her for me—she’s Margaret Anna, while I’m Anna Margaret. I can hardly wait to meet her.”

“Well, there you are. But I suppose you’ll still have to see your husband’s sister, if she’s married to a neighbor.”

“Actually, I won’t,” she said with a slight frown. “Lord Almont divorced her after only a month or two of marriage.”

“Divorced her?”

“Yes. She was caught in bed with another man. Lord Almont was much older, and she never loved him. It was quite the scandal, and Sebastian was furious…but she doesn’t live there now.”

“I see.” The Arrington family obviously lacked the knack for marriage.

“I don’t even know where she is now. She was sent into exile in some isolated place. I feel sorry for their mother. She’s been unlucky in her children.” She shook her head. “But I want to go home.”

“I’m sure you can be in Scotland for the winter. We’re not half through July, and it’s not far to Lisbon.”

“And from there, it’s usually a quick sail to Portsmouth,” she said. “They tell me our passage here was fast and smooth, but I couldn’t say. I was seasick the entire time.”

He smiled sympathetically as he shared out the dates for a sweet to close their dinner. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been troubled by it, but I’ve seen how bad it can be. Dan is always miserable when we sail.”

“I suppose it’s just as well I’ll never go to India,” she said ruefully. “I wouldn’t survive the voyage.”

“You can’t be sure of that. Not everyone is everlastingly seasick like Dan—some get their sea-legs over time.”

“What I need is a sea
stomach
.”

They laughed. By now it was almost completely dark, and though she was only a yard away, Anna was little more than a shadowy figure. He heard more than saw her hug herself with a shiver. “No fire?” she said. “I’m always amazed how cool the nights can be here after such hot days.”

“Not tonight. Tomorrow, if there’s no hint of pursuit, I think it’ll be safe.”

“Very well.”

“We’ll take turns keeping watch. You can sleep first, and I’ll wake you halfway through.”

“Keep watch? Surely they won’t pursue us at night.”

“It’s not the Frogs I’m worried about, it’s wolves.”

“Oh.” She looked around them as if expecting to see golden eyes peering at them from the darkness.

“The horse would likely warn us in time, but I don’t want to chance it. There was a soldier not long after we came here who fell asleep a little apart from his fellows. I knew him slightly—he was a corporal in the Fifty-Second. A wolf attacked him while he slept.”

“While he slept…” she echoed.

“Yes. By the time anyone got there, it was too late. I’ve been careful about wolves since then.”

“Of course.” She sounded shaken. “If one does come during my watch…I can’t shoot well enough to kill it.”

“Don’t worry. The noise alone should frighten it off, and you’d wake me. As long as one of us stays awake, we’ll be safe. And tomorrow we can have a fire.” He tossed her the blanket from the knapsack. “Why don’t you wrap up in this and try to sleep? We’ll want to start at dawn.”

For a moment she didn’t respond. Then she set the blanket aside and laid a tentative hand atop his.

“I’m not ready to sleep yet,” she said. Her voice shook.

Arrested by her light touch, he felt his breath quicken. Slowly she edged closer, settling her hands against his shoulders. And then she kissed him, but only barely, brushing soft, uncertain lips against his. It jolted him, even as he wondered at how tentative she was. Their previous kisses had been more confident—but those times he had kissed her.

In some part of his mind still capable of thought, he got the impression she had no experience of taking the lead. But his mind didn’t exactly rule him at the moment. He wanted her, and he couldn’t recall anymore why he should resist. His hands stole to her waist, and his lips sought hers, gentle but far from tentative. He trailed kisses across her nose, her forehead, the arches of her eyebrows and her strong, high cheekbones. She sighed and wound her arms about his neck.

He kissed his way to her ear, nibbled at the lobe, then circled her ear with his tongue. She made a choked sound, halfway between a whimper and a moan.

Will forgot how to be gentle and utterly forgot he’d meant to do no more than kiss her. He returned to her mouth and covered it with his own, running his tongue along her lips, demanding entrance. She yielded with another one of those maddening whimpers, and he kissed her hungrily while his hands roamed her body, bold enough to trace the curve of her bosom beneath her stays, the dip of her waist and her fine, straight back, before settling at her hips, pulling her against him.

All the while she kissed him back, and her hands began their own exploration, hesitant as they shaped his shoulders, skimmed over his chest and stomach—so lightly he could hardly feel them through his jacket and shirt—fluttering just at the waist of his trousers before darting away and back to his shoulders.

Will hadn’t realized it was possible to want a woman this much. He bore her slowly down to the blanket.

When he lay above her at last, out of his head with lust, and lowered his mouth to hers, her whole body went rigid. Of course. Good God. How could he do this to her when only the night before she’d fought off that beast of a colonel? He rose up on his hands, began to ease his weight off her, and—

“Will.”
Her voice was low and fierce. She took his face between her hands and drew him back down.

His passion returned in a flash, and whatever momentary terror of memory she had felt had passed. Those
sounds
she made, little cries in the back of her throat—it drove him wild to hear her so abandoned, and all for him. She was so soft and eager, and soon he’d bury himself deep within her welcoming body.

Even as his conscience sent up a feeble whisper of protest, he groped for the hem of her dress, already ridden up near her knees. She arched up to help him, grinding her hips against his cock.

His hand found the silken skin of her inner thigh, and his conscience at last broke through. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t for him. With a groan of self-disgust, Will pushed off her, sat up and fought to steady his breath.

Anna curled onto her side with her back to him, tugging her skirts down. Her shoulders began to shake. “Oh, God,” she said. “I’m sorry. Sebastian was right.” She was sobbing so hard he could barely understand her. “I—I did it wrong.”

What? Will touched her shoulder, but she flinched away.

“Anna, no,” he said. He blinked back a few tears of his own. He didn’t know what pained her, but he ached with a sympathy as strong as his hunger for her. “What…what did you do wrong?”

She swallowed, sat up and got a measure of control over her sobs, though she still kept her distance. “I—didn’t I disgust you?”

“Disgust me?” He gaped at her, trying to read her face in the darkness.

“With my wanton nature.” She sobbed again, then rammed her fist against her mouth and took deep, shuddering breaths.

“What?”
He began to understand—thought he did, at least—and felt a stab of regret that Sebastian Arrington was already dead. Will wanted him brought back to life, right there in front of him, so he could kill him himself.

“Anna, come here,” he said in his best command voice, opening his arms to her. Hesitantly she complied, and he gathered her against him. He stroked her face, wiping away her tears. “You didn’t disgust me. Not at all.” He held her tighter, close enough that she could feel how aroused he still was. “Do I feel disgusted to you?”

“But you stopped when I…”

He kissed her forehead, smoothing back her hair. “I stopped because I realized what I was about to do, and I didn’t want you to hate me tomorrow morning.”

Her laugh had a hysterical, relieved edge. “Hate you? Never.” She pulled his head down for a kiss.

His body—cock especially—thought she had the right idea, but his mind was back in command. He disengaged her, gently this time. “Anna,” he said slowly. “Just what did your husband do to you?”

Anna had meant to carry the secret to the grave, so deep was her humiliation. But she trusted Will. He said she didn’t disgust him, and she almost believed him.

She had gone so quickly from an exaltation of desire beyond even her wildest hopes to the depths of anguish. If Will too had rejected her, then surely she
was
beneath any decent man’s contempt. Now she wished she could simply weep until she had no more tears left, here in Will’s arms, her cheek pressed against the rough wool of his uniform jacket, soothed by the rhythm of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his chest. But perhaps it was better to tell him and be done. She sensed that he would persist until he had an answer. And to tell her story, she needed distance. A very little distance. So she swallowed hard, wiped her eyes and pushed out of his arms to sit facing him.

“I hardly know where to begin,” she said.

He reached out and clasped her hand. “Begin at the beginning.”

Had it only been two years? It seemed much longer. She thought of her wedding night in an elegantly appointed bedroom in Gloucestershire—fortunately not in her brother’s home, or she truly couldn’t visit James and Lucy again.

She had married Sebastian in such haste, desperate to savor the fortnight they had before he must rejoin his regiment, that there had been no time to order a trousseau. So she had dressed for her wedding night in her finest nightdress and wrapper, sheer white lawn embellished with equally snowy lace.

Waiting for Sebastian to come to her, she had sat before the mirror and admired the sparkle in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks. Anna had been cheerfully vain in her girlhood. Her friends and family had told her all her life how pretty she was, and she took it for granted. She knew Sebastian admired her. From the day they met, he had looked upon her with a kind of ravenous worship, and there in that sumptuous bedroom she could hardly wait to see him and to see him see
her
. She had turned from the mirror to frown at the connecting door. How much longer would she have to wait?

At last he stepped into the room, tall and splendid, and Anna sprang to her feet and danced across the room to meet him.

As she caught his hands, he frowned down at her from his towering height. For the first time she felt intimidated by his size, the fact she didn’t even quite reach his shoulder.

“What is it, my love?” she asked.

“You seem…eager.”

Why did he sound dismayed? “Should I not be?” she asked, frowning herself. She knew the first time would hurt—Aunt Lilias had explained—but her aunt’s blushing hints of pleasures to come and Anna’s natural hungers had combined to make her eager indeed. A little pain could hardly frighten her when she was at last on the verge of exploring the mysteries of his body and her own.

“It seems…eagerness isn’t…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I had expected you to await me quietly, in bed.”

“Is that what you would like?”

He nodded curtly and she stepped away. Now Anna was nervous. She felt as if she had arrived to perform at a theatrical evening only to discover she had learned the wrong lines and was expected to portray an entirely different role in an unfamiliar play. Fear skittered through her mind that perhaps her brother James was right and she didn’t know her new husband at all. But she walked obediently to the bed, stopping to untie her wrapper and drape it over a chair. Aunt Lilias had promised Anna that her husband would instruct her, and she meant to be a good pupil. Perhaps she had gone about it the wrong way. Perhaps she had been foolish to trust her impulses.

She peeled back the coverlet, climbed into the high bed, lay half-propped on pillows, and waited, watching Sebastian in the flickering candlelight. Despite her newborn misgivings she was still eager. He was so perfect, her tall, golden dragoon officer, with his fascinating stillness and solemnity. After all, they were in love. Surely a trifling misunderstanding could not shake that.

He shed his own robe and, clad only in his nightshirt, got into bed and loomed above her. She wanted to stretch her arms up and embrace him, but forbore.

He held her face between his hands, his face suffused with that grave hunger she loved so much. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but this will hurt.”

She nodded tightly, not trusting herself to speak.

With no more preamble than that, he reached down to tug her nightdress up to her waist. His hands felt so strange on the suddenly bared skin of her hips and thighs that she shut her eyes tight against the intimacy, at once disturbing and stimulating.

It hurt so much when he entered her that her eyes flew open. Somehow she hadn’t imagined the pain quite so sharp and burning. But she didn’t want to show fear or weakness, so she swallowed the scream that wanted to tear out of her throat.

At first as he thrust all she could think of was the pain. But soon her body stretched and became accustomed, and she began to enjoy the new sensation. She had been eager for this for a long time, and as it went on, her hips rose to meet his rhythm. She felt herself build toward a peak similar to those she had discovered in her furtive explorations of her body, though she was still far from the pinnacle when he groaned and went still.

After a moment she felt him pull out and lift his weight off of her. She wondered how she was expected to comport herself in the aftermath. In her confusion and embarrassment she shut her eyes again, so she didn’t see the slap coming—a sharp, open-handed blow that made her reel against the pillows and see stars.

“Whore!”

Bewildered and terrified, she opened her eyes to a red-faced, wild-eyed Sebastian. She hardly registered what he had said, shocked as she was by the blow. She sat up, trying to edge away, but he wouldn’t allow it, seizing her by the shoulders and pinning her against the headboard.

“Whore!” he repeated. “Who was he?”

Her breath raced and tears sprang to her eyes. “What—what are you talking about?”

Silently he pointed to the sheet, rumpled from their exertions but as pristine a white as new-fallen snow.

Anna took a deep breath and drew herself back to the present, clinging to Will’s hand like an anchor. She reminded herself it was over now. It could never be undone, but it was over.

She searched for Will’s eyes in the darkness. She could use their boundless compassion and understanding now. “I
swear
,” she said, her voice rasping with old anger and bitterness, “I swear by everything I hold sacred that I went to my wedding night a virgin.”

She heard Will hiss on an indrawn breath.

“But I wasn’t afraid,” she said. “I had a fair idea of what to expect—my aunt didn’t believe in leaving girls in ignorance—and I was looking forward to it. So I was eager. Too eager for Sebastian’s liking. I fairly ran to meet him, but he looked at me so oddly and told me I must lie down quietly and wait. So I did. I didn’t know what to think, but I did as he said. But then I didn’t bleed.”

“So he thought there’d been someone before him,” Will said grimly.

“He called me a jade.” Her voice broke. “A whore. And he kept asking, ‘Who was he? Who was he?’ What was I to say?”

“The evil bloody bastard.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t have thought the same?”

“Of course not!”

“Truly?”

He considered, his head cocked to one side. “Well, I suppose a man might question, if a woman who was supposed to be a virgin didn’t bleed. But I would’ve trusted the word of any woman I liked enough to marry. I would’ve believed you. I believe you now.”

“Do you?” She ducked her head ruefully. “I’ve certainly given you enough cause to think me a wanton.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “No. I know you better than that.”

“You’ve not known me a fortnight.”

“Still. I know you. You’re a good, honorable woman. Not a wanton. And no liar, either. If you hadn’t been a virgin—if someone had raped or seduced you before—what would you have done then?”

“I would’ve told him,” she said. “Before the betrothal was announced, too, so he could change his mind without penalty.”

“That’s what I thought. I
know
you,” he repeated, with just a hint of smugness, and Anna smiled despite herself. “If he’d been even a little worthy of you,” Will continued, “he’d have taken you at your word.”

“You’re right,” she said with sudden realization. “He truly should have.”

Her great secret divulged, and to someone who believed her so implicitly, she felt lighter, with the burden of two long years lifted from her shoulders.

Will held her hand in both of his. Anna caught her breath as he explored it, tracing each individual finger, rubbing a thumb against her palm. “So,” he said, “you thought I didn’t like it that you showed you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

Her face heated, but she nodded. “Yes.”

His voice deepened, took on that husky catch that always made her want to melt into him on the spot. “Anna, I do want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Knowing that you feel the same—that amazes me. And it makes me want you more.”

She shivered with desire almost as strong as she had felt lying in his arms. She leaned closer to him, willing him to pick up where they had left off.

But Will, curse him, had traded desire for philosophy again. “What kind of man prefers a woman
not
to be eager?” he asked. “It makes no sense.”

“Eagerness isn’t ladylike. That’s what Sebastian always said.”

Will snorted. “It isn’t? I had no idea ladies were a completely different kind of creature than ordinary women.”

“A true lady rises above her animal nature,” she said. “At least, that’s what he said. I didn’t know what to think, and I dared not speak of it to anyone. I was too proud—and embarrassed—and what if he
was
right? It didn’t match with anything Great-aunt Sophia ever told me, but she
is
rather scandalous.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Entirely too much, I’m sure. She married and outlived three husbands, and she’s never lost her eye for a handsome man. She’d like you,” she added. Will ducked his head, and Anna believed that if there had been light to see it, she would’ve caught him in a blush. “I believe her exact words for the marriage bed were ‘the summit of earthly bliss.’”

“The summit of earthly bliss,” he echoed. “She has a way with words.”

“Tonight I begin to believe her,” she said shyly.

“Anna.”
He kissed her hand, taking his time about it. “This has been eating you alive since your wedding night, hasn’t it?”

“Every day.”

“I wish he were still alive so I could kill him myself for what he did to you.”

She laughed shakily. Will said he was amazed that she wanted him. Anna was as dazzled by his willingness to slay all the dragons that bedeviled her.

“But it’s late,” he said, in his sergeant-giving-orders voice. “You should sleep.”

“Sleep?” She’d hoped for a resumption of a rather more strenuous sort of nocturnal activity.

“Sleep,” he said firmly. “We’ll only get a few hours apiece tonight, taking turns with watches.”

But tomorrow they would have a fire to keep the wolves at bay. This wasn’t over. She kissed him softly. “Good night, Will.”

He caressed her face, tracing her jaw with his fingertips. “Sleep well, Anna. I’ll be here.”

She fumbled for the blanket she had cast aside earlier, then stretched out on her side. She shifted until she found a spot reasonably free of rocks or roots poking her ribcage, and as near to Will as she could manage. Lying down made her recognize she actually was rather sleepy, and she stifled a yawn as she settled the blanket over her shoulders.

As she drifted toward sleep, she experienced a fleeting wonder that the Honorable Miss Wright-Gordon, the heiress, she who had danced in spangled silk dresses with ropes of pearls wound about her throat, should have come to this only two years later, sleeping under the stars in a rough army blanket, at her side a Shropshire innkeeper’s lad turned soldier. Equally wondrous that she could feel toward such a man so much admiration and desire beyond anything she could fathom. The Honorable Miss Wright-Gordon would’ve been appalled. But Anna fell asleep well content.

***

No wolves disturbed the night. Will sat alone with his thoughts under the canopy of stars. Occasionally the horse shifted and snorted in its sleep, but Anna lay still beside him, her breathing peaceful and steady.

What misery her bastard of a husband had put her through. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken her spirit, and a testament to her courage that she was still so vibrant and passionate.

He’d known that hers had been a failed marriage. If nothing else, its end had proven that. But he hadn’t come close to suspecting how bad it was. He’d assumed the usual unhappy marriage—one that had begun well, only to go sour over some quarrel never resolved or as the couple gradually realized they weren’t well-suited. Never had he imagined that anyone could put a woman like Anna through such a hell.

Maybe there was a reason he had met her and been drawn into an intimacy that should’ve been impossible between a lady so grand and a man so common. Sebastian Arrington had served her ill and made her fear her very nature was corrupted. Maybe he, Will, had been put in her path to counteract that evil.

What if he did lie with her? Maybe she needed someone to show her how wrong her husband had been—wrong about her, wrong about how it ought to be between a man and a woman—and that the pleasures of the body were meant to be given generously and taken with abandon.

He bit back a bitter laugh. No use to think with his cock and pretend he was on a mission from God.

When he judged that the night was half over, he gently shook her awake and gave her instructions about the pistol and under what circumstances she must wake him. She listened with grave alertness—a good soldier—and tucked him under the blanket with a kiss on his cheek. He’d never changed watches so pleasantly before.