Eleven

“GOOD MORNING, YOUR GRACE.”

Anna swept the deep, deferential curtsy required in the presence of a lady of high rank. “Would you like to wait in the formal parlor, the breakfast parlor, the family parlor, or the library?”

“It’s such a pleasant morning,” the duchess said. “Why not in the gardens?” Anna found herself returning her smile, as the gardens were the better choice. After several days of increasingly miserable weather, the humidity had dropped in the night, making the morning air delightful.

“Can I bring you some iced lemonade?” Anna asked when she’d seen the earl’s mother ensconced on a shady bench. “The earl and his brothers usually return from their morning ride about this time and go directly in to breakfast.”

“His brothers?” The duchess paused in the arrangements of her skirts and blinked once. “Can you spare a few minutes to sit with me, Mrs. Seaton?”

“Of course.” Anna assumed a seat on the same bench as the duchess. There was a subtle, pleasant scent to the woman, a gracious but simple hint of rose with a note of spice. It didn’t fit with what Anna thought a duchess should smell like; it was much less formal, prettier, more sweet and loving.

“Westhaven’s brothers join him regularly for breakfast? I was aware Lord Valentine was a guest here, but you include St. Just in this breakfast club?”

“I do,” Anna said, feeling cornered. Would the earl want his mother knowing St. Just lived here?

“Is St. Just another guest in the earl’s home?” the duchess asked, frowning slightly at the roses. She was a pretty woman, even when she frowned: willowy, hair going from golden to flax, and green eyes slightly canted in a face graced with elegant bones.

“I would be more comfortable, Your Grace, did you put that question to your sons,” Anna said. A small, surprised silence followed her comment, and the duchess’s frown became a smile.

“You are protective of him,” she observed. “Or of them. That is admirable and a trait we share. Can you tell me, Mrs. Seaton, how Westhaven is going on?”

Anna considered the question and decided she could answer it, honestly if somewhat vaguely.

“He is a very, very busy man,” Anna said. “The business of the duchy is complicated and demands much of his time, but for the most part, I think he enjoys getting matters under control.”

“His Grace did not always see to the details as conscientiously as he should. Westhaven does much better in this regard.” As understatements went, that one was worthy of a duchess, Anna thought, and the duchess was loyal to her duke, which was no surprise.

“And how is Westhaven’s health?”

“He enjoys good health,” Anna said, thinking that was honest at least in the present tense. “He has an active man’s appetite, much to Cook’s delight.”

“And is he treating you well, Mrs. Seaton?” The duchess turned guileless eyes on Anna, but the question was sincere.

“He is a very good employer,” Anna said, feeling an abrupt, inconvenient, and wholly out-of-character wish that she had someone to talk to. The duchess was as pretty and gracious as an older woman could be, but she struck Anna as first, last, and always, a woman who had borne eight children, taken in two of her husband’s by-blows, and buried two of her sons. She was a mother, a mama, and Anna sorely, sorely missed her mother. It had taken this conversation to remind her of it, and the realization brought an unwelcome lump to her throat.

The duchess patted Anna’s hand. “A good employer can still be a selfish, inconsiderate, clueless man, Mrs. Seaton. I love my sons, but they will wear their muddy boots in the public rooms, flirt with the maids, and argue with their father in view of the servants. They are, in short, human, and sometimes trying as a result.”

“It is no trial to work for Lord Westhaven,” Anna said. “He pays honest coin for an honest day’s wage and is both reasonable and kind.”

“Your Grace?” Westhaven smiled as he strolled from the mews. “What a pleasure to see you.” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek and used the gesture to wink at Anna surreptitiously. “Have you been haranguing Mrs. Seaton about how to fold the linens?”

“I’ve been trying without success to grill her about whether you finish your pudding these days.” The duchess stood and took her son’s proffered arm. The earl smiled at Anna and winged his other elbow at her. “Mrs. Seaton?” Anna accepted the gallantry rather than make a fuss.

“I can see you are indeed faring well, Westhaven. You dropped too much weight this spring; gauntness did not become you.”

“My staff is taking good care of me. You will be pleased to know both Dev and Val are enjoying my hospitality, as well. They’ll be along shortly, but were arguing about a horse when I left the stables.”

“I heard no shouting,” the duchess remarked. “It cannot be a very serious argument.”

“Dev wants Val to take on some work with one of his horses. Val is demurring,” the earl explained. “Or letting Dev work for it. How are His Grace and my dear sisters?”

“The girls are glad to be at Morelands, with the heat being so oppressive. They might come back for Fairly’s ball, however.”

“About which you can regale us at breakfast,” Westhaven said. “You will join us. I won’t hear otherwise.”

“I would be delighted.” The duchess smiled at her son, a smile of such warmth and loving regard Anna had to look away. Westhaven’s expression mirrored his mother’s, and Anna knew the earl had no greater ally than Her Grace, at least in all matters that did not pit him against the duke.

“My lord, Your Grace.” Anna slipped her arm from the earl’s. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll notify the kitchen we have a guest.”

“Please don’t put them to any bother, Mrs. Seaton,” the duchess said. “The company of my sons is treat enough on any day.” The earl offered Anna a slight bow, and Anna knew the gesture wasn’t lost on his mother.

“She dotes on you,” the duchess commented when Anna had retreated.

“She dotes on all three of us. We have all the comforts a conscientious housekeeper can imagine for us, and then some. Do you know, she keeps marzipan in the pantry for me, chocolates for Val, and candied violets for Dev? We have flowers in every room, the linens are all scented with lavender or rosemary, the house stays cool even in this heat, and I cannot comprehend how she accomplishes this.”

Her Grace paused on the back steps. “She did all this before you’d brought your brothers to stay with you, didn’t she?”

“She did. I just notice it more now.”

“Grief can turn us inward,” the duchess said quietly. “I was concerned for you, Westhaven. I know His Grace left the finances in a muddle, but it seems as if cleaning up after your father was all you made time for this spring.”

“The finances are still not untangled, Your Grace. We were not faring very well when I was given the reins.”

“Are we in difficulties?” the duchess asked carefully.

“No, but we nearly would have been. In some ways, Victor’s mourning period saved us some very timely entertaining expenses. A house party at Morelands is nothing compared to one of your balls, Mother.”

“You call me Mother when you scold me, Westhaven, but this ball will be underwritten by Fairly and his in-laws, so you needn’t frown at me.”

“My apologies.” They turned at the sound of his brothers’ voices coming up the garden paths.

“What ho!” Dev called, grinning. “What light through yonder rose bush shines? Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed low over her hand then stepped back as Val sidled in to kiss the duchess’s cheek.

“Mother.” Val smiled down at her. “You will join us for breakfast so these two mind their manners around their baby brother?”

“I will join you for breakfast to feast my eyes on the greatest display of young male pulchritude to be had in all of London.”

“She flatters,” Westhaven said, “before interrogating, no doubt.”

The duchess floated into the house, one hand tucked by Westhaven’s side, the other wrapped on Val’s arm. Dev watched them go, smiling at the tableau before turning back to the rose bushes along the far wall, where Anna was clipping a bouquet.

He propped a booted foot against the low stone wall bordering the bed. “How badly did she interrogate you?”

“Good morning, Colonel St. Just.” Anna bobbed a curtsy and put her shears into the wicker basket sitting on the wall. “The duchess was all that was gracious.” Unlike present company. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“I will not,” St. Just replied. He emphasized his response by putting a hand on Anna’s arm. She met his eyes, looked pointedly down at his hand, and back up at his face, arching a brow in question.

“You need not like me,” Anna said, “but you will respect me.”

“Or what, Anna Seaton?” He leaned in, giving Anna a hint of his aftershave, a minty scent with a blend of meadow flowers. Anna went still, knowing if she made a fuss, the earl would appear, likely with his mother at his side.

“You are not a bully, Colonel, whatever else may trouble you.”

He stepped back, frowning.

“You aggravate me, Mrs. Seaton,” he said at length. “I want to assure myself you are a scheming, selfish, vapid little tramp with airs above your station, but the assurance just won’t ring true.”

Anna flashed him a look of consternation. “Why on earth would you attempt to make such a nasty prejudgment? You yourself have no doubt been subject to just the same sort of close mindedness.”

“Now, see?” St. Just almost smiled. “That’s what I mean. You don’t bother to deny the labels, you just hand them back to me in a neat, tidy little package of subtle castigation. Perhaps I’m only wishing you were venal, so I might poach on my brother’s preserves with moral impunity.”

“You would not poach on your brother’s preserves,” Anna said, beginning to see how much of the man was a particularly well-aimed type of bluster. “You are not as wicked as you want the world to think, sir.”

“Happens”—he did smile—“I am not, but it also happens you are not just the simple, devoted housekeeper you would have the world think you are, either.”

“My past is my own business. Now have you business with me, Colonel, or are you being gratuitously unpleasant?”

“Business,” he said shortly. “You have rightly surmised I brood and paw and snort at times for show, Mrs. Seaton. It keeps His Grace from getting ideas, for one thing. But make no mistake on this point: I will defend my brother’s interests without exception or scruple. If I find you are playing him false in any sense or trifling with him, I will become your worst enemy.”

Anna smiled at him thinly. “Do you think he’d appreciate these threats you make to his housekeeper?”

“He might understand them,” St. Just said. “For the other message I have to convey to you is that to the extent you matter to my brother, you matter to me. If he decides he values you in his life, then I will also defend you without exception or scruple.”

“What is it you are saying?”

“You are a woman with troubles, Anna Seaton. You have no past anyone in this household knows of, you have no people you’ll admit to, you have the airs and graces of a well-born lady, but you labor for your bread instead. I’ve seen you conferring with Morgan, and I know you have something to hide.”

Anna raised her chin and speared him with a look. “Everybody has something to hide.”

“You have a choice, Anna,” St. Just said, her given name falling from his lips with surprising gentleness. “You either trust the earl to resolve your troubles, or you leave him in peace. He’s too good a man to be exploited by somebody under his own roof. He’s had that at the hands of his own father, and I won’t stand for it from you.”

Anna hefted her basket and flashed St. Just a cold smile. “Like the duke, you’ll wade in, bully and intimidate, and jump to conclusions regarding Westhaven’s life, telling yourself all the while you do it because you love him, when in fact, you haven’t the first notion how to really go about caring for the man. Very impressive—if one wants proof of your patrimony.”

She bobbed him a curtsy with fine irony and walked off, her skirts twitching with her irritation.

As he pasted the requisite smile on his face and went in to breakfast, St. Just reflected he hadn’t been wrong: Anna Seaton had secrets; she’d all but acknowledged it.

But his approach had been wrong. A woman who attached Westhaven’s interest was going to have backbone to spare. He should not have threatened; he should not have, to use her word, bullied. Well, that could be remedied just as soon as he got through breakfast with Her Grace.

“You are quiet,” the earl remarked as they tooled along toward Willow Bend.

“If I am quiet enough, I can fool myself into thinking I am still abed, dreaming on my nice cool sheets.” Dreaming of him, most nights.

“Am I working you too hard?” the earl asked, glancing over.

“You are not. The heat can disturb one’s rest.”

“Are my brothers behaving? Dev is tidy, but Val can be a slob.”

“Lord Val’s only crime is that he commandeers Morgan for a couple of hours each afternoon and lets her join him in the music room while he works on his repertoire.”

“You can trust Val to be a gentleman with her.”

“And can I trust you to be a gentleman?”

“You can trust me,” the earl replied, “to stop when you tell me to, to never intentionally hurt you, to listen before I judge, and to tell you the truth as far as I know it. Will that do?” It was all he was going to give her, but Anna reflected on how much more he offered than other men in her life were willing to.

“It will do.” It would have to.

He turned the conversation to the practicalities of the situation at Willow Bend. There was a temporary crew of day laborers on hand from the local village, and they’d been busily moving furniture, hanging drapes, unpacking the crates of linens and flatware. The scene was very different from their previous visit to the place, with wagons, people, and noise everywhere.

A young boy emerged from the stables to take Pericles, and the earl escorted Anna to the front door.

“I want you to see it the way my sister might,” he said, “not as the servants and tradesmen do. So…” He opened the front door, and led her through. “Welcome to Willow Bend, Mrs. Seaton.”

She appreciated the public nature of the greeting and appreciated even more that there was a public on hand to witness it. Carpenters, glaziers, laborers, and apprentices were bustling to and fro; hammers banged, the occasional yell sounded above stairs, and boys were scurrying everywhere with tools and supplies.

“Yer lordship!” A stocky man of medium height made his way to their side.

“Mr. Albertson, our pleasure. Mrs. Seaton, my foreman here, Allen Albertson. Mr. Albertson, Mrs. Seaton is the lady in charge of putting the finishing touches on all your work.”

“Ma’am.” Albertson smiled and tugged his forelock. “You been finishing the daylights out of this place, if I do say so. Where shall we start, milord?”

“Ma’am?” The earl turned to her, his deference bringing an inconvenient blush to her cheeks.

“The kitchen,” Anna said. “It’s the first room you’ll want functional and a very important room to people both upstairs and below.”

“To the kitchen, Mr. Albertson.” Westhaven waved a hand and offered Anna his arm.

Room by room, floor by floor, they toured the house. Shelves that had been bare now held neat rows of cups and glasses, or stacks of dishes, toweling, table linen, and candles. Anna asked that the spice rack be moved closer to the work table and suggested a bench be added along the inside kitchen wall. She had a bench put into the back hallway, as well, and a pegged board nailed to the wall for jackets, capes, and coats.

“You need a boot scrape, too,” she pointed out, “since this is the entrance closest to the stables and gardens.”

“You will make a note, Mr. Albertson?” the earl prompted.

“Aye.” Albertson nodded, rolling his eyes good-naturedly to show what he thought of feminine notions.

They went on through the house as the morning got under way, finding a set of drapes needing to be switched, some tables that had ended up in the wrong parlors, and a pair of carpets that should have gone in opposite bedrooms. In the music room, she had the harp covered and the piano’s lid closed.

“You may leave us now, Mr. Albertson,” Westhaven said as they approached the last bedroom. “I take it the men will soon break for their nooning?”

“They will. It be getting too hot to do the heavy work, but we’ll be back when it cools. Ma’am.” He bowed and took his leave, bellowing for the water dipper before he’d gained the stairs.

“He may lack a certain subtlety,” the earl said, “but he’s honest, and he’s getting the job done.”

“And a lovely job it is,” Anna said. “The place is looking wonderful.”

“I wanted to save this for last,” the earl said, opening the door to the final bedroom. It was the room where they’d passed the night, and Anna felt her heart stutter as the earl ushered her over the threshold.

“The Earl of Westhaven Memorial Chicken Pox Ward,” Anna quipped, trying desperately for a light tone.

“Among other things. How do you like it?”

She’d intended this to be a masculine room, decorating it in subdued greens with blue accents and choosing more substantial incidental furniture with fewer frills and fripperies. The canopy on the bed had been replaced with dark green velvet, the bed spread dyed to match. The drapes were a lighter version of the same shade, and all of it complemented the dark wood of the bed frame and the colorful Persian carpets scattered on the hardwood floors.

“You are quiet,” Westhaven said. “I hoped you would be pleased with the differences.”

“I’m pleased.” Anna smiled at him. “This is not a room for the lady of the house.”

“It is not, of course,” the earl agreed. “We saw those rooms earlier. I wanted this to be a room worthy of the memories I hold of it.”

“Westhaven…” Anna sighed. “You were being so good.”

“I was, and I’m glad you appreciate the effort, but I’ve left you in peace for days now, Anna, and you didn’t come here without expecting me to make some advances.”

“I came here,” Anna said, sitting down in an upholstered rocker, “to comply with your request to see the house set to rights. I’ve done that, so we can return to Town now.”

“And make Pericles travel in the worst heat of the day.”

She glared at him and rose. “Do not put the welfare of your horse above my reputation, yet again. Dear Pericles can walk us back to Town for all I care, but our work here is finished.”

“Our work, perhaps.” The earl regarded her levelly. “Not our dealings. Come.” He took her hand and led her to window seat. She didn’t resist when he pulled her down beside him and kept her hand trapped in his.

“Talk to me, Anna,” he said, wrapping his second hand around the back of hers. “You’ve become inscrutable, and I have enough sisters to know this is not a good thing.”

“You would leave me no privacy.” But when the earl stretched out his legs, his thigh casually resting against hers, she did not move away.

“You have more privacy than anyone else in my household,” the earl chided. “You answer only to me, have the run of the property, and have the only private sitting room on four floors besides my own. And”—he kissed her knuckles—“you are stalling.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and felt him nuzzling at her temple.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “tell me what’s troubling you. Dev says you’ve shadows in your eyes, and I have to agree.”

“Him.” Anna’s head came off his shoulder.

“Has he offended? Pinched Nanny Fran one too many times? Offended Cook?”

“He has offended me,” Anna said on a sigh. “Or he would, if I could stay mad at him, but he’s just protective of you.”

“The duke used that same excuse to nearly unravel my niece’s entire family. He was protecting me when he bribed Elise, and he was protecting someone every time he crossed the lines his duchess would not approve of.”

“I pointed out the parallel to St. Just when he warned me not to trifle with you.”

“And here I’ve been pleasuring myself nigh cross-eyed because you won’t trifle with me,” the earl said. Anna smiled at his rejoinder despite herself. When she glanced over, he obligingly crossed his eyes.

“What else did St. Just have to say?” the earl prompted when the moment of levity had passed.

“If you value me, he will, as well. I don’t know what that meant, Westhaven. He is a difficult man to read.”

“He was welcoming you to the family, and all without a word to me.”

“If that is his welcome, one shudders to consider his threats.”

“He says you are a lady with secrets. I could not gainsay him.”

“I was a lady once,” Anna said, not meeting his eyes. “I am in service now.”

“And you choose to remain in service rather than accept my suit. It is very lowering to think my kisses, my wealth, I myself, am less appealing to you than bouquets needing water or silver in need of polish.”

“You mustn’t think that!” Anna lifted her eyes to his, horrified at the honest self-doubt she’d heard in his voice. “You must believe me when I say the failing is mine; any woman would be pleased to have your attentions.”

“Any woman?” The earl’s smile was self-deprecating. “Guinevere Allen was none too flattered.”

“She was enamored of her viscount, and he of her,” Anna argued, coming to her feet. “I cannot allow you to think like this. You can have your pick of the last three years’ batch of debutantes, and you know it.”

“Oh, lucky me.” The earl rose, as well. “I can mince about with some child on my arm, one who fears her wedding night and dreads the thought of my attentions. And all the while, she will be hamstrung by my father’s machinations, to say nothing of the parents who staked her out in the ballroom like some sacrificial lamb. No man worth his salt wants a wife on those terms. What?” He returned to her side. “I cannot tell if you are horrified, stupefied, or maybe, just perhaps, impressed.”

“You understand,” Anna said, peering up at him. “You understand what it’s like to be that sacrificial lamb.”

“I do.” He nodded. “I also understand, Anna Seaton, if I cannot have more of you, this instant, I will not answer for the consequences.” He brushed his lips over hers. “The workmen are gone, and they won’t be back until the heat of the day has cooled. We have this time, Anna, and I would like to use it.”

“I will not lie with you.” Anna shook her head. “It would be… dishonest.”

“I will not lie with you then, either.” He kissed her again, more lingeringly. “But I would pleasure us both. Don’t for the love of God argue with me, Anna.” His arms slipped around her waist. “You need pleasuring almost as badly as I do, and there’s nothing to stop us.”

“There’s me to stop us,” she said, but she was kissing him back between her protests.

“Stop me later, then,” the earl suggested, shrugging out of his waistcoat while his lips cruised her neck. “Preferably much later.” He kissed her more deeply, but to her eternal consternation she was less committed to her protests than he was to his seduction.

For days she’d told herself physical pleasures were fleeting and an undesirable entanglement in her circumstances. She’d told herself she couldn’t miss something she’d shared with the earl on only a handful of occasions—a few kisses, some caresses, unimaginable pleasure and intimacy.

But she’d missed him like the land misses spring and the flowers miss the sun. She’d missed him like a soldier misses home on the night before battle and the night after. She’d missed him so…

“That’s it,” the earl coaxed when Anna’s arms went around his waist. “No more words, Anna. Unless it’s to tell me how to please you.”

He kissed her long and deeply, stilling her protests, stealing her will and making it his. She did want to share these pleasures with him, with him and no one else, ever. She did not want to leave him, and yet leave him she would.

She rose up to press her body more closely to his, and he gathered her more tightly in his arms. All of her reserve and self-control went flying out the window, and in their place was need. Need for him, for closeness with him.

“Your clothes,” Anna breathed, arching against him.

“Yours,” he whispered back. Deftly, he began to undo the buttons down the back of her dress, even as she continued to drink in his kisses. He pushed the cap sleeves of her dress off her shoulders and bent his head to worship her neck with his lips.

“I love that,” she said. “The way you touch me there.”

“And here,” he murmured, shifting lower, “you taste like sunshine, and sweetness, and female.”

She was trying to get his shirt out of his waistband but couldn’t kiss him and make her hands work at the same time. Gasping, she stepped back.

She eyed him in frustration. “This isn’t working. Please take your clothes off. Now, Westhaven.”

He smiled an I thought you would never ask smile and pulled his shirt over his head, letting her watch. He arched an eyebrow, his hand going to the fall of his trousers, and Anna nodded, holding his gaze the whole time. With deliberate movements, he got out of his boots, stockings, and breeches, standing before her naked, aroused, and unselfconscious.

“Oh, dear…” Anna’s eyes went wide as she surveyed him. “You are very interested.”

He stalked toward her, his erection curving up against his taut belly. “While you are very overdressed. Clothes off, Anna. All of them.”

She nodded, knowing it would represent new territory for them. She had never been naked before him, not in the broad light of day.

“Lock the door,” she said, swallowing. His smile became feral as he complied with her command. He’d told her to strip for him; she deliberately used the imperative on him, as well.

“Quit dithering, love.” His tone was gentler, amused but only so patient. Slowly, Anna let the bodice of her dress fall forward then shoved it below her hips. She stepped out of the dress and stood in the middle of its billows, like Venus rising. While Westhaven watched from just a few feet away, she bent to undo her boots and stockings then let her chemise join the dress on the floor.

“Better,” he said, holding out a hand to her. “Much, much better.”

She took a step toward him then hesitated. He closed the remaining distance and caught her against him, letting her press her face to his throat.

“Shy?” he asked, amusement back in his voice.

“We are… very undressed,” Anna said as a blush rose up her chest and suffused her face. “This is new.”

The earl bent his head to kiss her, then slid his hand down to cup her derriere. Before she could react with even another blush, he lifted her and tossed her onto the middle of the bed.

“Stay right there, shyness be damned,” he said to her as she rose up to brace her elbows behind her. “You look adorably dazed, thoroughly kissed, and much in need of my company, as you, my dear, need to be relieved of a certain ignorance. Not your innocence, as no man can divest you of that, but your ignorance. I fault Mr. Seaton for not seeing to this.”

“My ignorance?” she said, watching him climb onto the bed. “Westhaven…”

“That’s talking, Anna,” he chided. “You are only to talk if it’s to tell me what pleases you.”

“It pleases me not at all,” she said sternly, “to be handled like a… oof !” He straddled her and gently pushed her onto her back. “What are you about?”

“Hush, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, crouching over her. “It’s too hot for lecturing. We must conserve our strength.”

The bed, Anna realized, took some of the urgency from him. When he could loom over her this way, passively rest his erection against her stomach and know she wasn’t going to squirm away, he was easier to deal with. The pace of his kisses slowed, and the quiet of the house settled around them.

“Someday,” he said, grazing his nose down her sternum, “you will want it fast and almost rough. You’ll want me to shut up, and you won’t care if we tear our clothes or leave the door unlocked or make a racket.”

“Can you promise me such a day?” Anna arched her back, trying to get closer to him.

“I can promise you as many of those days as you want.” He flicked his tongue over her nipple and rested his cheek on the swell of her breast. “I can promise you nights when we get no sleep but rise with more energy than had we slept soundly. I can promise you long afternoons spent in sensual abandon, when we both have places we must be, things we must do, but we let them all go hang.” He turned his face and took her nipple into his mouth, and the pleasure he brought her was almost unbearable.

“Yes,” Anna breathed, not sure if she’d spoken aloud or simply felt the word in every part of her body. The earl drew more strongly on her and used his fingers to tease the other nipple. He paused and raised himself enough to meet her gaze.

“Take your time, Anna. We have hours if you want them, and my appetite for you is without limit.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, letting her hands stroke through his hair. “Take my time?”

“Our time,” he said, closing his eyes. He bent his head to her breasts again and spent long minutes using his mouth to arouse and please her. Her breasts were wonderfully sensitive, and she unabashedly reveled in the nudity that allowed him unfettered access to them.

“Westhaven…” Anna arched restlessly some minutes later. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not enough,” he said, easing a hand down over her stomach. He kept his movements deliberate, as if reminding her tacitly they had all the time in the world. Slowly, he caressed her midriff, occasionally letting his fingers tease at her nipples or drift down to tease at the curls above her sex.

“You are losing flesh,” he said, leaning over to kiss her breast. “You will please stop this, as I require you to be sturdy.”

“I always drop some weight in the summer,” Anna said, realizing he was in a different mood entirely from when he tossed her onto the bed. “You are over your chicken pox.” She ran a hand over his abdomen, marveling at how perfectly his skin had healed.

“I had good care”—the earl smiled up at her—“and I’ve been conserving my strength.” His hand dipped lower, into her curls, and Anna felt her frustration spike. Well, turnabout was fair play, so she sent her own hand drifting down to explore his erection.

“How long can you stay like this?” She circled him with her fingers and sleeved his length.

“Many men are in a state of near perpetual arousal for much of their adolescence,” he said, closing his eyes. “Myself included. It got better at university, when I could actually do something besides pleasure myself several times a day. Hold me tighter, love. Like that.” He sighed, gave up, and rolled to his back.

Anna smiled, pleased with herself for getting the better of him. She pushed up and sat cross-legged at his hip then resumed her exploration.

“Are all men as well endowed as you?” she asked, her free hand slipping up to brush over his nipples.

“I am the most well-endowed man on earth,” he said, eyes still closed. “You are to be envied among all women; you’ll be bowlegged when we become lovers in fact.”

“Be serious,” she chided, tugging at him gently.

“Serious…” he breathed. “God, that feels good… It’s hard to say really who is well endowed and who isn’t, as one seldom sees another fellow aroused. We peek, certainly, but I’ve seen very few cocks other than my own ready to do the deed.”

“You’ve seen other men in this state?”

“Most men wake up in this state,” he informed her. “Slow down, sweetheart, or I won’t be able to maintain it much longer.” She slowed her hand, fractionally, but leaned over and swirled her tongue over his nipple.

“Anna.” His hand came up to cradle the back of her head and to contradict the warning in his tone.

“Hmm?” She began to suckle him, and he groaned, his hips moving to complement the stroke of her hand.

“I will get even.”

“Shall I stop?” She stilled her hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead. His eyes opened, and she was relieved to see humor in his expression.

“I’m going to use my mouth on you, Anna, and you will scream for me and forget your own name, so much will you like it.”

She frowned at that. He’d been very explicit about this threat before. Thinking about it had kept her awake more than one night.

She met his gaze soberly. “What if I want to use my mouth on you?”

“Come here.” He wrestled her down to his side, wrapped his arms around her, and tucked her close. “When you are with me like this, there is nothing you can ask of me, nothing you can want or do or think that will earn my censure. I would love to feel your mouth on my cock; I would love to take you in any position you can think of. If you wanted to tie me up, blindfold me, paint my cock blue, I would not deny you.”

“Why?”

“I trust you,” he said, and his words left her stunned.

“You shouldn’t,” she replied, her voice small. She felt the impact of her honesty go through him and wondered if she’d destroyed his regard for her in those two little words.

“Why shouldn’t I?” His question came slowly, in the same tempo as his hand moving over her body.

“Because I will disappoint you, and then you will feel ashamed and angry, and so will I,” she said against his neck. She shifted to straddle him and felt his arms go around her when she curled down onto his chest.

“You will disappoint me in bed?” he asked, his tone tentative.

“Probably there, too,” she replied, pressing her nose to his sternum.

“You still think you’re leaving me,” the earl concluded, his hands stroking along her spine.

“I know I am,” she said more firmly, teething his nipple for emphasis. There, she’d said it; she’d been as honest as she could be.

“Because you will not marry me, and so you must take your virtuous self off when you’ve endured the requisite dose of my importuning.”

Anna rose up and surveyed him balefully. “I did not say I enjoyed an entirely consistent position, nor one that makes sense in all circumstances, but I can’t marry you.”

“Cannot or will not?” the earl asked, catching her eye and holding it.

“Cannot. Absolutely cannot. Ever.”

But she also could not stop toying with his nipples.

“If you could choose, Anna”—he reached down and tugged gently on one of her nipples in retaliation—“what would you choose? This duty that confidentially holds you, or the alternative?”

“You.” She leaned up and kissed him. “Were I free to do so, I’d choose you.”

Not marriage, not freedom, not the title, not security. She would choose him. Her kiss, when she brushed her lips over his again, was different, sweet, wistful, but also the kiss of a woman who felt deeply about the man with her.

She would choose him. She could tell him that— give him that.

Anna peered up at him. “Earlier, you said—”

“I say a lot of things.” He smiled at her, and to Anna, the expression was tender, a little like the way he looked at Her Grace.

“You said…” She looked abruptly away, flummoxed to find she was still capable of shyness when she was naked, straddling his rigid cock. “You said you would love to feel my mouth on your… on you.”

“I did.” His hands went still. “I would.”

“How does one do this?” she asked, a blush rising over her for him to see. But to her relief he didn’t tease, he didn’t remark on it, he just waited until she was facing him again.

“However you please,” he said levelly, “and only if you please.”

“Show me. I want to do this with you.”

“Get comfortable,” he said, shifting over to one side of the bed. “And stop whenever you aren’t comfortable. Take your time, and do what pleases you.”

“What if I hurt you?” Anna shifted to rest her cheek low on his abdomen and took him in her hand.

“You can’t, short of biting me and drawing blood, but even that can have a certain erotic appeal.”

His hand settled on her hair, and she took a moment to inhale the scents of clean sheets, clean man, and anticipation. She licked delicately at his erection, as if she were trying to decide what flavor he was. When his hand sifted through her hair to caress her nape, she relaxed and put her focus on the task. Tentatively, she licked him all over, little teasing swipes of her tongue, like a mama cat patiently grooming a kitten. Inside her own body, she lit fires with that tongue, his permission to indulge her curiosity as incendiary as the naked length of him in the bed.

And then she slipped her mouth over him, and brush fires instantly converged into a wildfire. She experimented, taking him deep into her mouth then more shallowly. Without a word, his hips began to move, slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. She was content to spend long minutes learning how to coordinate her movements with his, to let the fires rage and warm places in her gone cold longer than she’d realized. When her fingers wrapped around his wet length, he expelled a soft, pleased groan, as if passion was as much a relief to him as it was to her.

“Not much more, Anna,” he cautioned hoarsely. “I’ll spend…”

Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? When he was thrusting smoothly through her hand into her mouth, and his breathing was coming in short, deep breaths, she closed her lips around him and drew firmly.

“Oh, God… Anna… No…” His thrusts grew stronger, despite his words. His hand cradled the back of her head, holding her close; his cock actually pulsed in her mouth, and Anna wasn’t about to show him mercy.

“No…” he whispered again, even while his body shouted to the contrary for long, ecstatic moments. “Jesus…” He hissed, eyes closed, head thrown back, hips moving in convulsive shudders of pleasure. “Jesus, God… Anna…”

He went quiet but not quite still, his hand moving slowly over her scalp.

“And you say,” he whispered, “I should not trust you.” She let him slip from her mouth, and felt tears welling. He should not trust her, but he just had, profoundly. Even in her inexperience, she could divine that much.

“Come here.” He leaned up and tugged her to lie along his side. “I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe I did that. A man doesn’t spend in a woman’s mouth. It isn’t gentlemanly.”

“But it is gentlemanly to spend on her stomach?” Anna asked in puzzlement. “Or to spend in her body, getting a bastard on her?”

“What was it the great philosopher once said?” He kissed her nose. “The position is not entirely consistent, nor does it make sense under all circumstances?”

Anna continued to frown. “Do you mean you yourself do not spend in a woman’s mouth, or that it’s like pissing in a well, a civil wrong?”

“Good heavens, you did have a brother, didn’t you? It isn’t quite like that. It’s like eating the dessert set aside for company, or stealing the crown jewels and seeing another blamed. It’s just… It’s too good,” he said. “Too selfish.”

“Of me?” Anna asked, still confused. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to stop, and you said I should stop only when I pleased.”

“Love,” he sighed, “you could not have pleased me more profoundly if you’d told me Val had sired legitimate twin boys. I have never experienced such generosity, never, and as soon as I recover my wits, I am going to get very, very even indeed.”

That was enough to settle her down and put a period to her questions. She closed her eyes and drowsed on his shoulder while he drifted into sleep, his hand still tangled possessively in her hair.

When Anna awoke, she felt replete with the same sense of sweetness she’d had after her encounter with Westhaven in the library. He was wrapped around her, her back spooned to his chest, a sweet breeze wafting in from the open window.

His hand closed gently around her breast, though his breathing did not change. Anna closed her eyes and let the pleasure of that single, soft caress drift through her body. He did it again, and she sighed audibly. A few moments later, his thumb brushed over her nipple, then again.

Take your time, he’d said.

As the earl’s hands began to wander—up and down her back, over her buttocks, back to her breasts—she thought over their last encounter in this very bed. She’d lain still, feigning sleep then, too.

What a waste of a night, she thought on a sigh.

“You are awake,” the earl murmured, his lips closing over her earlobe.

“I am,” Anna said as Westhaven’s mouth sent slow ripples of awareness through her body. “But without motivation to get up and seize the remainder of the day.”

“There will be no getting up,” he remonstrated, his hand sliding between her legs. “And the only thing you’ll be seizing is me or the pleasure I owe you.”

Anna tried to peer over her shoulder at him.

“You owe me nothing.”

“Ah, but I do,” he said, nudging her onto her stomach. “And a gentleman always pays his debts.”

Anna didn’t typically sleep on her stomach and found the position mildly disconcerting. She couldn’t see him, could feel only his hand stroking down her back, over her buttocks, back up again.

“Relax, Anna.” He kissed her nape. “This will take a while. Let your legs fall open, and just enjoy.”

She closed her eyes and felt the caress of his hand dancing over her like the breeze, but better. He knew where to touch, how much pressure to use, when to tease, and when to gratify. His fingers explored her sex from behind then drifted away to trace the long muscles on either side of her spine. He caressed her buttocks with slow, almost pensive attention to the tension in the muscles there then pressed another series of kisses to her nape and shoulders.

She shouldn’t let him, she thought… Whole afternoons, but not for them. This was their afternoon, their only afternoon, and then she’d be gone, betraying all the trust he showed her, taking his respect for her and tossing it back in his face.

“On to your back, sweetheart,” Westhaven whispered in her ear. When she lazily complied, he started all over again, the same stroking and studying and teasing, but this time his attention wandered from her breasts to her face, to her sex, to her neck and shoulders, and back her breasts.

“Spread your legs for me,” he coaxed, but when Anna did, he remained content to tease at her breasts with his fingers. Only gradually did he let his hand drift down in slow, smooth sweeps, then to rest over her sex. He turned his body, and though she didn’t open her eyes, Anna felt him crouching over her, his mouth settling contentedly over a nipple.

He was tormenting her, she thought sluggishly, creating such a blend of languor and arousal she couldn’t fight either. Why would she want to? His mouth drew on her, and she sifted her fingers through his hair, emotion tangling with the erotic lassitude he created. Precious, she thought. These moments, this man, these sensations… all precious.

He paused and moved lower, resting his face against her abdomen before levering up and reaching for a spare pillow.

“Hips up,” he directed, tucking the pillow under her. “You’ll see why soon enough.” And then he was nuzzling at her belly, nipping at the underside of her breast, and stroking the insides of her thighs.

“Your job,” he said, moving yet lower still, “is simply to enjoy. You can tell me to stop, but I might have trouble hearing you, as I intend to be enjoying myself, as well.” His words floated into Anna’s awareness and floated right back out again. She was nearly asleep, so relaxed had she become.

But not quite asleep, as the earl’s caresses had also created a low, buzzing arousal throughout her body. Her breasts wanted his mouth and his fingers, her buttocks wanted that same hand, and her sex wanted all of him. If he’d asked, she’d have consented to join with him, so finely drawn was she between arousal, regret, and lassitude.

He moved to kiss her spread thighs, and Anna knew a fleeting self-consciousness. He was going to look at her, to see in the broad light of day the parts of her she hadn’t seen herself.

“You are beautiful,” he said, as if reading her mind, “and luscious.”

The next sensation, as his mouth settled over her, was indescribable. It took the sweet, tender, languorous arousal of all his previous caresses and let it congeal where he drew on her. He was gentle at first, just hinting at what pleasures he could bring her. He’d suckle at her for a moment then use his tongue to lap at her folds, to paint her sex with pleasure.

But then he was back, applying just a little more pressure, and a soft groan escaped Anna’s throat.

“Move if you want to,” he urged, wrapping an arm around her thigh to anchor her. “Move against me, and you’ll feel better.”

Tentatively, she rocked her hips, a long, slow roll of her body that eased her ache and made it worse. She moved again, setting up a rhythm, working with him to craft her pleasure. It went on like that, minute after minute of bliss edged with longing, then longing coalescing into need.

“Westhaven?” If a man didn’t come in a woman’s mouth, was a woman permitted to find her pleasure with a man’s mouth? She wanted to ask him, but her mind was too far gone with pleasure.

“Touch your breasts, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’ll feel better. Like this.” He reached up one long arm and gently pinched at her nipple. He fished for her hand, closed it around her own nipple, and used his fingers to close her grasp on herself.

It wasn’t the same as his caresses, but he kept his hand resting over hers, and so there was part of him in the sensations she evoked. When her own hand went still, the better for her to focus on his busy mouth, he closed his fingers again in gentle reminder.

“Westhaven,” Anna rasped, stop, she wanted to say, but the word would not come to her lips. The feelings he aroused, the physical sensations… they were building, an inexorable welling of pleasure was advancing toward her, but—God help her—not fast enough.

“This will help,” he said, and Anna felt him ease a finger shallowly into her body. He was careful, tentative, unwilling to advance beyond a certain point, but it helped focus her frustration. She clamped her muscles around that finger and felt him pause.

“You lovely, naughty girl,” he whispered, adding a second finger—but not deep enough. He shifted the angle of his shoulders and took her in his mouth again.

“Please, Westhaven, please…”

She rocked up against his mouth, wanting, wanting, wanting until she would have begged had speech not been beyond her. She begged with her body, with her hands in his hair, with the soft whimpers that escaped her.

Her body began to hum with impending pleasure, to rise and vibrate and sing with it, until it burst through her, finally—fast enough, hard enough, deep enough, and with his mouth and hands and will, he made it last long enough, pushing her onward ruthlessly when she would have accepted just a taste of pleasure, until she was moaning and undulating helplessly against his mouth.

“Westhaven.” She ruffled his hair and said it again, her voice soft with the surfeit of pleasure he’d brought her.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his face against her belly.

“Cover me,” she said, and he reached for the sheets.

“No.” She tugged at his scalp. “You, cover me. Please.”

It was an odd request, but he rose up on all fours, crouched over her, and lowered his chest to hers.

“All of you,” she said, eyes closed, hands drifting over his shoulders and back.

So he settled between her legs, giving her his weight, his erection resting snugly on her belly. When she sighed in contentment, he tucked her crown under his chin and matched his breathing to hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For all of it, but this, too. Thank you.”