They’d not stayed in harbor. Instead Tristan had ordered the ship taken out to sea. Not far. Just enough so the wind toyed with Anne’s hair while she stood on the deck, just enough so all the stars were visible. Just enough so she heard a whale in the distance.
She couldn’t deny that she understood why he had an appreciation for the sea, but she didn’t want to spend her life competing with a mistress who would always come first in his heart. Nor could she blame him for wanting it when it had always been there for him. When he had needed a place to run, it had provided sanctuary.
Tristan stood behind her, his legs braced, holding her near while the ship rocked gently, the sails now furled until they were ready to return to shore.
“I can understand why you love it out here,” she said quietly.
“I think you love it as well.”
“I appreciate it. That’s a very different thing.”
“I’ve never shared any of this with another lady.”
She turned in his arms until she was facing him. “And I’ve shared with you far more than I’ve ever shared with anyone.”
“Regrets?”
“Nary a one.”
Rising up on her toes, she kissed him with all the hunger, the yearning—and yes, even the love—that she held for him. She would never utter the words that might hold him to her because she cared for him too much to deny him the sea.
Or perhaps she feared her love wouldn’t be enough to hold him.
It didn’t matter. What she felt was not to be shared or examined. They would have tonight, and then she would lock it away.
With her nestled securely against his side, they made their way to his quarters. It was not what she would want for a home, but it was his home. She was glad he’d brought her here again.
Then she had no time to reflect on anything because his mouth was on her and his hands were working quickly to divest her of her clothing. She was just as eager, grateful that he’d come to her in only boots, shirt, and trousers. She’d have him bared in no time at all.
“You’re not wearing a corset,” he said as he jerked her dress down.
“No.”
“Good girl.”
“If you dare pat my head—”
“Your head is not what I intend to pat.”
She laughed as they scattered their clothes about the floor before falling into the bed. She didn’t want to acknowledge that she didn’t sleep nearly as deeply when she wasn’t snuggled up against him. Perhaps, though, it was only that when she was with him she always went to bed sated.
She wanted a long, slow, leisurely sojourn into lovemaking, but they had been apart too long for anything remotely tame. It was as though neither of them could get enough of the other.
His tongue swirled and danced with hers. Arching against him, she ran her hands along the familiar flesh. She didn’t want to consider how right it felt to have his body bearing down on hers. She wanted to lose herself in the sensations that he was drawing to life.
Everywhere he caressed mourned when he moved on to someplace else, and he left nothing untouched. From her crown to her toes, he stroked and tasted, he kissed and nipped, he suckled and licked.
She did the same with a boldness that astounded her. He was hers—completely and absolutely. For tonight anyway. Eventually he would drift away, and she would let him go without tears or a scene. She would be grateful for what they had tonight.
Then she would settle into being a proper lady. But tonight she intended to be decidedly improper.
Shoving on his chest, angling her hips, she rolled him onto his back. “My turn,” she breathed.
Breathing harshly, he asked, “What’s this?”
“You’ll see.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her down for a kiss. She would give him that, let him have control for a moment. As though she had any choice in the matter. She enjoyed his kisses too much to give one up freely so she straddled him and sank into it, allowed their mouths to seek and claim. But when he came up for air, she slid down, kissing his neck, tasting the salty dew that was already beginning to coat his skin.
She eased down farther, trailing her tongue over his chest.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “On an adventure.”
Tristan stared at the heat in her eyes and was surprised he didn’t ignite. Although he was hot enough to do it on his own without any further prompting from her.
From the beginning he had wanted her, but nothing had prepared him for the urgency and the desire that propelled him tonight. Perhaps it was because he knew what she offered, perhaps it was because he had been denied her for so long—
Or perhaps it was because he knew he would never again have her.
He had decided this would be their final parting, and he hated the thought of it almost as much as he hated the idea of staying in England. Of being shackled to the land.
He’d been surprised when she’d not objected to his taking the ship from the harbor, to bringing them out on the sea. He had fully intended to sail through the night, to keep her with him until he was done with her. She might think she didn’t want to see the world, but she did. How could she not? Especially when it involved being in his arms every night.
But she trusted him, dammit. Believed him to be a better man than he was, a man who kept promises even when they didn’t benefit him. He’d hoped his bidding so outrageously on her this evening would provide enough gossip to discourage Chetwyn’s suit, but now he realized the selfishness of it. He couldn’t have her forever. He was a bastard to deny her a chance at the sort of life she craved.
Yet she seemed not to comprehend what an absolute blackguard he was, because wedged between his legs, she moved even lower. His breath stuttered, his hands fisted in the sheets. “Anne,” he croaked.
Once more she lifted her gaze and he saw triumph there. Then she gave him a saucy look before lowering her mouth—
He bucked as the heat of her mouth enveloped him.
“Christ!” He plowed one hand into her hair while the other kept him anchored to the bed. Pressing his head back against the pillow, he watched her working her magic. Only one thing felt better and that was being buried deeply inside of her. He wanted to beg, plead with her to never do this to another man. It would drive him to madness to envision her with someone else.
Damnation, he should order the sails hoisted. He should set a course to the far side of the world. He should keep her with him—
But she would hate him and her sweet mouth would never do such naughty things again.
Pleasure and pain rippled through him. Pleasure brought on by her energetic ministrations; pain because he didn’t deserve what she was so willing to give. He’d wanted to deny her a future with another man.
And now he knew he had to let her go.
“Anne.” Reaching down, he brought her up until she straddled his hips. He guided himself into her before urging her down for a kiss. He thought he tasted himself on her lips. No one had ever given him as much as she had. In such a short time, she’d given him everything.
She rode him as though her very life depended on it. He knew his did. Straightening, she skimmed her hands over his chest while her hips rocked in tandem to his. He cupped her breasts, stroked and massaged—
She dropped her head back. Sweet sighs echoed around them, and then she was crying out—
Her body spasmed around him and fierce pleasure ripped through him, tearing asunder his world, leaving him sated and devastated as she collapsed on top of him. He didn’t know where he found the strength to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly against him. Selfish bastard that he was, he never wanted her to leave.
But as he heard her drift off to sleep, he knew the minutes were ticking away and soon, very soon, she would no longer be in his life.
Never again would he hold her, know the joy of her.
He had traversed his path for too long to detour from it now. Sadly, it was a path that didn’t include her.
Wrapped in Tristan’s arms, Anne stood in the darkened shadows of the garden. She didn’t know why she’d thought he would sail in a direction that would take them away from England instead of toward it. She might not have objected. When she was with him, lost in the haze of pleasure, she seemed to have little common sense.
But it was here with her now. She had a thousand things to say to him. But only a few truly mattered.
“No more, no more midnight trysts. The window to my bedchamber will be locked. I will never again set foot on your ship. But if you attend a ball, you may ask me to dance.”
“I may just do that. And we still haven’t had our ride through Hyde Park.”
“No, we haven’t.”
Leaning back she looked up into his face. She wished she could wait for the dawn to light it but the longer she dallied, the greater the chance of her family discovering that she had been quite improper. “Good night, Tristan.”
Before he could say anything, she spun away from him and raced up the garden path. She didn’t want to acknowledge the disappointment that swamped her because he didn’t snatch her back into his arms.