Yours,
Greyley
He silently reread the letter. Dalmapple had by this time noticed his inattendance and was now morosely scribbling in his account books, casting dark glances his way.
Anthony sanded the missive. It was abrupt and very commanding. He was certain she’d hate it. She didn’t have the nose of a Roman emperor for nothing.
He rang for the footman, pleased with himself. He was baiting her, teasing her for amusement’s sake alone. It was childish in a way, he supposed. But it was also the most fun he’d had in a long, long time.
A discreet knock on the door heralded the footman. Anthony gave the man the missive and sent him off to the nursery. Then, satisfied, he settled back in his chair and waited. Dalmapple decided to take the opportunity to redirect his attention to the affairs of the estate, but Anthony waved him out, telling him that he’d meet with him on the morrow.
As Dalmapple left, sniffing as if in a huff, Anthony imagined Anna’s hair curling over her bared shoulders, caressing the line of her naked breasts and the flat plane of her stomach. The image heated him instantly and he had to shift in his chair to accommodate his reaction. He did indeed want Thraxton in his bed. Unclothed and ready for some sport. An hour or two should do it, he decided charitably. Maybe three.
Anthony glanced at the window where the rain lashed against the pane. It would have been pleasant to have awakened with Thraxton in his bed this morning, where their passion would have brightened an otherwise dreary day. Did she wear a gown to bed? He would bet his last penny she did—a long, overly frilled and heavily ribboned monstrosity of a gown, no doubt. One that hid her figure thoroughly.
Perhaps he would buy her something scandalously filmy. The thought took root and he sat musing over the merits of pale pink silk and gossamer white lace until a polite knock on the door interrupted his musings. The footman returned, a crisply folded missive on his tray. Anthony tried to still his disappointment that the intemperate Miss Thraxton had not stormed into his library, her passions in an uproar.
He took the note from the footman and gestured for the man to wait.
Greyley,
While I was charmed to receive such a politely worded invitation, I feel I must decline. I have many duties to see to today and you, my lord, are not one of them.
Sincerely,
Thraxton
Anthony leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. Perhaps he’d been wrong—maybe he should use softer, gentler language, like Brand would use. Anthony snorted. Anna would scoff at such nonsense. No, a woman like Thraxton responded to direct handling and nothing else, like a wild horse that needed taming.
After a moment, he removed his feet from the desk, took pen in hand, and began to write.
Thraxton,
Not only do you owe me your life, but you are also in my employ. Meet me in the billiards room at ten or I will come and get you.
Yours,
Greyley
Anthony sanded the missive, then handed it to the waiting footman. Arms crossed behind his head, Anthony sat back in his chair and waited, whistling a refrain from a colorful song he suddenly remembered from his youth.
Within moments he heard the snap of a determined pair of slippers approaching the library. He barely had time to loosen his cravat and prop his feet on his desk before the door was thrown open and Anna sailed in, her chin high, her air that of an offended goddess.
She slammed the door closed so hard that a book fell off a nearby shelf. Anna stepped over the book and then marched to his desk. Once there, she placed her hands palm down on the wide surface and leaned forward, her face flushed a becoming pink. “I cannot believe you would be so rude as to demand my presence based on the fact that I am in your employ!”
“You have no idea how rude I can be,” he said affably, admiring the proud line of her nose. She really was a magnificent woman, all fire and spice.
“I am not a scullery maid, Greyley, and you’d do well to remember that fact.”
The way her eyes sparkled silver when she was angry was also something to be admired. “I would never invite a scullery maid to play billiards. In fact, I wouldn’t invite a scullery maid anywhere.”
“But you would invite a governess.”
He removed his feet from the desk and stood, leaning forward until his face was even with hers across the wide desk. “I can invite you, Anna Thraxton, to play billiards, ride, even dance with me. I am, after all, master of this house.”
“You are an arrogant bastard, Greyley.”
“True,” he agreed with a faint smile. “But I’m also an excellent host.” Outside, thunder rumbled across the sky and the rain increased to a torrential pour. Anthony gestured toward the window. “I would rather ride, as I’m sure you would, but the rain has prevented it. I simply thought to exchange the one pleasure for another.”
She had to bite her lip to keep from returning his smile. Greyley outraged, anger sparkling in his dark brown eyes, was incredibly handsome. Greyley amused, his firm mouth curved in a smile, was simply devastating. Anna’s resistance was melting by the second.
As if he could read her mind, his smile widened to something slow, easy, and intimate. “Perhaps after lunch you will find the time for two games of billiards?”
Despite her irritation, Anna was no match for his warm brown eyes. She sighed. He looked just like one of the children begging for someone to play Jack Pole or Rough ’n Tumble. “It would be highly inappropriate for me to do any such thing and you know it.”
“You are at my house, Miss Thraxton. Within these walls, I decide what is appropriate and what is inappropriate.”
Anna almost laughed. He was so determined to bend everything to his will. “Nothing will make me agree to that.”
“Then what would be acceptable to you? I cannot allow you to languish in the nursery. My sister would consider me a poor host indeed, and she’s not shy in berating me.”
“I’m not a guest and I’m not languishing. I like being with the children. Unlike you, I actually enjoyed the ride yesterday.”
His hot brown gaze rested on her, stroking her face, lingering on her lips. “So did I,” he murmured. “Far more than you realize.”
His tone was so intimate that Anna moved away from the desk, her heart thudding in the most uncomfortable way. “Lord Greyley, I cannot be alone with you again. Last time…last time was a mistake.” One that left her lying awake long after she’d gone to bed, her thoughts far, far from those of a respectable governess.
His gaze heated from brown to black in the space of an instant. “Last time was magnificent and you know it.”
“It was pleasant,” she said, wiping her damp palms on her dress, hoping that lightning did not strike her where she stood. Calling Greyley’s kisses pleasant was tantamount to calling Hampton Court Palace “nice.” “But we cannot allow ourselves to be so lost to propriety again, or—” She blushed, thinking of what that “or” portended.
“Oh, but we can,” he said in a reasonable voice, coming out from behind the desk, his movements as smooth and sure as a lion on the hunt.
“I should leave,” Anna said, suddenly breathless as she watched him approach. She took a step back.
He followed her. “You’d abandon the field of battle, just like that?” He shook his head sadly, though a gleam of humor lit his eyes to gold. “Thraxton, you disappoint me.”
She eyed him narrowly. There was something different about the earl today. Something…lighter. And infinitely more dangerous. “You wrote that horrible note just to infuriate me, didn’t you?”
He grinned, his teeth white.
Damn the man! “Just what do you hope to accomplish with such mischief?”
“I just want to talk.”
“Talk?” she scoffed. “I don’t think talking was what you had in mind.”
“Hm.” He lifted a finger and traced the line of her cheek, the touch exquisitely gentle.
Anna’s heart beat such an
erratic rhythm that she was surprised he didn’t comment on it. “Greyley, we shouldn’t do this.” But oh, how she wanted him to do this. She wanted Greyley to kiss her. Kiss her, and more.
It seemed to Anna as if her entire life was to be bound forever by the strict rules of being a governess while some wild, lonely part of her hungered for something more. Something passionate. And Greyley represented that passion.
It would mean nothing, of that she was sure. But still…She looked up at the line of his mouth, her body softening at the sight. He was magnificent. Anna couldn’t imagine allowing herself to experience the forbidden with anyone else.
“Anna,” he whispered, his fingertips brushing her lips. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know, but I think…I think I want you.” Anna closed her eyes as she heard herself whisper the words. He would think her such a fool. A woman of no principles. She opened her eyes and saw the answering blaze in his.
“I want you, too.”
Anna swallowed hard, her feelings tied into knots so tight that she couldn’t imagine how to begin untangling them. She glanced up at him through her lashes, wishing he wouldn’t stand quite so close. At the same time, she wished he’d just reach out and sweep her into his arms and end her agony.
He leaned forward so that his lips were but a whisper from hers. “We can be very good for each other.” His breath brushed her face, hot and possessive.
She shivered. “Can we?”
Anthony’s hands slid around her waist. “You are a very attractive woman, Thraxton. Beautiful, even.”
If she leaned forward just the tiniest bit, she’d be against his chest. To Anna’s horror, she found the thought fascinating. Engrossing. Wonderful beyond description. Agitated, she stepped back as far as his grasp allowed. “If you are doing this just to get that damned schedule out of me, then you’re wasting your time. I don’t like schedules and I don’t intend to use one.”
His lids lowered slightly and he regarded her for a long moment, his eyes shadowed by his thick lashes. “You can’t elude me forever. There’s fire between us, Anna. And you know it.”
“I’m sure Hades tempted Persephone with those exact words.”
“And look what a pleasant interlude they had.”
And an interlude would be all it was, Anna decided, her thoughts clearing miraculously. A pleasant interlude to be enjoyed, something to keep with her as she went about her business being a prim and proper governess.
Some of her feelings must have shown on her face, for in one sharp movement, he pulled her hard against his chest and kissed her. As his mouth opened over hers, all sane thought left her. Emotions swirled in a wild dance that sent ripples of hunger through her, making her move in restless abandon. In some distant recess of her mind, she recognized that Anthony Elliot was a trained specialist when it came to delivering soul-searing kisses. Kisses that stole her breath and melted her into a mindless puddle of desire. His passion ignited hers, and she returned the kiss so wantonly that he moaned her name against his lips.
Anna was a woman who loved the feel of raw silk on her bare skin. A woman who lusted after the better things in life. She dreamed of diamond and ruby necklaces, their weight decadent against her naked throat. And now she discovered even more wanton dreams—of being held in a man’s arms as he kissed her into madness and beyond.
Anthony’s mouth trailed a hot, damp line to her throat. “Anna,” he murmured against her skin. “Do you know what you taste like?”
She took a shuddering breath, her hands unconsciously twining in his hair as she offered herself to him. “What?”
He lifted his head and smiled down into her eyes, his hand cupping her face, his thumbs tracing the line of her cheeks. “Rice pudding.”
She laughed, and his smile faded, replaced by a sudden hunger. He kissed her again, fierce and passionate, as if her laughter had sparked some new response, something blazing hot and possessive.
She forgot she was a governess, forgot she was bound by propriety, forgot everything but the delicious feel of being with him.
Anna leaned into him, soaking in the heat of his hands as they slid over her shoulders, her back, her hips, molding her gown to her skin. Whispering her name, he slid a hand over her hip to her thigh, then to her bottom, where he held her tightly against him, letting her feel his response to their nearness.
She caught her breath, then tugged on his cravat, pleased when the loose knot fell free and left his neck open. The bronze strength of him shone where his corded neck muscles rose to his strong jaw. Anna traced the line of his throat, savoring his deep groan when she nipped his ear. She felt wanton and free, and it was a heady experience.
He eased her back, placing hot kisses on her forehead and feathering her lashes with his caresses. The hard edge of the desk met the backs of her thighs, and Anthony easily lifted her in one smooth motion so that she sat on the edge. He deepened his kiss, gently thrusting his tongue into her mouth in a pulsating rhythm.
Anna gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, losing herself in his strength. Anthony responded hotly to her fervor. He traced the line of her hip, down her thigh and leg. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he placed his hand on her bare ankle, lifting the caress to her calf, then her knee. His long fingers splayed over her bare skin, touching, smoothing as he pushed her skirts up with each move.
Jolts of searing exhilaration coursed through her. Anna reveled in the feelings he provoked. For the first time in over a year, the small part of her that resented being relegated to a mere governess slipped free. She pressed herself against him, inhaling his spicy male scent and letting his hands roam as they would.
His hand slid beyond the delicate skin of her knee to her thigh. There he hesitated, pulling back to look at her, a question in his dark eyes. A question Anna didn’t want to answer. She pulled his mouth back to hers as she arched against him, wanting something…more. Anthony moaned, and for an instant Anna knew she had complete power over the moment. If she closed her thighs, he would stop. But if she opened them…it was sweet madness.
She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and moved her thighs apart. It was a sweetly abandoned movement, and Anna shivered with desire, the knowledge that what they were doing was forbidden making it all the more powerful.
Anthony was lost. With every kiss, every touch, he was a welter of desire. He’d never been so close to being out of control, but then he’d never been with Anna before, either. There was something about her that awakened feelings he never knew he possessed. And now, sitting on the edge of his desk, her legs splayed in the most wanton manner, her hair falling about her shoulders, her silver eyes luminous with desire, he decided she was the most sensuous woman he’d ever met.
Fighting for control, he buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. It was lemon and rose, the freshness of a spring breeze and something more exotic. The desire to experience life, to make everything about her as beautiful as she was, overwhelmed him. Anthony’s chest tightened and he took a shuddering breath. She was intoxicating and she was in his arms. All his.
Until he wed. Every St. John principle he’d ever learned came rushing to the fore and it was with exquisite agony that he attempted to recall his traitorous body to order. He couldn’t do this. Not to himself. Not to Anna. Not unless she agreed to allow him to become her protector.
He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. “Anna, you have to—”
She kissed him. Not the tentative, feather-soft kisses of an ingénue, but with blinding white passion. Every thought Anthony possessed was consumed in a single flame and he kissed her back, drinking from her as if he were dying of thirst.
He teased and taunted her with his tongue even as his hand went back to her exposed legs. Without breaking the kiss, he ran his fingers up her thigh and then gently parted the slit of her silk drawers. She gasped sharply when he slipped his hand inside, his fingers finding her most secret part, but Anthony did not abate. Instead he trailed his mouth
down her throat and increased the pressure of his fingers.
She moaned, shifting restlessly on the edge of the desk. Gently but firmly he caressed her, capturing her mouth with his and drawing her to him. She slowly relaxed even as she became hotter, wetter with need, her hands clutching his shirt in desperate wonder.
He increased his ministrations, feeling her swell with heat. She moaned hotly, then stiffened, “Anthony!” she gasped.
He lifted his head so that he could watch her, see the flood of wonder in her pale eyes. She clutched at his shirt as she climaxed, and pressed her face against his neck. Anthony held her close as the tremor subsided, wrapping his arms tightly about her, gritting his teeth against his own burgeoning passion.
He’d never wanted a woman this badly before, and never an innocent. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against Anna’s silken hair, fighting to contain the remnants of his control. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take her on his desk. No, at their first union she would have every comfort available. Every pleasure he could think of. He was a St. John, damn it. And he would do his best to take care of Anna from this day forward.
Slowly, as Anna’s breathing returned to normal, the raging heat that roared through Anthony subsided as well.
He took a last, shuddering breath, then stepped away. Anna looked up at him, her mouth kiss-swollen, her pale skin glowing with the flush of passion. God, but she was beautiful. Beautiful and innocent. Anthony realized how close he’d come to ravishing a complete innocent, and one who was his own sister’s best friend. The thoughts cooled the last remaining touch of ardor from his blood.
Anna passed a trembling hand over her eyes. Something tender welled inside Anthony and he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “You are amazing.”
A smile trembled on her lips. “No wonder men are so enamored of it,” she said in a husky voice.