The Heir

tucked in with hay and water.

They made their way to the back terrace of the house, where the earl set down the wicker hamper he’d carried from the gig, and bent to loosen a particular brick from the back stoop. He produced a key from under the brick, opened the back door, and gestured for Anna to precede him.

“I like what I see,” Anna said, folding her shawl on the kitchen counter. She turned to put her gloves on top of the shawl, only to find the earl had been standing immediately behind her.

“As do I,” he said, looking directly down at her. His eyes were steady, even searching. Looking into those eyes, Anna admitted she’d been deceiving herself. She was a good girl, but at least part of her was here to be wicked with him—maybe just a little wicked by his standards but more wicked than Anna had ever wanted to be before.

He made no move to touch her, though, and so she frowned until insight struck: He was waiting for her to touch him, to do as she pleased.

He merely stood there, hands at his sides, watching her, until she closed the distance between them, slid both hands around his waist, and rested her forehead against his collarbone.

“Is this all you want, Anna?” He brought his arms around her and urged her to lean into him. “Merely an embrace? I’ll understand it, if you do.”

“It isn’t merely an embrace,” she replied, loving the feel of his lean muscles and long bones against her body. “It is your embrace, and your scent, and the cadence of your breathing, and the warmth of your hands. To me, there is nothing mere about it. ”

She remained in his arms, feeling the way his hands learned the planes and angles of her back, feeling his mind absorb and consider her words.

“Let’s explore the house,” he suggested, “then poke around the grounds and outbuildings before it gets too hot.”

She nodded, feeling a hint of wariness.

“Anna.” He smiled faintly as he stepped back. “I am not going to maul you, ever. And I did bring you out here for the purpose of evaluating this property, not becoming my next mistress.”

“Your next…?”

“Badly put.” The earl took her hand. “Forget I said it.”

She let him tow her along out of the kitchen and through the various pantries, cellars, laundries, and servants’ quarters on the ground floor. Not until he led her up the stairs to the main floor and she was standing beside him in the library did Anna find the words she needed.

“This was the former owner’s pride and joy,” the earl said, “and I must admit, for a country library, it is a magnificent room.” The ceilings were twelve feet at least, with windows that ran the entire height of the room on two walls. Two massive fieldstone fireplaces sat one on each outside wall, both with raised hearths and richly carved chestnut mantels.

“It’s such a pretty wood,” the earl remarked, stroking a hand across one mantel. “Warmer to the eye than oak, and lighter in weight, but almost as strong.” Anna watched that hand caressing the grain of the carved surface and felt an internal shiver.

“I would never be a man’s mistress, you know.” She sat on the hearth and regarded him. Somewhere in their travels through the house, he had taken off his jacket and waistcoat, and turned back his cuffs. He had dispensed with a neckcloth altogether in deference to the heat, but the informality of his attire only made him handsome in a different way.

“Why not?” The earl didn’t seem surprised nor offended, he just sat himself beside her on the cool, hard stones and shot her a sidewise glance.

“It isn’t my precious virtue, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Anna wrapped her arms around her knees.

“The thought had crossed my mind you might set store by a chaste reputation.”

“Of course I do.” She laid her cheek on her knees and regarded him with a frown. “Though only up to a point. Being a mistress has no appeal, though, because of the money.”

“You eschew good coin?” the earl said, and though his tone was casual, Anna detected a hint of pique in it.

“I most assuredly do not, but how can a man accept intimacies from a woman who is paid to pretend she cares for his attentions? It seems to me an insupportable farce and as degrading to the man as the woman.”

“Degrading how?” He was amused now, or at least diverted.

“If a woman will allow you liberties only if you pay her,” Anna explained, “then it’s your coin she treasures, not your kisses or caresses or whatnot.”

He was trying not to smile now. “Most men care only for the whatnot, Anna. They trouble themselves little about what they parted with or put up with to procure it.”

“Then most men are easily manipulated and to be pitied. One begins to suspect holy matrimony was devised for the protection of men, and not the fairer sex after all.”

“So you have no more regard for being a wife than you do being a mistress?”

“It depends entirely on whose wife we’re talking about.” Anna rose and went to look out the windows. “This room is so pretty and light and inviting. I could particularly see curling up on one of these window seats with Sir Walter Scott or some John Donne.”

“Let’s assess some more of the house,” the earl said, lacing his fingers with hers. As they wended their way from room to room, Anna noted that the earl, away from his townhouse at least, was a toucher. She’d seen the same tendency when he was with his brother. He laid a hand on Val’s sleeve, straightened Val’s collar, patted his back, and otherwise treated his brother with affection. It was the same with Nanny Fran, whom he kissed on the cheek, hugged, and allowed to treat him with similar familiarity.

With Anna, he took her hand, offered his arm, put his hand on the small of her back, brushed aside her hair, and otherwise kept up a steady campaign of casual touches.

Casual to him, Anna thought, knowing she was being sillier than any woman of five and twenty had a right to be. To her, these little gestures were sweet and attractive, that is, they fascinated her and made her want to stand too close to him.

Outside, he assisted her over stiles and fences, picked her a daisy and positioned it behind her ear, stole a little kiss under the rose arbor, and tucked her against his side while they explored the garden walks.

“Were you like this with Elise?” Anna asked when they’d found a wooden bench in some shade near the roses.

“Good God, Anna.” The earl looked over at her in consternation. “A man does not discuss his mistress with decent women.”

“I am not asking about Elise. I am asking about you.”

“When I saw Elise in social settings,” the earl replied, eyes on the house across the gardens, “we were cordial. I occasionally danced with her, but she did not enjoy my partnering, as I am too tall.”

“You are too…?” Anna scowled at that. “You are not too tall.”

“Perhaps you can prove that point by dancing with me sometime?”

She cocked her head at him and decided he was teasing. “So when you met socially, you behaved as acquaintances. What about when you were simply whiling away a morning?”

“When I did not run into Elise at an evening gathering of polite society, I saw her by appointment, in the afternoon,” the earl said, resting an arm along the back of the bench with a sigh.

“By appointment, only?” Anna’s surprise seemed to perplex him.

“You know my week included visits to her,” the earl replied mildly. “Regular visits allowed her to schedule the rest of her affairs, so to speak.”

“The rest of her affairs? And is this all you wanted? An hour of her attention twice a week, scheduled in advance so as to only minimally inconvenience her?”

“Well, more or less,” the earl admitted, clearly puzzled by Anna’s indignation.

“And that is how you go about passion? I suppose you left her free to pursue any other pair of broad shoulders she pleased when you were not bothering her?”

“In retrospect, one can admit there were a few subtle indicators the situation was not ideal, but we are not discussing this further, Anna Seaton. And for your information, that is not how I prefer to go about passion.” He folded her hand between both of his and fell silent. Topic closed.