After a time, Westhaven got up and looked around the room.
“I will go check on Pericles. I am thinking I should also lay a fire in here, as the rain does not appear to be moving off.”
“Lay a fire? We have hours of light yet,” Anna said, though in truth they’d had more than a nap outside by the stream, and the afternoon was well advanced. “We could make it back to Town were we to leave in the next couple of hours.”
He pursed his lips, obviously unwilling to argue. Anna let him go, knowing it would ruin his gig were they to try to get it back to Town in this downpour. He came back soaked to the skin but reporting the horse was contentedly munching hay and watching the rain from his stall.
They spent the next hour retrieving more blankets and the medical bag kept in the gig, then, as the rain had not let up, filling up the wood boxes in the library. The earl split logs from a supply on the back porch, and Anna toted them into the house. They continued in that fashion, until the wood boxes built beside the library hearths were full and the earl had left a tidy pile of logs split for the next time somebody needed a fire.
He returned to the library where Anna had laid a fire but not lit it.
“I should not be chilled,” he mused. “I’ve just hefted an ax for the first time in several years, but I find I am a trifle cold.”
Unusual, Anna thought, as she herself was not cold, and she hadn’t split wood, but then, the earl had gotten wet tending to his horse and Anna was quite dry. She’d found flint and steel in the wood box, thank heavens, or the earl would have had to get another soaking just as his clothing was drying.
“I’ll light your fire,” Anna said, missing entirely the smile her comment engendered on the earl’s face.
“And I will forage for a piece of marzipan.”
“There should be plenty,” Anna said from the hearth, “and some lemonade, though it isn’t likely very cold.”
He found the marzipan, taking two pieces, and then the lemonade.
“So where should we sleep?” he asked, glancing around the room as he chomped on his candy.
“At home, I hope.”
The earl gave her a quelling look. “I did not plan this weather.”
“No, you did not, but if we stay here alone overnight, my reputation will be in tatters.”
“And you still would not marry me?”
“England is a big place. A tattered reputation in London can easily be mended in Manchester.”
“You would flee?”
“I would have to.”
“I would not allow that, Anna.” The earl frowned at her as he spoke. “If you come to harm as a result of this situation, you will permit me to provide for you.”
“As you did for Elise?” Anna said, sitting on a stone hearth. “I think not.”
“I’m going to check on the horse again,” he said, “and bring in the last of the supplies from the gig, just in case the rain doesn’t stop soon.” Anna let him go, knowing his retreat was in part an effort to cool the irritation he must be feeling with her and the situation.
Westhaven did check on the horse and stepped out under the stables’ overhang to relieve himself, undoing his breeches and taking his cock in hand. His throat was scratchy from all their talking, and hefting the ax had set up an ache in his muscles that was equally unwelcome. Anna was getting twitchy about being stranded with him, and his temper was growing short. Not his best moment.
But then he looked down at himself and smiled, recalling the day’s earlier pleasures. Anna Seaton had a wanton streak that was going to win the day for them both. He shook himself off, gave himself a few affectionate strokes, then buttoned up. He was going to convince his housekeeper to trade her silly caps for a tiara, and he was going to use her passions against her shamelessly if he had to.
He tossed Pericles a small mountain of hay, topped off the water bucket from the cistern, and retrieved the provisions from the gig. On the way back to the house, he began to plan the seduction of his future wife, pausing to pluck her a single rose just as the sky opened up with a renewed downpour.
They dined on leftovers from the hamper, shared the lemonade, and talked by the fire as the light began to wane. He rubbed her back, held her hand, and avoided discussing the need to spend the night in the deserted house.
Anna rose from the cushions and stretched. “I suppose it’s time to admit we’ll be sleeping here tonight—the question is where specifically?”
Thank you, God, the earl thought. His Anna was being practical, though she wasn’t pleased with their situation.
“The master bedroom comes to mind,” the earl suggested. “The bed there was probably built where it stands and conveys with the house. The room was clean enough, but it will be cold without a fire.”
“We can haul enough wood up there to get the room warmed up,” Anna said. “Since the other option is this floor. With only a few blankets between us, we’re probably better off sharing that bed.”
“We are,” he agreed, finding that for all they were before a fire, he still just couldn’t quite banish a sense of chill in his bones. “And as splitting wood seems to have left me a little stiff, the bed appeals.”
“To bed then,” Anna said resignedly as she began to gather an armload of logs from the wood box. It took several trips to move wood, blankets, and provisions to the bedroom. By the time they were finished, the entire house was growing gloomy with the approaching night.
Westhaven left the room to fetch a bucket of wash water from the kitchen, while Anna scouted the bed drawers for the linens sewn to fit the bed.
“Your water,” the earl said when he returned moments later. “I see your treasure hunt was successful.”
“The bed is made up.” Anna smiled at him. “We have soap and towels, though only our two blankets.”
“That should suffice.” The earl yawned as he knelt by the open drawer. “How about if you take the nightshirt, and I take the dressing gown?”
“As you wish, but a few minutes privacy would be appreciated, and…”
“And?” He was just pulling off his boots again, but in the dim firelight, at the end of the day, it struck him as a particularly intimate thing for her to watch.
“You will not touch me tonight? You will not expect me to touch you?”
“Touch as in, your knee bumps my shin, or touch as in what happened this afternoon?” the earl asked, peering into his boot.
“What happened this afternoon. I’ll try not to kick at you, either.”
“I will not make demands of you,” the earl said, leveling a look at her, “but I will want to.” He set aside his boots and rose, leaving her the privacy she requested to wash, change into the nightshirt, and dive beneath the chilly sheets of the bed.
When Westhaven returned, he looked over at the bed and saw Anna was feigning sleep. He had every intention of keeping his word to her, of behaving himself once he climbed into that bed. He was more tired than he had a right to be, considering he’d done little more than tool along in the gig, stroll around the property, and talk with Anna.
But he was exhausted, and he’d taken some sort of chill in the rain, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to torment his intended duchess, so he stripped out of his shirt, his breeches, stockings, and smalls, and took the bucket to the hearth, the better to illuminate him for Anna’s peeping eyes.
Truth to tell, it felt good to be naked and in the same room with her. He found a towel and the soap on the hearth, where Anna had left them, and slowly began to wash himself from toes to fingertips. When he’d made a thorough job of it, he blew out their two candles, tossed the dressing gown to the foot of the bed, and climbed in beside Anna.
In the darkness hours later, Anna awoke to feel his hand on her flesh, making a slow journey over her hip to her buttock and back again. The creaking and shifting of the old bed suggested he was moving more than his hand, and his breathing—slow, but audible—supported the theory.
