The Heir

“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.”