The Heir

And he had the sense Anna was granting him the boon of her nightly company only because she was more determined than ever to go, and go soon. His Grace had enjoyed four days of continued freedom from chest pains, and the ducal household was beginning to admit to some cautious relief.

Watching Anna sleep, Westhaven frowned as he realized that when the duke was deemed safe from immediate danger, then Anna would likely go.

He would not allow that. Could not. Mentally, he kicked himself for not making the time to meet with Hazlit earlier in the week. He’d meet with him today, he vowed, if he had to pursue the man on foot through Seven Dials to see it done.

“You’re awake.” Anna smiled at him, and he smiled back. Such a simple thing, to start the day with a shared smile. He leaned over and kissed her.

“No fair.” Anna shoved the sheets aside. “You’ve used the tooth powder already.” She heaved off the bed, shrugged into her wrapper, and made for the privacy screen in the corner.

She was not too fussy, his Anna. She emerged and made use of his tooth powder and toothbrush, then caught sight of herself in the dressing mirror.

“I look like I was dragged through the proverbial hedge backward. How can you not be overcome with laughter at my appearance?” In the mirror, he assessed her reflection: Her braid was coming un-raveled and she had a wrinkle across her cheek from the pillow seam.

“You look very dear. Come back to bed.”

“It is almost light out, your lordship.” Anna eyed him balefully. “I am surprised you slept this late.”

“Dev has to take his horses back to Surrey today, and Val made for a late night at Fairly’s piano. No morning ride for poor Pericles, I’m afraid. Come back to bed, Anna.”

There was something… implacable in his voice, and in the gray shadows of the room, Anna felt as if she were suddenly facing a life-defining moment. She could get in that bed, and this time—this time, finally—they would make love. She knew it as surely as a woman knows the scent of her lover, as surely as a mother knows the cry of her child.

Or she could smile, shake her head, and set about tidying herself up for the day.

Slowly, she unbelted her wrapper and walked naked back toward the bed.

“Your courses?” the earl asked as he watched her. “When will they fall?”

“In a few days,” she said, not surprised at the intimacy of the question. In some ways, the past days had seen them become more intimate than lovers. They shared his toothbrush; he brushed out her hair. She helped him dress, and he was her lady’s maid. At the beginning and end of each day, they held quiet conversations, holding hands in bed or holding each other.

And moment by moment, Anna stored up the memories. This man, this very wealthy, powerful, handsome, and singular man was hers to love for the next very little while. It was a privilege beyond any she could have imagined, and now he wanted to make these last few memories with her, as well.

She might have been able to deny herself, she thought, but she could no longer deny him.

“You still think to leave me, Anna,” he said as she settled on the bed, “and I am telling you quite honestly, I will fight you with every weapon I can find, honorable or not. I don’t want you to go.”

It was the first time he’d said that out loud, but Anna sensed it was the essence of what he was trying to communicate by bringing her back to his bed.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said again more fiercely.

“I’m here,” Anna said, meeting his eyes. “Right now I am here with you in this bed.”

He nodded, his gaze becoming hooded. “Where you will stay until I have pleasured you within an inch of your sanity.” She smiled up at him for that piece of arrogance and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

He smiled, a wolfish smile that nonetheless held an element of relief. “No rushing,” he warned.

“No promises,” she countered, scooting her way under him. “And no more lectures.” She wrapped her legs around his flanks and levered up to kiss him. He growled, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled with her across the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you silly,” he warned, positioning her on top of him.

“I’m going to let you.” Anna smiled down at him. “But not just yet.” She tried to scramble away from him, but he caught her by the ankles, slapped her bottom twice audibly, and dragged her back to him, grousing the whole time about troublesome women and naughty housekeepers. This side of him—the playful, exuberant, mating male —fascinated and delighted her.

And she wasn’t averse to his hand on her buttocks, either, particularly not when he was so considerately rubbing the sting from her flesh.

“Shall I spank you when you’re naughty?” she asked when he had her caged beneath his body.

“Please,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her. “Spank me as hard and as often as you dare, for with you, I want to be very, very naughty.”

The talking was finished, she surmised, as his tongue began to forage at her mouth and his hand covered her naked breast. He was bent not on seduction, so much as arousal and possession. You are mine, his hands seemed to say. I am yours, his kisses echoed. All mine, the insistent press of his cock against her belly declared.

I am yours, Anna thought, wrapping her legs around him and bringing her sex to stroke over his erection. And for today, for these moments, you are mine.

“Easy,” he breathed, his hand going still just as his fingers closed over her nipple.

“No promises,” Anna retorted. “I will rush if I please, sir.” She glided her fingertips over his nipples and pressed hard with her hips.

“Jesus God, Anna,” the earl whispered. “I want to be careful with you… but you…”

But she wanted him too desperately to appreciate his care. Heat was building below the pit of her stomach, in the place where worry and loneliness could make her feel so empty and desperate. It was the heat of desire, desire for him, and desire to give herself to him. He was bringing her fullness in places that had gone too long wanting and lonely.

“I need you inside me,” she pleaded softly, framing his face with her hands. “Later you can be careful, I promise. Now, just please… I need you.”

“Do not hurry me, Anna. I won’t answer for the consequences if you do.” But to her great relief, he brought the tip of his cock to the entrance of her sex and began to use it to nuzzle through her folds. He was content to explore that pleasure, lazily rooting and thrusting with little apparent focus, sometimes coming close to his goal, sometimes—deliberately, Anna thought—angling himself to one side, too high, the other side…

“You… are tormenting me.”

“Then guide me, Anna,” he coaxed. “Show me where you want me.”

She was wet—he’d made sure of it—and he was wet as a result, as well. Anna’s fingers closed around his shaft and drew him directly to her. She didn’t withdraw her touch until he’d advanced enough to understand where she’d put him, snugged against her but not quite penetrating.

“You let me do this part,” he cautioned, levering up on his forearms to hold her eyes. “I mean it, Anna. I’m not a small man, and you’re… Oh, Jesus.” The last word was said on a near groan as he pressed forward just the smallest increment. “God Almighty,” he breathed as he lowered his face to her neck. “You are so blessedly fucking…”

He is joining his body to mine, Anna thought in wonder. Oh, it felt strange and wonderful and too damned slow by half.

“Westhaven.” She arched her hips tentatively, only to have him go still.

“No,” he ground out. “You damned let me, for once in your stubborn life, take care of you, Anna. Just… let me.”

She liked his cursing and his foul language and the way he was so stern with her, but mostly, she liked the feel of him inching carefully into her body.

And then she didn’t quite like it as much.

“Hold onto me,” Westhaven urged. “Hold onto me but relax, Anna. I won’t move until I feel you relax. Kiss me.” He dipped his head and planted slow, easy kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, her eyelids. When her breathing was