steady and she was kissing him back, he let a hand drift to her breast, there to knead and fondle and stroke, until Anna heard herself sigh and felt her whole body going boneless in response. Gradually he pressed his cock forward.
And again met resistance.
He slid a hand under Anna’s buttocks, braced her, and without warning, gave a single hard thrust. She winced and stiffened beneath him but made no sound.
“It will go easier now,” he assured her, moving much more gently. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”
He had hurt her, Anna thought, but only for a surprising twinge of a moment. It felt better now, and the more deeply he moved into her body, the better she felt.
“I like this,” she said, pleased and breathless and bothered. “Don’t stop, Westhaven. I do like this.”
“Move with me now, Anna. The difficult part is over, and it’s all pleasure from here. Fuck me silly…” he teased, but there was a desperate note beneath the tenderness in his tone even as his thrusts became more purposeful.
Anna tried to match the undulation of her hips to his, and that forced him to slow down, to give her time to catch his rhythm. But what he gave up in speed, he made up for in intensity.
“That’s it,” he whispered a few moments later. “Move like that, and… Anna.
She was a quick study, able to move with him and send her hand wandering up his side to find his nipple, as well. Her thumb feathered across his puckered flesh in the same deliberate rhythm as he made with his cock, then she applied more pressure, actually rubbing him in a small, gratifyingly erotic circle.
“Anna…” He slipped his own hand more firmly around her buttocks. “Slow down… You’ve got to let… Ah, Christ. Don’t stop, love.”
“You either.” She traced her tongue over his other nipple. “For the love of God, don’t you dare stop.”
She tried to quicken their rhythm, but he held firm to the more deliberate pace.
“Westhaven, please…” she wailed softly. “
His name, spoken in that hot, pleading tone, had the effect she’d hoped. He let the tempo increase until she was shaking and keening beneath him in the throes of her pleasure. Still he didn’t stop but bent his head, took her nipple into his mouth, and drew strongly on her. She flailed her hips desperately against him, whispering his name over and over against his chest, her legs locked around his flanks.
He lifted his head, anchored a hand under her buttocks, and Anna felt a wet heat spreading deep in her body as his thrusts slowed and deepened. Westhaven groaned softly in her ear then went quiet above her.
“You,” Westhaven rasped long moments later. “Sweet, ever-loving, merciful, abiding Christ.”
He made it to his feet, carefully extricating his softening cock from Anna’s body. She winced at the sensation of him leaving but made no verbal protest, merely watching him with luminous eyes in the soft predawn shadows. He used the wash water then brought the damp cloth to the bed.
“Spread your legs for me.” She complied, unable to deny him in that moment any intimacy he wanted. Dear God, the things he had made her feel… The cloth was cool and soothing, and yet knowing he wielded it made it arousing, too.
“Take your time,” she murmured. “No need to rush.”
“Naughty.” He smiled approvingly. “But you’ll likely be sore, so no more marzipan for you this morning.”
“And you won’t be sore?”
“As to that”—he tossed the wet cloth over the rim of the basin—“I very well might be. You have much to answer for.”
“Much.”
“Anna?” The earl climbed over her, bracing himself on his forearms, and regarded her very seriously. “Weren’t you going to tell me?”
“Do you need to hear the words?” She met his eyes, feeling sadness crowd out contentment.
“The words?” Guardedness crept up on the tenderness in his eyes.
“Oh, very well,” Anna sighed, brushing fingers through the lock of hair on his forehead. “Of course I love you.” She leaned up and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “I love you desperately. I would not still be here if I didn’t. I would not be leaving you if I didn’t. I love you, Gayle Windham. And I probably always will. There… now are we both thoroughly mortified?”
“I am not mortified,” he whispered, burying his face against her neck. “I am… awed. Beyond words. You honor me, Anna Seaton. You honor me unbelievably.”
He should say more, he knew, but his heart was pounding again, and she could probably feel that, so tightly was he clutching her to him. He should say that he loved her, for he certainly did, but he could not speak, could not contain with words the emotions rioting through him.
“Westhaven?” Anna stroked his back, her tone wary. “Are you well?”
“No,” he said, feeling—merciful God—tears thicken in his throat as he held her even tighter. “I am not exactly well. I am…fucked silly.”
And he meant it in every possible way.
“I tell you that was her,” Stull hissed. “I know my girls, Helmsley, and that’s my little Morgan.”
“It has been more than two years since you’ve seen your little Morgan,” Helmsley said with as much patience as he could muster. “Women change in those years, change radically. Besides, it can’t be her. That girl was laughing and shouting and talking with her swain so the whole park could hear her. Morgan can’t do any of those things.”
“It’s
“You are more than welcome to go haring off in this heat after a girl who obviously is not my sister, though I will grant you a certain resemblance. Morgan’s hair was not so light, though, and I do not think Morgan was as tall as that girl.”
“You said it yourself,” Stull shot back, “women between the ages of fifteen and eighteen will change, delightfully so to my way of thinking.”
“So go on. If you’re so convinced that’s Morgan, trot along. Confirm your hunch.”
Stull gave him the mean look a grossly fat boy will often show when taunted then sighed.
“It is too hot,” Stull conceded. “If she’s in the area, she’ll be back here. The park is the only decent air to be had in this miserable city. I’m parched—what say we find us a flagon or two of summer ale and perhaps the wenches that happily serve it?”
“A pint or two sounds just the thing,” Helmsley said, knowing Stull, true to his two consistent virtues, would pay for it. “And perhaps we can find someone to watch for your girls in the park. I still have their miniatures.”
“Good idea. Put the common man to work and let us do the thinking. What was the name of that inn where we saw the one with the big…?” He cupped his hands over his chest and wiggled his eyebrows.
“The Happy Pig,” Helmsley sighed. It would be The Happy Pig. “I’m sure we can find a couple of sharp eyes there, maybe more than a couple.”
For Anna, the week was passing too quickly. In her mind, the duke’s health would be resolved in those seven days, giving him either a cheerful or a grim prognosis. Westhaven was gone during most of the days, spending time with his parents and sisters, tending to business, dashing out to Willow Bend, or riding in the mornings with his brothers.
But the nights… it had been two nights and three mornings since they’d become lovers in fact, and Anna had all she could do to stumble around the house, appearing to tend to her duties. She was swamped with Gayle Windham, her senses overwhelmed with memories of his tenderness, passion, humor, and generosity in bed. He insisted she find her pleasure, early and often. He talked to her before, during, and after their lovemaking. He teased and comforted and aroused and asked no questions other than what pleased her and what did not.
It all pleased her. She sighed, frowning at the flowers she was trying to arrange in the library’s raised fireplace. Normally, she could arrange a bouquet to her satisfaction without thought, the patterns simply working themselves out. This morning, the daisies and irises were being contrary, and the thought of Westhaven’s hand clamped on her buttocks was only part of the problem.
