“He is,” Anna said, the tart rejoinder confirming the earl’s suspicions.
“And you aren’t going to tell me the rest of it?”
“I cannot. Grandmother has bound me to silence, not wanting to see the family name dragged through scandal.” The earl stifled the urge to roll his eyes and go on a loud rant about the folly of sacrificing one’s name for the sake of family pride.
“Anna.” He sat forward. “You have no idea—none at all—how lucky you are not to be serving men in doorways for a penny a poke, you and Morgan both, as the pox slowly killed you. Sending you south was rank foolishness, and I can only consider your grandmother devised this scheme because she considered the situation desperate.”
“It was,” Anna said, “and I do know, Westhaven. I have seen those women, their skirts hiked over their backs, their eyes dead, their lives already done while some jolly fellow bends them over to have a go before toddling home after his last pint.”
If she’d been close enough to see that much, Westhaven thought… Ye gods.
“Let me hold you,” he said, rising and tugging her to her feet. “When you are ready, I will hear the rest of it, Anna. You are safe with me now, and that’s all that matters.”
She went into his arms willingly, but he could feel the resistance in her, the doubt, the unwillingness to trust. He led her up the stairs, her hand in his, determined to bind her to him with passion if nothing else.
Each time they were together, he introduced her to new pleasures, new touches, new ways to move. Tonight, he put her on her hands and knees and had her grip the headboard as he sank into her deeply from behind. She met him thrust for thrust, and when her pleasure had her convulsing hard around his cock, he couldn’t hold back any longer. And like a stallion, he let his spent weight cover her, resting along her back, his cheek pressed to her spine.
“Down,” he panted, easing one of her feet back several inches to explain himself. Anna straightened her knees and slipped to her stomach as his cock slid wetly from her body. He followed her, blanketing her back with his greater weight.
“Are you all right?” He kissed her cheek and paused to suckle her earlobe.
“I am boneless,” Anna murmured. “I like this, though.”
“What this?” He nuzzled at her neck.
“The way you like to cuddle afterward.”
“I am a rarity in that regard,” he assured her. “I know of only one other person in this entire bed so prone to shameless displays of affection.” His moved his hips partly off her but shifted only a little to the side to kiss her nape.
“You trust me,” he said, biting her neck gently.
When she said nothing, he got off the bed to use the basin and water. He washed his hands and his genitals then came back and stood frowning at her for a long moment.
“You do trust me, but only in this,” he said again. “You would let me take you in any position, anywhere I pleased, as often as I pleased.”
Anna rolled to her back and hiked up on her elbows, wariness in her expression. “You have never given me reason not to trust you in this bed. I am safe with you.”
“You don’t believe that. You might believe you are safe from me, from the violence and selfishness that can make any man a rutting boar, but you do not believe you are safe with me.”
There was such defeat in his tone, such resignation, Anna was almost glad this would be their last night together. In the morning, he’d ride off to meet with his brothers, and she’d gather up her sister and her belongings and board a coach for Manchester. She’d lie in his arms for this one final night, hold him close, breathe in his scent, and love him. But it would be their last night, and this time tomorrow, she’d be far, far away.
It was that simple to do and that impossible to bear.
“MY LORD! MY LORD, YOU MUST WAKE UP!”
Shouts at the bedroom door had Westhaven struggling up from sleep as Anna shook him hard by his shoulder.
“Gayle,” she hissed. “Gayle Tristan Montmorency Windham!” She had her fist cocked back to smack him when he caught her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Please! You must wake up!” Sterling sounded near tears, but the earl only heaved a sigh, knowing he was going to hear himself addressed as “Your Grace” from that moment on for the rest of his life.
“Under the covers,” he said to Anna quietly as he reached for his dressing gown. A small part of him was grateful he at least wasn’t going to be alone when he got the news of his father’s death.
“Yes, Sterling.” He opened the door, his composure admirable—worthy of a duke.
“A message, my lord”—Sterling bowed—“from Lord Amery. The messenger says there’s a fire at your new property.”
But there was a fire at Willow Bend.
“Have Pericles hitched to the gig,” the earl said. “Pack a hamper and plenty of water. Send word to my brothers—Val should be at the mansion; Dev will be at Maggie’s. Under no circumstances are Their Graces to get wind of this, Sterling.” He hoped Dev was at Maggie’s, but he might also still be at his stud farm or holed up with old cavalry comrades. He glanced at Douglas’s note.
A thousand questions fluttered through Westhaven’s head: How did the fire start, how did Amery come upon it, was the house safe, and why the hell was this happening now…?
“What is it?” Anna had risen from the bed, put on her wrapper, and padded over to him silently.
“There’s a fire at Willow Bend. Just the stables, according to a note from Amery. I’m going out there.”
“I’ll go with you.”
He sat on the bed and drew her to stand between his legs. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Fires mean people can get hurt. I can help, and I don’t want you to go alone.”
He didn’t want to go alone, either. He had good memories of her at Willow Bend, and she had a point. Unless he brought medical supplies with him, there were none on hand at Willow Bend adequate to deal with the burns and other mishaps that could come with fighting a fire.
“Please,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I want to go.”
He leaned into her embrace, pressing his face to the soft, comforting fullness of her breast for just a moment. He was torn, knowing he should spare her this but also feeling a vague unease about leaving her side for any extended period.
Mistrust, it seemed, could go both ways.
“Dress quickly,” he said, patting her bottom. “Bring a change of clothes. Fires are filthy business.”
She nodded and darted for the door, pausing only long enough to make sure the corridor was empty before slipping into the darkness beyond. In her absence, Westhaven heard a clock chime twelve times.
“At least we now know for sure where they are,” Helmsley said over their rashers of morning bacon.
“We do.” Stull smacked his greasy lips. “But who could have imagined the earl would snatch up his housekeeper to go to the scene of a fire?”
“She may be more than just his housekeeper,” Helmsley said. Stull looked up sharply, his expression reminiscent of a dog whose bowl of slops was threatened.
“She damned well better not be, Helmsley,” the baron with a snort. “I’ll not pay for used goods, and if she’s strayed, then she’ll be made to wish she hadn’t.”
Helmsley kept his peace, wishing not for the first time he’d had some choice before embarking on this whole miserable scheme with Stull. But really, what choice had he had? A man needed coin, and a gentleman had few
