by Burke, Darcy
“I know what you mean,” Anthony agreed. “But I like this one. Do you?”
She looked him squarely in the eye. “I thought I did, but I can’t decide. Ask me later.” She reached for her wine and took a sip.
The soup was removed shortly thereafter and replaced with the next course. Anthony sampled the turbot and the trout, as well as tongue and oyster patties. “I just realized most of my plate starts with the letter T.”
“Hmm.” Jane swallowed a bite of trout. “T is for terrible. And thoughtless. It’s also for trust, a word I like very much.”
He lowered his voice to a bare whisper and leaned toward her. “It also begins temptation, a word I like very much.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, her jaw clenching. “Are you flirting with me?”
Hell yes, he was flirting with her. And he shouldn’t. “My apologies. It’s my natural manner with you, I’m afraid, and here we are, stuck next to each other for a long period of time.”
“Unfortunately,” she muttered. “T is also for thickheaded.”
Oh. Oh. Realization smacked him in the face. Yes, it was.
She was doing as he’d invited—treating him to a course of sarcasm. Or several courses, as it were.
“T is for talented and thrilling.” He gave her a half smile.
She ignored him as she focused on her plate and also spoke to the man on her other side—Mr. Lennox.
“I’m glad you came tonight, Anthony,” Phoebe said from his right.
He turned toward her. “Thank you for inviting me. I owe you an apology for leaving your wedding breakfast.”
She arched a dark brow at him. “Did Marcus ask you to say that?”
“Should I lie?”
Phoebe laughed. “It didn’t bother me that you left, so long as you’re all right and all is well between you and Marcus. It seems to be?”
He nodded before taking a sip of wine. “Quite.” A thought occurred to him. Had he and Jane been invited simply because they were Marcus and Phoebe’s close friends, or was there more to it? “Ja—Miss Pemberton and I couldn’t help but notice she and I are the only non-married guests. Are you and Marcus trying to play matchmaker?”
Phoebe leaned toward him, her eyes sparkling and her lips curving into an anticipatory smile. “Should we?”
Hell, he’d set his own bloody trap. “Not at all.” He went back to his plate.
Soon the course was replaced with the next. This one included turkey, asparagus, mutton, and several other meats and vegetables.
Anthony looked over at Jane, but she spoke first. “Are you going to comment on my turkey?” She emphasized the T.
He chuckled. “No. Would you like to find a way to compare me to the mutton?”
“What can I say except that you are old enough to behave better than you have.” Because mutton was an older sheep.
He touched his breast. “A direct hit.”
She looked at her plate, but not before he caught the faintest hint of a smile.
“Will you be participating in the hide-and-seek after dinner?” Mr. Lennox asked Jane.
“I think so,” Jane said. “The maze is wonderful. Have you seen it?”
“I have not,” Mr. Lennox said. “I am looking forward to it.”
Anthony imagined finding Jane in a darkened nook of the maze. Then he imagined taking her in his arms and kissing her. Maybe tossing up her skirts and sinking his fingers into her sweet heat, driving her to the brink of release and then swallowing her cries with his mouth. He finished his wine and willed his erection to diminish.
The footman refilled his glass, and he saw Jane take note. He also saw the slight crease of her forehead and downturn of her mouth. He swept the glass up and took a long drink.
He spent the rest of dinner eating and drinking and trying very hard not to even look at Jane. When he’d said she was a temptation, that had been a gross understatement. He wanted her more than anything. More than the bloody wine he was drinking too much of.
Too much? Did he really think so? Yes, probably.
And then he stopped drinking, and that really pricked his temper.
At the conclusion of dessert, he stood with the rest of the gentlemen as the women left the room. Jane looked up at him before departing. He swallowed, hating that he’d disappointed her but knowing no matter what he did, he would always do so. Better to do it on purpose now.
The footman brought port, and several of the men smoked. Anthony sipped his wine, but mostly left it untouched.
Marcus moved to Phoebe’s vacant chair after a while. He scooted the chair close to Anthony and spoke in a low tone. “Am I mistaken, or is there something going on between you and Jane Pemberton?”
“Why would you think that?” Anthony decided he should have one more drink of port.
“You kept speaking to each other in what looked like a somewhat intense exchange. Am I wrong?”
“We disagreed about the turtle soup.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes at Anthony, but said nothing.
“Shall we join the ladies?” Clare asked, standing.
Anthony looked toward the duke, who he knew was an old friend of Marcus’s. They’d been brothers in debauchery at one point. “Yes.” Anthony joined him in standing.
“Looking forward to seeing Miss Pemberton?” Marcus murmured.
“I’m going to the billiard room.” Anthony departed the dining room and did exactly as he’d said, making his way to the other side of the house to the billiard room.
Only a few lamps burned in the room, and the table was not illuminated. Still, Anthony set the three balls on the table and practiced making shots. It was some time before he realized he hadn’t poured a drink. He scanned the room for a sideboard. Surely there were spirits in here, of all places. There it was, over near the window.
A flash of pink drew his eye to the doorway. Jane came into the room, and the space seemed to contract.
What the hell was she doing here? Now he really needed a drink. He stalked to the sideboard and poured a brandy. When he turned, she stood only a few feet away, her gaze focused on the drink in his hand.
“What poison do you choose?” he drawled, citing a question often used by an American he drank with on occasion.
“Poison?” She sauntered closer. “If you think it’s injurious, why drink it?”
He snorted in answer, then sipped his brandy before walking back to the billiard table. He set his glass down on the edge and picked up the mace. “Shouldn’t you be out in the maze?”
She moved to stand at the end of the table. “Why aren’t you there?”
“I’d rather play billiards.”
“Me too,” she said, going to take a mace from the case hanging on the wall.
“Have you any idea how to play?” he asked.
“Not really.”
He leaned over and hit the white ball into a red one. When he stood, he fixed her with a dark stare. “Why come to play billiards by yourself if you don’t know how?”
“Fine. I learned you were here.” She came around the table and stopped a foot from him, leaning her hip against the table. “You owe me an explanation.”
“About what?” He moved around her, careful not to inhale her too-familiar and too-intoxicating scent. Bending, he made another shot, sending a red ball into a pocket on the other side of the table.
She touched his arm. “Don’t be like this. I thought we were…friends. Did I drive you away?”
He heard the pain in her question, and his irritation completely evaporated. Setting the mace on the table, he turned to her. “No. Don’t ever think that.”
“How could I not? I asked you to take my virginity and then we… Well, we got closer, and then you left.”
“I told you before, Jane, I can’t be that man. I won’t be.”
She edged closer to him. “What man?”
He clenched his jaw. “The man who ruins you.”
“How can you ruin me when I ask for you to take m
e, to show me? Please don’t tell me you regret what we did.”
“I should.”
“Please don’t. I don’t think I could bear it.”
He couldn’t bear the near break in her voice. Moving past her, he picked up his glass and took another drink, keeping his back to her.
“And there you go, straight to the spirits.”
He spun around. “Yes. That’s where I go. Where I am welcome.”
“You were welcome with me. Why do you do this to yourself? You deny closeness—what we shared was lovely, wasn’t it? And you drown yourself in wine or brandy or whatever you can find.” She crossed her arms and glared at him with a mix of anger and concern. “Why?”
“Because I prefer to be numb.” He hadn’t meant to answer. To reveal.
She dropped her arms to her side and came to him, her hips swaying. Taking the glass from his fingertips, she set it back on the edge of the table. Then she cupped his face, her touch gentle against his jaw. “Why do you want to be numb?”
He didn’t want to answer this question either, but it was like she was pulling something out of him. He tried to hold on, but she was stronger than he was. “I don’t like to…feel.”
“Tell me why. Let me feel for you.”
He stared at her, knowing she wasn’t going to let him go. And he didn’t want to. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I know you have guilt. I can see it in you. It’s about your parents. Tell me.”
His parents. He let out a sound that was part sob and part gasp. “They died because of me.”
“They were killed by a highwayman. How could they have?”
“I was supposed to go to Oaklands.” His voice was small and hollow. “But I didn’t want to. I should have been the one to die, not them.” He was surprised at the lack of emotion in his words, because the anguish nearly ripped him in two.
Her hands clasped him more tightly, her thumbs pressing into his face. “The dastardly act of a highwayman isn’t your fault. How could you have known that would happen?”
“Because it was supposed to be me. The Vicar sent the highwayman to kill me, not them.”
Her eyes clouded, and her hands slipped from his face. “The Vicar?”
He stepped away from her, swearing violently. “The man I borrowed money from to pay my gambling debts after my father refused to give me any more funds.” He turned away from her and put his hands on the edge of the billiard table, hanging his head in torment. “I lost everything and couldn’t pay him back. He said I had to find a way, and if I couldn’t, that he would take it anyhow. I didn’t realize what that meant.”
Clutching the edge of the table until his hands hurt, he finally pushed away and turned back to face her. “Don’t you understand, Jane? I’m the poison. I ruin everything and everyone. How can I defile you with my body, my very presence?”
“Anthony.” Her voice cracked as she came toward him, her arms outstretched.
He backed away. “You have to go. Please.”
She shook her head, lowering her arms to her sides but continuing toward him until he was against the wall and had nowhere else to go. “I won’t leave you.” She touched his face again, her fingertips soft and cool against the heat of his flesh. She dragged her fingers down his jaw just before she kissed him.
The contact was fleeting, a tease that sent his body into a frenzy of desire. She didn’t back away as she looked up at him, her lips inches from his. “If you want to forget, to lose yourself, do it with me.”
“You know what you’re asking me, Jane?”
“I’m not asking you.” She curled one hand around his neck and dropped the other to his waist, then lower, until she cupped his cock over his breeches.
“Jane.” He’d never felt so torn, so absolutely broken. Yet here she was, offering to put him back together, at least for a little while.
In the end, he was powerless to resist. Letting out a low groan, he picked her up and kissed her with all the pain and longing pent up inside him. Yes, he wanted to lose himself, but he feared he was already lost.
* * *
Jane curled her arms around Anthony’s neck, desperate for the feel of him against her. He moved a hand down to her backside, cupping her as their tongues met in a ravenous kiss. She’d come here seeking answers and reconciliation, but honestly hadn’t expected this.
She’d hoped, however. With him, she would always hope.
He pushed away from the wall and walked forward, holding her against him. He tilted his head and lashed his tongue against hers. She felt something against the backs of her thighs, and then he lowered her. She realized it was the billiard table.
She heard him shove the mace and one of the balls away before he laid her down on the baize. His mouth moved from hers, kissing along her jaw to her ear, where he gently bit her earlobe. Jane gasped as she clutched his neck and shoulders.
His lips and tongue traced down her neck, licking and sucking. Jane closed her eyes and surrendered to sensation and need. He cupped her breast, pushing it up as his mouth latched on to the flesh above her bodice. She wished she wasn’t wearing any clothes so she could feel him as well as she had the other night.
He pulled his mouth from her, and she felt her gown slide up her legs. “Lift your backside.”
She arched up and opened her eyes as he shoved her gown up around her waist. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but words seemed unnecessary or even jarring.
He clasped her knees and pushed her legs farther apart, opening her to a startling degree. She gasped, watching as he stared at her a long moment, his hands slowly sliding up her thighs. With each inch of flesh he touched, desire coiled inside her, creating an insistent throb between her legs, in that very place he’d so completely exposed.
Then his gaze moved up, connecting with hers, holding her captive. He continued his path along her thighs until he dragged his thumbs along either side of her sex, gently parting her. She quivered in response, desperate for him to touch her there, to coax the shattering release he’d given her the other night.
“What do you want, Jane?” His voice, husky and raw, intensified her need.
“You. I want you.”
He slid his finger along her crease. “Do you want this?”
She couldn’t look away from the erotic magnetism in his gaze. “Yes.”
He rubbed her clitoris, making her body contract. She flattened her hands against the baize and rose up against his hand. “That’s right,” he said softly. “You want more?”
She nodded.
“Tell me, Jane.”
“I want more. Inside me. Please.” Her thighs shook.
He slid one finger into her sheath, and she cried out, closing her eyes. “Jane, look at me,” he instructed. She opened her eyes once more as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. “I’m putting my mouth on you now. Try not to scream.” He gave her a wicked smile before finally breaking eye contact and lowering his head between her legs.
Then his tongue was on her clitoris, licking her gently. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped. She rose up on her elbows, desperate to see what she was feeling, but all she saw was the top of his head moving as his lips and tongue wreaked havoc on her sex.
Not havoc, but an intense pleasure. His finger continued to move inside her as he suckled her. Her muscles contracted as her passion mounted. She began to move beneath him, seeking more of everything. He replaced his finger with his tongue, his hands splayed on her inner thighs as he stroked inside her.
She cried out, arching up into his mouth, her release building inside her. He put her legs over his shoulders and cupped her backside, holding her captive to his mouth. She couldn’t have imagined the ferocity of her first orgasm with him, but this was already more devastating. Her body trembled as her muscles tensed, the pleasure pulsing inside her. She was unable to stop the cascade, not that she wanted to. His fingers dug into her backside as his tongue plunged deep, and she was lost in a torrent of ecstasy.
> When his hand pressed over her mouth, she realized she had screamed. She let out a sob against his hand as her legs quivered around him. He didn’t stop with his mouth, and as her orgasm subsided, she could sense another beginning. She wanted more. She needed more.
She needed him.
Jane plunged her hands into his hair, tugging him away from her. He straightened, his breath coming hard and fast, his eyes dark and intense. She pushed up from the table and scooted to the edge. Grabbing his lapels, she shoved his coat from his shoulders.
He didn’t help her, and she had to drag the garment from his arms. It fell to the floor, and she unbuttoned his waistcoat.
His hands came over hers. “Stop. Please.”
“Why?” Her body pulsed with need for him, her mind screamed to have him against her, inside her.
“Because we must.”
“No, we mustn’t. I want you, Anthony, and you want me.” She lowered her hand and stroked his rigid cock through his clothes. “Don’t turn away from this. From me.”
“Jane.” His voice was harsh and broken, his gaze tormented.
She unbuttoned his fall and slipped her hand inside his breeches to stroke his cock. “I want you, Anthony. This may be the only chance I ever have. We ever have.” She wasn’t sure she believed that, but the moment was desperate.
He caressed her face softly, his expression turning sad. “Jane. You make it impossible to deny you, even as I know I must.”
“But you won’t.” She sat up on the edge of the table and put the tip of him against her sex. “I don’t know what to do. Show me, please.”
He positioned her legs around his waist, then placed his hand over hers. He guided his shaft into her, stretching her, filling her. There was discomfort but also an urgency to bring him deeper, to move, to create the delicious friction that would see them both home.
She released him, then moved her hand to his backside, pressing him toward her. He drove forward, and she sucked in a breath at the new sensation.
“Jane, breathe,” he whispered against her ear, his hand cupping her nape. “Are you all right?”
She heard the agony in his voice and wanted to reassure him. “I’m fine.” The discomfort was already beginning to recede. But the need was not. “Please don’t stop.”
