by Burke, Darcy
He clasped her neck and withdrew before sliding into her again. Then he kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth as his cock did the same to her body, thrusting into her with glorious precision. Joy spread through her as she reveled in this intimacy, in this shared experience. She kissed him back with passionate fervor, tangling her fingers in his hair.
He began to move more quickly, his hips snapping into hers. The second orgasm she’d tasted began to build again. The climb was faster, less steep this time, and when he held her tight against him and ground against her, she exploded, her sex contracting around him as she shuddered through her release.
Then he was suddenly gone. He let out an almost inhuman sound, hushed though it was, and she felt his seed on her thigh.
The only sound in the room was their panting breaths, the only scent the musk between them. They stayed like that, his forehead against hers as their minds and bodies returned to the present.
Jane drew a deep breath. “Why did you leave?”
“To prevent a child.” He swore under his breath and took a step back from her, rapidly buttoning his fall.
Her gown fell over her thighs. “Oh. Thank you.”
His gaze met hers, and she was shocked at the fiery anger she saw there. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” She slid from the edge of the table, smoothing her skirts down. She felt his seed dampen her chemise and was for once glad for an excess of undergarments.
“I told you I didn’t want to take your virginity.” He rebuttoned his waistcoat.
She sucked in a breath at the raw revulsion in his voice. He despised her. “I’m sorry. I wanted you. I was sure you wanted me.”
“I do. I did. But that doesn’t matter. When I do what I want, when I take what I want, bad things happen.” He turned from her and swept his coat from the floor. “You need to stay away from me. Dammit, Jane, I tried to keep us apart.”
“I know you did, and I don’t want that.” She moved toward him, her own ire rising. “Look at me, Anthony. You need to stop this…this self-loathing. We both wanted this tonight, and there’s nothing bad about it. I don’t feel bad. Why should you? In fact, I feel better than I ever have.” Except for his anguish. The despair inside him was palpable, and she would do anything to banish it. She took his hand, gripping it between both of hers. “Whatever happened in the past, whatever wrongs you think you committed, they are in the past. A wise person told me we should leave that where it belongs—behind us.”
Some of the storm in his eyes dissipated. “A wise person?” He snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Well, I’m beginning to think he is. Tonight, I spoke with Lady Satterfield about the rumor that was started about me, and she urged me to focus on fixing what I could now. And she’s right. If my reputation is that important to me, I should do something to repair it. I realize it’s only important to me insofar as I am able to do the things I want.”
“And what’s that?”
“Participate in the Spitfire Society and, right now, be with you. Neither of those things requires the approval of anyone but me.” She smiled softly. “And you.”
“You want us to have an affair?”
“Why not? Phoebe and Ripley did.”
His gaze darkened once more. “They ended up married.” He took his hand from between hers and stepped closer so that she had to tip her head back to look up at him. “That will not happen, Jane. Ever. Do you understand?”
She nodded, swallowing at the savagery of his vow.
“Tell me you understand. I am not the man you think I am.”
Notching her chin up, she challenged him. “And who is that?”
“The kind who will fall in love with you, marry you, and give you a lifetime of happiness. I will disappoint you. I’ve already done so.” He turned away from her.
She put her hands on her hips, growing irritated with his intent to self-destruct. “Do you want to be that man, the one who disappoints me?”
“No!” He swung back around, his eyes wild. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up in places.
“Then let me help you not to be. Let me help you bury the past so that you can be a different man, the man you want to be.” She watched his chest rise and fall as he struggled for breath. Her heart ached for him.
“I don’t know who that is.”
She gave him a warm, encouraging smile. “Then let’s find out together.”
Chapter 10
Anthony willed his hands to stop shaking. He wanted to believe what she was saying—that he could be someone else. That he could change.
He doubted that was possible, but what if there was a chance she was right? “You’re going to give up on the rumor?” he asked.
“I am. You were right—nothing I do will change anything, so it’s better to focus on here and now, as well as tomorrow.”
If she could bury the past, maybe he could too. His past was far worse since it was entirely his fault, whereas hers was not. She’d been the victim of someone else’s bad behavior. Anthony had been the perpetrator, and his victims…
He swallowed. How was he supposed to move forward when he was mired in guilt?
Jane came toward him and took his hand again. “I’m going to help you. You are not alone—you must remember that. Promise me?”
No, he wasn’t alone. She’d said they would do this together.
Hell, they were together. While everyone else was out in the maze.
“Jane, aren’t you supposed to be playing hide-and-seek?”
“I suppose.” She didn’t look the least bit concerned.
“You’ll be missed. There aren’t that many people here.”
“I’ll just say I changed my mind.”
That would work, but it would be better if she were seen just so there was no suspicion. “I think since we are both missing from the event, our joint absence might be noted.”
Her eyes widened briefly. “Oh! You don’t think people will assume we were together?”
Anthony wasn’t sure, but he thought of Marcus and how he’d noticed their behavior at dinner. “It’s possible they will. I think you should go out to the maze.” Hopefully, they weren’t finished. “You can just pretend you were very well hidden. I’ll walk you to the door.” He offered her his arm.
She curled her hand around his sleeve and gave him a sultry smile. “Will you meet me in the maze?”
“I don’t think that’s wise.” Still, his body reacted, thrumming with desire.
“Then you can come to my room later. I’m in the north wing, in the corner overlooking the maze.”
He chuckled as he escorted her from the billiard room. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Isn’t insatiable a better word?”
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm, looking into her eyes. “Incomparable.”
They made their way to the drawing room, which opened to the gardens. Thankfully, there was no one there, including servants. He walked her to the door, and she took her hand from his arm.
“I’ll see you later?” she asked.
A bright lamp burned to the left of the door. Anthony pulled her to the right, into the shadows, then dipped his head and kissed her. He kept the connection disappointingly brief. “Let’s not risk it, and anyway, you need a recovery period.”
She clutched the front of his coat for a moment. “Remember, we’re doing this together.” Her eyes narrowed. “I won’t let you ignore me again.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He exhaled. “One more kiss.”
She stood on her toes and put her hand on his jaw, her lips sliding over his. Then they broke apart, and she danced away, grinning, as she hurried toward the maze.
Anthony watched her, surprised to find he was filled with something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time: hope.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Marcus’s angry voice cut through the night air. Anthony turned to see Marcus striding toward him.<
br />
Stopping before Anthony, Marcus glowered at him in the lamplight. “Explain,” Marcus ground out.
“It’s none of your business.”
“You kissed my wife’s best friend.”
Anthony let out a sharp laugh. “For you, of all people, to be outraged by such a thing is rather hypocritical, don’t you think?”
Marcus grimaced. “Maybe. However, Jane Pemberton is not a courtesan or a prostitute.”
“And neither was Phoebe when you were shagging her.”
Marcus swore. “Is that what’s going on?”
“Marcus, this is none of your affair. Jane—Miss Pemberton—is a grown woman. It was just a bloody kiss.”
Silence reigned for a moment as Marcus continued to glare at him. Then he exhaled, and his expression relaxed. “Don’t hurt her. That would hurt Phoebe, and I can’t have that.”
“For Christ’s sake, this has nothing to do with Phoebe. Stop looking for excuses to play the champion.” Anthony rolled his eyes.
Marcus speared him with a threatening stare. “Don’t hurt her.”
“I won’t.” Except he very well might. He’d clearly told her what to expect from him—rather, what not to expect. He’d be sure to remind her at every opportunity. “You won’t tell Phoebe, will you?” He wanted Jane to be able to make that decision, not Marcus.
“We don’t keep secrets.”
“I would prefer you allow Jane to confide in her friend—if she wants to. As I said, it was just a kiss.”
Marcus grunted in response. “She’d be good for you. I like her.”
“I like her too.”
“I mean, she’d make a good viscountess.”
“Don’t.” Anthony clipped the word out with speed and bite.
“Someday, you’re going to have to climb out of the abyss. She could be the one to help you. If you’d let her.”
“As it happens, that’s precisely what I’m trying to do.” She’d given him a glimmer at the end of a very dark tunnel.
Marcus blinked in surprise. He clasped Anthony’s shoulder. “I’m glad. Love could change your life—it did mine. Speaking of which, I need to get to the maze and find my wife.” He grinned. “And, I suppose, the rest of our guests.” He clapped Anthony before removing his hand and taking off into the night.
Love was not what Anthony was after. If he could move on from the past and try to live in the light, that would be enough. That was all he could expect, and far more than he deserved.
* * *
Brixton Park disappeared from view as the coach rounded a bend. Jane sat back against the squab, sorry the short party was over. No, she was sorry to leave Anthony after not having a chance to speak with him that morning. Nor had he come to see her last night.
But then, he’d said he wouldn’t. Still, she’d hoped he might.
Hadn’t he said he would disappoint her?
That wasn’t what he’d meant. And anyway, it was hard to be too disappointed after the way he’d kissed her when he’d escorted her outside—with warmth and promise. She hadn’t expected it, not after the emotional upheaval in the billiard room.
She’d lain awake for quite some time last night, and not just because she’d been waiting for him. She’d relived his pain and anguish and hoped she’d given him some amount of succor. He had to find a way to forgive himself for his mistakes.
Learning he’d accumulated gambling debts that his father had refused to pay had been a surprise. She’d never heard of him being a wastrel, but then that wouldn’t have been the first bit of gossip—true or not—that she hadn’t heard. She couldn’t help but think of the rumor about herself and then feel the subsequent outrage. It was a bit less, however, perhaps because she’d decided to let it go.
Or maybe because she was still reveling in the satisfaction of being with Anthony last night. She had no regrets about what they’d done in the billiard room. Well, maybe one. That it hadn’t lasted longer. With each moment she spent with him, each taste he gave her, she wanted more. She rather thought insatiable was the perfect word.
Now that she was going to help him find peace with his past, there would be more time. More…opportunity. Were they actually going to have an affair? He’d asked if that was what she wanted, but hadn’t confirmed that was what they’d be doing. She wanted confirmation. She wanted to know what to expect. And she really didn’t want to be disappointed.
The coach began to slow and move to the side of the lane. Suddenly tense, Jane brushed the curtain aside and looked out the window. Highwaymen wouldn’t strike in daylight, would they? Except, she was fairly certain that was what had happened to Anthony’s parents. Her blood chilled.
A man walked toward the coach, and Jane’s breath caught. Anthony pulled open the door and climbed inside. “Mind if I join you?”
She laughed as relief poured through her. “What are you doing?”
He removed his hat and tossed it on the rear-facing seat. “My coach is too slow.”
“I doubt that, since you managed to catch up to me.”
Shrugging, he sat down beside her. “Then it’s too lonely.”
Jane sat back and crossed her arms. “I was lonely last night.”
The coach started moving.
“Were you?” Anthony murmured, scooting closer so his right side touched her left. “My apologies, but then I did tell you I wouldn’t come to your room.”
“You did.”
He angled himself toward her and put his finger beneath her chin, turning her head. “Jane, I will always be honest with you about expectations. If I say I’m not going to do something, I mean it. If I say I will, I mean that too. Do you understand?”
“Yes. However, you didn’t do that when you abruptly left my house. That was completely unexpected.”
He grimaced. “It was, and is, why I shall endeavor to do better.”
She gave him a single nod. “And I will always ask for what I want. You shall always know where I stand. Do you understand?”
He dropped his hand to his lap. “I do.” He settled back against the squab beside her. “Now, tell me your plan for putting the past behind us.”
She smoothed her hand over her skirt, brushing away an invisible speck. “As I said last night, I’m going to forget about that stupid, horrid rumor. I’m going to embrace the life I’ve chosen as a spinster. To that end, I’m going to have an affair.” She turned her head to look at him.
“With me.” He slid her a glance that sparked heat in her core.
“If you agree. I couldn’t tell after last night.”
“I agree. So long as you remember what I said—I won’t marry, and I won’t fall in love with you.”
How he could be so sure about not falling in love didn’t make sense to Jane, but she wasn’t going to debate him. She wanted an affair. Anything else could come later. Or not, probably.
She refused to think about that. She wanted to focus on the present while they moved on from the past. The future could be damned for all she cared at the moment.
“So you will have an affair to get over your past, which includes a rumor in which you were maybe trying to have an affair?”
She heard the sardonic edge to his tone and stifled a smile. Swatting his arm lightly, she sent him a mock glower. “Was that what I was trying to do, start an affair with someone?”
“Not quite.” He smiled. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. That’s the past, remember? We’re not paying attention to it anymore.”
She turned toward him, glad to hear him say so. “Yes! That’s it exactly. What are you going to do to ignore your past?”
“I suppose drinking myself numb is out of the question?”
“It doesn’t seem to have worked for you so far,” she answered wryly.
He faced her. “What do you suggest, then?”
She was surprised at his openness. “I think you need to forgive yourself for what you did. For the gambling debts and for not going to Oaklands.” She watched him tense, his jaw c
lenching and his shoulders stiffening. “I know it’s hard to talk about,” she said softly. “Perhaps that’s the first step—learning to talk about it without feeling overwhelmed.”
“I can’t imagine that ever happening.”
“I couldn’t ever imagine feeling the sensations you aroused in me last night, and yet I did.”
His mouth curled into a wicked smile. “I don’t think those are comparable things.”
“Why not? I’m merely trying to illustrate how we never know what we’re capable of, what might happen if we try.”
“I can think of other things I’d like to try…to arouse you.”
Her body heated in response. “You’re trying to distract me, to deflect from the conversation.”
“Yes.”
She let out a surprised laugh. “You are being honest.”
“I said I would be.”
Shaking her shoulders, she picked up where he’d interrupted. “Let’s talk about your parents. What do you miss about them?”
He leaned back against the squab, looking forward. “God, everything. They were annoying as hell sometimes—my mother was desperate for me to wed—but I would give anything to have her harass me one more time. And my father.” He fell silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and soft. “He was disappointed with my gambling, but he never told my mother. And he never stopped believing that I could put it behind me.”
Jane put her hand over his. “See? Even he wanted you to bury the past.”
“I suppose he did.”
She hesitated, wanting to say something, but unsure if she should. Gathering her courage, she said, “Wouldn’t you like to go forward in a manner that would make him—them—proud?”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
She wanted to argue, but thought of her own parents. She didn’t think it was possible to make them proud. Not unless she could rewind time and make a successful marriage.
In Anthony’s case, it was even worse. His parents weren’t here to be proud. She suddenly felt like she was fighting a losing battle.
