A Measured Risk

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “Where is Tiberia?” she asked, wanting now only to be gone.

  “She’s in my study.” Kean drained his glass. “Would you like me to take you there?”

  Anne nodded.

  He sat the glass down and held his hand out to her. “Come, then.”

  She glanced at it, not wanting to take his hand. But with no other choice except to appear rude, she laid her hand in his. It closed over hers, large, hot and slightly damp. She jerked her gaze to his face, noticing once more how handsome he was. His green eyes glittered with open lust. Heavens, he was handsome. Blindingly so. Any woman would be thrilled to have him gaze upon her like this.

  She could become like Ruel. She could become part of this world and take lovers and become decadent.

  She didn’t want to.

  Why had he made her stay for the party? Why had he shown her that side of herself?

  Kean squeezed her hand. “I won’t bite you.” A slow grin curved Kean full, sensual mouth. “Oh, darling girl, why do you have to be Ruel’s? And why do I have to be so damned honourable?”

  Lady Waterbury’s laugh rang out again and he darted another meaningful look in her direction. “Honour’s overrated, I daresay. Anne darling, why don’t you stay here with us and pass the afternoon until your dear Jon returns? What he doesn’t know shan’t hurt him. At least not much. And after all, you’ll soon have to share him with his many cats in London. The man collects quim like other men collect wagers.”

  Kean’s laugh resounded, rich and mellow. “Oh, you do have a mean streak when you’re crossed, my lady. But think of what cost your revenge would be to me. Want to see me run through, do you?”

  Her hand still imprisoned by Kean, Anne glanced between the couple. It jarred her, the way they both seemed to assume she would acquiesce to their proposal. Indeed, she did feel the tug, the pull. The desire to please. To be compliant. Ruel had called it submissiveness. And she longed, most ardently, for his protection in this moment. But if she were to live independently, she’d have to learn to control this dangerous force of sensuality within herself. For her own protection. It had already made her too weak with Ruel. It had made her love him and lose her very soul to him. But while her desire to please with Ruel had always brought her inexpressible joy, she knew with her every sensibility that to give in to this, here, would only degrade her.

  But she realised that with Ruel it had been her choice, even from the first, to submit to his will. It had been her gift of love to him and it was her choice to give it or not. Just as it was her choice to say the time of giving it to him was over now. Always her decision, always her choice. Why, then, did it make her feel so devastated?

  Because she loved him.

  But she couldn’t ever have him. He was a typical aristocratic gentleman. Spoilt by his wealth, bored in a world that could offer him only transitory delights but never satisfy his jaded senses.

  I don’t want to become like these people.

  At least in her isolated life, she’d had her love of books and the pleasure of solitude.

  Yet she wished she’d never met Ruel. Never allowed him to show her the sexual side of herself and the joy of being his. Wished she’d never let herself fall in love with him.

  But there hadn’t been any real choice to it. She had fallen naturally.

  He could never be hers.

  He didn’t know how to be steadfast. He couldn’t be. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t hers. It was simply the way it was.

  Her throat burned like fire with unshed tears and she pushed them down.

  “I want to see Tiberia,” she said, making her voice quite firm. “Now.”

  Lady Waterbury chuckled, deep and sultry.

  Anne jerked her gaze up. The older woman ran a caressing hand over her lush breasts. “Kean, take the child to her little dog and then come back to me and I shall show you exactly how mean I can be.”

  Kean’s expression turned suddenly serious and he squeezed Anne’s hand. “Come, dear, shall we go see Tiberia?”

  He led her down the corridor to his study. Inside, Tiberia lay sleeping on a blanket. Anne gasped at the bandaged paw. Hearing that the leg had been amputated was one thing, but to actually see the bandage on the too-short appendage was shocking. She dropped down on her knees to get closer.

  “I dosed her with something to make her sleep. She shouldn’t be too active,” Kean said, crouching down beside her, so close that his thigh pressed hers. He touched her hair. “Don’t worry over her, sweeting, I shall do my best to see she’s healed up properly.”

  She began to turn towards him, to tell him to back away from her, to take his hands from her.

  “Your carriage is here, Lady Cranfield.”

  The cold voice hit her in the stomach and she turned to see Ruel standing in the doorway. His icy blue eyes bored into her. Her innards immediately tied into knots.

  He strode over to her and reached down a hand. “Come along.” His voice sounded terse.

  “She wanted to see the dog,” Kean said.

  Ruel shot him a cold, lethal look. It sent a chill straight to Anne’s bones and she quickly sought his hand, expecting that he would help her up.

  Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder and held her down. “Kean would do anything to see your body bared. He told me this.”

  His harsh tone sent a curl of apprehension through her. She flicked a glance at Jon’s face. His expression was fierce. It reminded her of when she had first met him, before she had seen his softer, warmer side.

  “Would you like that, Anne, to show yourself to him?”

  She gaped at him. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at Kean.

  “Answer me, Anne.”

  “I would prefer not to, Jon.”

  He moved his hand from her shoulder to her head and he stroked her hair. The methodical, firm caress sent a wave of lassitude through her. Sexual heat flared in her pelvis.

  He turned to her.

  She lowered her eyes immediately.

  “Unbutton my fall,” he said in terse tones.

  The chamber seemed to tilt, then turn. “What?”

  “You heard me, Anne.” He caressed her head with a firmer touch. Then he swept his hand over the mass of it, grasping it up in his hand. Gently but resolutely pulling her head back. “Show him, Anne—leave no doubt in his mind that you are mine. Completely.”

  Fire flared in her loins. Her sex pulsed with need. The need to obey him. No matter how illogical. No matter if it was all over for them. With shaking fingers, she found his buttons and began working them.

  “That’s my good girl,” he said softly.

  He was growing erect, making it hard for her to force the buttons from their holes. Her hands brushed the turgid length and he throbbed for her. As if he was aching for her touch.

  Her mouth watered. She wasn’t thinking of Kean any longer. She was thinking only of Jon. His need for her. Her need to please him. She wanted to feel his cock in her mouth.

  But his buttons were so damned difficult. And her hands shook harder and harder from the desire to feel his bare, heated flesh.

  Finally, the last button beneath his fall came open. His erection sprang into her hand. She circled her hand about his thickness and squeezed him. His juices wetted her hand, in an uncontrollable profusion. She stroked him.

  He took her hand and uncurled it from himself. “In your mouth, love. No hands.”

  He grasped himself and held the shaft while he pressed the back of her head with his other hand.

  She leant forward with her mouth open. The head of his cock slid inside. The salty taste of his fluids, the silk-over-steel feel of his flesh, made her moan with satisfaction. He thrust into her, deeper than he’d been before. She gasped in her throat.

  “Swallow,” he said, pressing her head.

  She obeyed him.

  “That’s it, swallow my love.” He thrust deeper and deeper.

  She kept swallowing, leaning forward until he had
his entire length in her mouth, down her throat.

  “My God, love, that’s good.” He held himself still. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  He pulled back, almost all the way out of her mouth, then thrust back in quickly, forcing her to scramble and swallow. A thrill raced through her body as he pulled back again and repeated the motion. Then more thrills as he did it over and over and over again, his motions growing faster and faster, more urgent.

  He gripped her head with both hands. Roughly.

  She’d never felt more alive.

  She’d been born to serve him like this.

  She loved it.

  Quickly, too quickly, his cock surged against her tongue, the pumping motions of his impending orgasm.

  He groaned, tightening his hands on her head.

  Fierce jets of thick, hot seed erupted in her throat.

  Greedily, she swallowed and swallowed him, taking all he had to offer, as the violent outpouring shook them both.

  Then it was over. His harsh breath echoed loudly in the chamber. He uttered a sound between a chuckle and groan. “My lady, oh, my lady.”

  He withdrew and released her.

  She dropped back, sprawling weakly on the floor.

  Then she glanced quickly about the room.

  Aside from Tiberia slumbering on her pallet, they were alone.

  Jon chuckled. “He left, Anne. He left before you even got two buttons undone. He was quite indignant.”

  He put his cock away and refastened his trousers. Then he took his handkerchief out. He offered his hand.

  She stared at it, feeling drained and confused. He handed her the handkerchief.

  “Come now, Anne, you loved what we just did. Admit it. You want to be mine.”

  She took the cloth and wiped her mouth. Then she stared up at him. “You know I am yours. There is no wanting or choice about it.”

  “Well, then, marry me and we shall be very happy.”

  All her sexual arousal cooled. “This changed nothing.”

  “Christ, you can be so soft and then turn so hard. How do you do that? Relent, Anne. Relent.”

  “I can’t.”

  He studied her intently, his blue gaze burning her. “When I first came in here, you wanted to submit to him, to let him take you to his bed and fuck you, didn’t you?”

  “Goodness, no.”

  “Be honest, Anne. I saw the look on your face.”

  His tone was compelling, drawing her response before she thought. “I-I…felt tempted, yes. But not truly. I could never let a man like Kean bed me.”

  Jon laughed, the soft sound sending chills over her. “Why? Because he is a commoner? You think he’ll dirty you in some irreparable way?”

  No, because he is not you and I am yours now and forever.

  She looked down at her lap and studied her hands. “You brought me here. You made me stay for that wicked party.”

  “He’s looking for a wealthy wife. You should know that.”

  “I am not looking for any husband.”

  “You think that, Anne, but you’re wrong. You need me. You just don’t realise yet how much. I am going to let you go today. But when you decide to come off your high ropes, you send for me.”

  She scoffed. “One week back in London amid your other women and you will have forgotten all about me.”

  His expression hardened and he held out his hand to her. “Come, hurry, your carriage awaits. Your nervous little abigail is probably overcome with vapours wondering what’s become of you.”

  * * * *

  It had been scant hours since Anne had arrived at Whitecross Hall from Eastwood Place. Her bottom was still sore from Ruel’s lash marks, yet she couldn’t baby herself. Nellie watched her too closely and should her faithful abigail discover the truth, she’d be all for seeing Ruel strung from the highest tree. She’d never understand Anne’s dynamic with her lover.

  Anne sighed. Even though Nellie had been waiting inside to accompany her, the ride had been difficult for more reason than one. Being inside a carriage, while not as blood-chillingly terrifying as it once might have been, was still difficult. Even the two glasses of claret she’d gulped down hadn’t eased the white-knuckled edge.

  But she had survived. She had made it in a carriage alone. Moment by moment. As she had descended the carriage at Whitecross, relief had sung in her blood. She would make it through the carriage ride to Plymouth and then all the carriage rides after that to Ireland just the same way. Moment by moment.

  However, now she was drained.

  She certainly hadn’t recovered her reserves enough to deal with this letter that had been waiting for her. Mama had finally sent the exact details of little Dorothea’s expected arrival.

  Nellie bent and picked it up and folded it, placing it in Anne’s lap. “What does she say, my lady?”

  Anne lifted her brows and sighed. It was finally time to tell her. “Seems Mama has found herself a wealthy Nabob. He wants to marry her.”

  “Well, that’s grand news.”

  “Yes, for Mama, I am sure. But there’s a snag, you see.”

  “A snag, my lady?”

  “Apparently Mama has had a bit of a side-slip. Previous to this, you understand.”

  Nellie’s mouth fell open and her eyes went wide.

  Anne nodded. “Not a word to anyone, Nellie, you must promise.”

  “Of course.” Nellie frowned. “How long…”

  “Three years.”

  “Goodness! And not a word, until now?”

  Anne nodded and dropped her voice. “And m-my sister,” Anne’s heart contracted at the realisation. “My sister is on her way here in the company of her nanny. Soon. Mama intended the letter to come sooner, but the ship had some troubles in transit. In a month, the Celia will dock in Plymouth. We shall have to be there to meet it.”

  Even now, her stomach sank at the thought of riding in a carriage all the way to Plymouth.

  “But you don’t have to go. You can send someone.” Nellie clasped her hand. “I shall go with my older brother, Robert. Do not worry over this, we’ll find a nice home for the child.”

  “No,” Anne said, firmly. “I must be there. I shall be the only family the poor girl will have here in England.”

  “But she’s not your real family. She’s a side-slip, my lady and you shall remarry eventually. Your husband will not appreciate the child’s presence any more than your Mama’s rich Nabob would.”

  Nellie spoke common sense. Social custom. However, Anne refused to heed it. She would not be like the duke or her feckless Mama, who tossed her own child out like some unwanted kitten.

  The same way she’d left Anne to the care of servants and then at sixteen dumped her unprepared onto a cruel, competitive marriage mart and left England altogether immediately afterwards. Anne’s throat burned. No, she had to be there. When the child disembarked and walked onto England’s shores for the first time, it must be holding the hand of a blood relative. So she would know that she mattered. That she had a family. Even if it was to be a family of just one.

  * * * *

  Two weeks in London had done little to soothe Jon’s mood. At the sight of Anne, clipping roses in the Whitecross garden, the shaggy dog at his side grew restive and surged forward. Jon gave the leash a sharp tug. Nevertheless, he found himself in sympathy with Tiberia. It took all his control not to rush to Anne and pull her into his arms.

  She stared at him, her face betraying no emotion. The old, cold mask, the one she’d greeted him with the very first day he’d met her. The day he’d dismissed her as a wallflower and then she’d given him that sultry, sensual, sidelong glance and sent his pulses pounding. And, God help him, he felt the same challenge to probe her depths.

  “I thought you might take care of Tiberia from now on,” he said.

  “Don’t you want her with you?” She knelt to stroke the shaggy fur and Tiberia raised her head invitingly. “I haven’t kept a dog since I was a girl.”

  She spoke
so calmly, seemingly unaffected, while he’d spent all these nights—too many nights—longing for her. The hold she had over him proved an intolerable yoke that lashed him to her. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of a feeling at all. A devilishness urge to torment her seized him and would not let go. “I won’t have time for her.”

  Her head jerked up and her fathomless sapphire eyes struck him in the heart.

  “What do you mean?” Her voice rang with suspicion, the first emotion she’d shown today.

  Satisfaction surged through him, impelled him on. “You see, it’s exhausting to entertain all my mistresses, jumping from one bed to the other—”

  “Oh you’re too cruel!” she cried, jumping to her feet and fleeing.

  Satisfaction slammed through him to have cracked her cold mask. He caught her about the waist and her soft curves under his hands made his cock twitch to life. As she struggled against his hold, he laughed softly, enjoying her helplessness against him. As helpless to him physically as he was to her emotionally. He’d not make this easy for her. “What’s all this? You told me to go back to London, to be with my mistress.”

  She ceased her struggles. “And I suppose you have seen her.”

  “Yes, I have.” His words were flat.

  She went rigid. “I think you should leave. Just leave.”

  “Nan—”

  “Don’t call me that, you have no place to call me that.”

  The hurt in her voice extinguished all desire for retribution.

  “Nan,” he repeated more firmly, lowering his lips to her ear. “I have dismissed her.”

  Her body stiffened even more. “Have your eye on someone else, do you?”

  He smiled at her fortitude. “You little tart-mouthed hoyden, one day that’s going to be your undoing.” He pressed his lips to her neck for a moment. “I dismissed her because I shall soon be a married man. I will have no need for mistresses.”

  She placed a hand to her head. “Please do not do this today. I have so much to concentrate on and—”

  “What is troubling you? Tell me.”

  “My Mama is getting married, to a rich Nabob. So she’s sending my half-sister here to live with me.”

  He frowned. “Your half-sister?”