An Affair to Remember

by Karen Hawkins

  It was both a plea and a cry. A shaky laugh escaped him and he raised on one elbow to look down at her. “I shall give, my love, until you can take no more.” Within seconds, his breeches were gone and he lay atop her. “Anna, I want to be gentle, but you have to—”

  She placed her fingers to his lips. “No talking.” She moved her hips against his, feeling the strength of his arousal. “I want this,” she whispered, opening her legs to him and running her hands over his arms, his shoulders, to his back and lower.

  Anthony buried his face in her neck and groaned. She had no idea what she was doing to him, and he was helpless to resist her. Teeth gritted, he rose over her and positioned himself between her thighs. She waited, her hands curled about his arms, her head tilted back, the lovely line of her throat exposed. God, but she was beautiful. He’d imagined her there, her glorious red hair spread over his pillows, her naked skin gleaming in the late afternoon sun, but the reality was so much sweeter, so much more that it overwhelmed his senses.

  But he could not take her without readying her, making sure she received the full enjoyment of the moment. He placed his hand on the plane of her stomach, kissing her neck as he touched her softly, gently, stroking her nether curls with a feather-soft touch. She gasped when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh and then found the delicate folds. Moist heat dampened his fingers and he gritted his teeth with the urge to bury himself inside her.

  She was so beautiful. He stroked her gently, then more firmly, watching as she tossed her head and arched toward him, her breasts rising toward him. Anthony bent and tasted her, taking a nipple in his mouth. He laved it mercilessly, moving his fingers faster, deeper. Within seconds she stiffened, lifting her hips from the bed as the passion took her.

  Anthony didn’t wait for her to regain her breath. He lifted himself over her, and then slowly, ever so slowly he held himself against her, each movement taking him further into the heat. Beneath him, Anna moaned softly, wrapping a leg about him as she held him to her. She held nothing back, offering all, and Anthony marveled at her openness.

  Suddenly he was moving, rising and falling into the sweetness of her. After a first astonished gasp, Anna quivered, then rose to meet him, enveloping him in a heat that shook him to the core. As he’d expected, she was not a pliant partner, but wild, untamed, nipping at his shoulder, her hands never still as she touched and stroked, her long legs locked about him, as if she would hold him there forever.

  Anthony cupped his hands about her bottom and held her tight, burying himself in her heat. She moaned and he felt her tremble deep inside as she gave herself to the pleasure. It was an agony and an ecstasy, holding still as she writhed around him, her heat igniting his own.

  He was delighted to see that Anna wasn’t about to let this moment slip by without living every second of it. She wrapped herself around him, holding tightly, trying to soak in every nuance of the passion that washed through him. When he finally stilled, they lay locked in each other’s arms as their breathing returned to normal.

  It was heavenly, lying in the warm bed with his arms about her, her warm, naked skin against his. She buried her face in his neck and held tightly. Outside, the sun finally gave way to night, twilight sinking into blackness.

  Anthony sighed heavily. “I don’t want to move.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair and kissed her forehead, then rolled over to his side, pulling her with him, tucking her neatly against him.

  After a while, she stirred. “That was…nice.”

  “Just nice?” he asked, a little affronted.

  Her eyes shimmered silver. “Very nice. So nice I’d like to do it again.”

  He laughed softly and captured a thick curl in his hand and wound it around his finger. “You are a brazen vixen, Anna Thraxton.” He rubbed against her in a suggestive manner. “Fortunately, I love brazen vixens.”

  She gave him a lazy, sated smile. Something flickered through her eyes, something sad and tender.

  Anthony bent to kiss her mouth, trying to capture the sadness and remove it. “What is it?”

  Her expression immediately shuttered. “I was just thinking of tomorrow.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  She turned her head away, saying nothing.

  Unease settled in Anthony’s chest. He turned her face to his. “What happens tomorrow?”

  A faint smile touched her mouth. “The children are performing their play.”

  Anthony had a feeling that wasn’t the answer she had intended to give. But before he could say more, Anna sighed and pushed herself up on her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders and pooling on the bed at her elbow. “I need to dress. One of the servants could come at any time, and it would be awkward.”

  “We haven’t talked yet.”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “I think we’ve said quite a lot.”

  “Yes, but we haven’t solved anything. Anna, I care for you.”

  She smiled, her heart in her eyes, a gleam of hope in the silver depths that made him ache. “Yes?”

  His jaw tightened. If he could not convince Charlotte to release him, there would be no “and.” “Anna, give me some more time—”

  She placed her fingers over his lips. “This is a perfect moment, Anthony Elliot,” she whispered. “Don’t spoil it with words.” She bent and pressed her lips to his, softly, gently, her hands traveling lightly over his back, sending trills of pleasure through him.

  Anthony captured her hands. “Wait here.” Then he rose and went to the dresser and searched for a moment. Finally finding what he was looking for amid the fobs and cravat pins, he returned to the bed and lay beside her.

  A crease rested between her brows. “What is it?”

  Anthony captured her hand. He kissed her ring finger and slid the talisman ring over it.

  Anna held her hand to the light. “What’s this?”

  “A family treasure. Legend has it that whoever has the ring in his possession will meet the love of his life.”

  She made a movement as if to take it off. “Then it’s not for me—”

  “Anna, the ring has nothing to do with marriage. It’s for finding the love of my life, and that is you.” He bent and kissed her finger once more, this time teasing the palm of her hand as well. “Keep it. For me.”

  Anna closed her hand over the ring. She had his love. It was something—but it wasn’t enough. “I cannot accept this.”

  “You already have.”

  She pulled away. “No.” Had she any pride left, she would rise from this bed and walk away. But somehow her pride had disappeared, and with it all hope that she and Anthony could ever be happy. She couldn’t ask him to walk away from his honor—it would change him. And she loved him just the way he was.

  “We are hopeless,” she said, managing a smile through her tears. “You can’t walk away from your commitments, and I cannot allow myself to be beguiled into an untenable situation.”

  He enveloped her in a powerful hug, resting his head against hers, his breathing warm on her ear. “Please, Anna. I will take care of you. You and your grandfather will never want for anything.”

  Each word he said drove a wedge between them. Anna felt as if they were staring at each other over the brink of a chasm, a chasm so deep and so wide that it could never be bridged. Her heart ached as if someone had squeezed it in a vise. “No.”

  He brushed his lips over Anna’s, nipping at the delicate corners of her mouth. “Don’t think. Just stay with me. We’ll take this one day at a time. Something will happen. It has to.”

  Anna closed her eyes. It was so tempting. The ring on her finger seemed to burn. It was a pity the legend was wrong. What she felt for Anthony couldn’t be love. Love didn’t feel so despairing. So hopeless.

  Her fingers closed about the ring and she turned into his embrace, pressing her naked body to his. Without words, she showed him what she felt and he responded instinctively, worshipping her in a way that left her crying his name.

/>   Later, much later, she lay curled in his arms. Anthony’s steady breathing stirred her hair, sending a shiver of repletion through her. She savored the feel of him, his scent, his warm arms about her. Outside, the moon shone, sending long tendrils of light across the bed, warming their naked limbs to silver.

  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but eventually, as the night deepened, she slipped from his warm embrace and stood in the silver moonlight. Slowly, she dressed. Before she went to the door, she pulled the narrow circlet from her finger and laid it on the dresser. Careful not to make any noise, she turned and left.

  Dawn brought a bright swish of pink and purple to the morning sky. Anna stood on the front step of Greyley House, her traveling pelisse neatly buttoned about her neck, a pair of clean gloves in one hand, her best walking shoes laced up her feet.

  She’d left a letter for Grandpapa telling him to come and meet her in London as soon as possible. She was sure that Greyley would provide a carriage. The thought of Anthony tightened in her throat and she blinked back tears.

  It had been difficult to leave the children. She’d gone to the nursery and awakened them. They’d seemed to know what was coming, for Elizabeth burst into tears before Anna could say a word. She’d hugged them all, even Desford, who had returned her embrace with a surprisingly fierce hug.

  “Would you like the carriage ordered, my lady?” Jenkins asked quietly. He seemed especially somber this morning, a fact Anna appreciated.

  “Yes, I—”

  A phaeton whirled into the drive and approached the front steps. As it drew closer, Anna could see Rupert in the seat, the reins in his hands.

  He pulled up to the steps and dismounted. Anna caught a glimpse of his face and noted how white his mouth appeared. “Jenkins,” she murmured to the butler, “Thank you for everything.”

  Jenkins bowed and Anna gathered her skirts and descended the stairs to Rupert’s side. “What’s happened?”

  His gaze was wild, his hair mussed as if he’d grasped it at some point. “It’s finished, Anna. I went to see Charlotte this morning and—” His voice broke and he clamped his mouth together, white lines appearing at either side.

  “Rupert, I’m sorry,” Anna said softly. “But…perhaps it is for the best.”

  His eyes blazed and he snapped, “How can you say that?”

  “You are overset, but there is no need to flare up at me. I haven’t done anything.”

  Rupert slumped. “I know. Anna, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I love her. And she told me she didn’t want to ever see me again. It was as if…she didn’t care.”

  Anna nodded, unable to say anything more, her own tenuous control threatening to break.

  With an obvious effort, Rupert gathered himself. He caught sight of her luggage for the first time. “Are you leaving, too?”

  “I must.”

  Something in her voice must have given her away, for he nodded. “I understand.” He turned with an impatient movement. “Here. I have no wish to stay, either. I might as well drive you to London; it’ll be a hell of a lot faster than Greyley’s outdated conveyance.”

  Anna considered the high perch phaeton with a wistful look. He was right—the phaeton would make the trip in half the time of the lumbering carriage. Besides, she didn’t look forward to hours of a solitary ride, with no one to distract her from her thoughts. Sighing a little, she picked up her portmanteau and handed it to Rupert. “I would be honored to ride with you to London.”

  A faint smile touched his mouth. “Who knows? Maybe I will stay in town for a while. I sure as hell don’t want to ever come back here.”

  Anna glanced around at the bleak house that rose beside them, at the expanse of green lawn, at the carefully trimmed trees. As forbidding as it was, it felt like home, and her chest ached to leave it. She cast a last glance up at the dark windows and climbed into the phaeton beside Rupert.

  From an upstairs window, Lady Putney watched as her son drove off with the governess. Any other mother would have experienced heart palpitations at the thought of so unworthy a match, but Lady Putney was no ordinary mother. The sight of Anna sitting in a curricle beside her son, her bags strapped to the back, made her smile.

  Lady Putney dropped the curtain back in place and climbed into her bed. She would sleep another two or three hours and then she’d rise and attend the children’s play. Smiling to herself, she drifted off to sleep.

  Meanwhile, down the hall, someone else stood at their window and watched the phaeton bowl out of sight. Eyes narrowed, Sir Phineas puffed thoughtfully on his cigar, blowing the smoke out the opened window. He wasn’t about to give up his dreams of scampering grandchildren.

  There had to be a way…He puffed harder on the cigarillo. After several moments, a slow grin touched his face, and it was with a noticeably light step that he went to dress. He needed to talk to the children. They would know what to do—he’d bet his last groat on it.

  Chapter 26

  From what our sister has told me, the only things Anthony and Miss Thraxton have in common are stubbornness, an intractable sense of what is right, and an astounding desire to conform everyone to their way of thinking. They are perfect for one another.

  Chase St. John to his brother, Brand St. John, upon meeting each other on the road to London

  Several hours later Sir Phineas opened the door to the library. “Are you coming to see the children’s play? They are ready to begin.”

  Anthony was standing by the window, his face drawn and set. Sir Phineas noted the signs of strain with approval. It wouldn’t be fair for Anna to suffer alone. “Everyone is already assembled in the dining room.”

  The earl’s frown deepened. “Everyone?”

  “Lady Putney, Sir and Lady Melton, and Miss Charlotte Melton.”

  “Who invited the Meltons?”

  “I believe the children did. They wanted a proper audience.”

  “That’s odd.” The earl’s brow lowered. “Where is Rupert?”

  Sir Phineas shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since early this morning.”

  “Lovely,” Anthony muttered. God, what a coil. He’d woken to an empty bed, still haunted with the feel of Anna. He’d almost risen and gone to her room, but the sounds of the household stirring to life had halted him.

  What was it about her? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her, tasted her, felt her heat surround him. He moved restlessly, turning back to the gray morning. Anna might think they had no future, but he knew otherwise. All he had to do was convince her of that.

  But for now, he had to deal with Charlotte. Perhaps he could use the play to his benefit—another opportunity to show her how unsuited they were.

  Sighing, he followed Sir Phineas to the dining room. The children had hung a painted canvas behind the wide opening that led to the foyer, making a natural stage area. Chairs had been placed near the curtain in two narrow lines. Sir and Lady Melton sat in the front row of chairs, Charlotte beside them.

  Seeing Anthony, the Meltons rose and made their greetings. Anthony shook hands with Sir Melton, said a few brief words to Lady Melton, and bowed over Charlotte’s hand.

  “Perhaps you’d care to sit here?” Sir Phineas indicated an empty chair on the front row by Charlotte.

  Banishing the urge to tell Sir Phineas to mind his own business, Anthony took the seat and fixed his gaze on the drawn curtain, imagining Anna just behind it.

  A rustle moved the curtain and then Elizabeth stepped forward. Dressed in a blue satin gown, a conical hat on her head, a long veil draped over one shoulder, she curtsied. “Good evening, gentle ladies and gentle men.” She launched into a short monologue describing the aspects of the play about to be presented.

  Apparently the rendition was a telling of the family history of sorts. As Elizabeth droned on, Anthony’s attention wandered and he stole a glance at Charlotte. She sat staring straight ahead, her eyes focused in the distance, her mind obviously elsewhere. Anthony tried to think of some obnoxious vice he cou
ld adopt that would so disgust her that she would recoil in horror. Perhaps if he mentioned that he snored…

  The play went on and on, seeming interminably long, though in reality only twenty minutes passed. A whole parade of illustrious Elliot ancestors marched across the makeshift stage. Gradually drawn in, Anthony was impressed with the amount of knowledge the children conveyed about each of the time periods. Truly, Anna had wrought miracles.

  Once in a while, one of the children forgot the lines. Immediately a soft voice whispered a prompt from behind the curtain. It had to be Anna. Anthony found himself staring at that place in the curtain, imagining himself with her, hidden from sight, his mouth on hers. He stirred restlessly, leaning back in his chair and shoving his hands into his pockets. Immediately, his fingers closed over the small circle of the talisman ring that Anna had left in his room.

  The feel of the warm band of silver eased his frustration. He was far from through with Anna Thraxton. He was a St. John, damn it, and when a St. John wanted something, he made it his, one way or another.

  The play continued. To everyone’s amusement, there were plenty of gaffes—Marian came out wearing her costume inside out and Desford stumbled against a table that collapsed beneath him. Once, while in the middle of a mock sword fight, Richard’s sword got tangled in the scenery and he yanked the curtain down on his head.

  Sir and Lady Melton seemed to enjoy the show immensely, clapping and laughing aloud, as did Sir Phineas. Everyone but Anthony and Charlotte, who sat side by side as if turned to stone.

  Anthony stole a glance down at her and noted that she seemed as pale and wan as he felt.

  Suddenly Lady Melton stiffened, her gaze on the stage.

  The children had moved to current times, and were standing in the midst of a fairly accurate rendition of the nursery. And there, wearing a red wig, was Elizabeth, her chest filled with rags to give her an inkling of Anna’s curvaceous figure. If the wig and enhanced bosom hadn’t told Anthony who Elizabeth was supposed to be, the book of Greek poetry clutched to her breast would have.