‘Does he return your regard?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed, her voice full of wonder.
‘Then I wish you the best of it.’ He meant every word.
She gave him a beatific smile. ‘Thank you, Hugo. You have always been so understanding and accommodating. I have been fortunate in my stepson.’
He smiled down at her. ‘We are nearly of an age, Juliet. It is not my place to tell you what you can and cannot do.’
‘Thank you anyway. You could have made this harder and you have not.’
‘Only if I thought the connection would harm you, and then I would explain my concerns to you.’
‘I know.’
She left the room, leaving Hugo to ponder the wisdom of what she had asked him to do. Her marriage to his father had been one of convenience. She had been barely seventeen and just out of the school room when she had married the late Sir Rafael Fitzsimmon. Their marriage had been happy, but far from ecstatic. Hugo was glad to see her finally find a man who made her glow. He just wished the man wasn’t Annabell’s stepson. Fortunately he had not heard any rumours that the son had his father’s unsavoury proclivities. If he had, he would have refused to allow Juliet to extend the invitation. He hoped he was not making a mistake. Better to have the man under his roof for a period of time so he could watch him. He would also ask Annabell if she knew anything.
He sat back down and rang for Butterfield. This was one hell of a morning, and he still had the hardest part ahead of him. He had to tell Annabell about Elizabeth and his forthcoming trip.
Annabell groaned and forced her protesting muscles to lift her from the ground where she had been painstakingly clearing the dirt from what was definitely a mosaic floor in the Roman villa. She had left Hugo’s bedchamber nearly lethargic from physical satiation, but had forced herself to dress and come to the site instead of going back to bed. She was determined not to let her liaison with Hugo interfere with her reason for being here. Her excavation had to come first.
She was a widow of independent means, and she fully intended to stay that way. Ten years of marriage to Fenwick-Clyde had taught her the downfalls of being legally attached to a man. The man owned his wife, and he could do anything to her that he chose.
She would not readily put herself in another man’s power. Not even Hugo—should he ever ask. So far, neither one of them had mentioned wanting anything more than what they shared right now. She did not think he wanted commitment and marriage anymore than she did.
For a moment the sun seemed to dim, then everything was normal. Surely she was not upset because Hugo did not want more from their liaison. She had no reason to be so since she did not want more—or, at least, knew she should not want more.
‘Annabell,’ Susan Pennyworth’s breathy, light voice intruded. ‘What are you doing here by yourself?’
Annabell nearly groaned. She had not heard Susan arrive. She had been too focused on her thoughts of Hugo.
‘I am excavating.’
Annabell kept her tone reasonable, even though she felt a spurt of irritation. It was barely nine in the morning. She had arranged for the men to arrive at ten to begin helping, and she wanted to get as much done as possible before they got here and she had to stop and direct them. Susan would remember that if she stopped to think about it. Ordinarily, she did not let Susan’s inanity irritate her, but right now she wanted to be left alone.
Still, she kept her voice pleasant. She and Susan shared a long history and, unless Mr Tatterly got his courage up, they would continue on together for a long time.
She tried again. ‘I wanted to come here and get some work done before the men get here. Sometimes too many people make it hard to protect this precious mosaic. People tend to forget to watch where they step. After all…’ she smiled as she warmed to her topic ‘…these are country folk. They are not used to valuing this type of discovery. They normally plough up a find like this and think nothing of it because to them the farm land is more valuable.’
Susan sniffed. ‘Of course. Nothing like Mr Tatterly with his sensibilities. Why, just yesterday, he asked me how your work was going, and he was truly interested in what I had to tell him.’
Annabell smothered her laugh. Susan was several years older than she, but the other woman was as naïve as a school miss.
When she was sure she would not burst into laughter, Annabell said gently, ‘I believe Mr Tatterly is interested in you, Susan.’
Susan flushed scarlet, her normally pale, nearly pasty complexion mottling. ‘Oh, no, Annabell. You refine too much on his consideration. Mr Tatterly is university educated and very interested in anything having to do with science or history or the such.’
Annabell turned away to hide her smile, which she feared was closer to a smirk. ‘As you wish, Susan.’
She was not going to argue with her companion. Susan would either see Mr Tatterly’s interest or she wouldn’t. Annabell knew from experience that there was nothing she could do to open her friend’s eyes or change her friend’s opinion.
‘Do you have time to help, Susan?’ she asked instead of continuing the previous conversation.
‘Most certainly. I intend to stay here while you go back to the house. Sir Hugo has requested your presence.’ Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I believe he is going to tell us to leave. I heard the servants saying that Lady Fitzsimmon wants to invite other guests.’
Annabell stopped. More people would increase the risk of her and Hugo being discovered. Great as the damage would be if they were found out, she was not sure that even the increased danger to her reputation could keep her away from him now. He had penetrated her defences.
To cover her unease, she spoke more sharply than she had intended. ‘Surely not, Susan. Rosemont is more than large enough for Lady Fitzsimmon to invite a dozen other people and still not require our rooms.’
She heard Susan sniff and realised too late that her tone had been curt. She had been reacting to her own fears about her relationship with Hugo and had hurt her friend. Susan talked too much and often did not make sense, but she was one of the most sensitive and easily hurt people Annabell had ever met. The slightest inflection of disdain or look of superiority and Susan was immediately cowed.
Annabell whirled around, instantly contrite. ‘Susan…’ She put her arms around the other. ‘I did not mean to sound so short with you. I…I was thinking of something else that worried me and took that fear out on you. Please forgive me.’
Susan sniffed. ‘No, no, Annabell, it is not your doing. I am too easily hurt. I must get a thicker skin, as you so often tell me. I know you did not mean anything by it. I can be irritating with my chattering. I know that.’
‘No, you are who you are, Susan, and that is the way I like you.’
Susan smiled, her pale blue eyes lighting with affection. ‘You are always so kind and ready to defend me.’ She took a deep, steadying breath. ‘But you must be on your way. Sir Hugo looked very upset. I shudder to think what must be wrong.’
Annabell nodded, her stomach clenching in worry. Hugo never sent for her. It was an understanding they had reached. He knew how independent she was, and it did not look good to be seen together more than was necessary now they were lovers.
She sighed. This—relationship—was so complicated.
Annabell headed toward Rosemont, thankful for the modified pants she wore. They enabled her to move easily over the site without the worry of catching her skirts on a shard or upturned rock.
She reached the road and started walking, having decided against riding so that she could enjoy the crisp morning air without having it overwhelm her as it sometimes did when one travelled quickly on horseback. A brisk pace would put her at Rosemont in thirty minutes or so.
She heard a noise and saw a horse and rider coming toward her. She recognised Hugo’s easy sway and comfort in the saddle. He must be very anxious to speak with her. She smiled and waved.
He stopped Molly several feet away an
d dismounted. The pale sunlight lit his chestnut hair, creating a sharp contrast with his grass-green eyes. He wore a casual jacket over a shirt that wasn’t buttoned to the top. A handkerchief knotted around his strong neck gave him the aura of a sporting man. She knew he enjoyed sports, but realised with a start that she did not know which ones he participated in. It was unsettling to note that for all they had shared, she still knew so little about him.
She smiled as he closed the distance between them. ‘Hello.’
‘Thought I’d find you’re here.’
Her smile widened. ‘You know me too well.’
He strode to her. His thigh muscles rippled beneath the fine buckskin of his breeches. The hitch in his walk caused by his wound was only slightly more noticeable than usual. The poultice had healed the sprain better than she had thought possible. His Hessian boots sparkled from the champagne and blacking his valet used to polish them. He was, as always to her, magnificent.
‘Admiring my manly attributes,’ he said, his eyes sparking with an awareness she was very familiar with.
Her laugh was embarrassed because she had been so obvious in her perusal, but she retorted, ‘Your boots are better polished than usual. Jamison must have had time on his hands.’
‘That and the tavern wench.’
‘Shame on you, Hugo.’
He shrugged. ‘It is only the truth.’
‘But I did not need to know that.’
‘And why is that?’
‘It is none of my business what your valet does.’
He stopped close enough that if she reached out she could touch him. Somehow, she resisted the urge to do so. But it was hard. She knew how his skin felt beneath her fingers; the sparks that flew between them when she touched him; the hunger that drove them to take risks they should not take.
‘It can wait,’ he murmured, closing the distance between them with one predatory movement.
She was in his arms and her fingers were undoing the knotted handkerchief before she quite realised what they were doing. Her hunger rose like a ravening beast as his mouth bent to hers. It was always thus, before his lips met hers and all conscious thought stopped.
He kissed her, the soft, moist sound of their joining exciting her. His hands slipped inside her pelisse and rubbed up and down her back, going lower with each stroke until they cupped her to him, nearly lifting her off her feet.
‘It has been too long.’ His voice was a hot breath against the side of her neck.
She arched into him. ‘Only a couple of hours.’
‘Too long.’
He rubbed his hips against hers to emphasise his meaning. She laughed softly and met his mouth once again with her own.
The kiss was long and wet and charged with need. She melted against him, his arms the only things holding her up. As though sensing her need for his support, he swung her into his arms and carried her to a patch of grass and dead leaves well away from the road. Bushes and trees screened them from any passers-by. He laid her gently down and followed her to the ground.
The scent of earth and growing things filled her nostrils. The sky behind his lowering head filled her eyes. She rose up to meet him.
With hands made deft from practice, he undid the buttons on her waistband and inched her loose-fitting pants down her hips until only her undergarments covered her. He unerringly found the place where her fine muslin opened. He skimmed a finger along her before slipping deep inside her.
He lifted his head, his eyes filled with wonder. ‘You are ready.’
She nodded. ‘For you.’ Her fingers, not as skilled as his, fumbled with the buttons that held his breeches together. ‘I fear I haven’t your expertise,’ she murmured against his lips.
‘But you have something more important.’
Through the haze of desire that only he could create in her, she looked at him. ‘More important than skill?’
He nipped at her mouth, tiny kisses that were as intoxicating as a deep penetration. ‘Yes. You have a passion to match mine. That is a greater aphrodisiac than any skill.’
His fingers delved deeper, and she forgot what they were saying as her body reacted to his ministrations. Her hips matched his rhythm. Her heart beat erratically, and her breath came in sharp gulps.
His mouth suckled hers as his fingers brought her to climax. He swallowed the sharp cry of release she could not hold back.
She looked up at him and saw his eyes were now a deep green, his pupils nearly consuming the irises. ‘Hugo…’
‘Hush,’ he said, pausing to put on his protection before slipping between her thighs. ‘Now it is my turn.’
His breeches were open so that he spilled forth. She caught her breath, then caught him and guided him to her. He slid in and she gasped.
‘Always,’ she murmured. ‘Always it is like this.’
His eyes barely focused, he smiled at her. ‘Like nothing I have ever experienced before.’
Then he started moving and all else fled.
An eternity later, a second later, she lay beside him, both of them striving to get back their breath. She still tingled where minutes before he had caressed her, and she also felt a contentment she had never known before him.
He stroked the hair back from her face and gently helped her back into her harem pants. Only then did he pull her into the crook of his arm.
He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Thank you, Bell, for the gift of yourself.’
She smiled at him. ‘I receive more than I give, Hugo.’
He shook his head. ‘Never.’
She put one finger against his lips. ‘Let’s not argue about who receives more.’
He laughed against her finger before catching it and kissing the tip. ‘Let’s not argue about anything.’ He kissed her again, his lips lingering long enough for hunger to build once more in his eyes. ‘Ever.’
Her stomach clenched with fresh desire. He had that power over her.
‘Never,’ she murmured, letting him keep her hand which he tucked against his chest.
They lay there while their hearts slowed. Drowsiness drifted over her, and Annabell knew she needed to get up or she would accomplish nothing this afternoon. She pulled her hand free and sat up, thinking to stand. He wrapped his arm around her waist.
‘Bell, wait. I have something to tell you.’
He sounded so grave, nearly apprehensive, that she gave him a quizzical look. ‘Susan said you wanted to see me.’ She blushed. ‘I thought we just finished doing what you wanted to see me about. Obviously I was mistaken.’
He continued to hold her hand. ‘I couldn’t help what we just did, Bell. I want you every waking moment.’ He laughed wryly. ‘And most of my sleeping moments as well.’ His face sobered. ‘But that is not why I sent Susan after you.’
She tried one last time to pull her hand free; when that failed, she tried to relax. But it was not easy. ‘Talk to me while I work. I haven’t all the time in the world to uncover this villa.’
He sat up beside her. ‘Yes, you have. You have as long as you wish. I won’t chase you off. I promise.’
Was his promise for time only, or did he mean something more? She stilled, the breath catching in her throat. She looked at him, searching for a meaning beyond the words. He gazed at her, but she could read nothing on his face.
Finally she spoke. ‘I thought you wanted me gone from here as soon as possible.’
‘How can you think that when I can’t keep my hands off you every time I see you?’ He shook his head. ‘But it would be best for your reputation if you left. Still, selfish bastard that I am, I don’t want you to go.’
He slid his palm up her ribs until his hand cupped one of her breasts. His thumb flicked the nipple that had hardened before he even touched it. She closed her eyes and sighed. It took so little for him to make her want him. So very little.
He pushed her gently back to the ground and she went willingly, so very, very willingly. Her body started to hum.
‘Bell,’ he sa
id softly, tracing one of her black eyebrows, ‘I need to go to London for a while.’
‘London?’
He nodded.
She looked up at him, feeling the bed of leaves they lay on. The rich, earthy smell of decay filled her nostrils. Overhead the sun peeked from behind scudding clouds. It was a glorious day.
Yet, suddenly, a cloud seemed to move across the perfection of her world. She chided herself. He was likely going because of business. A small voice told her he was a man who had many mistresses. She was being unreasonable. They had made no promises.
She was not sure she could bear not to be with him at night. She told herself that loneliness was the source of the dread building in her. She had reached the point where she couldn’t wait for night to fall and the house to quiet so she could sneak to Hugo’s bed. And now he was leaving. But she could not stop him from doing as he wished, no matter how it might hurt for him to resume his old habits.
‘For how long?’ she finally asked, wondering if he was going back to gamble and womanise, and knowing it did her no good to think about it.
He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, sending a wealth of sensation coursing through her system. She wanted him to never stop touching her. But she knew he would. It was inevitable. Even now, he was preparing to leave her.
‘A couple of days. No longer.’
Relief filled her, easing some of the pain and uncertainly of only seconds before. Surely he was not going to see someone else if he was only going to be gone so short a time? She knew if he came to visit her after a long absence, she would not let him leave in just a couple days. She would beg him to stay forever.
She would do what?
She stopped herself short. She was thinking like a woman in love, not a woman who valued her freedom. She stiffened in his arms and drew slightly away.
‘Don’t pull away, Bell.’
His voice was deep and husky. His arm tightened around her, holding her so close she could feel the thud of his heart. She made herself relax. They had not promised fidelity to one another, or even love. He could do as he pleased. Still…
‘Will you tell me why you are going?’
An Unconventional Widow Page 15
