He swallowed, then nodded, setting down the glass. “I promised my friend on his deathbed that I would watch over his brother. Peter was like my own sibling.” His voice roughened on the last word, and he turned away, leaning forward to rest both hands on the night table. “Go back to bed, Anna.”
He was mourning. It was there in the taut planes of his face, the stiffness of his posture. The half-empty whiskey bottle told the tale, as did the barely eaten tray of food on the bureau.
He was hurting, he was grieving, and he was alone.
And she couldn’t walk away.
She came to him, sliding a comforting hand down his back. “Tell me about him.”
“I can’t think when you touch me.” He shrugged her away, then walked to the window. “He was a good lad. A bit hotheaded, always thinking he was more adult than he was. He was due to come into his inheritance when he turned twenty-five, and it frustrated him that he had to wait.” His mouth curved. “He would have done well for himself.”
“I’m so sorry, Rome.”
“I’ve lost men before, but never someone so close to me.” He glanced at her, his face stark with emotion. “If anything happened to you, Anna, it would destroy me.”
“Oh, God.” Had anyone ever loved her that much? The tears won the battle, overflowing in streams down her face. How could she give him up? How could she possibly walk away from him to marry another man?
“Anna, what is it?” His eyes narrowed in alarm, he came to her, grasping her arms to peer into her face. “What’s the matter, my darling girl?”
The genuine concern in his voice, in his eyes, smashed through the walls of her defenses. Her barriers came tumbling down, demolished by the gentle power of love. She looked up into his beloved face, hiding nothing any longer.
“I love you, Rome. And I don’t know how I will live without you.”
Chapter 19
Her quiet whisper ripped through him like a pistol ball. “What did you say?”
“I love you. I’ve tried not to, but it doesn’t work.” She threw herself into his arms, pressing her sweet body against his. “Oh, Rome, what are we going to do?”
He shuddered and held her, his senses drowning in the soft, sweet-scented female that filled his arms. “Anna.” He closed his eyes, rubbed his cheek against her fragrant hair.
“How can love be wrong?” she murmured into his shoulder. “It feels right. Like destiny.”
He struggled to regain control, but the whiskey and his raw emotions burned through his weakening attempts at discipline. “You know how things are.” He smoothed his hands over her back, greedily filling his palms with her silky tresses, stealing a moment before he had to walk away. “We can’t be together.”
“Because of a promise made between fathers.” She pulled back enough to look up into his face. “It’s not fair.”
“I know.” He should push her away, make her go back to her room.
But his hands would not obey his commands.
Her dark eyes looked fathomless in the moonlight. “I can see no man but you,” she whispered.
“Sweet Jesus, Anna,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes closed. “I haven’t the will to resist. You must help me.”
“I don’t want you to resist.” She slid her arms around his neck. “I want you to touch me. And kiss me. And make me feel all those wonderful feelings again.”
His breathing stopped, and maybe his heart, too. “Anna…”
“I want to make you as wild as you make me. I want to make love with you, Roman.”
“Dear God.” His self-control trembled like a new foal, shaky and unsure.
“Tomorrow will come soon enough,” she murmured, brushing her lips along his jaw. “But tonight is ours.”
He fisted his hands in her wrapper. “I want you more than I want to breathe,” he rasped, sweeping his hungry gaze over her face. “And I haven’t the strength to walk away.”
“Then don’t.” She pressed her mouth to his.
Any lingering resolve crumpled like paper in a roaring fire. She was everything he’d ever wanted and couldn’t have. She was beauty and intelligence, courage and passion. And she wanted him.
For this one night, she would be his.
He lost himself in the comfort of her arms. Her kisses soothed the pain that tore at his heart, and her small hands swept away guilt and loss and longing.
Somehow he peeled away her wrapper, leaving her clad in her plain white nightdress. The moonlight touched on the fine lawn, and through the thin, pale cloth, he could see the shadows of her nipples and the feminine mound at the juncture of her thighs.
The sight excited him more than total nudity would have.
Her small hands settled at his waist and tugged at the knot of his sash. As the fabric parted, his erection rose proudly into view. She made a small sound of pleasure and closed her fingers around him. He groaned.
“I’ve wanted to see this again,” she said, caressing him. “I want to see all of you.”
He gave a rough laugh and stilled her curious fingers. “Easy, my love.”
She bit her lower lip, her eyes widening with dismay. “Did I do something wrong?”
His heart clenched with love for her. “No. But there’s no rush, and I want to play, too.” He lowered his mouth to her throat, nipping the tender flesh there as he tugged her closer with his hands on her bottom. His erection nestled between her thighs, pressing against her hot mound. He rubbed himself against her in a slow, sensuous rhythm.
“Oh!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
“That’s it, my love.” He swept his open mouth along her throat. “Let yourself go.”
She closed her eyes as sensations washed over her. His hands…his mouth…his hardness rubbing her there…She gave herself up to his greater experience and let him lead the way.
He took her mouth, his kisses slow and intoxicating and tasting of whiskey. He cupped her breast, and her mind spun as if she’d had too much sherry. He seemed to know every sensitive spot on her body, bringing each to life with a taste or touch.
When he took her nipple in his mouth right through her nightdress, coherent thought ceased all together.
She shoved his robe off his shoulders, and it dangled from his arms, moonlight gilding his muscular body. He let go of her for a moment to shake free of the garment, and even that brief instant was too long a time without his touch.
Then he came back to her, his naked body a work of art to her inexperienced eyes. He pulled her close, one arm firmly around her waist, the other hand cupping the back of her head. He took her mouth in a deep, carnal kiss that demanded everything she had to give.
She gave it, willingly—anything he asked, everything she was.
Her breasts ached, and the place between her legs felt hot and swollen. He held her to him as if he couldn’t get close enough, his kisses slow, demanding, and insatiable.
His flesh warmed hers even through the thin lawn of her nightdress. At first she was grateful for the garment, but soon it became less like protection and more like a barrier. When he grabbed a handful of the gown and dragged it over her head, she helped him discard it.
As the nightdress hit the floor in a crumpled heap, he stopped and just studied her from head to toe. His intent regard should have embarrassed her, but instead she found herself easing her shoulders back to present her breasts more fully. He reached out to smooth a hand along her bare hip, and her nipples tightened in reaction.
“You were made for moonlight,” he said, then pulled her back into his arms for another heated kiss. Flesh to flesh they stood, bathed in eerie silver light, greedy hands clinging to smooth skin, pulses galloping in equal frenzy.
Glorious. His hand on her bare bottom sent a thrill zinging straight to her loins, and his hardness nudged her thighs apart, sliding between them to rest snugly against her aching flesh.
“Come to bed,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip.
She nodded, unable to speak. He took h
er hand and led her to his bed, then with a simple gesture urged her to lie down. As she clambered onto the bed, he caressed her bottom again, and she hurriedly flipped onto her back, cheeks burning that he had been looking so closely at that part of her body.
She had settled into the middle of the mattress. He chuckled, then hooked an arm around her waist, urged her closer to the edge, and turned her so her legs hung off the bed.
“That’s nice.” He flashed a smile and nudged her knees apart so he could step between her legs.
Her heart skipped madly at their position. He looked down at her, and she realized he could see every inch of her most private places. She flexed her fingers against the coverlet, somehow knowing that if she tried to cover herself, he wouldn’t allow it.
“Don’t worry, my sweet.” He stroked his fingers along her throat and down her body, between her breasts, over her belly to rest on the damp, curling hair between her thighs. “I just want to admire you. You’re so beautiful.”
His eyes glowed with sincerity, and her tense muscles slowly relaxed.
“That’s it.” He tangled his fingers in her private curls, stroking her as sweetly as if she were a kitten. “Let me make you feel good.” His other hand glided along her thigh, testing the firm flesh with gentle squeezes.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as his thumb glided over her pleasure button.
“Yes, that’s right, my sweet.” The hand on her thigh smoothed its way up her torso to her breast and plumped the sensitive flesh. “Just lie back and let me love you.”
Their encounters in the garden paled beneath this tender onslaught. He touched her everywhere, kissed her in places she had never thought to be kissed. He murmured words of praise about her beauty and her passion. Each caress spiked her breathing and tripped her heart. Her body became his plaything, his hands those of a master who knew exactly where to touch, when to tease.
Every inch of her flesh ached for him. Her nipples strained for his mouth; her skin grew damp with perspiration. By the time he finally leaned over her, his erection poised at the entrance to her body, she thought she would go mad with wanting him.
“You are everything a man could want,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes. “I love you now, and I will love you for the rest of my life.”
“Rome.” She raised a trembling hand to his face. “I want no man but you.”
He nuzzled her hand, his eyes closing for a brief instant as he savored the contact. Then he took her hand and linked it with his, smiling down at her with a tenderness that made her heart roll over in her chest. “Hold on to me, my love. The first time is usually difficult for a woman.”
Their fingers still entwined, he kissed her as he guided himself carefully into her virgin passage.
It stung. Her whimper got lost in their kiss, and she clenched her fingers around his, her other hand gripping his shoulder. Steadily, he pressed on until the full length of him filled her completely.
He stilled then, lying on top of her with their bodies joined, kissing her and caressing her until the discomfort finally eased.
When he began to move, she tensed, but the pain had passed. Gradually she relaxed, lost in the fascinating sensation of his body joining with hers. He lengthened his strokes, hooking an arm beneath her knee to tug her leg over his hip. The position seated him even more deeply within her, bringing a startled gasp to her lips.
He halted. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.” She arched her hips, desperate for more of him. “Please don’t stop.”
“My love.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “This is only the beginning.”
She curled her other leg around him, locking her feet together behind his back as he picked up the rhythm again. She linked her arms around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder, and held him close, as if she could absorb all of him into her.
When he groaned and shuddered with his pleasure, she tightened her arms and legs around him as tears trickled down her cheeks.
Her passion had saved him.
Rome lay crosswise on the bed with Anna in his arms, more content than he had any right to be. The biting grief of Peter’s death had dulled to a deep sorrow, and he knew with certainty that he would be able to get through another day.
But he didn’t look forward to sunrise. With the light of the new day, Anna would leave him.
She shifted in his arms. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” He kissed the top of her head. “How are you?”
“Fine.” She turned her face into his chest. “A bit sore, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry about that. I tried to be careful.”
“I know.” She untangled herself and rolled to her other side, facing away from him. “I’m glad you were the one,” she said softly.
He rolled toward her, fitting his body spoonlike to hers with an arm around her waist. “I also know,” he murmured close to her ear, “that you didn’t finish.” His hand drifted downward.
“More?” she gasped as he slid his fingers between her legs.
“Not more. Still.” He knew what she liked now and used that knowledge to arouse her. “You didn’t finish. But you will.”
“Rome!” She arched into his hand as the familiar excitement trickled into her veins. “Oh, my goodness.”
“I know what you like.” He nuzzled her neck, his fingers gliding over her damp flesh. “Sometimes a woman needs more.”
“Oh, my. Oh, my!”
He rolled her onto her back, still caressing her, and took one nipple into his mouth. She stretched out, hands above her head, and gave him full access to her body. As her blood began to burn, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the building desire.
“Making love is about two people,” he murmured against her skin. “And now it’s your turn.”
When she cried out her pleasure a short time later, it was his name she called.
The first glow of dawn lit the room when next Anna opened her eyes.
She lay wrapped in Rome’s arms, the bedclothes tangled around them. She stretched a little, and her body protested with unfamiliar aches in strange places. Rome murmured in his sleep and pulled her closer.
She looked up into his face, committing every detail to memory. The way his eyelashes looked against his skin, the way his beard darkened his jaw in the morning.
The way he held her like he would never let her go.
But it was morning, and the real world awaited them. Their magical night had ended, and Anna knew she would take every minute of it to her grave. Gingerly, she slid out from beneath Rome’s arm and slipped from the bed.
It felt strange to walk around naked in daylight. She padded to the middle of the room and picked up her nightdress from the floor, then slipped it over her head. Moderately covered, she next sought out her wrapper.
Once clothed, she went to the edge of the bed and looked at Rome. She didn’t want to leave him; she wanted to crawl right back in bed with him and relive the night all over again. But the sun was rising, and people would be searching for her.
She and Rome would return to their normal lives and pretend nothing had happened.
He muttered in his sleep, then turned over, presenting her with his back. Just the sight of that long, lean expanse of flesh started the fires burning all over again.
She made herself turn away. She and Rome did not have a future together, and that was that. They would have to continue with their normal lives, and when they came in contact with each other— as they would, given that Marc was Rome’s cousin—they would just have to try to avoid each other.
Her lover murmured in his sleep and turned flat on his back, his dark hair falling over his brow in boyish disarray.
Her heart fluttered like a bird’s wings in her breast, and she struggled to take a deep enough breath. Who was she trying to fool? Did she really think she could avoid him? Or pretend nothing had happened between them?
She had to. Somehow she had to learn to handle his presence, to control the
wicked desire that tried to work its will on her every time she set eyes on him.
She had changed since she had first begun her quest. No more was she sweet Anna Rosewood, who always did what her parents bid her without the slightest complaint. She had tasted the heat of passion in the arms of a forbidden lover and had lied continuously to her parents about her whereabouts for the past year.
She had become someone she didn’t know.
Was it dishonorable to give herself to the man she loved, especially since she was about to marry someone else? And what about Rome? What would happen to him if the secret got out? The scandal would destroy him.
She couldn’t let Rome lose all chance of a future because of her.
Somehow she would convince him to leave Haverford Park. What had he said—that Anthony’s note would draw the society to her?
Well, then, she would just give Rome the note. Perhaps if he thought the danger was past, he would go back to London and end this torment for both of them.
At one time, she would have protected that last link with her brother like a mother tiger with her cubs, but now she realized that Rome would do that for her. She could trust him to uncover the truth about Anthony’s death and bring the Black Rose Society to justice.
She took one last look at him, then turned away from the bed. She’d best get back to her own room before someone discovered her missing.
She made it all the way back to her room unseen and had just laid her hand on the door latch when Lavinia came out of nowhere.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. Clad in her nightdress and wrapper with her hair a tangled mass of curls down her back, her face was pale and etched with fatigue. “Are you mad? Are you trying to ruin my brother?”
“Hush, before someone hears you.” Anna glanced up and down the hall. No one was there. She opened the door and grabbed Lavinia by the arm, pulling her into the room. The instant the door clicked closed, Lavinia folded her arms and glared.
“Well? Would you like to tell me why I just saw you coming out of my brother’s room at this hour of the morning?”
Debra Mullins Page 23
