“You know this how?”
“I know you,” he said simply. “And we live under the same roof. It’s hard to hide such a closeness. You were willing to murder me for her safety.”
“She is my sister.”
“Val guessed it,” the earl said, biting into an apple slice. “He’s a little in love with her, I think.”
“With Morgan?” Anna frowned. “An infatuation, perhaps. I am guessing she symbolizes something for him, something to do with his music or his choices in life. I know she adores him for his kindness, but I trust them.”
“He plays Herr Beethoven like a man, not a boy.”
“You would be better able to decipher that than I.” Anna accepted the apple slice he passed her. “His playing to me has lately become passionate, and brilliant as a consequence.”
“That’s well said,” the earl responded, munching thoughtfully.
“You’ve dodged my question about the physicians,” Anna said, rubbing her hand across his lower back.
“They can’t tell us anything for sure. The duke’s symptoms—the sensation of a horse sitting on his chest, inability to breath freely, pain in the left side of his neck and down his left arm—are classic signs of a heart seizure. But the pains were very fleeting, and His Grace is a very active fellow. He has not felt particularly fatigued, is not in pain as we speak, and hasn’t had any previous episodes of chest pain. He may make a full recovery and live another twenty years. The next weeks will be critical in terms of ensuring he gets rest and only very moderate exercise.”
“But they also implied he may die tonight. Do you believe he’s had no similar incidents, or has he been keeping up appearances for your mother?”
“Dev asked the same thing, and we decided if there had been earlier warnings, Her Grace might be the only one to detect it.”
“And she would say nothing, except possibly to His Grace when they had privacy, which they will have little of.”
“I can see they have some.” The earl glanced over at her. “You learned this from your grandparents?”
“My grandmother. From time to time she shooed everybody away from the sick room and had Grandpapa to herself. It gave us all a break and gave them some time to be together.”
“And to say good-bye.” The earl sipped his drink again then handed the glass to Anna. “God, Anna, when I think of the things I said to my father today.”
“You can apologize,” Anna said simply. “It’s more than he’s ever been willing to do when it’s time to mend a fence. And he has bullied his way through many fences.”
The earl chuckled at her tart tone, despite his fears and guilt and fatigue. “You are a ruthlessly practical woman, Anna Seaton.”
“Eat your marzipan,” she ordered. “I’ve learned to be practical, and you’ve no one to talk sense to you tonight save me. A man of the duke’s age is lucky to be alive, much less alive and getting up to all the mischief he does. You did not cause his heart seizure, Westhaven. Do not even try to argue with me on this.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek then handed him a piece of candy. “Eat.”
He obeyed, realizing the food, drink, and conversation had restored him more than he would have thought possible.
“The next week,” he said around a mouthful of almond paste, “will be trying.”
“Your entire existence as the duke’s heir has been trying.”
“It has,” he agreed, fingering his glass. “But I’m getting things turned around, Anna. The cash flow will soon be reliable and healthy, the estate managers are getting better organized, the girls and Mama and even His Grace are learning to deal with budgets and allowances. By the end of summer, I won’t have to spend so much time with Tolliver. I wanted my father to see that.”
“You wanted him to offer some gesture of thanks, or perhaps you wanted to be able to brag on yourself a bit and see if he at least notices all your efforts.”
“I suppose.” He picked up the second piece of marzipan and studied it. “Is that such a sorry thing, for a grown man still to want his papa to approve of him?”
“The sorry thing is that there would be any doubt in your mind that he does.” She kissed his cheek again, a gesture that felt comforting and natural to him, then rose and began tidying up the kitchen.
“In all of today’s tumult, I’ll bet you forgot to fire Stenson and also forgot that our new butler started.”
“Sterling.” The earl nodded. “I did forget. Have we counted the silver to make sure my choice was worthy? And yes, I have yet to speak to Stenson.”
“Send him back to the mansion, then,” Anna suggested. “Lord Val is there, and Colonel St. Just’s smalls are all mended.”
“He’s probably told you to call him by name.” Anna and Dev might never be the best of friends, but in her tone there was none of the latent prickliness Dev had engendered earlier.
“He is much like your papa,” Anna said, pausing as she picked up the earl’s tray. “Gruff and sometimes unable to communicate his motivations, but tenderhearted and fierce.”
“A good description. He was a grown man, though, before he could even speak clearly among strangers.”
“Lord Val told me of the stutter,” Anna said, coming back to the table with a clean rag. She bent over to wipe down the table, and Westhaven seized her hand in a gentle, implacable grip.
“Anna?” She straightened slowly and met his gaze. “Spend the night with me.”
Anna detected an odd light in Westhaven’s eyes, combining daring and ferocity, but behind that, a stark vulnerability, as well. “Spend the night with me,” he’d said. Simple, straightforward words with a wealth of complicated meanings.
She closed her eyes, trying to brace herself against his request and against her own raging desire to grant it. Not now, she thought desperately. Not now, when they hadn’t even discussed that investigator and the urgent need for her to flee.
“I will behave,” the earl said, dropping her wrist. “I’m too damned tired to really… Well, maybe not too tired, but too…” He fell silent and frowned. “It is an unreasonable request and poorly timed. Forget I asked.”
Anna opened her eyes and saw he was no longer looking at her. He rose and stretched, then glanced over at her where she stood immobilized, the rag still in her hand.
“I’ve offended you,” he said. “I just want… Will you be here in the morning?”
He hadn’t wanted to put that question into words, Anna knew. Hadn’t wanted to ask her to be with him in the morning.
“I will be here,” Anna said, unable to listen to her common sense screaming to the contrary. “In your bed, if you want me there.”
He just nodded and took the rag from her, wiping up the table while Anna finished putting away the dishes she’d washed. To her, the moment was resoundingly domestic and somehow right for them. He wasn’t pretentious with her, wasn’t always the earl. Sometimes, like now, he was just Gayle Windham, a thoroughly, completely lovable and worthy man.
He waited until Anna had finished tidying up, took a candle from the table, and held out his arm to her. The gesture was courtly and oddly reminiscent of Anna’s grandparents. Oh, to grow old with him… Anna thought, wrapping her hand around his forearm.
When they gained his room, the sense of domestic peace came with them. Anna finished undressing him; he tucked her into his bed then set about using the wash water kept in ample supply by his hearth. The balcony doors were open, and a refreshing breeze wafted through the room. She watched his ablutions, finding him simply beautiful in the light of the single candle. It wasn’t even an erotic appreciation but something more possessive than that. He was beautifully built, of course, but the pensive expression on his face was beautiful to her, too.
He is the way he is because he cares, and maybe in this, he and his father can finally find some common ground.
When he wrung out the wet cloth and straightened, Anna flipped back the lavender-scented sheets. “Come to bed.”
“Your night rail, madam?�
� He held out a hand. “It is too hot for all that extra, Anna, and I promise I will not bother you.”
“So you’ve said,” she replied, pulling the nightgown over her head and handing it to him. “Did you lock the door?”
“Ye gods.” He padded through the dark and took care of the lock, blew out the candle, then climbed in beside her.
“I cannot remember the last time I spent the night with anyone other than a cat in my bed, save for our night at Willow Bend.” Anna settled on the mattress as she spoke.
“I could say the same thing.” The earl punched his pillow. “It would have different significance. Sorry.” He was apologizing for yanking inadvertently on her pillow, but Anna let the apology cover his teasing, as well.
Anna folded her hands on her stomach as they both stretched out on their backs. “What awaits you tomorrow?”
“I’ll meet with His Grace,” the earl said. “Deliver Stenson his orders, probably call on Maggie, and try to toss enough work at Tolliver so we don’t get behind.”
Anna reached for his hand, prying it off his own stomach and lacing her fingers through it. “You should send a note around first thing to your brothers and go for your regular ride.”
“Instead of seeing if my father is still alive?” The earl’s frown was evident even in the darkness, but Anna was more aware that his fingers were closed around hers tightly.
“If he passes in the night you will receive word immediately. Lord Val will see to it. You enjoy your rides tremendously,” she went on. “Some days, I think it’s the only time you permit yourself to do what you please and not what you ought. And Pericles will not be around forever.”
“Using my horse’s welfare, Anna?”
“And your brothers need to see that though the duke may be failing, the earl is not; nor is the earl spending every waking minute in anticipation of his father’s demise. The earl is too sturdy to capitulate to anxiety like that and too well inured to his responsibilities. Death befalls us, and while it is sad, the duke has lived a very long and good life. Though he will be mourned, his passing will be in the natural order of things, as will the earl’s, when the time comes.”
He sighed and considered her point.
I love you, he thought, because you are honest with
me and because you are willing to speak the truth to me when others might seek to curry favor instead. I love you because you are in this bed with me, not trying to conceive the much-awaited next generation of Windhams, but just holding my hand.
“I’ll go riding.”
“Good.” Anna rolled toward him, and in the dark he felt her moving on the mattress. She kissed his forehead and sighed. “Now go to sleep, Gayle Tristan Montmorency Windham. I will be here when you waken. I promise.”
She wrestled him then into the position she deemed best suited to his slumbers, leaving him lying in her arms, his face resting against her shoulder. She stroked his back in the same easy rhythm he often gave her, and Anna soon heard his breathing even out.
I will be here when you waken, she thought, but for how much longer, I do not know.
The investigator sent north had precipitated the need the leave, and now, when the duke lay so ill, any temptation to confide in the earl was put to rest. He needed to be looking to his own and not to the troubles brought to him by his housekeeper.
Anna wrapped her arms around the future Duke of Moreland and sent up a heartfelt prayer for his happiness and her own safety.
The days and nights that followed saw shifts in the routine of the earl’s household. His morning ride with his brothers, a casual habit earlier, became standard. Stenson’s departure brought a sense of relief to everyone, and Sterling, a quiet older gentleman recommended by no less than the Duke of Quimbey, brought order among the footmen.
And the nights…
The earl rose each morning, well rested and ready to face the day, because Anna shared his bed. The need for her hovered in regions Westhaven could not articulate. There was desire in it, but not enough that he initiated any seduction. The simple comfort of her presence was far more precious than any fleeting pleasure might be.
And he had the sense Anna was granting him the boon of her nightly company only because she was more determined than ever to go, and go soon. His Grace had enjoyed four days of continued freedom from chest pains, and the ducal household was beginning to admit to some cautious relief.
Watching Anna sleep, Westhaven frowned as he realized that when the duke was deemed safe from immediate danger, then Anna would likely go.
He would not allow that. Could not. Mentally, he kicked himself for not making the time to meet with Hazlit earlier in the week. He’d meet with him today, he vowed, if he had to pursue the man on foot through Seven Dials to see it done.
“You’re awake.” Anna smiled at him, and he smiled back. Such a simple thing, to start the day with a shared smile. He leaned over and kissed her.
“No fair.” Anna shoved the sheets aside. “You’ve used the tooth powder already.” She heaved off the bed, shrugged into her wrapper, and made for the privacy screen in the corner.
She was not too fussy, his Anna. She emerged and made use of his tooth powder and toothbrush, then caught sight of herself in the dressing mirror.
“I look like I was dragged through the proverbial hedge backward. How can you not be overcome with laughter at my appearance?” In the mirror, he assessed her reflection: Her braid was coming un-raveled and she had a wrinkle across her cheek from the pillow seam.
“You look very dear. Come back to bed.”
“It is almost light out, your lordship.” Anna eyed him balefully. “I am surprised you slept this late.”
“Dev has to take his horses back to Surrey today, and Val made for a late night at Fairly’s piano. No morning ride for poor Pericles, I’m afraid. Come back to bed, Anna.”
There was something… implacable in his voice, and in the gray shadows of the room, Anna felt as if she were suddenly facing a life-defining moment. She could get in that bed, and this time—this time, finally—they would make love. She knew it as surely as a woman knows the scent of her lover, as surely as a mother knows the cry of her child.
Or she could smile, shake her head, and set about tidying herself up for the day.
Slowly, she unbelted her wrapper and walked naked back toward the bed.
“Your courses?” the earl asked as he watched her. “When will they fall?”
“In a few days,” she said, not surprised at the intimacy of the question. In some ways, the past days had seen them become more intimate than lovers. They shared his toothbrush; he brushed out her hair. She helped him dress, and he was her lady’s maid. At the beginning and end of each day, they held quiet conversations, holding hands in bed or holding each other.
And moment by moment, Anna stored up the memories. This man, this very wealthy, powerful, handsome, and singular man was hers to love for the next very little while. It was a privilege beyond any she could have imagined, and now he wanted to make these last few memories with her, as well.
She might have been able to deny herself, she thought, but she could no longer deny him.
“You still think to leave me, Anna,” he said as she settled on the bed, “and I am telling you quite honestly, I will fight you with every weapon I can find, honorable or not. I don’t want you to go.”
It was the first time he’d said that out loud, but Anna sensed it was the essence of what he was trying to communicate by bringing her back to his bed.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said again more fiercely.
“I’m here,” Anna said, meeting his eyes. “Right now I am here with you in this bed.”
He nodded, his gaze becoming hooded. “Where you will stay until I have pleasured you within an inch of your sanity.” She smiled up at him for that piece of arrogance and brushed his hair back from his forehead.
“Likewise, I’m sure.”
He smiled, a wolfish smile that nonetheless
held an element of relief. “No rushing,” he warned.
“No promises,” she countered, scooting her way under him. “And no more lectures.” She wrapped her legs around his flanks and levered up to kiss him. He growled, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled with her across the bed.
“I’m going to fuck you silly,” he warned, positioning her on top of him.
“I’m going to let you.” Anna smiled down at him. “But not just yet.” She tried to scramble away from him, but he caught her by the ankles, slapped her bottom twice audibly, and dragged her back to him, grousing the whole time about troublesome women and naughty housekeepers. This side of him—the playful, exuberant, mating male—fascinated and delighted her.
And she wasn’t averse to his hand on her buttocks, either, particularly not when he was so considerately rubbing the sting from her flesh.
“Shall I spank you when you’re naughty?” she asked when he had her caged beneath his body.
“Please,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her. “Spank me as hard and as often as you dare, for with you, I want to be very, very naughty.”
The talking was finished, she surmised, as his tongue began to forage at her mouth and his hand covered her naked breast. He was bent not on seduction, so much as arousal and possession. You are mine, his hands seemed to say. I am yours, his kisses echoed. All mine, the insistent press of his cock against her belly declared.
I am yours, Anna thought, wrapping her legs around him and bringing her sex to stroke over his erection. And for today, for these moments, you are mine.
“Easy,” he breathed, his hand going still just as his fingers closed over her nipple.
“No promises,” Anna retorted. “I will rush if I please, sir.” She glided her fingertips over his nipples and pressed hard with her hips.
“Jesus God, Anna,” the earl whispered. “I want to be careful with you… but you…”
But she wanted him too desperately to appreciate his care. Heat was building below the pit of her stomach, in the place where worry and loneliness could make her feel so empty and desperate. It was the heat of desire, desire for him, and desire to give herself to him. He was bringing her fullness in places that had gone too long wanting and lonely.
The Heir Page 25
