“Anna, do you suppose—”
His words were cut short as she thrust herself forward and covered his lips with hers.
* * *
Lane stilled, his body reacting immediately to Anna’s kiss. He did not wish to frighten her with his eagerness, so he forced himself to be outwardly calm. Inside, however, he was bursting. His heart thundered, yet sang, his stomach knotted, yet felt ready to float, his ballocks… Well, he thought ruefully, they were tight and near-frantic to release their burden.
He leaned into the kiss, nudging himself closer. Lane raised his hand to cup her jaw, thumbing the smooth skin under her chin. He traced the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue, gently urging her to open for him.
Her jaw dropped open on a sigh, and he delved inside, elation washing over him. She tasted of lemon raspberry tart; the hint of sweet was enough to drive him to desperation. He tangled his tongue with hers, urging her further, deeper with his actions.
This is Anna! The jubilant realization hit him hard. Finally, he was kissing her, tasting her. Blazes. He wanted more!
She tangled her fingers in his hair, the gentle, almost painful tugging sending tingles of delight down his spine.
She was intoxicating. He wanted to touch her, to feel her. He didn’t care if he couldn’t complete the act of lovemaking, he just wanted to give her pleasure. Endless, erotic pleasure.
He wanted to trace his hands—nay, his tongue—along the ridge of her collar, circling her breasts to tease the sweet buds of her nipples. Blazes, he wanted to taste her womanly centre, to have her body sing with sensual desire and reach her peak over and over at his hands.
His thoughts hardened him unbearably. He throbbed…he ached for her.
Lane let his hand wander to her waist, his fingers fisting in the sunny material. His entire will went into not laying her down in the damp grass and—
“Lane,” she moaned, breaking their torrid kisses. “Do you hear that?”
The distant rumble of a horse’s hooves and wheels on a dirt road invaded his senses.
“No,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. Please do not let this end!
* * *
Anna quite felt like groaning, herself. She’d never known kisses like Lane’s—so passionate, so… addictive.
Her heart fluttered and her mons throbbed. She most certainly wanted more.
The distant rumbling drew nearer, pulling her once more from her thoughts.
“You don’t suppose it’s…” she trailed off.
“No,” Lane assured her as he stood, aiding Anna to her feet along with him. “That is a single horse with a light,” he scrunched his face in thought as he listened, “two-wheeled equipage.” He tightened his grip on her hand as he retrieved the bundled the remains of their supper. “Come.”
Anna went along with him, his hand hot on hers. The faint flutter continued low in her belly as they moved quickly through the forest toward the noise. The light was rapidly fading, casting a grey-blue glow on the trees around them.
Branches tugged at the skirts of her butter-coloured frock and the petticoat beneath. A chill ran through her, and she realized just how cool the air had become since the sun retreated.
Abruptly, the forest opened onto a dirt road, where they halted. Not thirty paces to their right was a figure sitting on a horse-drawn wagon, a lantern held aloft, swinging with the wagon’s motion. Anna squinted against the light, holding one hand to block it out.
“Ho there!” called the hesitant voice of an elderly man. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Keen relief rushed through Anna. This could be their saving grace!
They strode forward, meeting the man and his horse as they stopped in the road.
“Hello, sir! My name is Mr. Roberts,” Lane prevaricated. “My wife and I have been unlucky in our choice of equipage, I’m afraid. Had an accident some miles back and have been wandering through the forest ever since.”
“Bad luck, wot?” The elderly man’s eyes crinkled warmly in the corners as he leaned forward in his seat.
“I do hope it is not too bold to ask, sir,” Lane continued, “but my wife is exhausted from our walk. Would you be so good as to bring us to the next inn? We would be ever so grateful, and I could pay you handsomely for your trouble.”
The man waved a hand through the air. “No need to pay me, Mr. Roberts. I am headed that way meself.” He smiled, revealing one missing bottom tooth. “My name is Peter Collins.”
Anna curtseyed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Collins. We are forever in your debt.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Roberts. I’d be happy te take ye te the inn. It’s not far from here, but a few miles more.”
The kind Mr. Collins gestured to the back of his wagon and waited for them to get themselves situated before he started his horse with a click of his tongue.
Anna held on to the side of the wagon, uncaring that she sat upon bales of hay. Her feet stung, her body ached, she was in dire need of a proper bath. Her mind caught on that thought, and she nearly sighed aloud. Would she get the opportunity to bathe at the inn?
The wagon bumped along the dirt road. The greenery in this part of England was exceptionally picturesque. It was a shame that she could not see it through the growing darkness.
“Dover,” Lane grunted beside her.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked in an undertone, unsure if Lane had intended for Mr. Collins to overhear.
“We were headed toward Dover.”
Anna frowned. “But isn’t that just a—”
“Yes,” Lane interjected. “We could have reached Dover several times over by now.”
With a sidelong glance at Mr. Collins’ back, Anna whispered, “I do not mean to bemoan our success in escaping, but why would they delay their meeting with The Boss? Why not journey directly there?”
Lane shook his head, a lock of his uncombed blonde hair falling over his forehead. “I haven’t the faintest. But I am relieved that they didn’t. Lord knows what would have happened to us if they had.”
“Perish the thought.”
Lane poked at the faint bruising on his left cheek as a young boy would pick at a scrape. Anna hid a grin.
She swivelled to watch as they crested a hill. The wagon continued bumpily along as the sun all but disappeared beyond the horizon. The sky was streaked with bright pink and deep purple. Anna sighed, rubbing her arms with her hands to ward off the chill.
She covered a yawn with the back of her hand and groggily leaned her head on Lane’s shoulder. Her eyes drooped as Lane’s arm came across her back, pulling her tighter against him. Anna soaked up his warmth, her eyes refusing to open from a blink.
The rumble and sway of the wagon slowly lulled her into a deep sleep
.
Chapter 14
Lane adjusted Anna’s weight in his arms as he strode up The Swan Inn’s stairs. The innkeeper had given them the last available room. Evidently, there was a large party of travellers there this evening.
The inn was warm and inviting; they had small fires lit in the main rooms, and those enjoying a late-night repast sat at tables in the taproom. A low hum of conversation drifted up the stairs after them.
The innkeeper’s wife walked ahead of him with the keys in her hand. She stopped before a door and swung it wide for Lane to pass.
“This here is one of our finest,” she said, her low voice soft and smooth like honey. She smiled, spreading the wrinkles around her mouth until they were flat. “Your bath shall be brought up directly.”
“Thank you, madam.” Lane could not help but smile in return.
He placed Anna gently on the bed that dominated the small room. A fire had already been lit in the hearth, and candelabra graced each of the bedside tables, lending an orange, flickering warmth to the room.
Within a matter of moments, a group of burly footmen entered with a large brass bathing tub. The Swan Inn must do very f
ine indeed to be able to bear the expense of such a fine tub.
“At the foot of the bed,” the innkeeper’s wife directed the footmen. “That’s it. No, Harrison, just a mite to the left. Yes, there.” She smiled with satisfaction.
The footmen bowed before retreating, the innkeeper’s wife following in their wake.
Lane sat on one of the overstuffed cerulean armchairs, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles one over the other. His body ached…in more than one sense.
Damnation. Had that kiss truly happened? He had never felt so deeply involved in a kiss. Never felt such a burning need to continue. Could Anna be the cure to his problem?
The footmen returned with buckets of steaming water, the innkeeper’s wife following with towels and soap. The splosh of water in the tub was enough to make Lane’s eyes roll backward. The air filled with humidity, steam curling alluringly above the bathwater’s surface.
“Here y’are, Mr. Roberts. Nice and hot, fresh from the fire.” The innkeeper’s wife smiled kindly at him. “Ring the bell if you feel hungry. If not, the morning meal is prepared at seven of the clock.”
Lane stood and took two steps toward the woman. “Thank you very much, madam. This is lovely.”
She beamed at him, her round, wrinkled face positively bursting with pride.
Soon she made her exit, closing the door after her. Lane slid the bolt into place, the snick echoing through the room over the crackles from the fire and Anna’s soft, even breathing.
His eagerness to be in the heat of the tub overruled any notion of behaving with the proper decorum. He flung his clothes off, tossing them negligently to the chair. Hopping on one foot, he removed his boot and stocking, then did the same for the other.
Finally nude, Lane stepped into the tub. He hissed his breath out as his skin tingled from the heat of the water. He inhaled deeply, sinking fully into the tub, careful to keep his bandage above the water as he allowed his body to adjust to the temperature.
He rested his head against the rim of the tub, closing his eyes and silently encouraging his muscles to relax.
Anna shifted on the bed, drawing his thoughts toward her. Could she be the woman that would change everything? That kiss had certainly felt different.
Lane cast a regretful glance downward, where his overly fervent cock stood proudly in the hot water. It was clear that he wanted Anna. But would she accept his proposal of marriage?
Seemingly without conscious thought, his hand crept downward, gripping his stiffness beneath the water. Slowly his hand began to move. But he let it happen. He was exhausted, his body worn from the past days of misadventure. He needed a release from his built-up restless energy.
Lane tilted his head back, resting it once more on the rim of the tub, his eyes closed.
* * *
Anna awoke to a gentle, rhythmic sloshing. Her body begged her to return to sleep, but her mind focused on the fact that she was lying on the comforting softness of a bed, her body engulfed in the warmth of thick bedclothes.
She opened her eyes. Warm, flickering firelight wavered about the room. The air was humid from steam and smelled of soap and burning coals. She inhaled longingly. She would very much enjoy a bath.
The sloshing continued, and Anna’s gaze was drawn to the foot of the bed. Her eyes widened, immediately riveted by a very obviously nude Lane reclined in a tub at the foot of the bed.
But what…what is he doing? Her mouth dropped open on a silent gasp as awareness dawned. His eyes were closed, his head back, and his arm was moving beneath the water’s surface. He appeared to be enjoying himself immensely.
Goodness! She had never thought… But then, if she had explored what was beneath her restrictive clothing, she could only assume that others had done so, as well. But this is Lane. Lane was touching himself intimately!
An answering throb began in her mons, spreading liquid heat to her womanly core. What would he do if I joined him? Oh goodness, what a thought! Could she? Should she? Dare she?
Lane moaned softly, and her decision was made for her. She wanted him. He’d already proposed marriage, for heaven’s sake. She could easily accept his proposal and marry him upon returning to London. Surely making love to your intended before marriage was not so terrible a thing.
A quick, naughty grin quirked her lips. She pushed aside the bedclothes and rose to a seated position.
Abruptly, Lane sputtered. He sat up, his arms flailing to grab for purchase. “Blazes, Anna! What do you mean to startle a man like that?”
Anna felt rooted in place. What could she say? Her bravery of a moment before threatened to dissipate, but she couldn’t allow it. She wanted Lane. She wanted this.
Without replying, Anna reached for the ties of her front-fastening gown. Lane blinked, seemingly at a loss for words. Feeling emboldened, she allowed the frock to slide down her arms and pool at her feet.
“Anna—” Lane croaked.
Her stomach knotted, her heart sped. She was anxious to touch him…to bathe with him. Her fingers fumbled with the ties and fastenings of her undergarments, but she made quick work of them nonetheless.
Within moments she was standing nude before him, her skin heated with the flush of anticipation.
Lane’s heavy-lidded gaze travelled down her person, pausing over her breasts, her waist, and the thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs.
“Sweet Jesus,” he breathed.
A tingle travelled down her spine, his aroused gaze sending a thrill through her.
“May I join you?” she inquired.
His jaw dropped before he caught it. “Of,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Of course.”
She lifted her foot over the tub’s edge, earning another groan from Lane, then brought her other foot in and sat in the hot bath water.
What do I do now?
Anna extended her hand for the soap. “May I?”
His throat bobbed, but he handed her the soap.
Anna resisted the urge to stare at him through the water. She knew his upper body was sculpted from boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s and riding his horse, but, she wondered, was his bottom half just as muscular? What did his man part look like? She urged her impatience to ease. She would see him when they left the bath.
Despite her boldness, her stomach fluttered with nervousness. What she was about to do would change her life forevermore. She would be irrevocably and truly ruined.
She shook herself internally. She was likely ruined in the eyes of society anyway, and if her abduction concluded with an engagement to Lane, society would forgive her.
Anna rubbed the soap between her palms and washed herself. She spread the suds over the column of her neck, her collar, and around each breast. Her nipples puckered and her stomach quivered under Lane’s penetrating scrutiny.
He put his hands on her waist, the tips of his fingers digging lightly into her flesh. The intensity in his gaze both intrigued and mystified her. She knew that his seeing her naked body would be arousing, but could washing herself be exciting him, as well?
His groan emboldened her further as she slid her soapy hand downward below the water’s surface. Lane shifted agitatedly, his eyes following each of her movements. Fascinating! She washed swiftly between her feminine folds, her gaze on Lane’s tense features.
“Anna…”
A flush flamed her cheeks at her own, decidedly lascivious behaviour. She was shocked at her own daring.
Her gaze roamed over his body; she could no longer hold herself back. She watched his eyes carefully. “May I?” She gestured toward his chest.
Lane’s throat bobbed captivatingly, but he nodded. “Please.”
Finally able to give in to her keen desires, Anna lathered the soap in her hands once more, pressing her frothy palms to Lane’s chest. She worked her fingers into his muscles, using suds and water to get him clean, careful to avoid the bandage on his arm. Lane’s eyelids grew heavy and a low groan esc
aped him, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths.
Her stomach gave another nervous kick as her hands delved below the water’s surface. While she might not know what he liked, his response to her touch was certainly encouraging, and there was no better way to learn than to try.
The muscles over Lane’s abdomen quivered as she felt along the hard, muscular ridges. She ought to go slowly to prolong their enjoyment, but if she did not continue quickly, she might very well lose her courage.
Her hands reached his hips, and Lane’s jaw clenched tightly, his fingertips digging subtly deeper into the skin of her hips. She pushed herself through the water, aligning herself between his spread knees, until her stomach lay flush against his. The ridge of his arousal pressed insistently against her, stirring her own desire to greater heights.
His brown gaze caught hers; deep, though hesitant…and, she thought, somehow anxious.
Anna leaned in closer, their lips a breath apart.
“Anna…” he ground out, his fingertips digging yet deeper.
She pressed her lips firmly to his. The kiss started slow but built in intensity. Soon their tongues tangled, their breath coming rapidly.
“Oh.” Anna broke their kiss. “Your bandage will become wet.”
“I don’t care,” he growled, catching her lips once more with his.
Then his hands roamed. He felt along her ribcage, the sides of her breasts, and then moved downward. His hands slowed as they reached her hips, as though he were unsure of her reaction.
Anna pressed her hips against his erection, and his breath hitched. He cupped her bottom with his large hands, pressing her further against him. Unbidden, a soft moan escaped her. He squeezed, his fingertips digging into her derriere.
Then his hands were gone. Anna whimpered in protest, but then his firm grip was on her waist once more. She gasped and water sloshed to the floor as he flipped her. Her bottom pressed against his erection, and her back lay against his chest, her head comfortably on one of his muscular shoulders.
Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Page 9
