Candace Camp (23 page)

She looked at Anthony and wondered what he was thinking, whether he, like she, chafed at the restrictions around them, if he wished that they could spend the whole long night together, sleeping twined in each other’s arms and waking to make love again.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I shall be compelled to kiss you right here, and the servants be damned,” he said, leaning closer to her.

“What?” Startled, Eleanor came out of her daze and looked at him. She flushed as she realized how her thoughts must have been written on her face. She covered her burning cheeks with the palms of her hands. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

She started to turn away, but he grasped her arms. “No. Don’t be sorry. I’m not. I like to think that you—” he stroked his finger along her hand, tracing a line down the back and to the end of each finger, bringing her skin to life along each sensual path “—enjoyed what we did. That there is a possibility of it happening again.”

A smile flickered across her face. “I think there is a definite possibility.”

“And how soon would you see this occurring?” he asked.

“Well…” Eleanor tilted her head a little to one side, pretending to consider the question. This was flirtation, she thought. It was something she had never done much of, but she was finding it quite enjoyable.

“Lady Eleanor?” At that moment Samantha’s voice sounded in the hall.

Anthony let out a groan and sank his head onto his hands.

“Lady Eleanor?”

Eleanor sighed softly, then called, “In here, Samantha.”

“There you are!” The young girl entered the room with boundless energy. “And Uncle Anthony. I’m so glad I found you both. There is something ever so special happening the day after tomorrow. May we go? It’s a balloon ascension in the park. It sounds terribly exciting.”

“Indeed, that does sound intriguing,” Eleanor agreed, looking at Anthony. “What do you say, Lord Neale? Shall we take Samantha to see the balloons?”

“Of course,” he answered easily, turning his attention to his niece. “Where did you hear about this?”

“Mama’s friend, Lady Bricknell. She was here visiting Mama just a few minutes ago, and she said that Mama and I must come. But Mama does not wish to. So you are my only hope.”

“Well, then, clearly we must take you. We cannot have you beyond hope,” Eleanor said lightly, smiling at the girl.

Samantha stayed, chatting about this and that, for several minutes before she finally left to get ready for supper. Eleanor and Anthony finished up their work on the list. She pointed out to him that Dario Paradella’s name was indeed present.

“Very well. I suppose it might be best to give him the names,” Anthony agreed reluctantly. “We should at least talk to him.”

Eleanor nodded. “I shall send him a note asking him to call on me tomorrow afternoon. When shall we say? Around two o’clock?”

“All right. I will join you.” He paused, then added, “If I may.”

“Of course you may.” Eleanor smiled at him. At the moment, quite frankly, she preferred to have Anthony here with her at all times.

She carried the list to the safe room, a small locked room beside the butler’s pantry. Only she and the butler had the keys to this room, as its shelves contained all the expensive silverware, and silver and gold serving dishes, epergnes and so on. Also in the room was the squat heavy iron safe in which she kept important documents and her expensive jewelry. Eleanor stashed the list of names, as well as the original sheet music, inside the safe and relocked the outer door. The list was now as secure as she could make it.

It was time to get ready for dinner, and Anthony had to return to his own house to put on his more formal clothes. Eleanor found herself surprisingly reluctant to let him go. She strolled with him to the door. In front of the waiting footman, there was no possibility of any exchange of kisses or tender words, so she simply smiled and offered him her hand, as she would any gentleman of her acquaintance. But the look in his eyes as he bent over her hand warmed her.

She bathed and dressed for dinner, choosing, in a burst of happiness, to wear a deep blue dress that was one of her favorites. It was not really suitable for half-mourning, but she decided to ignore that fact. The dress was one in which she looked her best, its vivid color emphasizing her blue eyes and its wide scooped neckline showing her white shoulders to advantage. Pearls adorned her ears and throat, and dotted her black upswept hair.

Lady Honoria’s lips set in a disapproving line when she saw Eleanor’s gown, but Eleanor scarcely noticed. She was too busy looking at Anthony, whose eyes had widened appreciatively when she entered the room.

He came to her, taking her hand and bowing over it in a courtly manner. His back was to his sister and niece, blocking the fact that his lips lingered softly on Eleanor’s hand. He looked into her eyes, and she smiled up at him, her mouth softening in a way that was unconsciously sensual.

Dinner was an agonizingly slow affair. Eleanor could think of little except Anthony and their lovemaking that afternoon, and whether there was any possible way for them to sneak away from the others. She kept glancing at him, only to find him watching her in a way that made her blood hum. He seemed as unable as she to contribute to the dinner conversation, so it was dominated by Lady Honoria and her usual litany of complaints and melodramatic statements.

The meal finally ground to a halt, and they rose to leave the room. Samantha was usually sent up to bed after they ate, and Honoria generally retired, also, but tonight she perversely decided to join Eleanor and Anthony in the drawing room, allowing Samantha to stay, as well.

Eleanor gritted her teeth and resigned herself to another hour of Honoria’s company. She played draughts with Samantha, taking turns with Anthony. Then, much to her surprise, Honoria decided that they should play whist.

“What?” Eleanor stared at her in consternation. She had absolutely no desire to while away the rest of her evening playing cards.

“There are four of us,” Honoria pointed out.

“But Samantha doesn’t play whist,” Anthony countered, shooting Eleanor a flickering glance that told her he was as little interested in an evening of cards with his sister and niece as she was.

“We shall teach her,” Honoria replied brightly. “It’s time she learned. Please, Anthony, I am so dreadfully bored here.” She turned her limpid blue gaze on her brother, looking pitiful. “At home I am accustomed to playing quite often. Here I have nothing to do except knit and read.” She sighed.

“Well, perhaps you can return home soon,” Anthony told her, his voice revealing a little of his impatience.

“Oh, no, please…” Samantha pleaded. “Not until after the balloon ascension.”

“No.” He smiled at his niece. “Definitely not until after we see the balloons.”

“Let us play cards,” Samantha went on, looking from Anthony to Eleanor. “Please? It would be ever so much fun. I’ve never done so.”

Finally Eleanor gave in, and they repaired to the card room. Eleanor sat across from Samantha, being her partner, and Anthony and Honoria took their places opposite each other. They sat down and began to play, explaining it to Samantha as they went along.

Eleanor felt something brush her leg. Startled, she looked up from her cards and turned her head toward Anthony. He was studiously examining his own cards, but he shot her a little sideways glance from beneath his lids. Again she felt the brush against her leg, longer and slower this time. It was, she realized, his knee touching her.

Heat blossomed between her legs as he slowly, rhythmically moved his leg against hers. Eleanor swallowed, her mind wandering far from her cards.

“Eleanor…”

She looked up to find Honoria staring at her in irritation.

“I’m sorry. What?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“It is your turn,” Honoria told her as if she were a trifle dim-witted.

Quickly Eleanor apologized and made her play. She shot Anthony a fulminating look, but he only smiled, keeping his gaze on his cards. Her mouth tightened. Two, she thought, could play at this game.

She folded her cards together and held them against her, the tops of the cards slightly above the neckline of her dress. The cards rested against the swell of her breasts. She trailed the fingers of her other hand slowly down her throat and over the smooth, white expanse of her chest. Gently her finger skimmed across the soft curve of her breast till it reached the neckline of her dress. She paused for a moment there, then drew her finger back up the same path.

She cast a sideways glance at Anthony and was pleased to see that he looked a trifle slack-jawed, his eyes glazing over. He straightened, clearing his throat, and shifted a little in his chair. He studied his cards, his forefinger at his lips. His finger tapped against his full lip, then moved slowly one way, then the other. Eleanor found herself watching his finger trail across the soft, sensitive flesh. She could almost feel his touch upon her.

Her breasts were full and heavy, the centers tightening, and her loins melted still more. Anthony looked up from his cards, his eyes raking her hotly. Eleanor watched as his eyes fell to her breasts, and she knew he must see the hard buttons of her nipples thrusting against the cloth of her dress. His nostrils flared, color tinting the high line of his cheekbones.

Pleased that he was no more immune than she to the teasing play between them, she crossed her legs beneath the table. Her foot found the side of his calf and slid insinuatingly up it. The look he shot her was fierce, a promise and a challenge all in one.

They continued to tease one another throughout the evening with looks and touches, flirting and arousing without a word spoken between them. By the time Lady Honoria delicately covered a yawn with her cards and declared herself done for the night, Eleanor was so warm she had to ply her fan, her blood singing through her veins and her loins pulsing with longing.

“I suppose it is time for you to leave us, Anthony,” Lady Honoria said. “Will you be calling on us again tomorrow? You have been unusually attentive, I must say. It is quite a pleasant change.” His sister looked at him a little quizzically.

Anthony cleared his throat. “Um, well, yes, I will be here tomorrow afternoon, in fact. I am glad that you have, uh, noticed the difference in me. I, ah…” He cast a glance around as though seeking inspiration.

Honoria let out a little tinkling laugh and waggled her fan at her brother. “You cannot fool me, you know. I am aware of what you are doing.”

“You are?” he asked, startled.

“Oh, yes.” Honoria nodded sagely. “I suspect there is some woman behind this behavior.”

“Really?” Anthony’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly to Eleanor and back.

“Oh, yes. There must be a young woman fresh to the marriage mart, whom you are doing your utmost to avoid.” Honoria cast him an arch glance.

“Honoria, you astonish me,” he said with a smile.

His sister smiled. “Of course. Now, good night, my dear. Shall I walk you to the door?”

She stood up, and Anthony rose, as well, saying, “No. That is…there is, um, something in Lady Eleanor’s office. Something she said she would give me.” As his sister continued to gaze at him blankly, he finished, “Isn’t that right, my lady?” He turned and looked at Eleanor.

“Yes, of course,” she responded brightly, getting to her feet. “I had almost forgotten about it. Of course, it is rather late, and I am not sure where I put it,” she added, sending Anthony a teasing glance. “Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow.”

“Yes, Anthony, that sounds much better,” Honoria added.

Anthony glared at Eleanor. “Lady Eleanor, I am sure it will not be much trouble. And my need is rather…urgent. I would appreciate it if you would take the time for it now.”

Eleanor smiled, her eyes twinkling at him mischievously. “Very well. Why don’t we go to my study and look for it? I am sure it will not take us too long to find, um, what we want.”

“I am certain of it,” he responded in a heartfelt tone.

Eleanor turned and bade good night to a somewhat puzzled-looking Honoria and her daughter, then swept out of the room. Anthony followed on her heels, their steps growing quicker and quicker, until at last they reached Eleanor’s office. They slipped into the room, and Anthony closed and locked the door behind him.

“Vixen,” he told her huskily, reaching out and laying his hands around the column of her throat. “You delighted in torturing me this evening.”

He slid his hands slowly downward, spreading his fingers as they moved over her chest. His eyes followed the movement of his hands, feasting on the white expanse of her skin, the swelling fullness of her breasts.

“No more than you,” Eleanor responded saucily. “And you deserved every moment. You began it.”

“And I shall end it,” he said thickly, sliding his hands inside the low, wide neckline and cupping her breasts, lifting them up and out of her dress. “God, you are beautiful. I could barely sit still all night, I wanted so much to hold you. Kiss you.”

He bent and kissed each breast, tasting and teasing with his tongue and lips until he felt as near to bursting as she, aching for fulfillment. He clutched her skirts, bunching them up with his hands, until at last he could reach under her petticoats. Splayed, his hands moved up the sides of her thighs and cupped the round fullness of her buttocks.