Green Eyes (35 page)

“You’re drunk, Julian. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Anna said in as reasonable a tone as she could muster, given that his thumbs were now pushing up under her chin, forcing her head back. She was not afraid of him, not really, and yet—this Julian was a stranger. She had never seen him in such a state, never guessed that he could turn such savagery on her, for such a cause. He must be wildly, madly jealous to threaten her with violence. Insane as it was, her heart speeded up at the ramifications. Then what he’d said registered: he had left after that first night because she had called him Paul!

His thumbs now rested against the base of her chin, forcing her head to tip so far back that her hair, left loose to finish drying, spilled in a silvery cascade across the desk.

Her lashes lifted so that she was looking him full in the eyes. Her eyes blazed green as emeralds in the white oval of her face, cutting through the fog of whiskey that befuddled him to bring a sudden frown to his face.

“You have no reason to be jealous, Julian,” she said softly. “It’s you I love, not Paul.”

His fingers stilled, tensed. His eyes narrowed on her face.

“Lying bitch,” he said.

Anna shook her head. “I’m not lying.”

Julian stared at her a moment longer, then all at once his face contorted. “God help you if you are,” he said hoarsely, and then his mouth was on hers, kissing her fiercely, while his hands slid from her throat to cradle the back of her head.

Anna parted her lips on a little sob, her hands moving to clutch his arms, his shoulders. His tongue thrust into her mouth, urgent, demanding, and she met that urgency with a hunger of her own.

He leaned over her, pressing her backwards, one hand slashing violently sideways as he sent all the items atop the desk crashing to the floor. Then she was lying on her back on the polished surface, and he was coming down on top of her, kissing her greedily, his hands pulling at her clothes.

XLIV

“A
nna, Oh, God, Anna.” It was a broken whisper. He pressed stinging kisses over her face and throat, nuzzling the soft underside of her neck, tracing the outline of an ear. Uncaring of his drink-fueled roughness, Anna wrapped her arms around his neck, murmuring soft endearments, stroking his rough black hair. The smell of whiskey, at first so overpowering, was forgotten in the blinding heat of passion. She loved him. How she loved him!

His voice was unsteady as he murmured her name, over and over, like a litany. His hands were unsteady too as he jerked her nightdress and wrapper out of his way, leaving her naked from the waist down while he tore at the buttons on his breeches. One popped, flying across the room to land with a clatter on the floor. Then he was free, coming into her where she lay ready for him, his need too hard and urgent to permit him to wait a second longer.

As he pushed himself inside her, Anna gasped, then moaned. He was huge, hot, filling her to the point of bursting—and she trembled at the sheer wonder of it. His mouth was on her neck, his hand on her breast, squeezing and kneading and caressing her through the thin muslin, while he thrust, hard and fast, in and out. Anna arched her back to meet him, barely aware of the unfamiliar feel of the hard polished wood beneath her bottom. He groaned, his lips turning to burn against her neck, his hand closing hard over her breast.

And then with another deep thrust and a cry he lay still.

Anna, on the brink of ecstasy, trembled in anticipation as he lay unmoving atop her. It took a moment for her to realize that he, at least, was sated. For a little while more she lay there, her hands automatically caressing his rough black head, willing back her disappointment. But her body, unrepentant, continued to throb and ache.

When he lifted himself off her, he looked as unsteady as she felt.

“See what happens when you tell me you love me?” he asked with a rueful smile as he adjusted his breeches.

Anna, still lying on the desk top as he had left her, suddenly recollected how indecent her posture was and sat up, pulling her clothes down to cover her nakedness. She drew her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

His eyes were both hooded and faintly wary as they regarded her, from the top of her tousled head to the small pink toes protruding from beneath the hem of her crumpled nightdress.

“You did mean it? I didn’t just scare you into saying it, did I?” He took a deep breath, faint color rising to his cheekbones. “I wouldn’t really hurt you, you know.”

“I know.” For a moment she had an urge to tease him, but he was so still, so very still, despite the casualness with which he had tried to infuse his voice, that Anna realized her answer was important to him. Why, he’s as vulnerable as I am, she thought with amazement, and suddenly all the tenderness for him that she’d fought for so long to keep hidden rushed to the surface.

She rose to her knees and moved the short distance to where he stood, tense and waiting by the edge of the desk. For just a moment she looked at him, drinking in the height and breadth of him; the hard, dark, handsome features; the glittering eyes; the disordered hair black as a starling’s wing. Then she slid her arms around his neck and pressed a quick, almost shy kiss against lips that were as rigid as if they’d been carved from stone.

“I meant it,” she whispered, watching him. At first he didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. Then his eyes widened, lightened, until they were more blue than she had ever seen them, blue as rich velvet. His muscles relaxed, and his mouth curved into the faintest of smiles.

“Oh, Anna.” He turned his head, pressed a soft kiss to the silky skin on the underside of her arm, “My Anna.”

There was a slight emphasis on the possessive that told her what he wanted.

“All yours,” she agreed tenderly, her fingers threading into his thick dark hair.

“And Paul?” There was a steely undertone to that.

“He was only a boy and I only a girl when I loved him. Now I’m a woman grown, and the man I love is—a man.” Even as she said it, she knew it was true.

“I’ll not have you moping after him.”

“I won’t mope.”

“Nor sighing his name in the middle of the night.”

“I won’t sigh.”

Julian eyed her. “And no more of Dumesne, either.”

“Charles is just a friend.”

“Still, I won’t have him hanging about.”

“Dictatorial, aren’t you?”

“What’s mine is mine.”

“I’m far from faithless, Julian.”

That earned her a wry smile. “That I have reason to know very well.”

“I expect you to remember that.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“And, Julian.… ”

“Yes?”

“What’s mine is mine, as well.”

“Are you admitting to a jealous streak? For shame!”

“Don’t laugh. I mean it.”

“I think I’d enjoy making you jealous.”

“You wouldn’t, I promise you. I’ve discovered that I can be quite fierce where you are concerned.”

He grinned, clearly delighted. “Can you indeed? The thought makes me shake in my boots.”

The look she gave him was severe. “It should.”

She still knelt at the edge of the desk, her arms looped around his neck. His hands had risen to grip her waist, and he gave her a quick hard squeeze.

“You’ll never have cause to question my faithfulness, I give you my word.”

“That’s better.” She smiled at him and slid her hand around to tweak an ear. “Is there nothing else you have to say to me?”

He lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

“You drunken dolt.” The words were half affectionate, half exasperated. “Will you leave me no pride at all? Must I spell it out for you?”

Still he looked all at sea.

“Do you love me?” It was an exasperated demand.

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“I suppose I must.” His eyes glinted teasingly down at her. Anna, her arms sliding from his neck to cross over her breasts, subsided onto her heels with an affronted “Hmmph!”

He smiled then, broadly, and scooped her up off the desk into his arms. Holding her close against his chest, he moved toward the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her arms curling around his neck. In truth, she was content to let him take her where he would. The very ease with which he carried her sent a tingle coursing along her spine. He was so effortlessly strong!

“To bed.”

Anna raised her head from its comfortable spot on his shoulder. “Oh, yes?” Her voice was a trifle cool. His “I suppose I must” still rankled.

He had managed to open the door without letting her drop or banging her head against the jamb, which in his less than sober state was, she supposed, something to be thankful for. He headed toward the stairs. “I’m a man of action, not words. You’ll get precious few pretty speeches out of me.”

“I don’t want pretty speeches.”

He reached the foot of the stairs and began to climb. Again her weight seemed not to bother him in the least. She put down the fact that he stumbled on the first stair to the effects of strong drink.

“I can walk, you know.”

He stopped in the middle of the staircase to look down at her. In the shifting shadows, all she could see clearly was the proprietary gleam in his eyes.

“Not on your life. You’re mine now, my girl, and I don’t mean to ever let you go.”

“Oh.” Anna’s response was meek, but her arms curled tighter around his neck. In truth, she could stay in his arms forever.

“Oh.” He mimicked her, tone and all, and then his mouth came down on hers, claiming her lips, kissing her so thoroughly that she feared for their safety—while she could still think at all. When at last he broke off the kiss to climb swiftly on, she was so dazzled by the aftereffects that she didn’t even worry about the state of his balance.

He took her to his room, not hers. Anna registered that fact with a small part of her mind even as he shouldered the door shut behind them. Inside, the darkness was eased by bright moonlight flooding through the windows. They had been left partly open, but fortunately the mosquito netting had been drawn over them, and it was this that billowed in the cool night air, lending an otherworldly atmosphere to the silent room.

The silk hangings on the half-tester bed rustled faintly as he placed her on the coverlet. Anna lay there for a moment, shrouded in shadows, her head turning on the pillow as she watched him tug, first carelessly and finally with clear fury, at his twisted cravat.

The knot would not come loose. Anna smiled with rueful fondness at her love and clambered to the edge of the bed.

“Let me do it for you,” she told him, catching his arm and drawing him toward the bed, where she knelt at the edge.

“Damned thing,” Julian muttered, but he stayed obediently still as her slim fingers worked what magic they could on the recalcitrant knot.

“I hope you don’t get in this state often,” she said in a scolding tone as she at last freed the tight knot and pulled the cravat from around his neck.

Julian’s hands came up to rest on her waist. “The last time I drank too much was when I was seventeen, and for the same cause, too.”

“And what cause was that?” Her fingers moved on to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. Being able to take such liberties with him was intoxicating, and as the final button left its hole she was emboldened to run her fingertips down the front of his chest.

“A minx of a woman was driving me mad.” He captured her wrists, stilling her hands against him. Anna felt the soft prickle of his chest hairs beneath her palm, the solid heat of his chest, and suddenly the ache deep inside her that she had almost succeeded in willing away sprang back to full, throbbing life.

“And what woman was that?” Scarcely aware of what she was saying, she pressed her hands more closely against him. Beneath her right palm she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart.

“I’ve forgotten. See? You’ve driven every other female but yourself clear out of my mind.”

“See that it stays that way.” She twined her finger in a curl of chest hair and yanked it threateningly. He yelped, laughed, and released her hands to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Arms looped around his neck, Anna leaned against his broad back and watched as he tugged off his boots. When he stood up again, he was barefoot. When he stripped off his shirt to reveal his wide muscled shoulders and broad chest, Anna watched admiringly. When he stepped out of his breeches to reveal his narrow hips and long, strong-looking legs, she felt her blood quicken in her veins. Then, when he turned fully toward her, her breath stopped altogether. That part of him that was most fully a man was huge, stiff as a tree limb, and ready.

The reawakened ache in her loins pulsed in almost painful response.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

He drew her off the bed onto her feet. Anna went, unresisting. Her heart was thudding so loudly that she could scarcely think above the pulsing of her own blood as he lifted first her wrapper and then her nightgown. When she was as naked as he, he pulled her against him. The friction between his hot, hair-roughened flesh and her own soft silkiness made her dizzy. Her arms rose to link behind his neck even as his head descended. Their mouths met in a hard, explosive kiss. His hands slid down her spine to close around her bare bottom, lifting her clear off her feet. He pressed her against him so that she felt the hard urgency of him probing at the nest between her thighs. Then he lifted her higher, and instinctively her legs twined around his waist.

Even as he entered her they were falling, tumbling together back into the bed.

This time when he loved her, she went wild. Her hands and lips and body made demands of him that she never knew how to make before. But she wanted all of him, wanted him to fill her, to take her, to give her the ecstasy that he had taught her to crave.

And he did.

At the end he gave her even more. He thrust himself deep, holding her close while she cried out his name in glorious abandon, then sought his own release.

“I love you, love you, love you,” he groaned into her neck as he quaked and shuddered inside her.

Anna was smiling as he shuddered one final time and went limp.