The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh (26 page)

G
eorges paced his room, raking his hand through his hair. He prayed that Jamison would take his offer. He still had trouble believing what he'd been told. At first he'd thought it wasn't possible. There must be a mistake. Madeleine, Demoiselle du Beaune, would never agree to be a whore.

The idea revolted him in a way he could not have imagined before.
Aristos
were, as a whole, demeaned for being what they were. Yet, before his death, her father had been careful, and the family had retained all their lands and houses. What had happened?

Georges muttered to himself. “I'll have to ensure that the English authorities never touch her.”

A cold hand gripped his heart.

Once, in a distant world, he'd loved her, and their fathers had discussed a match. Then the horror came, and his father had been murdered. Georges had taken his mother and sisters to England. He had made a deal with the devil. As long as he could keep his family safe, anything he did would be worth it, and now he had Madeleine to worry about as well. He tried to shut out the memory of her.

In a land of dark hair and eyes, her coloring was unusual. She, like her mother, had silvery blond hair. Eyes that were icy blue. She was the most perfectly beautiful woman he'd ever seen. A clear sign that God, much as a good gambler would, had a hand in everything. But she'd lost. How? And how could he protect her from further degradation?

His hands covered his face as he thought back over all the disappointments of his life. He had to save her.

Her head high, Madeleine stood before one of the men responsible for sending her to England to whore. He sniffed as if he disliked his job, but his lust-filled gaze roved down her body and back up again. He was a disgusting pig.

“Mademoiselle, do you come here of your own will?”

Madeleine bit her tongue before she responded. “Yes, and I have the necessary requirements. I know that I must be a virgin on the night the English gentleman takes me.”

The man before her scowled.

She hid a triumphant smile. Then he smashed her into the wall. “Remember who your masters are. You are a whore. Expect to be treated as one.”

Madeleine trembled in horror as one hand grabbed her breast and squeezed. She clenched her teeth. Never show pain, never show anything. She kept her thoughts on Genevieve, her younger sister, only thirteen. She'd agreed to do this to save Genevieve. Her mother had wept bitterly when they'd taken Madeleine away.

“You're a cold bitch,” the pig spat.

Madeleine gazed over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. She'd give him no excuse to hurt her. “Yes.”

He took her back to her room, but before he shoved her in, she asked, “When?”

“In a day or so. Watch your precious virginity. We must save it for an important man.”

She let out a breath. The pig knew and was no real threat. He only wanted to scare her. Thankfully, she'd been allotted a private chamber and her maid, rather than the overcrowded room the other women shared.

If only her father had not been such a blind idiot, trusting Napoleon's advisor, Fouché. If Papa had got them out of France before he had died, her family's life would have been so much different. Instead, he'd left them to fend for themselves, and the pigs had been ready to take a thirteen-year-old girl to whore.

Anna woke heavy-eyed. It was still dark. She'd tossed and turned most of the night, and, despite her warm feather bed and duvet, she was cold. There was no large, slumbering male next to her, radiating heat.

Her body hummed with desire. A desire that wasn't going to be satisfied this morning. Love-making was a drug, and she'd had a steady diet of it for the past week. But that was only part of it. She missed Sebastian. Missed the way he held her close to him and the funny things he'd say in the morning. She'd been surrounded by love her whole life. Yet, she had never known a love like this. So deep it hurt at times.

Frustrated, Anna threw off her covers and rang for Lizzy. Her maid opened her door a second later.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Anna asked.

“Lord Rutherford is downstairs.” Lizzy grinned. “He said to get you up and dressed.”

“Get my habit out.”

“Miss, he said to tell you he's got his gig.”

“Oh, very well, my brown wool carriage gown.” Anna washed her face and brushed her teeth. Lizzy quickly dressed her, then Anna sat impatiently as Lizzy wound her hair into a simple knot.

“Miss, do be still,” Lizzy said. “I can't get these pins in with you jumping around the way you are. By the look on his face, he's not going anywhere without you.”

Anna let out a sigh and tried to be calm.

“There. Here are your gloves, muff, and cloak. Be off with you.”

“Thank you, Lizzy. If anyone asks, I'm out for a drive. I'll be back later today.”

“Yes, miss.”

Anna strode rapidly down the corridor. When she reached the top of the staircase, Sebastian glanced up. He had dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like she felt, tired and annoyed.

She joined him, and they strode to his carriage. The air between them crackled with sensual tension. Neither of them spoke until he brought the carriage to a halt in front of the cottage.

Anna hopped down. “I'll go in and stoke the fire.”

“Here, take these. I'll bring in the rest.”

She turned to see him holding some sacks. “What are they?”

“Provisions. I raided my larder.”

Her tension drained, and she smiled. “Hurry.”

He nodded. “I will.”

Opening the door, she glanced around. Harry had been working on the cottage, cleaning it up and refurbishing it. It was even better than before. She soon had a blaze in the fireplace and emptied the sacks. Bread, cheese, ham, tea, sugar, and a jug of milk.

Anna went to the pump and brought in a bucket of water. Sebastian strode in as she refilled the old iron kettle and swung the crane over the fire.

He set his bundles down and unpacked them. Plates, mugs, cutlery, candlesticks, and candles. After he helped her set everything out, he spread a large down duvet over the bed and slipped back outside.

When he returned, he set the bar on the door. “Come to me. I didn't sleep a wink last night.”

His arms closed around her.

“No, neither did I.” Anna breathed in his unique scent, male and sea. “By our wedding date, I'm going to look like a hag.”

“Tired?”

“Yes, and cranky.”

“Give me a minute.” He walked to the fireplace, filled a warming-pan with coals, then ran it between the sheets. “Let me help you.”

Sebastian took her cloak and unlaced her gown.

She shivered as the warm wool fell off her shoulders.

“Cold?”

“A little.” She finished undressing and got in the bed and held the covers up to her chin.

He climbed in next to her. “If I didn't think I'd have been taken for a thief, I would have come to you last night.”

Anna snuggled next to him. “I missed you so much. I don't know how I'm going to stay sane for the next week.”

Sebastian held her closer. “I don't know either. Kiss me.”

The kiss began as a simple acknowledgment of their love and rapidly spun out of control. His hands lit fires under her skin and a desperate need throbbed between her legs. His body tensed as she stroked him; evidence of his desire rose.

Sebastian moved over her. She spread her legs in silent welcome and moaned as he filled her. “You've made me an addict.”

“Have I?” His voice was tense.

Anna opened her eyes to gaze at his face. Never soft, it now had the look of hewn granite. His eyes were closed. The rising tension roiling through her body ripped her thoughts away. Waves of pleasure made her feel as if she were falling.

She heard her own moans and sobs as if from a distance. Then one large wave swept her away and Sebastian cried out, collapsing next to her. When had this act, their joining, become a meeting of their souls? She wanted to tell him, but Morpheus pulled at her.

Rutherford listened to her soft breathing. He'd thought his love for her couldn't grow deeper, but he had been wrong. Every time they mated, he felt more exposed, more vulnerable. The need to protect her settled over him more intensely.

What would Anna do when she found out he'd betrayed her by not telling her when the shipment would arrive? He could only pray their love was strong enough to survive the discovery. He shoved his fear aside and settled into sleep.

When he awoke, the cottage was warm. Anna was still asleep, a soft, warm bundle curled against him. He slid from the bed and began to pile food on the plates and make tea.

“Sebastian?”

“I'm right here. Are you hungry?”

“Mmm . . . very.”

Once he set the tea to brew, he went back to her. She was still sleepy, but her eyes no longer looked bruised. “Come, my love, and eat. You need your strength.”

A slow, siren-like smile graced her lips. Anna held her arms out to him. Sebastian gathered her up, wrapped her in a blanket, and carried her to the table.

She helped herself to some of the cheese and munched contentedly until her tea was ready. “Are we going to do this every day until the wedding?”

“Would that we could.” He handed her a mug of steaming tea with milk and sugar. “Do you think your parents will allow you to disappear every day?” Sebastian cut the bread.

Anna wrinkled her nose. “I might be able to tell them we have work to do at the Priory.” She frowned. “No, chances are, they'd send a note over about something and be told I wasn't there.”

She glanced around. “What time is it?”

Rutherford pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat on the chair. “Just after one o'clock. We slept for a long time.”

She took a large slice of ham. “No wonder I'm so hungry. We'll have to leave soon.”

He would much rather have stayed here with Anna, but nodded.

Suddenly, her face fell, and her voice hitched. “Oh, Sebastian, I don't want to go back.”

Anna looked very close to tears, and he hoped she wasn't going to cry. “We'll think of something, my love. I promise you we will.”

 

Harry's rooms overlooked the stable yard. He woke to the sounds of wheels. Muffled voices conversed, and several minutes later the carriage left. He lay in bed staring at the hangings. For months after Marcella died, he had dreamt of her. When his memory started to return, his nighttime wanderings ranged from the ship to his sister, but his dead wife had always had a place. He knew he couldn't re-marry while she still filled his unconscious mind. It would, in some way, be disloyal to his future wife.

After he had left London, he'd not remembered his dreams. Last night he had imagined he was making love to a woman. In his vision, Harry had expected it to be Marcella. But when he'd looked at her face, it was Emma. This was the sign he'd been waiting for. The sign that he was now free to go on with his life, a new life with Emma.

Harry spent the morning with his father going over accounts. Shortly before lunch, his mother knocked on the door.

“Do either of you know where Anna is?”

“She's with Rutherford,” Harry said. “They left early this morning.”

Mama frowned. “I need to discuss the wedding with her.”

“She'll probably be back for tea.” He chuckled. “Though don't be shocked if Rutherford is in tow.”

“They really shouldn't live in each other's pockets,” his mother said disapprovingly. “People will talk.”

“Mother,” Harry responded, “they'll be married in eight days.”

“Of course they will,” Mama retorted, “but this type of thing doesn't last forever. Once they return to Town, I am sure Lord Rutherford will want to spend time at his clubs and at other events not suitable for ladies. I do not wish to see Anna hurt when he is no longer dancing attendance on her.”

His mother was so studiously not looking at his father that Harry quickly glanced at Papa, who'd not lifted his head.

“Things are very different when in the country,” Mama said.

“I see. We'll all just have to let them work it out.”

She turned to leave. “When you see your sister, please tell her I'd like to speak with her.”

“Of course.”

Harry watched the door close and thought for half a minute of inserting himself into his parents' business, then rejected the idea. Whatever mistakes his parents had made were no bread and butter of his, though he did wonder what had happened as Mama always seemed to prefer Town. Nevertheless, Harry was sure they wouldn't appreciate his interference.

Aside from that, he had his own problems. He'd never been allowed to run tame at the Priory as Rutherford had at Marsh Hill. If he and Emma weren't to set up Lady Rutherford's back, he'd need an excuse to call there. And the only one he could think of was to visit Rutherford.

“Papa, I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Harry left the study and went to the stables in search of Humphrey. “I need a message sent to the cottage. Anna must come home now.”

“I'll see to it,” Humphrey said.

Harry returned to the study until tea was announced. When he entered the morning room, Rutherford and Anna were just sitting down. Mama poured.

“Lord Rutherford, how nice you could join us.” She handed him a cup.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Turning to Anna, Mama said, “My dear, we need to discuss the plans for your wedding.”

Anna stared at their mother for several moments. “We only want our families and perhaps a few close friends.”

Mama frowned. “My dear, I think you'll regret not having a large wedding.”

Anna stood and walked to stand behind Rutherford's chair. He took her hand. “No, Mama. What I would regret is having dozens of guests to worry about. Please understand.”

Her mother's mouth formed a thin line. “If that is what you wish.”

Anna went to her and hugged her. “Thank you, Mama.”

“You need to go to the Priory,” Harry said after his mother left.

Rutherford raised a brow. “Why?”

Harry grinned. “To give me an excuse to be there.”

“I see.” Rutherford glanced at Anna. “We can go now, and you may dine with us.”

Anna nodded. “Lizzy and Robertson can bring our evening costumes over in the carriage. Harry, you'll have to take your curricle.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment. “Ah, yes, of course. Hard to ride in evening kit.”

When he reached the Priory, a maid told him Miss Spencer-Jones was in the back parlor. Emma glanced up when he opened the door, setting aside the book she'd been reading. Harry entered the room.

She rose and walked into his arms. “I wondered if you'd ever arrive.”

“I had to send a message to Rutherford.”

“Where was he?”

“With Anna. He came to Marsh Hill early this morning. Before six o'clock.”

Her eyes widened. “What on earth were they doing up?”

“I've no desire to talk about my sister and my best friend. I want to kiss you.”

She met his gaze and placed her hands around his neck. “Then kiss me.”

Harry swooped and captured her lips. Emma met each slow, sinuous stroke of his tongue with one of her own. His hands moved from her back to her sides. Harry's thumbs lightly flickered over her nipples and made circling motions. Emma arched into him. He swallowed her moan with a kiss. She stood on tiptoe, rubbing against his already hard member. He pulled her closer to him, wanting her nearer, needing to possess her. She was making his resolution to not bed her until after they were married much harder.

Harry groaned and, without breaking the kiss, maneuvered them to the door, locking it. Her nipples were tight buds. The fabric of her gown strained as he gently kneaded. One of her hands reached under his jacket and caressed his back, her fingers pressing into his muscles. He unlaced her bodice. He couldn't let this go too far. If he could just touch her silky skin, that would be enough. It had to be enough.

Emma stopped to rid herself of her sleeves and let the gown fall to her waist. His groin tightened. She was so lovely, and he wanted her. Just a taste, that was all. Her short stays were the next piece of clothing to fall. Picking her up, he carried her to the sofa, settling her in his lap. His eyes feasted on her perfect, creamy mounds topped with dark pink nipples. Harry nudged her chin back, kissing her jaw and throat. He made his way down to where one nipple called to him. Through the thin muslin of her chemise, he taunted it with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth and sucked.

Emma cried out softly and pressed closer to him. The sensation was so exquisite she could barely breathe. He blew on the nipple and ran his thumb over it again before going on to the other breast.