A Lady by Chance (Historical Regency Romance) (7 page)

 "So I have married a thoroughly English woman," Haverstock said gently. He took her hand in his.

His touch had a profound effect on her. "There was just one area where my mother did not succeed in Anglicizing me," she said, trying to retain her outward composure while inside she fairly sizzled from the feel of his huge hand clasped about hers. "It was her fondest wish that I be educated at Miss Sloan's School for Young Ladies. I had no desire to leave my home, but Mama was insistent." She stopped and gazed into her husband's obsidian eyes. "It was your father who kept me from the school."

"Surely that's not why you hold him accountable for your mother's death?"

"It broke her heart," Anna said softly. "After he left that day, she cried inconsolably. It was a bitter cold January day and she left the house without even a shawl. She walked for hours in the square. I didn't know she had gone out. She came home when night fell, blue with cold." Anna's voice lowered. "She took lung fever and was dead a month later. At her death bed, she made me promise I would be a lady."

Haverstock released her hand. "So that – more than revenge against my family – was your reason for coaxing me into marriage."

"You are very kind to use the word
coaxing
when you know very well I forced you," Anna said lightly, her lips curving into a smile.

"'Tis my fate to be shackled to an authoritative female," he said teasingly. "I shall not be master in my own home."

Was it the brandy or her husband's presence that spread a liquid ease to the core of her body? She almost laughed over her mind-numbing desire for this man she had been prepared to stoically tolerate. She had come to crave the very sound of his voice, his powerful body, his ruggedly handsome face. But most of all, she ached to be held by him. With full cognizance, she knew this longing for what it was: an extremely strong physical attraction she could never confuse with love. For she could never give her heart to one who turned against his own country, his own brother.

Her voice husky with a passion she tried to repress, Anna looked up into his eyes. "You will be my master, my teacher, Charles."

Their eyes met and held, that feeling of oneness she experienced on their wedding night enveloping Anna again. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to feel herself cradled within the comfort of his arms.

He gently touched her face with a finger, and she found herself lifting his hand to her lips. That instinctive gesture removed all barriers between them. His burly arms came around her as she moved into his chest, resting her head against him, listening to the thumping of his heart.

His head lowered, and she lifted her face until she felt the soft warmth of his mouth on hers and slipped her arms around him, basking in the solid feel of him.

After the kiss, he spoke softly. "I have something for you,
my lady
." He reached into his pocket and presented her with a huge emerald ring surrounded by diamonds.

She drew back and looked at it but did not take it from him. "Will you put it on?" she asked.

He slipped it on the third finger of her left hand. "I shall have it cut down for you, my dear."

"I hate to remove it, Charles. It is very beautiful. I feel so. . .so undeserving."

A frown furrowed his face. "It belongs to you, for you have become my wife in every way, or have you forgotten?"

She stared into his black eyes, remembering how thoroughly he had taken possession of her. "I am yours," she said breathlessly.

Over her clothing, his palm stroked her breasts, massaging them with surprising tenderness. The effect on Anna was devastating. Her body came alive at his touch. It was for this moment she had lived the past sixteen days.

With practiced ease, he unfastened her buttons and lowered the top of her gown, then her chemise and stays. Her gaze dropped, and she saw the contours of her own sizable breasts in the glow of the firelight. Though no other man had seen them before, she was not embarrassed.

He reverently lifted a breast in both hands. "Oh, my Anna, you have the body of a goddess." His lips covered her breast, his tongue circling the tip, then taking it deep into his mouth and suckling.

Warmth flowed deep within her.
My Anna
. How magical those words sounded, how blissful he made her feel with every magical stroke.

When he gazed up at her, his face wet and heated, something seared inside of her like flame to parchment.

He stood, his majestic body blocking the firelight. Her breath hitched as he threw off his coat, planting his booted feet and standing tall, the fire to his back.
My dark titan
. Her eyes flitted from his broad shoulders beneath the soft linen shirt, down his v-shaped torso to his flat waist, then rested on his straining groin. She wanted to see his flesh golden in the firelight. She wanted to feel its moistness against her own bare body.

His black eyes hungry, he held out his hands to her, drawing her to a standing position as her gown and chemise pooled on the carpet. She moved to untie his cravat, her eyes never leaving his, then she slipped her fingers beneath the soft linen shirt, stroking his moist flesh. She deftly unfastened his buttons, and he assisted her in removing his shirt.

His eyes devoured every inch of her bare flesh, his uneven breath a catalyst to her own surge of. . .desire. She had finally been able to put a name to this craving she held for this man.

Effortlessly, he swooped her into his arms as if she were paper and carried her to the bed where he gently set her on its silk coverlet and lay down beside her, drawing her into himself. His lips came down on hers in a wet, open-mouthed kiss while his smooth, strong hands moved over her back, down her hips, then her legs. A wet heat gushed between her legs. How could one man have such a nearly debilitating effect on her? She was powerless not to arch into him.

Those magical hands of his moved between her thighs and inched upward until her thighs parted as his long finger slipped into her wetness. With breath labored as if she'd been running, she circled his tongue with her own, windmills of pleasure spiraling through her thoughts, thoughts that were nothing more than pulsing fragments:
Desire. Need. Love
.

He withdrew his finger, trailing its wet path over her stomach, the erotic gesture robbing her of breath.

When he raised his hips to remove his breeches, she almost could not bear the brief separation, almost could not bear the anticipation of his next move.

The glorious spectacle of his skin glowing golden in the soft firelight was nearly as compelling as drawing a breath. She softly stroked the firm muscles of his chest and its mat of soft black hair, moving toward the swell of his manhood. Her hand curled around him as a deep groan escaped his throat. That she could solicit such a primeval noise from her giant exhilarated her.

His hands began to work their magic on her again, first one finger, then another sliding into her warmth as she widened herself even more. All thoughts now obliterated from her mind save for this meeting, this melding with her dark giant.

She initiated a hungry kiss, then a series of feverish, wet kisses as she arched her body into his, her breath even more labored. She felt his heat, his warm breath on her, his manhood brushing against her. And she parted her legs and guided him into herself. He plunged deeply as her whole being rocked with the numbing pleasure he gave her. His motions quickened, her body trembled convulsively. He kept saying her name, and she reveled in it.

Their chests heaving together as if one heartbeat united them, Anna's hands dug into her husband's back. Where dream left off and reality began Anna couldn't say. All she knew was this was what she lived for, these dreamy moments when nothing else intruded on their world of two. She savored the feel of him within her and lovingly stroked his firm body.

He rolled back to his side. She moved, too, to keep from disengaging him. His powerful hand lightly touched her temple and brushed away the damp hair, softly kissing her brow. He began to trace her features with a long finger, placing soft kisses on her eyelids, her nose, then came to brush gently on her mouth. She smelled his heat and the brandy and the scent of their sex and was oddly sated by it.

She kept her arms around his rock hard back. Her face rested on his chest, his harsh, heavy breathing reassuring. She lay in the peace of him, a deep contentment washing over her.

His mind in a drug-like stupor from the sensations she had aroused and the overpowering emotions she touched, he held her close, delighting in her rose water scent and the feel of her smooth skin against his own. When the sensual fog began to clear from his brain, he remembered everything clearly. The way he languidly kissed her mouth and her extraordinary body. The way he had been more intent on giving her pleasure than in seeking his own. The way he called out her name repeatedly. In a lifetime of vagrant passion, he had never done these things with a woman before.

He held her close, stroking her satiny flesh with a gentleness that surprised himself. Soon, her rhythmic breathing told him she was asleep. While his own body craved sleep, his mind fought it, his thoughts racing with exhilaration brought on by the fragile beauty of the woman he held in his arms. The unnamed yearnings of the past sixteen days, he knew now, had been his deep hunger for Anna. His own Anna.

His arms cradled her. He reveled in the bliss of his possession. He remembered his vow to cherish her, and he knew that whatever lay ahead, he would protect her until his dying breath.

When he awoke in the morning, Anna's huge brown eyes peered into his own and a sweet smile lit her lovely face. She had pulled up the sheet to cover her nakedness.

He trailed a single finger along her cheek and the slope of her chest, then down further, to gently follow the contour of her breast. "Your aptitude for learning exceeds my expectations."

He stifled her smile with a heavy kiss. "Now, to continue your instruction."

Chapter 8

It was well past dark when Haverstock came home the next day. Anna had been watching from her chamber window and scurried down the broad staircase to greet him.

She watched warily as he gave his greatcoat to the butler. His step slow, his hair tousled, Haverstock looked tired enough to have performed yeoman's work at great length. Her heart caught at his haggard appearance. He looked to be twice her age. Then, she realized his secretive post at the Foreign Office was what drew all his strength, and a bitter anger welled within her.

At the foot of the stairs, she remembered Sir Henry's instructions to play the adoring wife. She held out her hands and forced a smile. "My lord, you look so very tired."

A flicker of pleasure passed over his face as he gazed at her. "That I am, my dear."

"Please bring a fresh pot of tea to my chamber," Anna instructed Davis, linking her arm through her husband's and mounting the stairs. "You must come warm yourself before my fire, Charles. A cup of tea is just what you need."

Haverstock collapsed on the settee in front of her fireplace. She bent over him, tenderly loosening his cravat.  "There, now, get comfortable and relax." Their eyes met, merging them, driving the anger from her. She stroked the shadows of his beard. "You have worked far too hard today." She told herself she was merely playing the role Sir Henry demanded of her, winning her husband's confidence through her feigned devotion. The problem was, she feigned little where Haverstock was concerned. When she was with him, he earned an unpretentious affection.

Only when they were apart did she recall his traitorous deeds. Because then she was not drawn to the depth of his black eyes and not seduced by the nearness to his tall, golden-skinned body.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Sit by me, Anna."

She obliged.

"It is so very good to be home. I will be fine now," he said. "It occurred to me today that I should like to possess a miniature of you so that I might look at it when I am away."

"I am greatly flattered," Anna said, hoping her voice did not reveal the leaping excitement in her pulse. She squeezed his hand and shot him a concerned glance. "Now tell me what is it you work yourself so hard for?"

He ran his large hands through his hair and sighed. "When my father died, I learned that he had foolishly lost most of the family's fortune. Since that day, I have contrived to restore the money as well as the Haverstock good name – neither of which have I been particularly successful."

"Oh, Charles, I would so very much rather you take my money and not work so hard. Your companionship, I find, far preferable to this house full of females." She had felt so alienated and lonely at Haverstock House without Charles. Though one day was no gauge of how well she would get along with his family, this first day brought bitter disappointment. Her mother-in-law had not come out of her chamber all day. Anna longed to get away from this house, to go to Haymore. "Could you and I not go to Haymore?" she suggested.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, my dear, but I cannot consider it at this time for I have far too much work."

The butler entered the room with a tea tray and set it on a table in front of the settee.

"Thank you, Davis," Anna said as he bowed and departed.

Haverstock watched Anna as she poured tea into a gilded cup. "It distresses me that you are so unhappy here, Anna. Has my family not made you welcome?"

"It is not that," she said, handing him is tea. "It is just that they kept to their rooms most of the day, except for Lydia, who has been quite wonderful. She gave me a tour of the house and explained the various family portraits and even showed me the butler's pantry."

"How do you like Lydia?"

"She is the most wonderful of sisters. I count myself very fortunate." Anna poured herself a cup of steaming tea from the silver pot. "She tells me she does not like town life. Perhaps that is what has me longing to go to the country. She described the green hills and country lanes. She's quite enamored of horses, isn't she?"