Curse of the Gypsy (21 page)

She opened the door and slipped in, deciding at the last minute that rapping on the door was redundant. He knew she was coming.

He sat by the fireplace in just his shirt and breeches, his large feet bare and stretched out before him, the first time she had ever seen them exposed. It seemed that he hadn’t heard her enter and so she paused, thinking about what she was doing, watching him stare into the fireplace, empty on this warm June night. With his breath hot on her breasts and feeling the aching need for fulfillment, she had decided on a moment’s impulse to say yes to his request to join him in his chamber. He wouldn’t hold her to it if she decided to retreat; she knew him well enough to know that.

But she didn’t want to retreat. This was what she had promised herself, a taste of him, a night spent in his arms, the torrid answer to so many questions she had about lovemaking. Since she was a girl she had always felt this unsuitable passion, a yearning for sensual fulfillment and a frustration that she didn’t know what that fulfillment would really feel like.

If she ended up with child after a night in his arms, what was the worst outcome? She would marry him. Warmth flooded her down to her toes. One way or another, after this night she’d know what she was in for, for the rest of her life, if she decided on marriage with the tempting marquess. Her father’s words rang in her ears; she mustn’t waste her life worrying about her father, for he was more competent than she thought. He had been selfish, but now released her from any imagined obligation, to live her life, he said.
To live her life
… with Tony? She sighed.

Darkefell turned and gazed at her, slowly standing and stretching to his full height. He held out his arms and she gladly went to him, enfolded close to his heart, which she was relieved to feel thumping as hard as her own. With her head rested on his shoulder, she could see the big bed on the far wall, and a shiver passed through her body.

“Cold?” he murmured.

“No. Tony, can we just sit for a while?”

“Of course.” He led her to the chair, sat down and pulled her down to rest partly on his lap in an intimate position.

“Am I too heavy?” she asked.

“No,” he said, putting his arms around her.

It was awkward. She squirmed, feeling the flush of embarrassment flow through her.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

She twisted around to look down at him. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said, panic breaking her voice, her whole body trembling.

“Anne, Anne!” he said, his voice commanding, his dark eyes shadowed. “Listen to me. My love, you don’t have to do anything! I expect
nothing
from you this night. Anything you choose to give me is a gift, not an obligation. Remember that. You don’t
have
to do a single thing. I … I’m not sure I could, even if you said yes, it’s been such a long and appalling day. I yearn to be out there, searching … but I can’t do a thing until the light of day.”

She heard the pain in his voice, the fear, the uncertainty. He was distraught and afraid, but this was not about them, it was about his fear for his brother, his twin. “We’ll find him, Tony, we’ll find him,” she said, winding her arms around his neck and hugging him. “Grover cannot have done this without someone noticing.”

Darkefell went still. “What did you say?”

“He cannot have done this without someone noticing.”

“Of course,” he said, in tones of relief. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been fearing that my sole source of information is Grover, but we’ll begin questioning people in the morning, at first light. The gypsies, the villagers, anyone, everyone. Someone must have seen something, must know something.” He was silent for a long moment. “Just stay with me, Anne. Talk to me. I won’t sleep. I can’t; not while Julius is out there somewhere, alone.”

Darkefell needed distraction, Anne could tell. So they spent a while talking, just … talking. And a remarkable thing happened. Anne found that she was comfortable sitting on his lap, laying back in his arms as the branch of candles went out and darkness surrounded them like a black velvet cover. Their hearts both slowed to a steady thud, beating in time.

“You know some of why I haven’t married, Tony,” she murmured, knowing she had more to tell him, more to ask him, but not wanting to spoil the comfort and sweetness of this moment together. “But why haven’t you? You’re the marquess; it’s your duty to secure the succession.”

He chuckled, a rumble in his chest that she felt against her rib cage. It resonated through her and she put her arms around his neck and settled closer.

“It never seemed a good enough reason to me, with two healthy brothers.” He paused, then said, shaking his head, “Ah, I may as well be honest. I knew I should marry, but it scares the hell out of me.”

“You? Scared? I don’t believe it. Lord Anthony Darkefell, strong, commanding, decisive, masterful … afraid of women?”

“Not afraid of women, afraid of myself.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Afraid of what I’d become in an unequal marriage.”

“Unequal? You would never marry beneath your station. You know what you owe to your birthright.”

“I don’t mean that kind of unequal marriage, I mean a marriage between two people of unequal determination, unequal intelligence.”

She smiled into the darkness and stroked his hair. “I take it as a compliment that you asked me to marry you not once but twice.”

“I’m being serious, Anne.” He shivered. “I’m moody and difficult on occasion. I fear what a weak woman would do to me. What would I become without the check of equal strength and determination? I know what; I would become impatient, then harsh. In time, perhaps even cruel.”

“No, Tony,” she murmured, kissing his neck and his ear, then the pulse point behind his ear, nuzzling away the silky hair. “You would never be cruel. Never.”

He took her face in his hands, touching her lips with his thumbs and then covered her mouth with his, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth. His chin and cheeks were clothed in a wiry stubble that grated her soft flesh, and yet it was an enticing reminder of the fascinating differences between them. She felt suffocated, frightened, suddenly, for there was in his kiss an urgency. He was in pain, worried, and she had the power to make him forget, if just for a time.

And so she surrendered to the sensation of loving too much, of wanting too much. It was everything that she feared, this moment; she was terrified that once she learned what there could be between them, she could never go back to living without it.

He gathered her up in his arms and stood in one swift movement, then carried her across the room, throwing her onto the bed and stripping his shirt off, tossing it aside. He came to her in the dark and fear fled as she felt the coarse hairs on his chest rub against her skin and trailed her hands over his shoulders and down his naked back, entranced by the feel of sleek muscles clothed in warm flesh. Cold marble statues of David or Zeus did not do justice to the exquisite male form above her.

Gently, he undid her robe and pushed it off her shoulders, then ran his hands down her body to her bare legs.

“Tony, oh!” she gasped.

He moved down the bed and took her left foot in his big hands and kissed the sole, running his hand up her leg until he was caressing under her knee and other wholly unexpected places. She had thought he would push her gown up and proceed to deflower her, but instead he was doing the most
unimaginable
things with his teeth and tongue and hands. She giggled and wriggled, feeling as if she must be another woman completely in the dark, for she was experiencing a lightness of being she had never felt, a giddy sense of release from all care.

And they had not yet done anything but kiss.

He kissed her ankle, pushed her legs slightly apart, and trailed his tongue up her calf, above her knee to her inner thigh, while she sighed and squirmed, enjoying it all, and yet ardently wishing for his body under her hands. She grasped handfuls of the sheet and moved, while he pushed up her gown and suddenly his hot breath warmed her bare stomach. She tensed, quivering with an odd mixture of desire and apprehension.

“Anne, relax,” he murmured against her skin.

Her heart pounding, she tried. But couldn’t. “Kiss me, Tony … up here, on the mouth. Please.”

He obeyed in a split second, covering her mouth with his and her body with his. As his considerable weight sank her into the feather mattress she felt oddly comforted. She ran her hands down his back to his waistband, then to his firm bottom encased in the smooth fabric of his perfectly tailored breeches. Her fever began to burn.

He slid off her a little, and she felt him raise her gown, higher, higher, until he lifted it over her head and her body was naked to the night air. She slithered out of the gown and let him toss it off the bed, exposed to him, naked, for the first time. The dark was delicious, mysterious, his big hands skimming over her hips and stomach, then up to her breasts. It felt wonderful, tingly, the sensations trickling through her down to her female parts. While he was occupied, her hand skimmed his hip and she encountered the buttons of the fall front of his breeches. Shivering, flashes of heat rippling through her, she fumbled with the buttons and felt him still.

“Anne,” he said, his deep rich voice guttural, husky, dark with desire.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “No talk tonight, Tony.”

Fourteen

Anne stirred and opened her eyes; it was early,
very
early, first light just beginning to glow beyond the curtains. Darkefell was propped up on one elbow gazing down at her, no smile on his face. “What … what’s wrong?” she gasped at his solemn look.

“What is this?” he asked, touching her shoulder wound, now swiftly healing, puckered with a long scab.

“Oh, yes, that,” she said softly. “I don’t know for sure, but I think that is a gift from Hiram Grover. I believe he tried to shoot me two … three days ago, while I was at the gypsy camp.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Darkefell growled, examining the long gash. “Why?”

“I didn’t know for sure that it was from Hiram Grover. I still don’t.”

“That doesn’t matter. I want to know everything, Anne,” he said, caressing her bare shoulder. “Every minute detail of every day. I want you near me always so I can protect you.”

“Tony, you can’t protect me from life,” she said, examining his grim expression. She ran one finger over his frowning lips. “Why are you so ill-tempered this morning? I thought you would be more sunny, sir, after our night of exercise!”

Looking deep into her eyes, he threaded his fingers through her hair. “I have to go and I don’t want to. I never want to leave your side.” He ran his free hand down her body, lightly skimming her hip and stomach.

“Tony!” she gasped, but he silenced her with a quick hard kiss. She responded to his passion, nibbling on his lip.

He grabbed her by the waist without breaking their ardent kiss.

“Tony!” she gasped, struggling in his grasp, trying to steady herself. The only way to do that was to straddle his body, her long hair flowing over her shoulders and down to his chest.

He grinned wickedly and ran his hands down to her bottom, cradling it in his big hands and squeezing.

“Your mood seems to have improved remarkably quickly, my lord,” she said, her tone tart. She scruffed her fingers though the dark mat of hair on his solid chest.

His smiled died and his dark eyes held a world of tenderness. He pulled her down to kiss her and both were lost for a time in the sweet wilderness of love.

Finally, with a long sigh, he stopped. “I have to go,” he whispered, slipping from under the covers. “I would stay and kiss you for another hour, but I must go!”

She realized that she was naked and felt a blush mount to her cheeks. Strange, given what they had just done, but nakedness still felt unnatural to her. She pulled the blankets up to her neck and stared up at him. His jawline and chin were dark with his incipient beard and she reached up, scruffing the roughness with her fingernails.

He bent over and kissed her deeply, but then pulled away. “I must get my idiot brother out of this scrape. I know he’ll live through this, because he is the most fortunate fool to ever grace the surface of this planet. I have spent my entire life getting him out of scrape after scrape; it’s time he began to fend for himself. And so I shall tell him when I rescue him this time.” He bent, seeking under the bed, and with a shout of gratification straightened with his white lawn shirt in his hand. “Now, as much as I hate to toss you from my bed, if you would not be found here naked by the maidservant, my lady, I think you had best don your gown and go back to your own room.”

She felt cold, bereft, but as much as she knew his haste should be her byword, she was arrested by the view before her. His body in the gray light was fascinating. His back muscles and those of his bottom flexed and moved with such fascinating tension as he pulled his shirt over his head, then dipped a cloth in the water pitcher and scrubbed himself, ending with a quick cleansing of his groin. He tossed the cloth back into the bowl on the dressing table and turned, picked up her nightgown from the floor, and tossed it to her as he retrieved his breeches.

She must keep her mind off their night and morning of passion and on the unhappy truth: Julius was still in trouble. “What are you going to do?” she said, taking advantage of his back being turned to pull the gown on over her head and settle it down her body, pulling her long hair out of the gown with a practiced flick.

“I’m going to see if Grover will tell me now where Julius is. And if he won’t, I’m going to beat the truth out of him.”

“Tony, you can’t do that!”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to gaze down at her. “Of course I can. But for your sake, I will restrain my violent urges,” he said lightly. He reached down and coiled one of her tumbled curls around his finger, touching her face with his other hand, then cupping her cheek. “I would stay, my lady, if I could, but we must hurry. The sun ascends above the horizon in another half hour. Osei and I will be meeting my dastardly nemesis by then.”