A Measured Risk (29 page)

He leaned closer and put his lips to hers. Her mouth opened under his.

He cupped her breast and he raised his head. “Nan…”

The horse stopped and he pulled her from the saddle into his arms. The hunger in his voice resonated in her cunt and she moaned, long and lingering.

He carried her into the cottage and took her to the bed. His lips were gentle on hers as he peeled her clothes off. Then he left her and she watched as he shed his own clothing. As he had done that first night, he kissed and caressed every inch of her. The feel of his lips upon her body drove her desire to unbearable levels.

He suddenly moved off her and laid on his back. He motioned to her. “Come here, love.”

She came near his side and he grasped her about the hips and pulled her over onto of him.

“Like this,” he said, arranging her legs over his hips. He positioned his cock at her entrance then gripped her buttocks. “Like this.”

With one quick upward jerk of his hips, he had impaled her. The sudden expansion and stretching of her cunt made her cry out. Her inner walls clenched about him tight in grateful welcome. Instinctively, she rocked herself on him.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl. Take what you need from me.” He cupped her breasts with both of his large, long fingered hands.

She leant forward a bit and her pulsing, erect nub made contact with his pelvic bone. She sucked in her breath at the sensation. He throbbed within her and her internal muscles spasmed in answer. Need shuddered through her. She moved her body up then back down upon him. Her slick quim massaged his thick length. With groan, he tightened his hands upon her. His sound of appreciation emboldened her. She moved upon him again and again.

God, she had never thought of his. Of being in control of her pleasure. And his. The gift of experience that he gave her never ended. This was just one more but a very special one. She pressed forward, causing her nub and inner frontal wall to make maximal contact with him. He took her hips firmly, and upon each of her downward thrusts, he arched his pelvis upwards, jamming his crown against the entrance to her womb.

The combined effect resulted in a shimmering climax of sensations. Everything inside her drew tight and exploded in spasms, her cunt rippling again and again on his cock. She seemed to come and come and come. Or maybe she had come more than once. She couldn’t be sure. Didn’t care as she lay against him, gasping in the aftermath.

Limp, she allowed him to roll them until she was underneath him. He moved within her slowly, prolonging their time, nipping at her neck and telling her things with his hands and body that would have frightened her into her shell if he had spoken them aloud.

Eventually, recovered from her orgasm, she wrapped her legs tightly about his waist and let them move up his body as high as they would go. He repositioned her. Pushed her knees to her shoulders then her ankles were draped over his broad, powerful shoulders. His cock pressed the very depths of her. He gripped her neck lightly, possessively and kissed her deeply, passionately. She clutched his shoulders. Emotion exploded within her, too strong for her to bear. Tears streamed from her closed eyes. Warm wetness touched her cheeks as he lapped them away.

The whole time he was driving in and out of her with an ever-increasing speed. He squeezed her left breast and underneath, her heart swelled and then melted over. Golden, sweet pleasure that spread through her down to her womb. A very different kind of climax. A melting sensation. Everything within her dissolved and became part of him. From a distance, she sensed his withdrawal. The heated wash of his seed against her thighs, upon her mons.

He cleansed her with a towel from the bedside table then he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close. He brushed her mouth with his and then he held her. They lay like that a very long time.

* * * *

Jon lay in the bed, cradling Anne’s head on his chest. He couldn’t hold firm with her. He’d taken her up on the mare and Anne had finally trusted him enough to allow him to ride with her once around the courtyard. More than that, she’d been all right enough that when he’d asked her how she was doing during the last few yards, she had turned smiled. Not a forced, trembling smile, but a happy one, her eyes shining with triumph.

In addition, yes, there’d been relief there too. Because she’d known she’d soon be off the horse. He knew better than to think her fears were completely over. Maybe they never would be completely erased.

However, she had taken a very important step.

And he had been so elated that he’d carried her in here and made long and lingering love to her. He’d totally gone back on his intention of making her wait all day. And that was all either a sign that he’d grown too old for these domination games or that he was falling in love with her. Given the strength of his last three orgasms, he’d have to say it was not the former reason.

Then it
was
love. How odd. Love now, when he’d finally stopped longing for it. Stopped believing himself capable of it. And what the devil should he do about it?

* * * *

The next morning, woken early by thunder, Jon checked on the dog, which they had named Tiberia. He lifted up the bandage on the leg and drew his breath in at what he saw.

Anne knelt beside him. “That’s not good, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” He exhaled slowly. She would not take this well.

“What can we do?”

He rubbed the thick stubble on his unshaven jaw. “Kean’s father served as an army surgeon. We shall have to take her to him.”

“Can he really help her?”

“I don’t know, love.” He squeezed her hand. “It means a ride over to Eastwood Place. And we must take a carriage.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, too brightly, as she allowed him to help her up.

“You could stay here. I can send someone back to stay with you until I return.”

“Oh, no. I shall accompany you.” Her voice sounded steady but she had paled considerably and when he took her hand it was like ice.

He didn’t know if she was really ready but there would be no other way. Robert came at dawn for the laundry every few days and he was due today. Jon would instruct him to send a carriage from Eastwood for them. So now the world intruded on them already.

Chapter Sixteen

Thunder rumbled through the body of the carriage. Every vibration set Anne’s nerves even more on edge and she clutched the carriage seat. She shivered, frozen to the bones by the chilly, damp air and her own sinking spirits. Across from her on the other seat, the dog lay on a blanket, panting, its eyes half closed. Anne knew that Jon had administered whisky to the poor animal to sedate it. Safely inside now, she removed the large, hideous bonnet that she’d used to conceal her face against the eyes of the coachman as she’d allowed Jon to guide her to the carriage. She hadn’t liked that part. She would have rather kept her sight clear and examined the driver and the horses for their fitness.

Finally, Jon had come inside and closed the door. She’d jumped at the sound. It was a hard, final noise
,
like a tomb being closed.

No—that kind of fanciful thinking was not going to help her today.

Jon reached for her hand and
prised
it off the seat
,
then set it on his thigh. His body heat radiated through the nankeen cloth, warming her. His muscles flexed beneath her hand as he settled back against the seat.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am fine.”

“Anne, it is all right to admit you are afraid. You must always be open with me.”

“Yes, I am afraid. I am even more afraid of being afraid. I don’t want to keep failing.”

His look turned tender and he pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder and he cupped her cheek with his large hand. Then he rapped on the carriage wall and the vehicle began to move, rocking along on the rough ground of the long
-
neglected dirt drive. Each jolt seemed to jar her very bones, as if they would be shaken apart. She knew her perceptions were distorted, but knowing didn’t help a bit. She clung to him and closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was anywhere but travelling in a carriage in a storm. It would be at least an hour’s ride to Eastwood Place, if not longer because of the rain and mud.

“You’re being very brave,” he said.

She laughed shakily. “I don’t feel brave. It sounds like the carriage will tear itself in two.”

“You’ve simply forgotten what’s normal. It’s completely customary for the carriage to make a lot of noise under these circumstances. The road to Eastwood Place is not the best. Kean doesn’t invest enough in his own lands and the roads on them.” He caressed her cheek. “It sounds worse than it is. It hasn’t been raining that long. The roads are not affected much.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct.” She was grateful for this bit of reality to cling to.

“It is my own personal driver. He drove carts and carriages in the war, in all kinds of situations and unfavourable conditions.”

“He did?” she asked with some surprise.

“Yes, he’s very competent.”

“And you kept him at Eastwood all this time, just waiting on your whim?”

“He was up at my estate and just arrived a few days ago. I thought it would be a comfort to you, when the time came to ride in a carriage.”

Warmth curled into her heart. He always made sure she felt safe. He always remembered. He always thought of her. He never forgot. She looked up at him. “Yes, it is very comforting.”

She forced her trembling lips to smile.

He stared down at her and cupped her face. His gaze grew tender yet somehow more intense than ever. “You are so radiantly beautiful.”

Her heart grew a little less heavy and that was how she made it through. Moment by moment.

* * * *

Jon lifted his glass to his lips and took a deep drink, but the burn couldn’t chase the chill out of his blood. He had two days until Anne went back to Whitecross Hall. He kept remembering how pleasant she had tried to be during the ride from the cottage
,
yet her hand had gripped his until her knuckles had turned white and his had gone numb.

She’d made progress but she was nowhere near over her fears. And she was determined to travel to Ireland, alone but for the company of her over
-
solicitous, and
,
to all appearances, bird-witted abigail.

And she wouldn’t even discuss the possibility of Jon escorting her.

“Won’t know for a few days.” Kean’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“What?” Jon asked.

“The dog.”

“Yes, correct,” Jon said, distractedly.

He had assisted Kean and his valet in the amputation, which had brought back gruesome memories of battlefield surgery tents.

“She might die of putrid fever yet
,
or blood loss, who knows?” Kean sat in the chair opposite. “When does Lady Cranfield’s carriage arrive in Bedford?”

“Sunday or Monday. They will send word here.”

“You may as well stay here and wait. The final night of my house party is tonight. I had not expected to have the pleasure of hosting you. I had thought you were going to stay holed up with your lovely lady.” Kean took a deep sip of his drink. Then he chuckled. “How do you always manage to do it? I had my eye on her, but I thought to play the gentleman and wait for her mourning period to end.”

Jon’s jaw tensed. It took real effort to make it relax. He attempted to keep his tone light, “You liar. You didn’t even notice her before I did. Your taste has always gone to the overblown tarts.”

Kean grinned. “Like Jane? You were interested in tasting her delights the last time you were here.”

Jane Macgregor. Former laundress
,
now Kean’s latest mistress. Laughing green eyes, dark red hair, fine ivory skin and a lush, large
-
breasted figure. Even now, his cock twitched with a pang of remembered lust. “And you declined me, my friend.”

“Only because you had nothing interesting to trade in exchange. That situation has certainly reversed itself. God, that honey-coloured skin of hers. I think I’d give a year’s worth of rents to see all of her bared and lying on my bed.”