A Measured Risk (34 page)

She gaped at the door for a long time after it closed.

* * * *

Two hours later, Anne wandered alone, lost in the large, unfamiliar house. Thunder broke the eerie stillness, rumbling around the walls
,
and the corridor was dark. Light shone from an open door. She approached hesitantly.

“Well, come on in, darling,” Lady Waterbury’s throaty voice called.

Anne entered slowly. Lady Waterbury lay on the bed, naked and cradled in David Kean’s strong arms.

“Looking for Ruel?” he asked, his voice low and lazy, his eyes hooded.

Kean dropped a kiss on Lady Waterbury’s dark red hair, then he disengaged from her and arose, tightening the belt on his dressing gown as he did. “He went into Bedford, to see about your carriage.”

“Oh,” Anne said. Soon she would be back at Whitecross Hall. She’d expected to feel relief. Instead her stomach sank to the floor.

“He left a couple of hours ago,” he said from the sideboard where he was pouring a brandy.

Anne shifted on her feet, uncomfortable under Lady Waterbury’s languorous, grey gaze. What did one say? What etiquette rules were at play here? “I am sorry…about last night.”

Lady Waterbury waved her hand. “Do not worry. I know Ruel well. He has never been very mindful of other’s feelings.”

Discomfort twisted through Anne’s stomach at the emphasis Lady Waterbury put on ‘I know Ruel well’.

“Well, he’s not usually so insensitive,” Anne said.

“Oh
,
darling, he’s really cut a sham with you, hasn’t he?” Lady Waterbury’s tone dripped with sympathy.

Anne didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t take it personally. He treats everyone else the same way. Life is strictly one amusement after another for men like him.” Maria Waterbury’s laugh twinkled like music on the air. Kean turned and shared a meaningful glance and a wink with the naked lady gracing his bed. Anne’s ears burned and hurt bloomed in her chest. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling like a stupid schoolroom chit who had wandered into the ballroom unawares.

“Did you know we were engaged to be married?” Maria’s gaze cut her sharply. “Did you know he has broken with me, over you, his newest interest?”

“Yes. He told me this morning.”

“He once pursued me with heated passion. As he does every new interest. I have known him forever. The war changed him. He’s a jaded man now—nothing touches him.”

“Maria, you’re disturbing her. Look she’s gone quite white,” Kean said in chiding tones.

“No, she should know exactly what kind of man Ruel is.”

But I do know
,
Anne wanted to say. But she would never reveal herself so much. Not in front of these two.

“Where is Tiberia?” she asked, wanting now only to be gone.

“She’s in my study.” Kean drained his glass. “Would you like me to take you there?”

Anne nodded.

He sat the glass down and held his hand out to her. “Come
,
then.”

She glanced at it, not wanting to take his hand. But with no other choice except to appear rude, she laid her hand in his. It closed over hers, large, hot and slightly damp. She jerked her gaze to his face, noticing once more how handsome he was. His green eyes glittered with open lust.
Heavens, he was handsome. Blindingly so. Any woman would be thrilled to have him gaze upon her like this.

She could become like Ruel. She could become part of this world and take lovers and become decadent.

She didn’t want to.

Why had he made her stay for the party? Why had he shown her that side of herself?

Kean squeezed her hand.
“I won’t bite you.”
A slow grin curved Kean full, sensual mouth. “Oh, darling girl, why do you have to be Ruel’s? And why do I have to be so damned honourable?”

Lady Waterbury’s laugh rang out again and he darted another meaningful look in her direction. “Honour’s overrated, I daresay. Anne darling, why don’t you stay here with us and pass the afternoon until your dear Jon returns? What he doesn’t know shan’t hurt him. At least not much. And after all, you’ll soon have to share him with his many cats in London. The man collects quim like other men collect wagers.”

Kean’s laugh resounded
,
rich and mellow. “Oh, you do have a mean streak when you’re crossed, my lady. But think of what cost your revenge would be to me. Want to see me run through, do you?”

Her hand still imprisoned by Kean, Anne glanced between the couple. It jarred her, the way they both seemed to assume she would acquiesce to their proposal. Indeed, she
did
feel the tug, the pull. The desire to please. To be compliant. Ruel had called it submissiveness. And she longed, most ardently, for his protection in this moment. But if she were to live independently, she’d have to learn to control this dangerous force of sensuality within herself. For her own protection. It had already made her too weak with Ruel. It had made her love him and lose her very soul to him. But while her desire to please with Ruel had always brought her inexpressible joy, she knew with her every sensibility that to give in to this, here, would only degrade her.

But she realised that with Ruel it had been her choice, even from the first, to submit to his will. It had been her gift of love to him and it was her choice to give it or not. Just as it was her choice to say the time of giving it to him was over now. Always her decision, always her choice. Why
,
then
,
did it make her feel so devastated?

Because she loved him.

But she couldn’t ever have him. He was a typical aristocratic gentleman. Spoilt by his wealth, bored in a world that could offer him only transitory delights but never satisfy his jaded senses.

I don’t want to become like these people.

At least in her isolated life, she’d had her love of books and the pleasure of solitude.

Yet she wished she’d never met Ruel. Never allowed him to show her the sexual side of herself and the joy of being his. Wished she’d never let herself fall in love with him.

But there hadn’t been any real choice to it. She had fallen naturally.

He could never be hers.

He didn’t know how to be steadfast. He couldn’t be. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t hers. It was simply the way it was.

Her throat burned like fire with unshed tears and she pushed them down.

“I want to see Tiberia,” she said, making her voice quite firm. “Now.”

Lady Waterbury chuckled, deep and sultry.

Anne jerked her gaze up. The older woman ran a caressing hand over her lush breasts. “Kean, take the child to her little dog and then come back to me and I shall show you exactly how
mean
I can be.”

Kean’s expression turned suddenly serious and he squeezed Anne’s hand. “Come, dear, shall we go see Tiberia?”

He led her down the corridor to his study. Inside, Tiberia lay sleeping on a blanket. Anne gasped at the bandaged paw. Hearing that the leg had been amputated was one thing, but to actually see the bandage on the too
-
short appendage was shocking. She dropped down on her knees to get closer.

“I dosed her with something to make her sleep. She shouldn’t be too active,” Kean said, crouching down beside her, so close that his thigh pressed hers. He touched her hair. “Don’t worry over her
,
sweeting, I shall do my best to see she’s healed up properly.”

She began to turn towards him, to tell him to back away from her, to take his hands from her.

“Your carriage is here, Lady Cranfield.”

The cold voice hit her in the stomach and she turned to see Ruel standing in the doorway. His icy blue eyes bored into her. Her innards immediately tied into knots.

He strode over to her and reached down a hand. “Come along.” His voice sounded terse.

“She wanted to see the dog,” Kean said.

Ruel shot him a cold, lethal look. It sent a chill straight to Anne’s bones and she quickly sought his hand, expecting that he would help her up.

Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder and held her down. “Kean would do anything to see your body bared. He told me this.”

His harsh tone sent a curl of apprehension through her. She flicked a glance at Jon’s face. His expression was fierce. It reminded her of when she had first met him, before she had seen his softer, warmer side
.

“Would you like that, Anne, to show yourself to him?”

She gaped at him. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still staring at Kean.

“Answer me, Anne.”

“I would prefer not to, Jon.”

He moved his hand from her shoulder to her head and he stroked her hair. The methodical, firm caress sent a wave of lassitude through her. Sexual heat flared in her pelvis.

He turned to her.

She lowered her eyes immediately.

“Unbutton my fall,” he said in terse tones.

The chamber seemed to tilt, then turn. “What?”

“You heard me, Anne.” He caressed her head with a firmer touch. Then he swept his hand over the mass of it, grasping it up in his hand. Gently but resolutely pulling her head back. “Show him, Anne—leave no doubt in his mind that you are mine. Completely.”

Fire flared in her loins. Her sex pulsed with need. The need to obey him. No matter how illogical. No matter if it was all over for them. With shaking fingers, she found his buttons and began working them.

“That’s my good girl,” he said softly.

He was growing erect, making it hard for her to force the buttons from their holes. Her hands brushed the turgid length and he throbbed for her. As if he was aching for her touch.

Her mouth watered. She wasn’t thinking of Kean any longer. She was thinking only of Jon. His need for her. Her need to please him. She wanted to feel his cock in her mouth.

But his buttons were so damned difficult. And her hands shook harder and harder from the desire to feel his bare, heated flesh.

Finally, the last button beneath his fall came open. His erection sprang into her hand. She circled her hand about his thickness and squeezed him. His juices wetted her hand, in an uncontrollable profusion. She stroked him.

He took her hand and uncurled it from himself. “In your mouth, love. No hands.”

He grasped himself and held the shaft while he pressed the back of her head with his other hand.

She leant forward with her mouth open. The head of his cock slid inside. The salty taste of his fluids, the silk-over-steel feel of his flesh, made her moan with satisfaction. He thrust into her, deeper than he’d been before. She gasped in her throat.

“Swallow,” he said, pressing her head.

She obeyed him.

“That’s it, swallow my love.” He thrust deeper and deeper.

She kept swallowing, leaning forward until he had his entire length in her mouth, down her throat.

“My God, love, that’s good.” He held himself still. Her heart pounded in her ears.

He pulled back, almost all the way out of her mouth, then thrust back in quickly, forcing her to scramble and swallow. A thrill raced through her body as he pulled back again and repeated the motion. Then more thrills as he did it over and over and over again, his motions growing faster and faster, more urgent.

He gripped her head with both hands. Roughly.

She’d never felt more alive.

She’d been born to serve him like this.

She loved it.

Quickly, too quickly, his cock surged against her tongue, the pumping motions of his impending orgasm.

He groaned, tightening his hands on her head.

Fierce jets of thick, hot seed erupted in her throat.

Greedily, she swallowed and swallowed him, taking all he had to offer, as the violent outpouring shook them both.