Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess (The Real Duchesses of London) (12 page)

"You talked about our relationship with Elizabeth?" Richard asked it as a question, but Annie could hear the horror in his voice.

"Well, not everything – I did leave out some details.”

"I am glad of that." Did he sound like he was choking?

"Yes, I didn't tell her of the truth of your brother's death. I knew you wished that to remain a secret. But, everything else seemed fair. I was hoping that she could give me some advice on starting again with one’s husband."

"Everything." Richard sputtered over his sip of brandy. It was clear he had heard nothing after that.

"Why, yes.” Annie held her face calm. She'd never before realized how easy it was to tease her husband. "Was there something you didn't want me to tell her?"

Richard was still sputtering something about women and gossip and he'd always known it.

She blinked at him fluttering her lashes. "We've been discussing husbands and abandonment. She seems to believe it possible to forgive them. I am still waiting to see."

"I did not abandon you."

"What do you call leaving before our son was born and barely coming back for years?"

"You told me you wanted me to go."

"I'd just found you with your mistress. What did you expect me to say? I didn't mean that I never wanted to see you again."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

She would not roll her eyes or express her exasperation. "You could have come to investigate. I would have assumed you would want to see your son more often."

"I did . . . I would have come, but then you came to London."

"When would you have come? I think I waited long enough. I daresay that if I hadn't come and your brother hadn't died you still would not have come."

"I would have come – perhaps not soon, but I would have come. It took me awhile to come around to the idea of marriage – but I do know what I want now, and you are it."

Rising to standing, Annie began to pace about the room, her earlier restlessness returning. "I do not know if I believe that."

"But you do not disbelieve it?"

"I just don't know.” She paced some more. "Perhaps Elizabeth is right and I need to make you prove yourself. I need something so that I can believe you, trust you. I do know I don't want a marriage without trust."

He rose and came to stand beside her. "What does that mean?"

"Maybe I should set you tasks and see if you can complete them? Or maybe you should bring me gifts, tokens of your affection. How did you make me love you the first time?"

His face said, "bloody hell," even if he kept his lips tight pressed. Was it really such a difficult question she had asked? Annie had to admit that she was not quite sure of the answer. Moving to the window she stared out. The last reds of the sunset still marked the sky, the branches of the oaks moving in a gentle breeze. Fireflies danced across the lawn.

Turning, she held out her hand. "Walk with me."

"What? Why?" He took a step toward her, but did not reach for her hand.

"Consider it your first task. A walk as the sun fades from the world and the stars appear. Do you remember that first summer how I would sneak out just to stare up at the sky?"

Now, he did take her fingertips within his own. "I thought you were sneaking out to meet me. Your father would not have approved. You were still engaged to my brother."

A sad smile curved about her lips. "I did want to see you, but it was also the magic of a summer night. I am not sure I've walked out at night since Robbie was born."

He grasped her fingers more tightly, bringing them to his arm. "Then let us walk. That is one task I can complete for my lady, my Annie.” Her name trailed off his lips, soft, slow, seductive.

They slipped through the door onto the terrace, the scent of roses filling the air. The night lay about them in ever increasing darkness. There was the slightest of chills and Annie wondered if she should send Richard for her shawl – yet another task he could complete. But, no, this was an adventure. One did not need a shawl for an adventure.

Wordlessly they walked down the graveled path toward the lake. Shadows slid across their path as the breeze rustled through the trees. An owl cried once and then was silent.

Annie slowed, pulling Richard to a halt. She leaned her head back and stared up at the heavens. "There are moments when I feel so small."

Richard didn't answer, and when she glanced back at him she saw his eyes were focused on her face. "You are more beautiful than the stars," he said.

She laughed, for what else was there to do. "Are you trying to be a poet now? I don't think you've ever compared me to the stars before. I think you once blushed and told me that I was pretty. Now, I am more beautiful than the stars?"

"Don't laugh. I was a boy then – and I am now a man. I speak only the truth."

"If there was enough light you would see me blush brighter than an apple."

"Why should you blush at the truth?"

"Enough.” She stepped away from him and again looked to the sky. "If you say another word I will decide you speak nothing but rubbish. Besides I need more than words. Words are easy. Actions are more difficult – even the simple action of walking with your wife. You would not always have agreed to it and have rarely been around even if you had wanted to."

Richard moved to stand behind her, resting his hands lightly on her hips. "So it is action that you want?” He leaned closer pressing his hips against her. It was a small gesture, but his meaning was unmistakable."

She should have pulled away, but instead she let her head fall against his chest. "Not this type of action. I want you spend time with me, me and Robbie."

"That I can do." He pulled her tighter, the heat of his body warming her.

It was too much, the temptation too great. Her body was crying out for her to lean back further, to invite him to wrap his arms about her, to invite his touch to rise, his lips to lower. No.

She pulled away and with a deliberate laugh ran towards the lake.

"Oh no, you don't." His answering laugh followed her.

She knew she had no hope if he actually gave chase, but could Richard ever forget his dignity for long enough to actually run? It was hard to imagine. Dukes did not run through the garden in play. Dukes did not laugh and toss their shoes aside so that they could wade in shallows. Dukes did not . . .

He was following her – and not at some dignified trot. He was in true pursuit. Lifting her skirts, she made a dash, but it was hopeless.

Within seconds he'd caught her, pulling her tight against him, lifting her into the air and twirling her about.

And as she spun through the air something within her sank and buried itself, all those feelings that she'd been holding on to in order to save herself from being hurt again hid. The anger was not gone. The pain might never leave. But for now they scurried into the deep corners of her soul leaving her free to relax and enjoy.

This time when her laughter rang out there was nothing deliberate, nothing practiced, nothing but pure joy. When Richard slowly allowed her to slide back down his body she let herself enjoy every moment, every touch. When her lips came parallel to his forehead, it was her who reached out and planted a soft kiss above his left brow, who tangled her fingers in his hair.

It might have been the magic of the night or just the decision to let go of all her heartache and unhappiness, but whatever the cause she was going to take this moment and hold it tight, to dream that it could last until morning light. The stars were so bright. The wind whistled by in the fairest of caresses. The air chilled, but not so cold as to cause discomfort. And the scent. She didn't know if was him, or the scent of flowers yet to come, or the very scent of growth, but it filled her senses, making her want more and more.

He lowered her that extra few inches. She trailed kisses down his nose until their lips met and then there was only him. His hard lips against her soft ones. His tongue trailed along her lips, seeking entrance – that she denied. She teased. She played. She offered and then withdrew.

Finally he nipped at her lower lip, catching it between his teeth and holding it tight. There was no pain, but the knowledge that he would not release her. Still she pulled back, not wanting to give up her game.

His eyes flashed in the dusky light. This was one battle he would not surrender.

Giving in, she parted her lips, but only slightly. Her gaze invited him, but only so far.

Holding her glance, he laved the slight indent where his teeth had held – and then his tongue swept in, seeking to conquer. She was not so easy, her own tongue met his, and battle was engaged again.

Warmth filled her, as she let herself get lost in the kiss, finally surrendered to the kiss -- but took him along with her. If she was defeated then so was he.

She felt his hands slide to her waist, knew he drew her closer, but all she cared about was the wonder of the kiss, the utter delight of the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath.

Her eyes drifted closed and still the kiss continued. Endless. Timeless.

Chapter Nine

What was happening? Richard felt beyond thought and yet the words kept running through his mind. All he knew was Annie, her kiss, her lips, her full breasts pressing against him, but his mind would not be silent. What was happening? How had they gone from fury and coldness to play and passion in a few moments?

He could not believe that it was all as simple as giving into his wife's simple challenge of taking a walk in the dark. Annie was far too complex for it to be that easy. It left him wary, even as his body fought his mind, telling him that nothing mattered besides the sensuous woman pressed against him.

His hands slipped down from her waist to cup her behind, he lifted her again, raising her up until her legs could slip about his hips, her warm core cradling him. He strained forward, his growing erection pushing against her through the thin fabric of her skirts.

God, he wanted this. How could he have stayed away so long? This was where he belonged.

He could have kissed her forever – but there was so much more of her to taste. He trailed his lips down her chin, her neck, stopping to nuzzle all the tempting bits. He lingered at the hollow of her neck, running his tongue about it, tasting the sweet, salty musk of her. He nipped at the edge of her gown. It's low neck circled across the full swells of her breasts, keeping them from his touch. He worried at the edging, burying his face in the furrow between the full globes. With some reluctance, he settled her back on the ground so that his hands could lift to the laces, could begin freeing her to his view.

Her soft moan came to him as she buried her face against his chest, her eager tongue licking at the flesh of his neck – and then her hands followed. Cravat gone. The buttons of his shirt following fast. Her fingers had always been nibble.

"Slow down there, woman. Give me a chance," he growled, convinced he was adding as many knots as he was loosening.

"You always were the slow one.” Her fingers may actually have sped up. Her hand slipped beneath his shirt to settle upon his chest. She'd always seemed fascinated with the beat of his heart.

"You never mind it when I am slow.”

"Mmmm . . ." Her answer was muffled by his skin as her lips replaced her fingers, laying soft kisses upon his breast, just over his heart. Her face rubbed back and forth, tattooing a light pattern across him – an invisible mark of ownership. Her nose tickled him, and he shuddered.

And then the knots were free. He pushed down her bodice, taking her chemise with it. He had never seen such beautiful breasts. "You should always appear by twilight," he whispered.

"Are you saying I look best in the dark?"

"Far from it, but there is something magical about half-seeing. I wish I could explain the way your skin glows in the moonlight, each sweet shade and texture enhanced and mysterious."

Annie drew slightly back, her brow wrinkled. "What has gotten into you tonight? You've never spoken to me like this before."

"Perhaps I should have. I have been very negligent in adoring my wife.” He lay a kiss upon her brow soft as a butterfly's wing. He lay a second upon her lips – and then a third upon the upward swell of her breasts, gazing down at the peaks grown hard in the night chill.

A moment ago he'd felt rush and passion. The passion was still there, but with it a certain calmness, a knowledge that time was his, that she was his to savor.

He kissed the rosy nipple, lightly, teasingly – wanting more, but wanting her to want with even greater fire.

#

She didn't know how to react. The man whose lips were upon her was her dream husband, the man she fallen in love with all those years ago – but even that younger man's words had not been as magical as these, his glances as full of desire. When this Richard looked at her she felt like the greatest seductress the world had ever known. When his eyes caressed her she felt all her insecurities vanish, felt power fill her.