The Lady Series (23 page)

Her breath came in panting gasps. The sound of her passion sent Kit’s own need spiraling. When she traced the curl of his ear with her finger waves of pleasure flowed over him, teasing him into suckling like a babe. She cried out and moved her hips against his, then lowered a hand to the top of his breeches.

Even as Kit felt her fingers working at that garment’s ties, he knew what they did was wrong. He had to stop. They had to stop. To continue was to doom her to torment in her marriage.

Kit swore he meant to lift his head from her breast and tell her to cease. Instead, he kissed and suckled, savoring the taste of her as his breeches slid down his legs and she reached beneath his shirt to find his shaft. He gasped against her breast as she trailed her fingers down its hard length, then gasped again when she closed her hand around him to play this game in earnest.

With a growl of need gone too deep to care about right, wrong or potential witnesses, Kit came upright with a start. Kicking aside his breeches, he yanked at the ties to her bodice. He wanted all of her against him.

Nan released him and stepped back. Kit’s cry of disappointment blossomed into a breath of awe as in one lithe motion she shed bodice, skirt, and shirt. She stood clothed in naught but her stockings, gartered above her knees, and her unbound hair. Desire, nay love for him, softened her face and glowed in her dark eyes.

Dear God, but she was lovely. Evening’s silvered light gleamed against her pale skin and turned her brown hair into ebony. He marked the dark strands as they clung to the curve of her cheek, trailed down the slender line of her neck to spill across the swell of her breasts. His gaze descended, following those tresses to where they curled around the generous turn of her hips.

As his attention came to rest upon the dark hair that cloaked her most private place, a sliver of sanity cooled what boiled in him. He had no right to her.

Anger shot through him. If not him then who? He was the one she’d chosen that first day in the Presence Chamber. Still, his conscience nagged.

“Nan, we cannot do this,” he said, his voice hoarse as

he put the only barrier left to him between them. “Bertie and his bride might return at any instant.”

She gave the smallest shake of her head. “They won’t. They await us beyond the garden walls.” In the next instant she sighed as if her heart were breaking. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Do you love me, Kit?”

“Aye Nan, I do.” Her pain wrested these words from him, even as he yet strove to resist what they meant.

“Then, love me now,” she begged softly.

All resistance died with her plea. He tore off his shirt. By the time it had fallen from his fingers, she’d shed her shoes and stockings. She gave him time enough to remove his own leg wear then closed the distance between them.

Laying her hands against his chest, she stroked her palms downward. He groaned against her caress, no longer wanting touches from her. Kit caught her by the hips and pulled her against him. Her skin was like silk against his. When she breathed, he could feel the movement of her breasts against his chest.

Boldly she laid her arms over his shoulders and drew herself up onto her toes. Kit shivered as his shaft pressed against her womanhood. With a quiet moan of pleasure, she buried her head into the turn of his neck and moved against him in elegant parody of what they both craved.

Taking her chin in his hand, he raised her face to his. He touched his mouth to hers, his kiss a declaration of his need. Again, her hips moved against his, and the promise of pleasure turned his inner heat into an inferno. He drew her down onto the soft grass until she lay upon her back beneath him. Settling on his side next to her, he braced himself above her.

“You are beautiful,” he said as he drew his fingers down along the outline of her breast.

She smiled, her eyes closing against his play. Her hips shifted, as if to draw his taunting fingers in their direction. He couldn’t resist.

Placing kisses against her ear, his fingers found their way down below her waist until he touched the folds of her netherlips. She trembled and arched beneath him, then opened her legs to offer him what he most desired. His breath caught. Shifting atop her, he settled between her legs, his shaft poised at the entrance to her womb.

“Stop me,” he told her even as his need for her ate him alive.

Her eyes opened. She reached up to lace her fingers behind his neck. “I won’t,” she breathed, then sighed. “Only remember that you love me.” Her voice was soft and almost frightened.

Before he could react to her strange plea, she thrust up against him, taking all of him within her in one bold stroke. Kit gasped, the pleasure she gave him with her movement too great to allow for surprise. Instead he simply thrust again.

Anne cried out in tangled need and joy. Heightened by months of longing for his touch, Kit’s entry into her only sent waves of sensation glorious washing over her. She threaded her fingers into his hair and forced his mouth to hers. Now that he was within her, she wanted more of this.

With a quiet groan, Kit lowered himself to lie full atop her. His mouth slashed across her, his kiss burning with his passion for her. Again, she lifted her hips and arched beneath him. They didn’t have long and she wanted ecstasy of him.

He tore his mouth from hers, panting. “Cease, love,” he growled, “else I’ll spill my seed this instant. Let me please you as I will.”

Anne gloried in his words. He now knew her secret, yet he called her his love. She relaxed beneath him to give him his way with her.

Touching his lips to hers in small and taunting kisses, Kit teased her with slow and steady thrusts until Anne’s need for him had her quaking beneath him. His breathing grew ragged and shallow. His movements quickened. Knowing full well where he went, Anne caught her arms around him to follow him, meeting his thrusts with her own.

Pleasure grew in Anne, until in one final instant it shattered, showering her with sensations so intense she couldn’t breathe. And, still he moved. Beyond thought or care, Anne lost herself upon a wondrous sea of joy.

Although she knew it was only an instant, it seemed like a glorious forever before she found herself once more. They lay together, his arms about her, her head caught into the bend of his throat. Panting, Kit relaxed atop her. Rather than feel crushed by his weight atop her, Anne’s pleasure ebbed into something deeper.

Until this moment it seemed she’d been but half a person. Now, as she held Kit close she felt whole for the first time in her life. Pain tore at her happiness. And, in another half hour she would lose him for ever after.

Kit shivered then his trembling evolved into a steady shaking of his shoulders.

“Kit?” she asked, “what is it?”

He lifted himself above her on his elbows. “For shame my love. You were no maid.”

His words cut through Anne. Of course. Now that his passion for her was sated he was angry that she’d duped him, making him think her a maid when she wasn’t.

Only he was grinning at her. Startled, Anne stared at him. His smile was wide and carefree. His shoulder shook as another muffled sound slipped from him. Only then did Anne recognize his laughter.

Of all the reactions she’d expected from him, this wasn’t one of them. His odd behavior teased from her words of explanation she hadn’t meant to offer.

“I was but ten and four, and Owls House is so isolated that, well, we, he and I—” She stopped, wrapped what little pride she had left about her and continued. “It just happened. My mother sent him away and I learned my lesson and sinned no more. And, that’s all I’ll say about it,” she finished in warning.

Still smiling, he rolled onto his side, taking her with him as he went until they lay face-to-face. Shaking his head, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Love, I care nothing for your past sins.”

“You can love me despite what I have done?” she cried, unable to believe what she heard in his voice and saw in his face.

He winked. “Indeed, I think I prize you all the more because of it.”

Kit still loved her. So certain had Anne been of scorn and so great her relief when she didn’t find it that tears started to her eyes. She tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t be halted. Kit loved her still. She turned her head into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

The irony of being doomed to failure long before he’d ever signed that damned contract was almost more than Kit could bear. What tickled him most was the thought of so many men and one woman all chasing after what no longer existed. It wasn’t until Kit felt the warmth of Nan’s tears against his skin that he realized what he found humorous must have terrified her.

Pulling her closer still, he stroked her hair. “Ah my poor love, how this must have weighed on you,” he murmured.

“You cannot know,” she cried against his throat. “When my grandfather came to fetch me, saying he had me a court position, I thought I’d die. I didn’t dare tell him.”

“I expect not.” The words left his mouth on a bitter breath. “Somehow I cannot envision old Amyas forgiving you this.”

Nay, more likely Amyas would have murdered her, for no other reason than the shame her sin had done his name. Kit marveled at how much Nan trusted him. It was her life she’d laid into his hands as she revealed her secret to him.

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I was trapped no matter where I turned.”

Kit dared a tiny laugh. “So you were. God knows Elizabeth would never forgive you the deception were she to learn of it. And, then there is Deyville.”

As he spoke new fear for her tore through him. “Christ, but he will kill you for this! May God damn me I nearly helped him do it.”

“What do you mean,” she asked with a final hiccough. “You haven’t helped him.”

“Have I not?” Kit laughed, the sound harsh with anger at himself. “These past two months all that stood between you and what we’ve done this night was the knowledge that you were intended for Deyville. Rather than find some way to rescue you from that godforsaken union I stood idly by, telling myself that if I left you untouched you’d be protected against his abuse.”

Silence followed his words. A moment later she lifted herself on an elbow. Her mouth bent slowly into a crooked smile. “Oh, so that explains it.”

“Explains what?” he asked.

“You. You cannot know how hard I’ve worked.” Her smile filled with wicked amusement as her brows lifted. “Think you a woman’s shirt opens of its own accord?”

Her words brought with them the memory of their first dance in the barn. Kit’s eyes widened. “Why, you little imp. You were trying to seduce me.”

“Aye, so I was, much to my despair,” she chided, sounding much aggrieved over her failure. “Do you have any idea how my esteem has suffered these last months?”

By God, but he did, indeed. With a laugh Kit caught her close and again claimed her mouth with his. He let his kiss fill with all the heat she inspired, then rolled onto his back, dragging her atop him.

Anne gasped against his lips then shifted to lie just where they both wanted her to be. When the kiss was done, she crossed her arms on his chest to brace her chin upon them and gaze into his face. “How I love you,” she told him with a sigh.

“Why me?” It was a lover’s demand. Kit ached to know why she found him special above all others.

She didn’t deny him. “If I must list the reasons, then I’ll start from the first. You are kind. That I knew the moment I laid eyes on you. Where every other man at my presentation looked at me and saw only the heiress with her fields and houses, you saw a friendless stranger. You offered me pity against their greed, wishing to make me feel at least a little welcomed.”

He smiled. And, her interest in him had awakened the very lust that even now simmered in his gut. Raising a hand, he drew his fingers down the curve of her cheek. “It wasn’t all welcome.”

With a smile, she shifted her hips, drawing a quiet gasp from him. “Nay, it wasn’t, and I’ll not beg your pardon for desiring you,” she retorted with a smile.

“Did I ask for it?” He raised his hands in protest. “Nay not me. So it was my kindness that set you to seducing me, eh?”

“Nay.” The amusement faded from her face. “To know from whence that sprang I’d best tell you the whole truth. My grandsire wants a titled man for my husband, a man of great pomp and prominence. I, however, need me a man who will accept my mother as she is. Your brother is crippled. Once I heard from your own lips that you loved him despite his infirmity I knew you were the one.”

She paused, a touch of shame showing in the twist of her mouth. “Then I learned you were sworn not to wed. What choice had I save to set myself to seducing you, hoping to make you break that vow?”

Kit tensed beneath her, his emotions writhing. How could it be that she valued him for Nick and the wrong he’d done his brother? In that instant he wanted to rise and run from her, only to be overcome by his need to hold her close and find the peace her embrace promised.

She leaned forward to touch her mouth to his. Gone was the heat of the previous moment, leaving only sweetness and her love for him. She had been honest with him. Now he must return the favor. She needed to know that he, of all men, had no right to her affection.

“Someone told you wrong.” His voice sounded harsh in his own ears. “My brother isn’t crippled, he’s scarred from burns suffered years ago.” He meant to say no more, but the rest erupted from his mouth before he could stop it. “That he is disfigured is my fault. I sent him tumbling into the hearth.”

Kit froze against what he revealed. The guilt and pain of his wrongdoing welled up, squeezing the air from his lungs as it closed fist around his heart. He died, waiting to hear the scorn he deserved from her for what he’d done.

Rather than shock a quiet sigh left her. “It truly isn’t fair that you and I cannot wed. We are so alike.” Her voice was sad. “If you are the cause of your brother’s scars, I am at the root of my mother’s crippling. It was my birth that left her as she is, voiceless and immobile. Despite that, and all the other wrongs I’ve done her, she loves me still, just, I think, as your brother must love you.”

It wasn’t forgiveness she offered him, but understanding. Aye, and in offering it to him she did what Lady Montmercy’s contract could never have done. She released him from his past.

Life poured back into Kit. His pulse rushed. His lungs craved air. When his eyes opened he found himself looking upon the only woman in the world for him. She owned his soul, just as he held hers.

“Dear God, how I love you.” The words left his lips touched with wonder. “I never knew I could feel this way,” he told her, now nigh on drowning in what filled him. “How could I live so long and never know this feeling?”

“Because you’ve only just met me,” she replied as if this explained all.

He grinned. “But of course,” he taunted with a laugh, then kissed her. “What a clever girl you are. Lovely, as well. And you love me!” He kissed her again then tore his mouth free, spirits soaring against what he held in his heart for her. “Marry me, Nan.”

“Now you ask when it’s too late,” she said with a sorry shake of her head. “My grandfather has already promised me to Lord Deyville.”

“Deyville cannot have you,” Kit growled, clutching her close to him. “I’ll die before I let him touch you.”

“You’ll die if you wed me,” she retorted. “Or so my grandfather has sworn.”

Yet giddy with his affection for her Kit scoffed at such a threat. “Let him do his worst. I’d rather be wed to you for a single week than exist the rest of my life without you.”

She smiled and caught his mouth with hers. Her kiss spoke of how much his words pleased her. Then, she was sliding off him to kneel beside him. With a finger she traced the line of his face.

“Fine sentiments, my love, and I cherish you all the more for them, but I say a week is not enough. Kit, I want you for all my life. If marrying you only guarantees both our deaths, then I’ll not do it. Instead set your mind to finding some way to force my grandsire to accept you.”

This brought Kit upright with a sigh. He scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Never has there been a union more hopeless than ours. What you want is impossible. Not even if my brother offered him a contract in which I’m named Graceton’s heir and promised our title’s restoration would your grandsire have me.”

Anne eased aside to sit with her legs crossed, tailor-fashion. Kit savored the look of her framed against the black velvet of the sky. The moon’s light laid silver shadows on her skin. Her hair pooled on the ground around her hips.

“It isn’t fair,” she said again, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. “Why must the only man I want as my husband also be the only man my grandsire won’t allow me to wed? All because he thinks I’m his only heir when I know he has another.”

“What?!” The word exploded from Kit’s mouth. “How can you say so? You know very well you’re the last?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t say this other one was legitimate or that I could prove he is my grandsire’s get. Or that proving it would do us any favor, not when I suspect it’s Lord Andrew Montmercy who is my grandsire’s son.”

“Who says this is so?” Kit demanded, needing to defend Andrew from such a slur.

“No one,” Anne replied, her tone hopeless.

Kit stared at her in confusion. “Then, why would you accuse Lord Andrew of bastardy?”

Anne peered at him through the darkness. “Do you recall my grandsire’s strange reaction at my presentation?”

Kit drew a slow breath, not certain how much he wanted to admit to observing between Lady Montmercy and Amyas. “He seemed overwrought at having me named your tutor.”

“Nay,” she said with a shake of her head, “not then, but afterward, when we’d left the queen’s presence. He was in a strange state, muttering about biblical temptresses and saying he was warned against any plot she might send his way. I was certain he referred to Lady Montmercy, so I set myself to seeking out the connection between them, hoping to use it to force him to accept any man I chose to wed.”

Would that such a thing were possible. “So what did you find?” he asked.

“Mistress Alice Godwin,” Nan replied, “who was my mother’s governess before she went into Lady Montmercy’s employ. According to the tale Mistress Alice tells, Andrew is not his father’s son, but was sired by a Protestant who went into exile upon Queen Mary’s rise to the throne.”

“Just as your grandsire did,” Kit offered.

“Aye. So too, does Mistress Alice say that Lady Elisabetta expected her lover to wed her upon his return to England. Instead he returned to reject her.”

Understanding swept through Kit. “And in revenge, the lady rejected Andrew, knowing him to be the son she’d borne this man,” he mused, “just as she now plots your destruction to deprive Sir Amyas of his only, remaining heir. Could it be she hopes to force him into acknowledging her son as his own?”

The night wasn’t dark enough to hide Nan’s frown. She set a hand upon her hip. “How is it you know Lady Montmercy plots against me?”

Kit grimaced. Christ, but he was as bad as Bertie. So which was it to be? Lose a chance to rescue Anne from marriage to Deyville by revealing no word of that contract, or lose her to rage over how he plotted to destroy her? This was no choice at all. A foul and filthy feeling crept over him as he cleared his throat.

“Now that you’ve exposed your deepest secret to me is there room in your heart to forgive me my sin? Vow to me you’ll love me still despite what I have done.”

Although startled by his request, she lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. “I so vow.”

Kit launched into his tale with no hope that she would keep her word. “Before you came to court I entered into a contract with Lady Montmercy in which I agreed to seduce you and reveal to all the court that I’d taken your maidenhead. The lady’s intention wasn’t so much to destroy you, but to ruin your grandfather.”

“Now, why in the world would you agree to do such a foolish thing when the queen is certain to want your head for it?” she asked with a quiet laugh.

“Because I am a debt-ridden, misbegotten idiot, who has since discovered himself incapable of doing the evil he planned,” Kit offered in apology. “That, and I wanted my brother’s title restored. If my brother were to marry Lady Montmercy’s daughter he’d have enough income to take his rightful title.”

Here, Kit fell suddenly silent. Where was her anger, her scorn for how he’d misused her? “You’re not angry at me?”

“Over what?” she asked with a quick laugh. “A seduction you did not do? How can I be angry when all she achieved was to make it possible for me to love you? As you have forgiven me my sin I forgive you yours. Now, rather than dwell on our wrongs, tell me how we can use this contract of hers to force my grandfather to accept you.”

Better that he conjure up some way to use that contract to prevent the lady from murdering him. Kit shook his head. “It can’t help us. Even if your grandsire were to acknowledge Andrew as his own, Andrew would still be his bastard while you remain his legitimate heir.”

Kit gave breath to a bitter laugh. “Pity poor Andrew. Not only has the lad lost his mother, if what you believe is true, he’ll also lose his title and his name. Nay, he’ll lose his very identity.”

He wondered if this wasn’t at the back of Lady Montmercy’s twisted brain when she’d written out the contract, thus leaving a trail to be followed. What a paradox. The old man already owned the title he so craved for his bloodline, but only as long as he never acknowledged his son.

Anne’s shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t bear to hurt Lord Andrew more than his mother has done, but what of us? If we cannot use this we’re doomed for certain.”

“Mistress Anne!” Borne on the night’s sparkling breeze, Patience’s voice floated to them from the garden’s far edge. “Time to leave. The caretaker would lock the gates.”

“Nay!” Anne cried, even as she leapt to her feet and grabbed up her garments.

Owning more time than she, Kit rose to watch her dress. His Nan was right. It was forever he wanted from her. More than that, he’d be damned to hell before he let her go to Deyville.

She pulled her outer garment on over her shirt, then fumbled with her bodice lacing. Her fingers trembled so badly she couldn’t manage this simple task.

“Shall I?” he asked, not waiting for her reply to take them from her fingers. There was great joy in doing this humble chore—a husband’s chore—for her.