The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

T HAT NIGHT, LORD RAMSAY’S FACE appeared on Anna’s pillow. She saw his profile in the froth of her chocolate at breakfast, and the glossy bronze coat of a yearling at morning gallops reminded Anna of the fascinated gleam in Ramsay’s eyes as he’d bent his head toward her.

Almost as if he was going to kiss her.

Kiss her!

Anna squeaked at the sheer absurdity of the idea and buried herself deep in her ledger books, scowling for all she was worth.

I do not want to kiss Lord Ramsay! Anna thought fiercely, ignoring how her stomach leaped and panted like a puppy.

I do not want to marry Lord Ramsay! Anna waited for a response from her belly, but none was forthcoming. For once, she and her inner organs were in perfect agreement.

Which left her in a pickle.

Lord Ramsay, for his own ridiculous reasons, was determined to court her, and she was just as determined not to be courted. It seemed a war she could easily win, except that last night had forced her to take a hard look at her vulnerabilities. All he had to do was make her laugh, or, god forbid, lower his head toward her, and she laid down her arms faster than Napoleon after Waterloo.

Don’t give in , she told herself firmly. Resist!

As a strategy, it seemed rather feeble.

Well, then what did she want?

The problem was she wanted her old life, but that was no longer an option. She also wanted the horses, but her grandfather had signed them away in his horrible will. So she supposed she wanted her independence and to keep the people of Chatham safe. That was starting to seem possible, if only she kept her head on straight.

Focus on your ledgers. They held the answer and she would find it.

Call a truce with Lord Ramsay. Let him play his ridiculous games while she played another one entirely.

There was a clatter of footsteps outside the study and Charlotte burst in. “There you are! Ready for good news?” She pulled a chair up, plonked herself down, and tossed bits of paper across the broad desk. “Look what I’ve brought.”

Anna picked one of the papers up and frowned at it. “What’s this?”

Charlotte leaned her elbows on the desk, propping her face in her hand and grinning wide. “It’s money, Anna. A good deal more of it than I expected.”

Anna inspected the paper again. “A voucher! My goodness, Charlotte, how have the bets come through already?”

“Julian has couriers galloping up and down from London every day and I slipped them a letter to carry on my behalf. But look!” She gathered up the slips of paper and handed them to Anna. “My friend Marby placed eight bets for us, and six came good!” She beamed. “At this rate, I’ll quite double my allowance.”

Anna laughed and examined each of the vouchers. “I can’t pick the right horses every week.”

“That’s the beauty of it. I specified that Marby only place long-shot bets, so we only lose a little when your picks don’t win, but we get fat stacks of money when they do. You see? You’re a genius with horses and I’m a genius with everything else.” She squinted over at Anna. “I only wish we had more money to gamble with. I don’t suppose we could use Chatham’s?”

“Absolutely not!”

Charlotte made a face. “I thought you might say so. But I would argue that your grandfather broke his promise and borrowing from Chatham would simply balance the scales. You’d pay it all back, of course.”

Anna considered. “The problem is I need everything in Chatham’s coffers plus heaps more to pension off the servants. I can’t risk their security.”

Charlotte sighed. “I suppose it’s more prudent to start small anyway. We wouldn’t want Gran and Julian catching on.”

Anna’s eyes kindled. “Your brother doesn’t have the right to judge anything I do!”

“I quite agree,” said Charlotte. “Let’s prove it to him!”

Julian lounged against the balustrade on Chatham’s back terrace later that afternoon, waiting for Lady Anna. He’d expected to be left at least a half an hour to cool his heels before their promised walk, but she appeared in front of him on time, in a black morning dress that was much too big for her. She was small, and seemed to dress herself to look smaller, as if she was trying to hide right in front of him. Julian had the strangest urge to put his hands on her waist, to trace her outline beneath the yards of ugly fabric.

Anna shifted and she wasn’t quite looking at him, which was nothing new. But why did she look almost guilty?

“Out with it, Lady Anna. What have you planned—treason?”

She bit her bottom lip. “You might prefer treason.”

“Now I am alarmed.”

“Well, it rained last night so it’s a good time to go. But—are you very fond of that coat?”

Julian lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s just that we may get quite muddy.”

“Ah, I understand. You’ve dug my grave. I had hoped we could resolve our differences without murder.”

She laughed. “If you won’t be serious, I won’t reveal our destination. My conscience is clean.”

Lady Anna led them across the back terrace, down the long slope of the lawn toward the meandering tree line, and onto a small path, not often used to judge from the tangle of brush. They clambered over the long, twisting roots of the beeches and oaks and made their way deeper into the woods. She walked fast, but she didn’t seem to be trying to gallop ahead of him for once, and they found a silent, steady pace together.

It wasn’t long before Julian threw back his head and laughed. “You warned me of mud but have you seen your skirt?”

Anna twisted to inspect the broad stripe of brown at her hem.

“Oh well.” She brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and left a small streak of mud there as well. “It’s not an easy walk after the rain, but it’s the best time to go. You’ll see.” She looked over at him and her mouth fell open. “You’re clean!”

He looked down at himself. “I’m afraid I tend to be.”

“But how is it that I have mud up past my ankles, and you’ve only got the slightest smudge on your boots?”

“You’re significantly closer to the ground,” he offered helpfully.

Anna had no response to that and they marched on silently, covering what Julian judged to be about two miles. He found he liked the quiet, liked being able to hear the swish of the leaves and the sudden dart of squirrels. When they reached a small clearing, she turned to him. Her cheeks glowed from the exertion of the walk and wisps of hair had come loose and softened the angles of her face, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

She was smiling.

At him.

He’d seen her small and ghastly social smiles, the kind usually reserved for disliked relatives. He’d had more than enough of her polite and faintly haughty nods, and very occasionally he’d surprised her into laughter, the slight, reluctant sound more satisfying than it had the right to be. But never once had she looked right at him and smiled openly. No hesitation, no wariness, no barriers between them.

It was a small smile, but he’d earned it.

Anna Reston, the future Countess Ramsay.

Perhaps the notion wasn’t entirely absurd.

Julian frowned. You’re supposed to woo her, damn it, not the other way around.

She tilted her head toward the slight slope to their left, her face bright with mischief. The slope wasn’t steep, but it was thick with mud under a cover of dead leaves. “It’s time to leave the path, my lord.”

“Why does walking up a hill suddenly sound menacing?” He made for the rise, but paused after a few steps and extended a hand. “Are you coming?”

The slightest blush warmed her cheeks. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you.”

Lady Anna brushed past him, her back as straight as a queen’s. Two steps later she slipped, landing with a squelch on one knee.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” she warned from the mud, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Not one word!”

“Certainly not, when your skirt speaks volumes for me.”

Anna ignored his offered hand once again, so he leaned down, wrapped his big hands around her waist, and lifted her to her feet.

“Oh!” She wobbled and clutched his jacket.

Julian steadied her, fighting the growing urge to tuck her up close to see how she fit. Certainly, he liked the way her hands felt against him, one on his chest and the other fisted against his flank. Anna’s eyes were deep and wondering, so dark they were almost black except where the dappled light hit them.

What would she taste like, when he kissed her? He was shocked at how much the question had tortured him all the previous night.

But just as he was about to lower his head and find out, she pushed away and trudged for the top of the hill.

“Here we are!” She was just a little breathless, and Julian smirked. “Do you like it?”

The ground sloped steeply into a small, rocky hollow beneath them, full of murky water. Trees grew in a bleak ring around the water, some still blazing with late autumn leaves, some just bare branches now. Anna had led him through some of Suffolk’s finest countryside and this was her destination.

A muddy puddle.

When he made no response, she peered up at him anxiously. “You’re not interested in this sort of thing? It’s just that in the library you seemed to admire the Romans. I thought perhaps—”

“I’m riveted, I assure you.”

It was a neutral enough comment, but he should have known her ears were too sharp to miss the faint mockery. She gave a puff of disgust, and Julian’s chest contracted when he realized it was aimed at herself.

He looked at the hollow again more carefully. The rocks were perfectly square, arranged almost symmetrically in the one area where they weren’t half-covered by earth, almost as if—

“It’s a ruin.” The age of it shivered over his skin. He leapt up to the lip and made his way over to where the rocks were exposed. They were weathered and a few were completely covered over with earth and roots, but he could see they were cut and laid into a square for what must have been a cistern. “Imagine hauling blocks of this size.”

“Locals have known about it forever, but it’s never been properly excavated. I hear it’s deeper than you might expect in the middle. I thought about swimming here once, but—”

She shrugged, and Julian imagined her stripping down, those long legs bare in the forest. He caught her eye, made sure he held it. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

She shrugged again. “I know it’s not much—”

“Thank you. Truly.”

Her little sparrow face relaxed, and Julian became aware of a strange warmth in his chest. “You are aware that as the Countess Ramsay, you would have significant funds at your disposal? You could excavate this cistern. You could ride up and down England excavating thousands.”

She pulled a face. “The Countess Ramsay sounds most eccentric.”

His mouth twitched. “You could start a fashion for mud, if you so choose.”

“I revise my opinion. The Countess Ramsay sounds downright strange!”

“Countesses are not strange, they are free. What would you do with that much freedom?”

She glanced over at him, her eyes so penetrating that Julian had the uncomfortable feeling she could see down into the hollows of his bones. “I never thought of an earl as being particularly free,” she said softly. “You don’t even plan to choose your own wife.”

Julian’s neck prickled uncomfortably, but he ignored the comment. “If you were my Countess, you’d be able to turn the racing world on its head.”

“Ha! No one wants a radical countess.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not particularly fond of the current Countess, but my hopes for the future are rising.”

She tilted her head. “You’re not fond of Charlotte’s mother?”

Damn .

“No. But I should hate for that information to reach Charlotte.”

“I don’t think it would surprise her.”

“I won’t have Charlotte involved in any discord.”

“But—”

“That’s enough,” he said sharply.

Lady Anna went still. “Of course, my lord. Shall we turn back now?”

They tramped back toward Chatham single file and in silence, with Anna staring at Ramsay’s broad back. It was an engrossing sight—powerful shoulders poured into the dark maroon of his jacket, dark curls flirting with the white of his collar, and finally a spattering of mud on his perfectly polished boots. But although Anna couldn’t seem to stop stealing glances, she also wanted to throw something at him. Preferably something wet, that squelched.

Ramsay was simply too confusing. One moment he made humiliating offers of marriage, the next he flirted wildly in a carriage, and then, just as she was beginning to think they might actually find an equilibrium, he confounded her by going cold and lordly again. If the dratted man was truly brainless enough to think she would marry him—

Lord Ramsay stopped abruptly and turned toward her, and Anna, steaming along on pure righteousness, plowed into him.

“Oh!” she said, suddenly plastered against his chest with her nose nestled deep in his cravat. She had the strangest urge to press closer and inhale.

Ramsay grabbed hold of her arms and steadied her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice so low that she felt it in her belly.

Anna nodded mutely, but it was a lie. She’d breached the invisible line between them and now his impossible warmth surrounded her, winding around her like a cat. Her senses lit, one by one. Her skin woke up, her pulse bucked frantically and began to gallop, and she was suddenly aware of how each breath parted her lips and pushed her chest toward him.

Resist! cried a faint voice, but it sounded so far away and Ramsay was so near.

Her eyes locked with his.

Resist! cried the voice again, but it must have known the battle was lost because it gave a low wail of defeat and went silent.

Ramsay lowered his head toward her slowly, so unbearably slowly, that Anna thought she might die.

“Oh, just get on with it!” she cried.

Which was why Ramsay was laughing when his lips touched hers. Anna gave a shocked breath, her mouth opening wider. He rumbled his approval and pulled her even closer, drawing on her bottom lip and coaxing her tongue into his mouth.

“Oh!” said Anna, and it was half a breath and half a gasp.

She raised up on her toes, sparking like a meteor shower, and the kiss exploded. His great muscles clenched and he took her jaw in his hand to angle it up, as if he suddenly couldn’t get enough of her, as if nothing in the world was more important than the feel of her mouth.

“Christ,” Ramsay growled, breaking off. He clutched her hard against his chest, and Anna shut her eyes tight and concentrated on the rise and fall of his muscles beneath her cheek, the press of his hand low on her back.

Ramsay had kissed her.

Kissed her!

Thoroughly.

Anna thought her cheeks might crisp to cinders and fall off. Her brain boiled away in a cloud of steam. All she had left was instinct, which was why she pushed away and straightened her dress, staring down at the mess of leaves beneath her feet.

“Lady Anna.” The gravel rasp of his voice dragged through her belly. “Shall we walk?”

Anna gulped down some cold air and nodded, setting off down the trail at speed.

Oh god, she’d intended to call a truce with the man. Not crawl up his chest!

“I did mean walk, Lady Anna.” He laughed, but with a lingering heat. “Not gallop.”

Anna slowed and let Ramsay catch up with her.

They made their way down the path together, side by side.