Chapter 19
At his wit’s end but not one to give up, Colin struggled for what else he could say to convince Anne to retire upstairs. And here he’d thought her fairly intelligent. Aside from blurting out his need for her and dragging her from the room, he was at a complete loss.
Montgomery and Weatherby sent him commiserating glances.
“If you’re tired, why don’t you go up?” his bride asked. “I want to enjoy today as it will be the only wedding I’ll ever have.”
He chuckled to himself. Unless I die from waiting, and some other fellow seeks a rich widow.
He must get control of himself. It was not like him to become so melodramatic, but ever since their first meeting when Anne had set his teeth on edge, he’d wanted her.
Oh, of course, he wouldn’t admit it then.
But at that moment, with no further impediments between them, it was all he could think about.
And if they waited until after the ball, she would be too exhausted and probably fall asleep as soon as they retired.
The least he wanted was a conscious and willing participant in his bed, but he hoped for a hell of a lot more.
“Anne, might I have a word in private?” Lady Montgomery tilted her head toward the vacant corner of the room.
“Of course.” Anne’s blue eyes met his. “If you will excuse me.”
As they stepped aside, Montgomery filled Anne’s vacant spot. “Fear not, Manning. I believe my wife has come to your rescue.”
Anne startled at something Lady Montgomery said. “In the middle of the day?!”
Heads turned in Anne’s direction from her outburst.
Her gaze shot to him, her blue eyes wide. Her cheeks bloomed a bright pink.
Anne wasn’t the only one who wished to thank Lady Montgomery. He pressed his lips together to suppress the laugh.
Montgomery grinned in return. “As I discovered early in our own marriage, my wife has the most wonderful ideas, wouldn’t you say?”
Unfortunately, with Anne’s outburst, his hope to slip away discreetly vanished. He would have to wait a little longer to take her upstairs, especially given the way his father was glaring at him.
Once again, Colin had disappointed the man he’d so hoped to make proud. However, he took heart that the man might overlook a bit of unconventional marital behavior if it resulted in a grandson.
Face still red, Anne slinked back to him, her attention focused on the expensive Aubusson carpet. She leaned close, still not meeting his gaze. “Why didn’t you just say you wanted to . . . you know?”
“Rest?” God, he loved teasing her. “I believe I did.”
“Ugh!” She stamped her foot. Luckily, it wasn’t on his.
Honoria left Burwood’s side and glanced between him and his new irate bride. “Is something wrong, dear?”
Colin bussed his sister’s cheek. “Not at all. Thank you for the wonderful wedding breakfast. Although for future reference, Anne really doesn’t like gooseberries. She was trying to win Father over.”
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. I worried about having them since they don’t agree with Father, but . . . well, I thought . . .”
“It’s fine, Honoria,” Anne assured her.
Honoria gave him an apologetic look. “Well, at least I think it worked. Father can’t stop talking about how wonderful it is to have someone else in the family who enjoys gooseberries.”
Hoping to return to what mattered most—at least to him at that moment—Colin covered his mouth and feigned a yawn. “What time is the ball, Honoria? I was up half the night thinking about the wedding.”
Anne rolled her eyes at him, the minx.
“Since everyone is already here, we’ll start earlier than usual. Say after supper? I don’t want to keep you up too late.” Good grief, even after giving birth to several children, his sister still blushed.
“As always, you are the most considerate of sisters. Do you think everyone will understand if Anne and I disappear for a while for a short rest?”
And the blush deepened. “Of course.”
“Allow me to escort you, Lady Manning.” Colin offered his arm, but Anne refused it.
“You go. I’m not tired.” Fire danced in the Elfin Menace’s eyes.
Damn! The termagant was deliberately putting him off. And from their kisses, he’d hoped she would be more willing.
Honoria’s gaze darted between him and Anne. “Oh, Anne. Perhaps you should rest. Just a little while.”
Honoria’s intercession gave him pause. He shouldn’t have to coerce his wife to come to his bed, and he especially shouldn’t have others do so on his behalf. Shame, sharp and immediate, punched the air from his lungs.
“Honoria, allow me a word with my bride.”
Gently taking Anne’s elbow, he led her to the same isolated corner of the room where Lady Montgomery had relayed his intentions.
“Well?” She leaned on the word with caustic sharpness.
“Anne, please hear me out.”
Her glare scalded him.
“Had I hoped to spend some time alone with you—to explore our marriage? Yes. But I can see you are less than amenable to the idea. The last thing I wish to do is force you into something you don’t want, and I certainly don’t want to frighten you.”
Her eyes widened briefly before she tore her gaze away. “I’m not frightened.”
“Good. Because you have nothing to fear from me. I will always respect your wishes.”
“It’s just that . . . I don’t want you to think you can order me around. For anything.”
He laughed at the absurd idea. As if anyone could order his Nymph of Nuisance around.
“I’m glad you find that amusing.” Her words snapped with sarcasm.
“I do, but not for the reason you presume, but from recalling your expression when the vicar reminded you of the vow to obey. I knew then that I was in trouble.”
She gave him a saucy smile. “You didn’t realize that before?”
“I had an inkling. Now, am I forgiven for being a brutish oaf who only wishes to kiss my bride properly?”
“On one condition.”
He wanted to say anything, but this was Anne after all. “Which is?”
“Promise me I shall never have to eat another gooseberry tart again.”
His laugh echoed through the room, and as everyone turned, a sea of smiles greeted them. Even his father, who still raised a gray eyebrow, gave him a nod of approval. “I shall do my utmost, even if I have to eat them myself.”
“Good. Now please escort me upstairs. I would like to rest.”
Huzzah!
And although he was careful not to count his chickens, he was certainly hopeful that his lovely bride would at least allow a few kisses.
Or more.
He whisked her out of the room and up the stairs, doing his damnedest not to hurry.
Anne’s face burned when Simon Beckham raised a glass of sherry in salute as Colin led her from the room. Did everyone know where they were going and what they would be doing?
She would die of embarrassment.
Although she would never admit it to Colin, the moment Bea had told her that Colin wanted to be alone with her to consummate their marriage, a shiver of excitement raced up her spine.
She’d had the impression that such relations always occurred at bedtime.
But with her new knowledge, she remembered the times when she and the twins were occupied with a game, and Andrew and Alice would disappear for an hour or two.
However, when she’d caught Colin’s gaze and had seen his smug amusement, she remembered Mr. Beckham’s words.
Was that Colin’s rush to bed her? An heir?
She vowed to make him work for it. Just because they were married didn’t mean he could snap his fingers whenever he wanted her. She wasn’t a brood mare.
When they reached her bedroom, he didn’t stop.
“Wait. I’m in here.”
He shook his head. “Not any longer. Your things have been moved into my room. It’s much larger than yours.”
Refusing to believe him, Anne opened the door. The dressing table where her brush, comb, and hairpins had been resting that morning was bare. She strode to the wardrobe and opened the slightly ajar door to find it empty.
“Perhaps I should clarify. You’ve been moved into the room adjacent to mine.” He had the nerve to grin. “For convenience. Luckily, it was vacant. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Honoria had planned the whole thing. She’d been hoping I would marry someone.”
Anne lifted her chin. “Like Miranda?” The idea . . . stung.
He didn’t answer but simply held out his hand. “Shall we continue?”
Shivers of pleasure spiraled through her limbs when she slid her hand in his, and they proceeded down the long hallway in silence until he stopped at a closed door.
He held up his hand. “One moment.” After he opened the door, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the room.
That frisson of pleasure burst into full bloom when he cradled her head against his chest. The lovely citrusy scent of bergamot greeted her. She could get used to being treated like a princess, or a viscountess, as the case may be.
Her gaze darted first toward the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room, then around to the rest of the furnishings.
Unlike the decor fit for a princess she expected, everything was decidedly masculine. Rich burgundy draperies hung from the windows, and gold thread wove through the similarly colored brocade counterpane covering the bed. Shaving soap, a mug, and a razor sat on the dressing table.
She peered up at him. “This isn’t my room either.”
“No. It’s mine.” He set her down and gave a shrug.
The grump gave her a lopsided, boyish grin, and unless she imagined things—which was quite possible given her propensity for such activity—a slight blush rose to his cheeks.
“As I said, I want to spend time with you. Alone. I didn’t want to presume you wanted me in your room. ”
His logic escaped her. “So you brought me to yours? How is that better?”
Turning away, he ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Damn it, Anne. I’m trying here.”
Anne rarely dwelled on the negative. Sad and painful things made her uncomfortable, especially when she witnessed others in distress.
Unlike Juliana who would no doubt wrap her arm around Colin’s shoulder to comfort him and ask him how she could help, or Honoria who would negotiate a truce between Anne and her new husband, or Bea who would approach the issue logically and try to find some scientific solution, Anne only wanted to run from the room and get as far away as possible until the problem went away.
Even Charlotte would take charge and tell Colin to snap out of it.
The truth of why she fought so hard against him hit her square in the chest when the voice in her head accused her.
You’re a coward.
Colin’s attention jerked back to her. His green eyes flared. “I beg your pardon? I am not a coward.”
Oh, dear. She’d done it again, and at the worst possible moment. Run, Anne, run. She gulped, hoping against hope she hadn’t said that aloud as well. Cold, she felt so cold, and her head felt fuzzy and light as if nothing were in it.
Colin took two long strides toward her and grasped her upper arms. “Anne? What is it? You’ve gone positively white.”
She bit back the bitter taste of fear and swallowed. “I’m the coward. And I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
“Come sit.” He pulled her toward the bed, and oh, so gently, sat her on the soft mattress. After pouring a glass of liquor and placing it in her hands, he crouched before her. “Sip this.”
The burn of the whisky was as foul as the fear she’d fought, but she sipped. Not because he’d told her to, but because she would do anything to rid herself of the awful feeling. Perhaps the spirits would dull the image of Colin’s tortured expression.
She peeked up at him over the rim of the glass. Yes, it worked. He no longer appeared angry or hurt. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes full of concern and worry. Not much better, but perhaps a little. She took a larger gulp.
Colin laughed and removed the glass from her hand. “Easy. I’d prefer it if you weren’t foxed.”
She gathered her courage. “I truly am sorry. I’m the coward, not you. Sometimes I just say things aloud without realizing.”
He smiled again, that lovely boyish grin he’d had earlier returning. “So I’ve noticed.” Gathering her hands in his, he kissed the inside of one palm. “I won’t force you, Anne, and I’ll do my damnedest to not hurt you. But if you prefer to go to your own room, I’ll understand.”
Wicked shivers tripped up her arm from the kiss. “Do that again.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “The kiss? My pleasure.” He placed another gentle kiss on her other palm, his lips lingering.
No, my pleasure.
His breath brushed against her skin as he chuckled.
“I’m glad to hear it.” With tenderness Anne never expected from her grump, he trailed more kisses upward from her palm, lingering at each touch point.
First her wrist, then the inside of her elbow, her shoulder, the sensitive spot on her neck, until he finished by nibbling on her earlobe.
Or at least she thought he’d finished.
“I love kissing your freckles. This one in particular.” The trail of kisses moved across her cheek to her nose.
When had he risen from the floor and taken a seat next to her on the bed? Had she really been so lost in those kisses?
She emitted a tiny giggle. She supposed she had.
“Does it tickle?”
Unable to manage even one word, she shook her head.
“Good, because now I’ve come to the best part.” With that, he captured her mouth and sent her mind reeling once again with a kiss that seduced with subtlety. Perhaps Charlotte wasn’t wrong, and she really was an empty-headed ninny. At least around Colin.
His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing at the seam of her lips and requesting entrance, and although she’d balked at the word obey in their vows, she did just that.
She lost track of time as he kissed all sense from her.
“Oh, Anne.”
The breathy words tickled her lips. The deep resonance of it sent warmth shooting through her and settled low in her body, the feeling heavy and seeking something she couldn’t name.
When he broke the kiss, she chased his lips. Her mind was as fuzzy as if it were stuffed with wool. She giggled again that the phrase should be wool-headed ninnyhammer.
“May I make you more comfortable?”
After coming to her senses, she met his eyes, satisfied that they appeared as unfocused as her brain. The black circle in the middle had expanded so much that the sea-foam green almost vanished, his gaze unfocused and dusky.
“What?” Raspy and dry, she almost didn’t recognize her own voice.
“May I remove your gown?” His fingers played with a lace on the back of her gown.
The images in Alice’s book flashed in Anne’s mind. If Colin’s kisses could befuddle her so, she’d surely lose her mind when they became more intimate.
But oh, how she wanted to find out.