Chapter 23 #2
She stretched like a lazy cat. “I waited forever.” Her voice was deep and raspy from her slumber.
He couldn’t help but smile at her hyperbole. “Has the world ended, then, my Siren of Seduction?”
Fully awake, she pushed up on an elbow and hovered over him, reminding him of their earlier coupling.
And oh, how he wished to repeat it.
Soft glow from the flickering bedside oil lamp rimmed her in a magical light.
She gave her head a little shake, incredulity in her stare. “What?”
“You said you waited forever, so I presumed all time had come to an end.”
“No. Not that.” She gave a little push against his shoulder. “What did you call me?”
Her hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid, and tendrils had pulled loose at her nape and temples. He ran one silken lock through his fingers. “My Siren of Seduction?”
To prove his point, a seductive smile curved her lips.
How could he resist? One hand cupped her cheek while the other grasped the end of the ribbon fastening her braid.
Oh, so slowly he pulled it loose, then worked his fingers through the red strands.
“From the first moment we met, you bewitched me, Anne. Cast me under your spell like some otherworldly creature sent to drive men to the brink of madness.”
He pulled her toward him. “And right now all I want to do is kiss you.”
Lips so soft and sweet, he found he couldn’t get enough. He tasted. Teased. Devoured. And relished her response.
“My Siren of Seduction,” he whispered, then nibbled on her ear.
“Not a nuisance or a menace?”
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Oh, you!” She pushed him again, then fell back on the bed beside him. “You really are an ogre. Just when I think you finally say something nice to me, you go and ruin it.”
He traced a finger over her lips, swollen from their kiss. “What can I do for you to forgive me?”
“Nothing.” She huffed and turned away. “Other than go to the devil.”
Not one to be easily discouraged, Colin slipped a hand around her waist and snuggled up behind her, grateful she didn’t push him away.
Soft curves, perfectly formed, fit against the hard lines of his body with tormenting rightness.
“Perhaps this.” He placed a gentle kiss at the nape of her neck where the red curls had teased his nose.
“Or this.” His kisses traveled over to her shoulder, and he tugged her nightgown down to expose her fair skin.
She turned toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I suppose I will have to forgive you sometime, so why delay the inevitable.”
“Wise woman. But to be certain.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and what started as a gentle kiss grew hungry and needy. Until she pulled back and yawned in his face, neatly extinguishing his ardor.
With a sigh, he admitted it was for the best. Rather than ask the obvious, he pulled her against his chest and stroked her hair. “Get some sleep, Anne.”
She curled against him and before long had drifted off, and with her safe in his arms, he found himself lulled into a peaceful slumber free from ravenous beasts and impending danger.
He woke early in the morning with Anne still nestled in the crook of his numb arm. Soft rays of the sun peeked through the curtains. Careful not to wake her, he slipped his arm out from under his bride and rose.
Muffled voices drifted in from the hall, and he frowned. Servants were usually as silent as the dead when they made their morning rounds. Still in his banyan, he opened the door, and his stomach dropped when he witnessed two footmen carrying a traveling trunk.
Although he fully expected many of the guests to return to their homes, something about the early morning activity set him on high alert. Guests usually left later in the morning after breakfast. Intuition told him something was amiss.
Not waiting for Fitz, he threw on some clothes and headed downstairs.
In the morning room, Honoria spoke in hushed whispers to Lady Montgomery.
Ashton leaned against one wall; his medical bag lay open on a table next to him.
Burwood had a hand on Montgomery’s shoulder, which drew Colin’s attention to Montgomery’s distraught expression.
“What’s happened?” Colin choked out the words, grateful at least it wasn’t Honoria who was upset or ill, but his mind reeled at the thought it might be one of Montgomery’s children.
Montgomery lifted his gaze toward Colin. “I received word that my father has died.”
Colin’s knees grew weak, and he grabbed the doorjamb for support. His mind reeled back to his father’s mention of Easton’s poor health.
Was Easton’s death a portent of what lay in store for his own father?
“My condolences, Montgomery, or I should say, Easton.”
The man winced at his new title. “I didn’t expect it so soon. If I had known . . .” He shook his head, and his wife left Honoria’s side to comfort her husband.
Colin stepped aside when Frampton, the butler, appeared. “The trunks are all loaded, my lord.”
As the new Lord and Lady Easton made their way out of the room, Ashton pressed something into Lady Easton’s hand. “Make some tea for Laurence with this. Margaret and I will leave later today, and if there is anything I can do, Bea, say the word.”
Easton stopped in front of Colin, his gaze serious. “If there is anything you can do for your father while he’s still alive, do it.” With a nod, he escorted his wife from the room.
Absorbed in his morbid thoughts, Colin barely registered when Honoria took his arm. “If it helps, Father seems much improved this morning. He even took a light breakfast in his room.”
“No gooseberries, I hope.” He flashed his sister a grim smile and hoped to ease her mind with his jest. When she returned an equally rueful smile, he excused himself and returned to his room to tell Anne the sad news.