Chapter 9
Tentatively, Anna followed Jeremy’s lead, meeting the press of his mouth with a kiss of her own.
Slow at first, maybe a little clumsy, uncertain of herself and what to do.
Her hands grasped the fabric of his shirt to anchor herself, while his arm pulled her closer in response, until there was nothing between them.
How can such a man exist? So tall, so powerful, so muscular, so… perfect in every way but his character.
It wasn’t an accidental brush of her body against his, but deliberate.
Exquisite. The sharp contours of him, pressed against the softer shape of her, though she still didn’t dare to run her hand down his abdomen to see how far that deep line extended.
Feeling the ridges of well-defined muscle was enough of a thrill for now, making her breath unsteady, each inhale a near-frantic gasp as she kissed him harder.
Jeremy responded in kind, his kisses rougher, hungrier, so fervent that she could feel her lips bruising and didn’t care in the slightest. It was almost madness, making her want to match him, kissing him with a frenzied abandon that couldn’t lead anywhere good—even if not in the ‘appropriate’ sense of the word.
What am I doing? What if Mr. Miller hears this?
He might think I am under attack, she thought absently, the worry at being discovered in such a damning situation swiftly swept away by the glide of Jeremy’s hand over the swell of her backside.
He squeezed that soft flesh, a stifled gasp catching in her throat.
He stole away her gasp with a deep kiss, his tongue flicking against hers in a… most peculiar fashion. Strange, but not at all unpleasant, sparking curiosity in her.
Anna let her tongue touch his in return, a smile curling her lips as she felt a pleasant shiver run through her. No, there wasn’t anything unpleasant about that at all.
As their ragged breathing filled the silence of the library, she could have kissed him all night, forgetting completely that she loathed him.
Somehow, her anger had turned into a powerful heat that raced through her body, awakening her entire being from a slumber she hadn’t realized she was in, all that vehemence and outrage redirected toward. .. passion.
Every grasping tug on his shirt was a slap she hadn’t managed to deliver, every firm press of her mouth an insult she hadn’t dared to throw at him, and every gentle pull on his long, dark hair was a softer version of what her anger might have commanded, while the dance of their tongues resembled a battle, yet neither seemed to seek victory.
Instead, it was more like a truce, where both could find equal pleasure.
It soothed the rebellious beast within her, not fully tamed but running alongside a kindred spirit, both half-wild. Or perhaps it was his wildness that was awakening hers, following the brief domestication caused by her short-lived marriage.
Just then, Jeremy’s hand moved over the ridge of her hip and eased down her thigh.
He grasped that soft flesh, her breath catching as his fingertips began to claw up the fabric of her skirts, slowly bunching it.
She felt the hem brush her ankles, then her calves, grazing over the top of her knees, but as the material reached the more sensitive skin of her thigh, near where he held her with such possessive pressure, it was like a shock to her senses.
What are you doing? Think of your position! Your reputation! Your honor! her own voice roared louder in her head, snapping her out of her daze, as if she had been submerged in deep water and had just breached the surface. The moral equivalent of gasping in a lungful of air.
With all her strength, she grasped his hand and wrenched it away from her thigh. In the next moment, she punched him hard in the chest, her eyes narrowing as she quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
“What’s wrong, lass?” Jeremy asked, as he took a half-step backward, his fingertips withdrawing from her hair.
Anna’s chest rose and fell with the fervency of her horror, more at herself than at him.
How could she have been so stupid as to fall for such a dangerous man’s charms?
How could she have forgotten so quickly that he was there to take away everything she had created for herself?
He was no thrilling fantasy; he was a threat to her very existence.
“You are what is wrong,” she replied, her voice shaky.
“If you ever touch me again, then I shall… I shall… I shall let all of the baby goats loose in your chambers. I shall gather toads and put them in your bed. I shall set moths free in your wardrobes. And I shall put newts in your bath! You will never have a moment’s peace, if you dare… presume to put your hands on me again.”
He swept his thumb slowly over his lower lip, as if to savor the memory of their kiss, not to wipe it away. The movement quirked his mouth into a smirk.
“If ye don’t want to be touched, to be kissed, to please me, then ye mustn’t tempt me.” He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, tracing the ghost of a kiss on her bare skin, for she didn’t wear gloves when she was reading. “Don’t pretend that was all me, lass.”
“It was!” she protested, the heat that had coursed through her veins now pooling in her face.
She wished she had a fan; the room was too stifling all of a sudden.
“I was… trying to defend myself, then you sought to bewilder me so I would forget. Well, I have not. You cannot get rid of me. You cannot scare me away with… what you just did, any more than you can scare me off with idle threats!”
“Idle threats?” he tutted under his breath, a stirring sound that, for reasons unknown, made her want to please him all over again. “I haven’t made any threats, lass. I am just telling ye what’s going to happen.”
“And I am telling you that I will not be swayed,” she shot back, though she didn’t quite understand what he meant.
He released her, though her breath caught in her throat as his hand brushed past the curve of her waist, and his body pressed close to hers again.
“I will arrange a gathering here at Stonebridge just as soon as the rest of me household arrives. There’s a masquerade for us to attend,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper that made her skin tingle where his breath tickled.
“Ye will find yerself a husband at either one of those two occasions, and when ye have, we can all have our peace.”
With that, he pulled on the door handle, and the sudden swing of the door made Anna quickly step aside, mostly so Mr. Miller would not see her if he was still out there somewhere.
Offering no words of truce, compromise, or choice, Jeremy stormed out of the library with the same stormy air he had entered with.
As Anna staggered back to her reading chair for comfort, she could not take her eyes off the open door, nor her mind off the man who had pressed her against it, making her feel things she should not feel—opening her mind to thoughts, wants, and freedoms that simply were not appropriate for a woman like her.
The longer she sat there staring, the more those feelings of excitement, passion, and curiosity darkened into a growing anger, spitting with the ferocity of hot oil.
Beneath it, an undercurrent of sadness flowed, knowing that a kiss—her first, in fact—could have such little effect on him.
He had stolen that gift from her, and though she had readily given it in the moment, there was a crushing loss inside her now that he had taken it and run.
How could he kiss her and caress her so intensely one moment, his actions suggesting he would have continued if she had permitted it, then command her to find a husband the next?
If only I were a witch down by the Thames, she mused crossly, thinking of an earlier conversation, then I might turn you into a frog and keep you in the river, telling all of society that you simply vanished into thin air.
Instead, it seemed he wanted to be a constant thorn in the garden of her peace and quiet. And she had no idea what to do about it, for how could she uproot a man who was probably afraid of nothing and seemed just as stubbornly determined as her to stay exactly where he was?
He does not understand why I cannot leave.
If she went to London, she would be ostracized in a city that terrified her, for she had never lived anywhere but the countryside. And it would also mean cutting her staff in half at least, making them unemployed, for Jeremy wouldn’t keep them on with staff of his own.
If she went to the coast, even with repairs made, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t be taken from her too: sold or claimed or given to any children Jeremy might have. And it would be far worse to have that taken, years down the line.
So, she had no choice but to fight to stay here, even if Jeremy had the greater claim to it. The only claim, in truth.
“Your Grace?” Mr. Miller appeared in the library doorway, looking rather ashen.
Anna blinked. “Yes, Mr. Miller?”
“Are you well? I heard… what sounded like a struggle.”
Anna’s throat bobbed, embarrassment lodged there. “A disagreement. Nothing I could not handle.” She forced a smile. “Now, where were we?”
“The Roman Empire,” Mr. Miller replied, entering hesitantly, as if Jeremy might be hiding somewhere in the room. “Might I suggest the chapters on Caesar? I hear that those who didn’t favor him much dealt with him rather swiftly.”
Anna laughed stiffly, her skin still tingling in the aftermath of Jeremy’s touch. “I told you, I do not want to kill the man, I just… want him gone.”
But how was she supposed to exile a man who, by legal right, however unfair, now owned everything that had been her sanctuary? A man who could, very easily, exile her instead?
Could he actually force me to marry?
Jeremy swore as he sank down into the ice-cold bath, cursing not just the temperature but the woman who had made it necessary.
The sooner she’s wed and out of me manor, the better.
The biting water crested over his body and settled, though the same could not be said for his mind. There was no way to wash that clear of his less-than-pure thoughts about Anna. Yet, it was his own fault that such thoughts were there in the first place.
“What did ye go and kiss her for, eh?” he muttered to himself, his hand closing around a vial of rosemary oil.
He had well and truly complicated things, but it wasn’t beyond repair.
Between the masquerade ball and the gathering he planned to host when Beatrice and Sophie arrived, there would surely be a nice enough gentleman who wouldn’t hesitate to ask for Anna’s hand.
Maybe even that oaf who was hosting the masquerade.
Aye, that’d be for the best. She’ll be happier wherever I am not.
The perfect hourglass shape of her body slipped into his mind—the breathy gasps that soughed from her lips, the way she had gripped his shirt and pulled herself closer, the fire with which she had kissed him back.
He could still feel the softness of her hair and see the dramatic curve of her waist, not to mention the rounded swell of her backside, which had fit so perfectly in his hand.
Anger surged through his chest as his own thoughts were overridden by another man’s image.
Another man who, by law, would have the right to claim her.
One who would not know what he was doing and certainly would not appreciate the divine gift of what he possessed.
Someone who would not have any idea how to ignite her into a frenzy and give her exactly what she wanted, even when she did not know it herself.
The only thing these English gentlemen know is how to dim a lass’s fire.
He had encountered enough of them during his school years and his time at university. He had not been impressed then, and he doubted much had changed.
A burst of shattering glass snapped his gaze to the vial in his hand, fragments dropping into the cold water, while rosemary oil poured.
“Damn ye,” he snarled as he tossed what was left over the side of the bathtub and checked his hand. Fortunately, it was the bandaged one, the shards unable to pass through the thickly wrapped fabric.
But whether he was cursing the little bottle or Anna, he could not be certain; his mind was filled with her. He had let her in, and now he could not push her out, his body reacting as if she were right there with him, pressed close, letting her hands explore him.
One night wouldn’t hurt, he mused, the cold water doing nothing to ease his arousal. Aye, just one night together, and I’d be able to get her out of me head.
It was no different from any other passing desire.
Once he had it, he would be able to move on, turning his attention to making a decent life here at Stonebridge.
And she was a widow; she was probably feeling somewhat neglected, starved of male company, while in the novel position of being able to do more or less as she pleased. Discreetly, of course.
He thought of the blush in her cheeks and the hunger in her eyes. She was not a typical widow, but then she was not a typical anything.
It’d just be one night…
His loins ached with unrelenting desire, fueled by the thought that, at that very moment, she was probably alone in her chambers, lying on that large bed.
Not waiting for him to come in, but perhaps thinking about his lips on hers, his hands tracing the curves of her body, and what he might have done if she had not stopped him from lifting her skirts.
I’d have made ye feel more than ye’ve ever imagined ye could, lass.
His loins burned hotter as his mind conjured distracting visions of all the things he could and would do, if he were in her chambers right now: the sweet taste between her thighs, the warmth of her silken well, the sound of her calling out his name and begging for more, the tangle of their bodies as they moved together, the way she would tremble in his embrace as she reached her conclusion over… and over… and over again.
Muttering another expletive, he sucked in a deep breath and submerged himself entirely in the cold water, hoping it would do something, anything, to quell the flames of desire that raged inside him.
Otherwise, he would surely have another sleepless night ahead of him, that no amount of self-given relief would make better.
Ye should never have bloody well kissed her…