Chapter Eighteen #2
“Not that I have anything against your lovely hands, but they pale in comparison to your smile, Lady Anna.” He glanced down.
“I noticed at dinner how you were constantly covering your smile, stifling your laugh…” He shook his head.
“It’s like hiding a masterpiece behind a black veil or silencing a string quartet.
It’s a tragedy … at least to me.” He reached up and touched her chin.
“A lady…” She swallowed, then glanced down, then back up, boldly meeting his eyes. “A lady shouldn’t be too abrupt or loud.”
“Laughter isn’t brash; it’s beautiful. A smile is a radiant warmth that reflects the joy within,” he answered, using his thumb to caress her lower lip. “I didn’t ask before…” He paused, watching, reading her expression. “But … may I kiss you?” he asked, praying she wouldn’t reject him.
“I … shouldn’t,” she whispered, but her eyes darted to his lips, then back.
“That’s not an answer,” he whispered, leaning forward just enough to be persuasive, but not demanding.
“I shouldn’t want…”
“But you do?” he asked, holding his breath as he studied her.
She nodded slowly, her tongue darting out to lick her upper lip.
Henley closed the distance but didn’t kiss her lips—not yet.
Lovingly, he traced his lips along the lower edge of her jaw. “There are few things I want more in life than to kiss you.” He whispered the words against her skin, nipping softly as he feathered kisses along her neck.
He tipped her chin slightly, giving himself better access as he trailed his lips down her neck, pausing below her ear and inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla before placing a lingering kiss there.
Anna’s pulse raced against his cheek, her breath coming in little gasps of surprise and desire.
This kiss was different than the first stolen kiss in the hallway of Pere’s come-out ball.
Rather than impulse, Henley acted on instinct—lingering, knowing time wasn’t the enemy, but an ally.
He brushed his nose up toward her jawline, then nipped lightly until he kissed the very corner of her lips, flicking his tongue against her delicate flesh.
“I…” Her words were breathless, and he gloried in knowing it was him rendering her speechless.
“You?” he teased, placing a slow kiss along her bottom lip, then hesitating, waiting for her answer.
“H—” she whispered, then opened her eyes and met his, stilling her words.
“Say my name,” he asked, kissing the other corner of her lip, then withdrawing, waiting, holding his breath to hear his name on her lips.
“Henley.”
The word was so soft it was a breath—but it ignited him all the same. He kissed her fully then, sliding his lips over hers and caressing her lower lip with his tongue. Seductively, he tugged it gently with his teeth and wrapped an arm around her waist, coaxing her to lean into him.
There was no hesitation. She simply leaned into his embrace, fitting perfectly as she returned his kiss, any tentative skill melting away into instinct.
“You first.”
Henley froze against her lips, then slowly withdrew.
“Shhh,” he whispered, tightening his arm around her waist and guiding her to lower her body.
The hedgerows weren’t tall, but if they stayed seated and hunched ever so slightly, whomever was speaking wouldn’t see them.
“Dear Lord,” Anna whispered, meeting his eyes with a frightened look of her own.
“Don’t fret—they won’t see us. They’re trying to be discreet, I’m sure. And we’re the quieter ones.” He tapped her nose lightly, earning a weak smile.
A woman’s giggle preceded a shadow moving toward the servants’ entrance they’d used earlier. The sound struck Henley as familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He committed the voice to memory, but his attention quickly returned to Anna.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
A man’s silhouette leaned in and kissed the waiting woman—long and slow—before turning to leave.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered in reply.
Henley met Anna’s gaze as the servants’ door creaked shut behind them. Holding up a finger, he signaled her to wait. He glanced up and saw the man meandering toward the garden, likely delaying his return to the house to avoid suspicion in case anyone else was awake.
“Come,” Henley said, grabbing Anna’s hand and keeping his body low. He led them from the benches, around the hedgerow, and toward the back of the garden.
“Is he behind us?” Anna whispered, following closely, her hand firmly tucked in his.
“He would have been if we hadn’t moved. Let’s go a bit farther and then I’ll check. There’s a tall hedge ahead—we can wait there.”
Then a sound stopped him—a soft giggle.
Anna was laughing.
“I can’t believe this,” she said with a snort, covering her mouth.
“Don’t,” Henley said, gently tugging her hand. “Let me enjoy the laughter.”
She nodded, still giggling softly.
They rounded the taller hedge, its silhouette black in the moonlight, and Henley finally stood straight. Anna didn’t let go of his hand.
Amusement danced in her eyes as she faced him. “You know, I’ve never done anything like this before. When you asked if I was feeling brave, this isn’t what I had in mind!”
Henley chuckled. “Nor I! But it was rather adventurous, don’t you think? And that laugh—it sounded familiar. Or do I want to know?”
“I recognized the laugh, but not the gentleman’s voice. Did you?”
He nodded. “I did. I’ll tell you if you tell me…” He arched a brow. “But wait—let me check if our hiding place is still secure.”
Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and moved to peer around the hedge.
The man—whose voice he immediately recognized—was rocking on his heels near the bench they’d vacated.
“Good thing we left,” Henley said as he returned to her. “He’s standing right where we were.”
“Good Lord, that would’ve been … problematic.” She bit her lower lip.
“He would have kept silent—he has his own secrets to guard, wouldn’t you agree?”
Anna tilted her head, lips twisted in thought. “I never considered it, but yes. That’s true. Now, who is it?”
“The gentleman?” he teased.
“No, the man in the moon. Yes, the gentleman.” She swatted his arm.
Henley delighted in her playfulness. He slid his arm around her waist and gently pulled her a few steps closer. Her eyes widened but she didn’t resist.
“Well then, who was the lady?” he asked, twirling a curl near her temple.
“I’m honestly shocked you didn’t recognize her laugh. It’s Lady Markberg. She was widowed last year—and she’s a … contemporary of your mother’s.”
“That’s why I knew the laugh!” Henley shook his head. “Yes, Mother invited her to be among friends. Apparently, she’s of the merry widow variety. I didn’t know.”
“You likely wouldn’t. And if you did, I’d have questions.” Anna nudged him with her elbow.
“Fair.”
“And why are you making me ask again? Who was the gentleman?”
“Lord Hawthorne.”
“I should have known,” she said, shaking her head with a breathy laugh. “His reputation does precede him.”
“It does, but I’ll say this—he’s a decent fellow. Aside from these … clandestine nighttime escapades.”
“You spent quite a while at dinner talking to him,” Anna noted.
Henley smiled, unable to help himself. “Watching me, were you?”
Then, just because he could, he leaned in and kissed her softly.
“You were in my line of sight,” she answered, though her voice was breathless, undermining her teasing tone.
“That’s the only reason I watched you as well—purely line of sight. Nothing else.” He kissed her again, this time nipping gently at her lower lip.
“Good to know.”
She started to pull away. “Hen—Lord Allendale—”
Henley kissed her again, silencing her words. “Henley,” he whispered. “We’re far past the Lord part of this.” He kissed her once more.
“I know … and … that’s the—”
“Problem? No, Anna.” He caressed her lower lip with his thumb and tipped her chin up until her gaze met his. “That’s the solution.”