Chapter Eight #2
“Very well.” He nodded. “After things got heated in the tavern, your brother drew a pistol on me. We tussled, fought for control of the weapon. Then he pulled the trigger. The ball went through my shoulder.” Before she could ask another question, Broderick removed his superfine jacket in bottle green, tossed it toward one of the sofas, then took off his brown velvet waistcoat.
“Hurt like the devil at the time, but I couldn’t let it compromise my mission. ”
Anne frowned as he then took off his cuffs, collar, and cravat.
They fell to the carpet like dollops of cream.
Finally, he shed his lawn shirt and threw it to the sofa, and her mouth went dry to finally see his naked torso.
Lean and muscled in all the right places, the candlelight and shadows further defined the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abdomen that had only a bit of flabbiness there.
The sprinkling of dark hair over that expanse made her fingers itch to touch him.
“Look here.” He tapped his left shoulder with his right index finger. “See this round scar?” When she nodded, he turned around so she could see his back. “And there is where the ball came through. It bled copious amounts.”
“Goodness.” Why was her voice suddenly so breathless? “You were probably incapacitated for a good bit.”
“Oh, yes. Two months at least.” He fully faced her. “After that, I had no choice but to control the scene. I had to shoot your brother. He would have compromised my mission, and at the time, it was the most important thing.”
In an odd way, that made sense, but a ball of tears still rose in her throat. “You could have rendered him unconscious.”
“It was a split-second decision. I couldn’t have more attention called to the scene or have people questioning who I was or where I’d come from. And Alan did shoot first.” Broderick shrugged. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. I hope your family received a decent settlement from the government.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Her father hadn’t mentioned that.
“But no amount of coin could replace having my brother back.” She pressed her trembling lips together as a bit of ire rose in her chest. It distracted her from his half-nude form.
“I’m supposed to accept your apology and let this fade into memories? ”
“You don’t have to, of course, but it won’t change the outcome or the story.
” Broderick took a few steps toward her as he blew out a breath.
His eyes were haunted with shadows. “I’ve done many horrid things in my past, Anne.
Some I regret, some I don’t, but they happened, nonetheless.
They are marks on my soul to bear and try to find redemption for however I can. ”
Truth rang in those words while she considered his statement.
Being angry or trying to kill him wouldn’t bring her brother back, and for better or for worse, she was married to this man.
Frankly, there was nothing else in her life.
“Fine. I accept your story. As you say, war was a messy thing. No one was right and senseless deaths occurred, but I will always mourn my brother.” And her brother had apparently lied to his family.
“I don’t doubt you will, and I will try to make it up to you.”
She nodded. “Regardless, my brother adored Christmastide. He was always so jolly. That is why I wish to decorate. Perhaps that is how you can start making amends.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, they stared at each other.
Finally, he nodded. “I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered a woman who infuriates me yet intrigues me at the same time.
The fact it’s you, after everything, makes it even more confusing.
” Then he wrapped a hand around her nape and pulled her into an embrace.
“It’s the damnedest thing, really.” Seconds later, he brought his lips crashing down on her and kissed her with a different sort of approach that hadn’t been there before.
In this embrace, he wasn’t a possessive arse or a complete blackheart.
Instead, there was a sense of inquiry, a bid for forgiveness, a quest for understanding.
As she rested her palms on his chest and his crisp, clean scent danced around her, Anne realized she oddly wanted the intimacy that was in the offing to mark the change in their relationship.
Is that what he wished for as well? When she curled one of her hands into the coarse hair covering his skin and he hissed in a breath, she grinned against his lips.
Would he take the hint?
“Is that your permission, Mrs. Cunningham?” he asked on the heels of a growl as he put his hands to the back of her dress where the laces were.
She raised her gaze to his. “I believe it is, Mr. Cunningham, or should I address you as, Your Grace?” Of course, he wasn’t a real duke, but it was nothing more than teasing in the hopes to arouse him.
“Ha.”
As soon as he loosened the laces, he kissed her again, and that day dress was shoved down and then off her body in a thrice.
The more he moved over her mouth, the busier his fingers were at removing her stays and petticoat.
Then his hands were in her hair, plucking out the pins.
The ones that fell onto the wooden floor instead of the carpet offered up tiny pings in the silence.
“Broderick, I…” Anne’s words trailed away while he toed off his boots.
An unexpected giggle rose in her throat as he hopped on one foot to remove the second boot, but then he took her into his arms once more and proceeded to tumble them both onto the nearest low sofa regardless of the box of freshly cut evergreen boughs.
It upended and fell unheeded to the floor.
“This has nothing to do with rights as a husband or my tendency do be an arse,” he said while manipulating her breasts through the thin fabric of her shift.
“I am well aware of that.”
“It has everything to do with the need to see you come undone as many times as I can manage it.”
Tingles danced through her lower belly, for he was exciting and slightly dangerous at the same time. Anne drew her fingers up and down his naked back, tracing scars that she came across. “I want the release, same as you.”
“Good.” He lowered his lips to one of her sensitive nipples, and a sigh shuddered from her. “There is something about you, Anne, that drives me insane.”
This physical touching, this claiming and being bossed by a man, this all too delicious connection of raw passion all worked at shuttling her toward the edge far too soon.
Anne didn’t care. She wrapped a hand about his nape and gently encouraged him to take one tight, aching nipple into his mouth.
The play of that warmth against the chill in the air made her breath catch, and with each pass of his tongue over that fabric-covered tip, a moan of appreciation escaped.
“Oh, heavens. Keep going,” she whispered while her back arched, and her body brushed against his. Why did she turn into such a desperate woman each time she was in his company?
As he switched his concentration to her other breast, gave it the same attention he’d done the first, she skated her fingers over the expanse of his chest. The mat of hair scraped against her palms; the coarse pelt crisp and teasing as it slid along her skin.
She nipped the side of his throat while gliding her fingers up and down his torso.
Oh, he was so solid and tight in all the right places!
When she encountered a flat nipple with the tip taut with arousal, she rubbed her thumb over it, went as far as to give it a light pinch, which earned her a startled moan from him.
“Are you quite certain you were an innocent when we wed?” One of his hands went beneath the hem of her shift and skimmed up the outside of her leg. “You certainly know how to tease me,” he murmured against the base of her throat.
“Obviously, I didn’t lie. Perhaps you bring this side out of me.”
“Are you saying I’m a bad influence?”
“You absolutely are, and no doubt more.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true.” His low-pitched laughter further ignited fires in her blood.
As he claimed her mouth with his and treated her to long, drugging kisses, the hand beneath her shift explored, caressed, invoked a familiar madness within her.
He shifted his position between her legs and all too soon, his questing fingers were between her thighs, furrowing through those intimate curls, spreading the layers of flesh until he found the throbbing tiny nubbin at her center.
“Oh, this I remember.” She broke the kiss and arched her back as overwhelming sensations crashed over her.
“Never let it be said that I can’t pleasure my wife properly.” The masculine smugness in his voice along with his rakish grin added another layer of awareness to his play.
And she rather liked it when he grinned, which he hadn’t done much of since they’d spoken vows yesterday morning.
“Rogue.” But her teasing dissolved into pants for breath the longer he applied pressure to that swollen button. She curled one hand around his upper arm while the other scrabbled for purchase on the leather sofa. “Broderick…”
“You are the only one who has ever dared to use my Christian name.”
Over and over, he rubbed his fingers over that tiny bundle of nerves.
The more she squirmed, the more he applied various degrees of friction.
When he bent his head, took a nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth while teasing that button, a fracture went through her control.
Her body shook. She tightened her fingers on his upper arm, in an effort to hold him closer and shove him away at the same time.
The dratted man merely chuckled and applied himself more thoroughly to his task.
Each suckle at her breast matched the way he strummed her sensitive flesh until she lay gasping beneath him, nearly begging him to finish her as pressure built and stacked deep within.