A Measured Risk (11 page)

“I don’t know. I suppose that you might try to seduce me… I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off.

He stroked her nape. “Don’t you want to be mine, Nan?”

Warmth curled through her insides.
“I am not even sure what that means when you say it.”

A wicked light shone in his eyes. He moved closer to her and lifted her hair. With a fingertip, he traced a line from her ear to the base of her neck. A delicious heat raced down her spine and her nipples drew into points.

“It means you shall be my little wench. Just as the lord of the manor with a dairymaid. Have you ever thought about that? What it would be like to be some gentleman’s plaything, to exist solely for his pleasure?”

An image of his powerful body on hers, pressing her down, burnt through her mind. A fresh flood of wetness surged between her legs. She laughed, a nervous, hitching sound. “I daresay I have not.”

“But you’re thinking about it now, eh?” He stopped caressing her and lightly gripped her neck. “And it’s making you wet, isn’t it?”

At his words, gushes of wetness slicked her inner folds. She was going to leave his sheets soaked. She shifted, pressing her legs together and trying to staunch the flow.

He laughed softly. “Nan, I can smell it.”

Oh
,
God.

She turned away. Why must he speak of such things? They weren’t animals.

“And even if I couldn’t smell it, that glazed look in your eyes—that little catch in your breathing when I mentioned it—gave it away.” His speaking so openly only made her wetter. “You’re so hesitant. Tell me why.”

“I am not this way…” Her voice grew halting. “Not normally.”

“Oh, no?”

“No.
The greatest pride, or the greatest despondency, is the greatest ignorance of one’s self.
” She quoted Spinoza. “I know myself and I do not shrink from the truth of it. I am not what you would call a…sensual woman.”

“You don’t know yourself well. You haven’t allowed yourself to experience enough of life. You don’t how you will be—not with me. I am something you haven’t experienced yet.”

Hope ignited within her. Foolish, but there nonetheless. “You seem very certain. I tried hard with William, very hard. I couldn’t”—she drew in a ragged breath—“respond the way he expected me to. He turned away from me. He rejected me. I didn’t know what to do. It-it…everything died.”

She felt as if it had taken all her energy to get those words out. She slumped in their wake. No one else could ever have persuaded her to say them. No one but him. And now her words, her revealing of her deepest failing, had changed everything. She would never be the same. It was a chink taken out of her armour—a vital chink.

“What if it wasn’t your worry? What if
,
of your own free will, you turned control over to me and made it my responsibility to make sure you responded to me? What if all you needed to do was submit to my will and place yourself into my keeping?”

His words seemed to speak to a long forgotten part of her. A part she’d never let herself acknowledge. A part that wanted to be cared for. It was like stripping her to the bone, revealing something she couldn’t bear anyone to see. It made her disorientated, dizzy. Not necessarily in an unpleasant way, just a fragile, vulnerable, uncertain way.

“I shall help you Nan—I shall help you to find your true self.”

“And why would you bother with that?”

“Because the manner in which I shall do it will be eminently pleasurable to me. Here is how it shall be between us. My pleasure shall be yours. And if you kick over your traces or get too high in the instep with me, I shall punish you.”

Chapter Seven

“Punish me?” Anne couldn’t think. Jon’s words were so astonishing.

“Yes, punish you. My hand on your bare, gorgeous arse.”

A thrill of excitement rushed through her. She caught her breath and couldn’t help a shudder.

“Don’t worry, Nan, you’ll love it.” He nipped lightly at her neck. His heated breath and his teeth on her flesh—a shockingly animal sensation—sent a second, more violent shudder through her. Her internal muscles contracted again and again and wetness flowed down the insides of her thighs.

“You’re mad.” She sounded breathless, as if she were on the verge of giggling. But she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh from shock or from giddy anticipation.

He stroked her back. His touch felt so good. She wished he would stop talking and simply touch her. All over…

“Admit it, Nan—you want this
,
too. That’s why you’re here.”

She’d come here to be seduced, not to listen to all these absurd ideas of his. Irritation consumed her. “I don’t know what passes for romance in the circles you run in. However, I don’t care for romance at all. I prefer a bond based on mutual respect.”

“Cranfield wouldn’t have known respect for a woman if it bit him in arse.”

“That’s horrid thing to say!”

“He took and discarded women with little care. They stood in line to beg for his attentions, swayed by his charm and his boyish face.”

Each word he spoke was like an arrow to her heart. She held herself stiffly, determined not to react. “So I understand, yes. He was quite in demand with the ladies.”

“I am told—by one who would certainly know how to judge—that he had much skill in bed. And yet all that skill left you cold?”

She suddenly shivered and hugged herself. “Yes. Guilty as charged. So now you know. That should tell you something about me—and my true nature.”

“The reason you didn’t respond to him lies in your nature, but the failure of your marriage is not your fault.”

“You’re speaking in riddles now.”

“Cranfield didn’t give you what you need. He couldn’t.”

“And you’re an expert on what I need?”

“You need dominance. I am offering it.” His warm breath made her ear, her neck, tingle.

She forced another laugh with less success. “I’d never agree to such a thing.”

“You’ll kneel at my feet and count yourself the luckiest woman alive for the privilege of doing so.”

Was there a teasing note in his voice or had she imagined it?

“Well, it sounds utterly absurd.” Indeed, she couldn’t believe she still remained here in his bed, calmly discussing this. No—not calmly, never calmly. She was about ready to faint from excitement.

But had he really said he wanted to spank her bare arse? So absurd!

He kissed her neck, his tongue lingering for a moment to trace a warm, silken trail on her flesh. Fire sparked in its wake. She trembled and moaned.

It was as if her body was new, changed. She was someone else with him.

“Obey me and you won’t have to worry. But I want you to understand just what it is you are getting into when you agree to be mine.” He licked her earlobe and sent hot chills racing down her spine. “Nan, I am going to take care of you—such very good care of you. You want that
.
You know you want that. It is why you came to me.”

Had she known all of this before now, on some deeper level? He drew her—what use was there in denying it? Certainly he seemed to understand something about life and bravery. She had longed to get closer to him. Now he was offering the chance
,
but…

“But in return you ask for so much.”

“Ah.” She heard the smile in his voice. “For the first time, you haven’t denied that you want to be mine. That’s progress.”

There was no use denying it any longer. “But I thought we would…tonight. Maybe another night or two and then you would return to London. I can’t really be
yours
.”

“Not forever, that’s true. But we can have each other for a while—certainly longer than a night or two. Anne, I am going to be married. We shall be announcing our engagement during the season.”

His declaration should have meant nothing to her. So why
,
then
,
did it feel as if her heart were suddenly collapsing on itself? Well, it
didn’t
matter. “Congratulations to you and best wishes to your intended bride.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I never wish to be married again.”

“You are very young to make such a decision. Of course you must remarry. You will need a titled husband and sons to secure your interests.”

The calm assurance in his voice pricked her. “I am a wealthy woman. I need no one. I would be in Ireland now, living on my own estate
,
if not for my continued fears and weakness.”

“Anne, this thing about horses—I can try to help you with it.” He caressed her back with slow, soothing strokes, as if she were already his to touch, casually, as he pleased. “I knew a man in my troop who was injured in battle. He developed something very similar to your aversion. And there’s no shirking duty in the Army. But we helped him. And later some others like him.”

“What did you do?”

“We gradually reconditioned him to being around horses and gunfire.”

A log popped in the hearth. She jumped. “You would take the time to do that with me? But how could we do something like that?”

“I shall take you into isolation, for a month.”

His words stunned her. “Oh, will you? And have you forgotten that I cannot travel?” She couldn’t help the impatience in her voice. No one ever listened to her. No one cared. Was it any wonder that she didn’t trust people? She had trusted him, out of all others, and he couldn’t even be bothered to remember. He was the same as all the rest. She’d made a horrid mistake in opening up to him.

She pulled away from him and held herself rigid, as if she could protect herself against the compelling force of his appeal.

He followed her and grasped her shoulders lightly. “Easy now, Nan. You must learn to trust me.”

His voice was gentle. She kept her shoulder muscles stiff beneath his touch. “I told you, I cannot bear the thought of riding in a carriage.”

He ran his fingertips caressingly over her upper arms. “I have considered all of that.”

Despite herself, her body relaxed.

 
He continued, “Mr Kean has agreed to oblige me. He purchased the property that lies between Whitecross and Eastwood this past winter. There is an old
,
abandoned farmhouse with a stable. It is within a reasonable walking distance for you.”

Her heart began beating very fast and heat washed over her.

“Wait.” She whirled to face him. “You mean to tell me Mr Kean knows?”

“He knows that I fancy you and want time alone with you. It’s hardly a lie. He is my closest friend—he will not betray my trust. We shall burrow up there as cosy as two badgers in the winter.”

She gave him an arch look. “What about servants?”

“We shall not need servants. We shall do for ourselves.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Do for ourselves? You mean play at being cottagers?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“It sounds frightfully rustic.” And like nothing she would ever be interested in. It was as absurd as all his other ideas. Spending time alone without servants—oh, yes, Ruel would be there but she didn’t trust people of her own class. She’d spent her life surrounded by servants. They could be counted on only for their service, which they were dearly paid for.

“You’re afraid of going without your abigail?” he asked.

She lifted her chin. “I prefer not to be without servants.”

“I thought you needed no one.”

His smooth, slightly amused tone ruffled her. “I don’t need anyone!”

“Prove it.”

“
Prove it
? Why should I need to prove anything? And to whom?”

“Prove it to yourself. Because you are too dependent on others. You don’t know how to trust yourself. Unless you truly are afraid to—”

“I am
not
afraid.”

“It will be fine. Trust me.” His voice held a chiding note. “I shall help you overcome your fears, away from prying eyes. You would be humiliated if anyone else were to know the depth of your fear.”