Retreat From Love (21 page)

The question was so similar to Brett’s about Anne the night before that Freddy almost laughed. “That is the question, isn’t it? People have been trying to do something about her for years. And yet still she thrives.”

Stephen frowned. “I mean about what she’s doing to Anne and her mother.”

That got Freddy’s attention. “What are you talking about? What is she doing to them?”

“Surely you’ve noticed their circumstances.” It was a statement, not a question.

“The duchess has forbidden all the merchants in Ashton on the Green from granting the Goodes credit. She rules with an iron fist here, Freddy. They obey because they are all your tenants, and the duchess holds their rents. Oh, they try to circumvent her orders,”

Stephen said as he crossed his legs, “but Anne and Mrs. Goode refuse to allow anyone to risk their livelihood on their behalf. So they live little better than the meanest tenant.”

Freddy was so enraged he couldn’t speak for a moment. Of course it was the duchess. That was what he and Brett had been missing. Nothing had happened in Ashton on the Green for the last ten years that his mother had not orchestrated. Of course the Goodes’ poverty was one of those things.

“Why?” he ground out. “Why would she do that?”

Stephen shrugged. “There are rumors, but in truth I think you’ll have to ask her.

The point is, are you going to take control here, or are you going to let the duchess continue to rule your estates?”

“I have already taken control.” Freddy’s voice was cold and clipped. “I wasn’t aware I needed to post a public notice.” He stood. “Please do so for me, Stephen. As of several months ago my estate manager and solicitor have been reporting exclusively to me.” He took a deep breath to calm down and pulled on his gloves. “Getting shot put a great many things in perspective for me, Stephen. One of those things was the responsibilities I have been shirking as the Duke of Ashland.”

Stephen stood as well. “I’m sorry, Freddy. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Freddy reached out and Stephen automatically clasped his hand. Freddy held the handshake longer than required. “No offense taken, Stephen. I appreciate your candor.

And your friendship.” On impulse he pulled the other man in for a quick hug. “Thank you for telling me about Bertie. And Brett.”

Stephen clapped him on the back before letting go. “Use my lack of discretion wisely,” he joked with a slight smile.

“Oh I will,” Freddy promised. “I will.”

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Anne waited for Brett to return with mixed emotions. She was so happy to see him.

Just the sight of him made her heart sing, and various other body parts hummed in harmony. She closed her eyes and vividly recalled the feel of his thick cock inside her yesterday. He’d felt so glorious. He’d filled her so completely. He had made love to her so perfectly. She had never felt the way she’d felt yesterday. And not just with Brett, but with Freddy, which had surprised her. They were so different in temperaments but also physically. Where Brett was thick and heavy, his shoulders, his chest, his cock, Freddy was lean and long and elegant. And yet with both men she’d felt a physical pleasure and delirious release unlike any she’d known before.

Anne thumped her head with the palm of her hand. Don’t think like that, she berated herself. Yes, it was wonderful. But it wasn’t going to last. This…relationship, for want of a better term, with Brett and Freddy had no future. By agreeing—Anne snorted.

By throwing herself at them and begging them both to fuck her she had assured that this was temporary. What man wanted to marry a woman as wanton as that? And why was she even thinking of marriage? No, no, no. That was never going to happen. Enjoy it now, but don’t lose your head. Don’t lose your heart. Anne looked blindly out the window. She was sure there was some small part of that delicate organ that hadn’t been claimed by any man yet. She needed to make sure it stayed that way. Because when they left, and they
would
leave, she had to have something to call her own. If she had no heart left, how would she go on?

No, she would enjoy what they had right now. She wouldn’t think about the future or the consequences. She could have them right now.

“You planned this.” Brett’s tone was mildly accusing, but not angry. Nonetheless, Anne was startled. She hadn’t heard him come back.

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about, and his eyes narrowed as she made no denial. She huffed in disdain. “I did nothing of the kind.

Mama really does need to go to the Ferstons. She mentioned it last night. I mean really, Brett, I am not so completely beyond redemption yet as to plan a seduction in the drawing room when my mother is gone. Besides, Mrs. Tilton is still here.”

Brett straightened from where he’d been negligently leaning against the doorframe scowling at her. The scowl didn’t disappear immediately. “So you say now. But I seem to recall the other day that it was not beyond you.”

Anne sat demurely on the sofa, her hands clasped in her lap. “Do I frighten you, Mr. Haversham? I am sorry. I shall try not to be so alarming. Please sit down and I will do my best to restrain myself.” She didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Brett stopped in the middle of the room and glared. Then he ran a hand through his hair, causing his already unruly curls to go every which way. Anne felt a little tug inside at the endearing gesture. “Damn it, Anne, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Anne said coyly. She patted the seat next to her. “Then come and sit down. I’m harmless.”

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Brett put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor, shaking his head.

Then he laughed quietly. He peeked up at her from beneath his thick fringe of eyelashes, the dimple appearing in his cheek as he grinned. “Now I know for a fact that isn’t true,” he teased. He sighed and walked slowly over to the sofa where he sat next to her. “And yet, here I sit.”

“Hmm,” Anne hummed noncommittally. She settled herself deeply in the sofa

cushions and laid her head along the back, turning to regard Brett. God, he looked handsome today in his buckskin trousers and dark green coat. But tired. There were dark circles under his soft brown eyes. He wasn’t getting enough sleep. “How is your leg?” she asked suddenly. Brett looked surprised.

“Fine. Why do you ask?”

“You look tired. I thought perhaps, after…yesterday, that it pained you and you couldn’t sleep last night.” Anne felt her cheeks grow hot as she blushed furiously.

Inwardly she rolled her eyes. You’d think she was an untried girl, the way she still blushed.

Brett grinned showing his dimple again, but he was blushing, too. “No, it’s fine.”

Anne laughed softly at his consternation. He was as embarrassed as she, which was foolish. They were both adults. She had been more than willing in their love play at the pond. As a matter of fact, she was more than willing now. “Yesterday did you find me…beyond all hope of redemption?” she asked quietly, deliberately using her words from moments before.

Brett turned his whole body to face her. “No.” His answer was succinct, as always, but the way he looked at her, they way his body swayed toward hers, told her so much more.

Anne toed off her slipper and turned to face him as well. She slid her stockinged foot up the side of Brett’s tall Hessian, the boot’s leather cool against her toes. “That’s too bad,” she pouted suggestively. “Would you care to help me work on that?”

Brett was distracted. His focus was on Anne’s foot. “Help you work on it?” He seemed confused, and he flinched as her toes ran over the top of the boot and caressed his calf.

“Mm hmm,” Anne murmured. “Work on moving beyond all hope of redemption.”

She scooted closer and laid her hand on his thigh.

Brett’s eyes widened as if he’d just realized what she was doing, and he scooted away from her. “Anne, we can’t—” His reply was cut off by the sound of footsteps.

Anne nearly fell to the floor as she quickly grabbed her slipper and shoved it on her foot. Brett flew off the sofa and by the time Mrs. Tilton reached the door they were respectably several feet and at least two pieces of furniture apart. Brett was turned to look out the window and Anne wondered why until she noticed the large bulge pushing against the front of his trousers.

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“I’m off, my dears. Just wanted to let you know that I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of tea and there are some biscuits on a tray there as well.” Mrs. Tilton smiled benignly at the two of them.

Anne was a little taken aback. “You’re leaving?” she asked, her shock evident in her voice.

Mrs. Tilton frowned. “Well, last week Mrs. Goode said today would be a good day to go visiting my sister. As you know, Mrs. Darden lives just the other side of the village. Since she lost her husband she’s not been the same,” Mrs. Tilton confided to Brett. She gestured to Anne. “Miss Anne will tell you. I don’t like to leave her alone for too many days. I try to go at least once a week, if not twice.”

Anne closed her eyes in consternation. “Of course, Mrs. Tilton. I am sorry, but I completely forgot. Would you care for us to walk you to Mrs. Darden’s? I wouldn’t mind going to the village today.” She turned to Brett. “We could call on Mr. Matthews.

He may have been out to the Ferstons already. I wonder that Mama didn’t think to do that first.”

Brett looked alarmed and shook his head. Anne didn’t understand. Hadn’t he been trying to avoid being alone with her just a few moments ago? Now she was giving him the opportunity and he was less than happy. That pleased Anne, but it also confused her.

“Oh no, Miss Anne, but I do thank you. Mrs. Vessey from up the road is waiting for me now at the gate. She is quite looking forward to visiting my sister with me today.”

Mrs. Tilton turned and walked through the door. “Good day, Miss Anne, Mr.

Haversham,” she called out, and they heard the entry door open and close.

Brett was staring at her as if he didn’t know whether to run or to stand his ground.

“We could go to the village,” Anne slowly suggested, but he shook his head.

“No. We’ll stay here.” He seemed to make up his mind and he walked purposefully over to his favorite chair and sat down. “I would like to look through another book today, and Freddy will be here soon.”

“Will he?” Anne couldn’t resist teasing him. She leaned forward conspiratorially.

“And when he arrives will we see how many new and exciting positions we can explore?”

Brett nearly choked. “Anne,” he coughed, shaking his head again.

Anne sighed and got up to get him a cup of tea. She brought it over to him with a lopsided smile on her face. “Don’t worry, I was only teasing.”

Brett took a healthy swallow from his cup, not even noticing that it was tea. When he was done he looked a little better. “Anne, about yesterday…” he began, but he didn’t seem to know how to finish it.

“It was wonderful? Exciting? You want to do it again? You were appalled at my lack of modesty and decorum and would like to punish me for my naughty ways?”

Anne supplied helpfully.

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“I…what?” Brett asked, shocked and slightly confused. “I…no. No, I wasn’t

appalled.”

“But you’d like to punish me, just the same?” Anne said hopefully.

“Punish you? What are you talking about?” Brett looked alarmed.

Anne sighed. “Nothing. I’m not sure a good spanking would do anything to curb my wayward behavior anyway, no matter what Bertie said.”

“You want me to spank you?”

Brett sounded so disconcerted that Anne laughed. She was rather thrilled that she’d been able to throw him off balance. “Not really, although I’ve heard rumors that it can be quite arousing. Or so one or two gentlemen assured me. What do you think?”

Brett slowly shook his head, unable to look away from her. She noticed that the bulge in his pants that had started to subside was growing again. “I don’t know. I’ve never been spanked.”

Now that idea had merit. The thought of spanking Brett’s firm, muscular bottom had Anne’s heart pounding. Her excitement must have shown in her face because Brett’s look changed from astonished disbelief to intense desire as he watched her.

“No,” he said softly, as his nostrils flared.

Anne licked suddenly dry lips. “I didn’t ask a question,” she answered breathlessly.

“No.” Brett was watching her closely. She was sure he could see how his refusal excited her, and made her imagine spanking him until he begged, until he cried out yes in the same voice he’d called her name yesterday.

Brett stood, and Anne was surprised to discover that she’d moved closer to his chair. She was standing almost right between his legs, and Brett dwarfed her, the skirt of her dress catching on one of his boots as he stood. He leaned around her and set his cup on the table. When he straightened his arm brushed across Anne’s breasts, the superfine of his jacket catching on the lace of her gown and dragging across her peaked nipples. Anne gasped.

Brett’s face was stern, his mouth turned down. He was angry. At Anne?

“I said no,” he growled.

Anne shook her head, not sure what to say.

Suddenly Brett grabbed her and hauled her to his chest. He wrapped both arms around her shoulders tightly and buried his face in her hair. “I said no,” he whispered in a ragged voice. “I swore I wouldn’t.”

Anne wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on. He felt so good. He smelled so good. It was at moments like this that Anne was forced to admit that it wasn’t about the sex. Oh, she wanted him. But he was Brett. He was Bertie’s Brett, and he’d become hers. He was everything Bertie had said and more. His chest against her cheek was so solid, so safe, and the spicy sandalwood scent of him so dear. Anne’s hands fisted against Brett’s back as she lifted her head and pressed her nose to his neck. All her 109

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teasing was gone. There was nothing light about this feeling crushing her chest and stealing her breath.

“Please say yes,” she whispered. “Please, Brett.”