The Heir (30 page)

“You’re awake.” Anna smiled at him, and he smiled back. Such a simple thing, to start the day with a shared smile. He leaned over and kissed her.

“No fair.” Anna shoved the sheets aside. “You’ve used the tooth powder already.” She heaved off the
bed, shrugged into her wrapper, and made for the privacy screen in the corner.

She was not too fussy, his Anna. She emerged and made use of his tooth powder and toothbrush, then caught sight of herself in the dressing mirror.

“I look like I was dragged through the proverbial hedge backward. How can you not be overcome with laughter at my appearance?” In the mirror, he assessed her reflection: Her braid was coming un-raveled and she had a wrinkle across her cheek from the pillow seam.

“You look very dear. Come back to bed.”

“It is almost light out, your lordship.” Anna eyed him balefully. “I am surprised you slept this late.”

“Dev has to take his horses back to Surrey today, and Val made for a late night at Fairly’s piano. No morning ride for poor Pericles, I’m afraid. Come back to bed, Anna.”

There was something… implacable in his voice, and in the gray shadows of the room, Anna felt as if she were suddenly facing a life-defining moment. She could get in that bed, and this time—this time, finally—they would make love. She knew it as surely as a woman knows the scent of her lover, as surely as a mother knows the cry of her child.

Or she could smile, shake her head, and set about tidying herself up for the day.

Slowly, she unbelted her wrapper and walked naked back toward the bed.

“Your courses?” the earl asked as he watched her. “When will they fall?”

“In a few days,” she said, not surprised at the
intimacy of the question. In some ways, the past days had seen them become more intimate than lovers. They shared his toothbrush; he brushed out her hair. She helped him dress, and he was her lady’s maid. At the beginning and end of each day, they held quiet conversations, holding hands in bed or holding each other.

And moment by moment, Anna stored up the memories. This man, this very wealthy, powerful, handsome, and singular man was hers to love for the next very little while. It was a privilege beyond any she could have imagined, and now he wanted to make these last few memories with her, as well.

She might have been able to deny herself, she thought, but she could no longer deny
him
.

“You still think to leave me, Anna,” he said as she settled on the bed, “and I am telling you quite honestly, I will fight you with every weapon I can find, honorable or not. I don’t want you to go.”

It was the first time he’d said that out loud, but Anna sensed it was the essence of what he was trying to communicate by bringing her back to his bed.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said again more fiercely.

“I’m here,” Anna said, meeting his eyes. “Right now I am here with you in this bed.”

He nodded, his gaze becoming hooded. “Where you will stay until I have pleasured you within an inch of your sanity.” She smiled up at him for that piece of arrogance and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

He smiled, a wolfish smile that nonetheless held an element of relief. “No rushing,” he warned.

“No promises,” she countered, scooting her way under him. “And no more lectures.” She wrapped her legs around his flanks and levered up to kiss him. He growled, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled with her across the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you silly,” he warned, positioning her on top of him.

“I’m going to let you.” Anna smiled down at him. “But not just yet.” She tried to scramble away from him, but he caught her by the ankles, slapped her bottom twice audibly, and dragged her back to him, grousing the whole time about troublesome women and naughty housekeepers. This side of him—the playful, exuberant, mating male—fascinated and delighted her.

And she wasn’t averse to his hand on her buttocks, either, particularly not when he was so considerately rubbing the sting from her flesh.

“Shall I spank you when you’re naughty?” she asked when he had her caged beneath his body.

“Please,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her. “Spank me as hard and as often as you dare, for with you, I want to be very, very naughty.”

The talking was finished, she surmised, as his tongue began to forage at her mouth and his hand covered her naked breast. He was bent not on seduction, so much as arousal and possession.
You are mine
, his hands seemed to say.
I am yours
,
his kisses echoed.
All mine
, the insistent press of his cock against her belly declared.

I am yours
, Anna thought, wrapping her legs around him and bringing her sex to stroke over his erection. And for today, for these moments,
you are mine
.

“Easy,” he breathed, his hand going still just as his fingers closed over her nipple.

“No promises,” Anna retorted. “I will rush if I please, sir.” She glided her fingertips over his nipples and pressed hard with her hips.

“Jesus God, Anna,” the earl whispered. “I want to be careful with you… but you…”

But she wanted him too desperately to appreciate his care. Heat was building below the pit of her stomach, in the place where worry and loneliness could make her feel so empty and desperate. It was the heat of desire, desire for him, and desire to give herself to him. He was bringing her fullness in places that had gone too long wanting and lonely.

“I need you inside me,” she pleaded softly, framing his face with her hands. “Later you can be careful, I promise. Now, just please… I need you.”

“Do not hurry me, Anna. I won’t answer for the consequences if you do.” But to her great relief, he brought the tip of his cock to the entrance of her sex and began to use it to nuzzle through her folds. He was content to explore that pleasure, lazily rooting and thrusting with little apparent focus, sometimes coming close to his goal, sometimes—deliberately, Anna thought—angling himself to one side, too high, the other side…

“You… are tormenting me.”

“Then guide me, Anna,” he coaxed. “Show me where you want me.”

She was wet—he’d made sure of it—and he was wet as a result, as well. Anna’s fingers closed around his shaft and drew him directly to her. She didn’t withdraw her touch until he’d advanced enough to
understand where she’d put him, snugged against her but not quite penetrating.

“You let me do this part,” he cautioned, levering up on his forearms to hold her eyes. “I mean it, Anna. I’m not a small man, and you’re… Oh, Jesus.” The last word was said on a near groan as he pressed forward just the smallest increment. “God Almighty,” he breathed as he lowered his face to her neck. “You are so blessedly fucking…”

He is joining his body to mine
, Anna thought in wonder. Oh, it felt strange and wonderful and too damned slow by half.

“Westhaven.” She arched her hips tentatively, only to have him go still.

“No,” he ground out. “You damned let me, for once in your stubborn life, take care of you, Anna. Just… let me.
”

She liked his cursing and his foul language and the way he was so stern with her, but mostly, she liked the feel of him inching carefully into her body.

And then she didn’t quite like it as much.

“Hold onto me,” Westhaven urged. “Hold onto me but relax, Anna. I won’t move until I feel you relax. Kiss me.” He dipped his head and planted slow, easy kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, her eyelids. When her breathing was steady and she was kissing him back, he let a hand drift to her breast, there to knead and fondle and stroke, until Anna heard herself sigh and felt her whole body going boneless in response. Gradually he pressed his cock forward.

And again met resistance.

He slid a hand under Anna’s buttocks, braced her,
and without warning, gave a single hard thrust. She winced and stiffened beneath him but made no sound.

“It will go easier now,” he assured her, moving much more gently. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

He had hurt her, Anna thought, but only for a surprising twinge of a moment. It felt better now, and the more deeply he moved into her body, the better she felt.

“I like this,” she said, pleased and breathless and bothered. “Don’t stop, Westhaven. I do like this.”

“Move with me now, Anna. The difficult part is over, and it’s all pleasure from here. Fuck me silly…” he teased, but there was a desperate note beneath the tenderness in his tone even as his thrusts became more purposeful.

Anna tried to match the undulation of her hips to his, and that forced him to slow down, to give her time to catch his rhythm. But what he gave up in speed, he made up for in intensity.

“That’s it,” he whispered a few moments later. “Move like that, and… Anna.
God.
”

She was a quick study, able to move with him and send her hand wandering up his side to find his nipple, as well. Her thumb feathered across his puckered flesh in the same deliberate rhythm as he made with his cock, then she applied more pressure, actually rubbing him in a small, gratifyingly erotic circle.

“Anna…” He slipped his own hand more firmly around her buttocks. “Slow down… You’ve got to let… Ah, Christ. Don’t stop, love.”

“You either.” She traced her tongue over his other nipple. “For the love of God, don’t you dare stop.”

She tried to quicken their rhythm, but he held firm to the more deliberate pace.

“Westhaven, please…” she wailed softly. “
Gayle…
”

His name, spoken in that hot, pleading tone, had the effect she’d hoped. He let the tempo increase until she was shaking and keening beneath him in the throes of her pleasure. Still he didn’t stop but bent his head, took her nipple into his mouth, and drew strongly on her. She flailed her hips desperately against him, whispering his name over and over against his chest, her legs locked around his flanks.

He lifted his head, anchored a hand under her buttocks, and Anna felt a wet heat spreading deep in her body as his thrusts slowed and deepened. Westhaven groaned softly in her ear then went quiet above her.

“You,” Westhaven rasped long moments later. “Sweet, ever-loving, merciful, abiding Christ.”

He made it to his feet, carefully extricating his softening cock from Anna’s body. She winced at the sensation of him leaving but made no verbal protest, merely watching him with luminous eyes in the soft predawn shadows. He used the wash water then brought the damp cloth to the bed.

“Spread your legs for me.” She complied, unable to deny him in that moment any intimacy he wanted. Dear God, the things he had made her feel… The cloth was cool and soothing, and yet knowing he wielded it made it arousing, too.

“Take your time,” she murmured. “No need to rush.”

“Naughty.” He smiled approvingly. “But you’ll likely be sore, so no more marzipan for you this morning.”

“And you won’t be sore?”

“As to that”—he tossed the wet cloth over the rim of the basin—“I very well might be. You have much to answer for.”

“Much.”

“Anna?” The earl climbed over her, bracing himself on his forearms, and regarded her very seriously. “Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“Do you need to hear the words?” She met his eyes, feeling sadness crowd out contentment.

“The words?” Guardedness crept up on the tenderness in his eyes.

“Oh, very well,” Anna sighed, brushing fingers through the lock of hair on his forehead. “Of course I love you.” She leaned up and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “I love you desperately. I would not still be here if I didn’t. I would not be leaving you if I didn’t. I love you, Gayle Windham. And I probably always will. There… now are we both thoroughly mortified?”

“I am not mortified,” he whispered, burying his face against her neck. “I am… awed. Beyond words. You honor me, Anna Seaton. You honor me unbelievably.”

He should say more, he knew, but his heart was pounding again, and she could probably feel that, so tightly was he clutching her to him. He should say that he loved her, for he certainly did, but he could not speak, could not contain with words the emotions rioting through him.

“Westhaven?” Anna stroked his back, her tone wary. “Are you well?”

“No,” he said, feeling—merciful God—tears thicken in his throat as he held her even tighter. “I am not exactly well. I am…fucked silly.”

And he meant it in every possible way.

“I tell you that was her,” Stull hissed. “I know my girls, Helmsley, and that’s my little Morgan.”

“It has been more than two years since you’ve seen your little Morgan,” Helmsley said with as much patience as he could muster. “Women change in those years, change radically. Besides, it can’t be her. That girl was laughing and shouting and talking with her swain so the whole park could hear her. Morgan can’t do any of those things.”

“It’s
her
,” Stull insisted
.
“I bet you if we follow her and that callow buffoon on her arm, we will find my Anna, as well.”

“You are more than welcome to go haring off in this heat after a girl who obviously is not my sister, though I will grant you a certain resemblance. Morgan’s hair was not so light, though, and I do not think Morgan was as tall as that girl.”