Winterset (19 page)

His hand stilled on her face. The handkerchief fell from his grasp, fluttering to the floor between them, unnoticed. His hands slid around to cup her face between them. His skin was searing, and Anna could feel an answering heat flaring in her. A trembling began deep inside her, and she thought that her legs might give way beneath her.

Unconsciously, she leaned closer. She saw a light flare in Reed’s eyes. Then his lips were on hers, his hands sliding into her hair, sinking into the soft mass of her curls. All Anna’s firm resolutions went flying out of her head, driven away by the fierce heat of her desire. A tremor shook her, and she curled her fingers into the front of his jacket, holding on to him.

The passion she had kept hidden since the night he had kissed her flamed up again, fiery and demanding. He kissed her again and again, his hands tangling in her hair, popping loose the hairpins that Penny had carefully placed there. Her hair fell in a silken tumble over his hands and down to her shoulders.

Whatever small amount of control Reed retained fell away in that moment. His arms went around her tightly, grinding her into his body, and he kissed her as if he could never get enough of the taste of her mouth. They twisted and turned in a slow, heated dance of passion, locked together.

Anna clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging in, as he rained kisses over her face and down her neck. When the high collar of her riding habit impeded him, he cursed and fumbled at the large buttons that marched down the front of the military-style jacket. The two sides of the bodice came apart at last, and Reed shoved the sides of it back onto her shoulders.

His eyes went down to the front of her chest, exposed by her opened habit. She was clad in a white cotton chemise, her breasts swelling above the simple oval neckline. A pink ribbon was laced through the material below her breasts and tied in the front, and another ribbon ran along the neckline, tightening it halfway up her breasts.

Slowly his hand came up, and he took the top ribbon between his thumb and finger, then tugged. The bow came undone, and the chemise sagged open, revealing even more of her breasts. Reed ran his forefinger down between the soft orbs, then up across the top of one breast as it swelled above the chemise.

Anna’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that she should be embarrassed to have a man see her like this, but all she could feel was heat snaking through her body. It aroused her to see him look at her…aroused her even more to see the glitter that came into his eyes as he watched her, the way his face slackened with desire. She was aware of a shameless urge to be naked before him.

Reed slipped his hand beneath her chemise, cupping her breast, and Anna let out a little gasp of pleasure. He looked up at the noise and smiled at what he saw stamped on her face—not outrage or dismay, but pleasure and a sensual hunger that matched his own. Watching the play of emotions across her face, Reed squeezed her breast gently, his thumb playing across the nipple and making it harden.

Anna closed her eyes at the sensations that flooded her. Desire flowered between her legs, hot and wet, turning her restless and yearning. With every flicker of his thumb against her nipple, the pulsing ache increased.

Reed lifted her breast free of the fabric and bent to kiss the hard button of her nipple. His tongue circled it provocatively, and then he pulled it into his mouth, his tongue and lips working on her sensitive flesh. Anna jerked a little at the jolt of desire that shot down through her, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She sagged against him, and his arm went tightly around her waist, holding her up.

His mouth continued to roam her breasts, and with each new delight, the past slipped away from Anna, all reason and duty lost amid the onslaught of physical pleasure. She could feel nothing but want, understand only the pounding urgency of her own desire.

She murmured his name, her voice low and throaty with passion. He groaned deep in his throat at the sound of his name on her lips, and his mouth returned to hers, taking her lips in a long, deep kiss. Anna melted into him, her arms going tightly around his neck, and she stretched upward, pressing her body into his. The buttons of his jacket bit into her tender bare flesh, but she didn’t notice the discomfort. She wanted only to be closer, still closer, to him.

Reed’s hand smoothed down her back and curved over her buttocks. His fingers dug into the firm flesh, lifting her into him. Desire pounded in him, filling him and driving out everything else. He ached to sink deep inside her, to feel her around him, hot and tight. All the emotions he had ever felt for her tangled inside him, melding into a hunger so fierce he could feel nothing else. Driving into her, feeling her convulse around him, seemed, at that moment, more necessary than breath itself.

He bunched up her skirts in his fists, pulling them up until his hand touched her leg, separated from him only by the thin cloth of her pantalets. His hand trembled as he caressed her thigh and buttocks, sliding around to the front, seeking the hot center of her desire. His hand slid between her legs, and Anna shuddered, heat slamming through her.

And it was, oddly enough, this sudden, unexpected surge of pleasure that shocked her into awareness of what she was doing. She froze, then jerked back from him. For an instant she stared at him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding insanely in her chest, as the full realization of her actions swept over her.

“No!” she gasped, her hands flying up to the sides of her bodice and yanking them together. “No! I cannot!”

With a choked cry, she turned and ran out of the room.

Reed stood, stunned, then ripped out an oath and ran after her.

A
nna ran from the cottage, fumbling at the buttons of her bodice.

What an idiot she had been!
Tears sprang into her eyes, whether from anger or regret, she was not sure. She wanted to cry, to throw herself on the ground and dissolve into tears.

“Anna! Stop!”

She whirled around. Reed was running after her. His face was frightening, dark with anger, his brows steep slashes above his eyes. She held out both hands as if to stop him.

“No! Please, don’t!”

“Don’t what?” he barked, coming to a stop before her. “Are you going to pretend that I attacked you? That anything that happened back there was not entered into by you willingly, even eagerly?”

“No. No, of course not. I was as fully at fault. I don’t deny it.” Anna blinked back tears. Her breath was coming in gasps, and she knew that she was close to breaking down. She clenched her fists, struggling to regain control of herself.

Reed looked at her. Anna’s face was pale, with bright splashes of color in her cheeks, and her hair was tumbling wildly down over her shoulders. He did not think he had ever seen her look so desirable, and even now, while anger and frustration filled him, he could not keep from wanting her.

“There is no
fault,
” he told her roughly. “I am not trying to excuse myself or blame you.”

“Then let me go,” Anna told him.

“Not until you tell me why you ran from me!” he exploded. “I don’t understand it. Any of it.”

“I was wrong to come here,” she said, her voice catching as if on the edge of tears. “There can be nothing between us.”

“Why?” he shot back. “Because you feel nothing for me? Isn’t that what you told me three years ago? You would not marry me because we wouldn’t ‘suit’?”

“I don’t know!” Anna cried. “I don’t know what I said!”

“You cannot remember why you did not want to marry me?” he asked incredulously. “Was it such a small matter that it somehow slipped your mind?”

“No, of course not. Reed, I beg of you…”

“What? What do you beg of me? I have no idea what you want from me. You told me you did not love me. That there was no possibility of love growing in you for me. But back there—” He pointed toward the cottage that they had just left. “Those kisses, the way you melted in my hands—those were not the actions of someone who does not care. You are not indifferent to me. I felt you tremble. I felt the heat of your skin, the eagerness of your mouth. Do not tell me that you did not desire me!”

“That isn’t love!” Anna shot back. “I don’t love you.”

“When you refused me,” he said, his eyes boring into hers, “I was so shocked, so stunned, that I could not think straight. I told myself that I had somehow mistaken the hours we had spent together, that when you had laughed with me, talked to me, you had not felt what I felt. That I had just been too blind to see how bored you were, that I mistook a polite smile for the warm glow of true liking. I told myself that you were false, that you had been playing a game with me, leading me on only to crush my heart beneath your heel. I lived on my anger and my hurt, cutting myself off from you, from this place, removing myself so that I would not have to see your face and feel the pain….”

Anna raised her hand to her mouth, struggling not to give way to tears. Her heart ached. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I am so sorry. I did not want to hurt you. I was too bold, too unthinking.”

“Nay. I think you were too honest. Because of my pain, I did not examine what had happened. But now, since I’ve been back, seeing you again…I don’t believe you.”

“What?” Anna raised her brows. “You are saying that I lied?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “I am.”

“Are you so puffed up with pride?” Anna made her voice scornful. “So sure of your charms? Do you think that no woman can resist you? That any woman should be glad to fall into your arms?”

“No. It is just that I am done with stupidity. I have spent the past few days with you. We have talked and laughed just as we did before. I have seen you smile at me. I have felt your lips on mine. You want me, just as I want you.”

“It was a mistake!” Anna cried, desperation rising in her. “It was just a mistake! I shouldn’t have—”

“You shouldn’t have what?” he exclaimed, closing the gap between them and grabbing her arms. “You shouldn’t have slipped? Shouldn’t have let me see what really lies within you? Bloody hell, woman, what is wrong with you? Why won’t you tell me the truth? Why do you run from me?” His fingers bit into her arms. “Why did you refuse to marry me?”

“Stop! Please. Let go of me!” Anna could no longer hold back the tears.

“Tell me why you sent me away, dammit,” he growled.

“I can’t!” Anna cried, sobbing.

“Can’t?” he repeated, and suddenly the anger seemed to drain out of him. He dropped her arms. “You won’t, is more like it. Sweet Jesus, Anna, I loved you with all my heart. I would have given you anything, done anything for you. And you won’t even give me an honest answer.” He turned and started to walk away.

Anna’s heart squeezed within her chest. She hated herself for what she had done to him, hated him for putting her through this, for forcing her to look at the depths of her own cowardice.

Reed stopped and looked back at her. His face was drawn, his eyes dark with emotion. “Did you never love me, Anna? Am I a fool to even suspect you did?”

“I loved you.” Her voice was hoarse, as if the words had been ripped from her, and tears streamed down her face. “I loved you to the very depths of my being. I couldn’t marry you. I
couldn’t.
”

“Why?” He came quickly back to her. “What on earth kept you from it?”

“Please…”

“Tell me.” His voice was harsh. “You lied to me. You ripped my heart from me. Surely I at least deserve the truth. Why could you not marry me?”

Anna looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “Because my blood is tainted. I—my family is mad.”

There was a long silence. Reed stared at her, astonished.

“What?” he asked finally.

Anna drew herself up, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “There is insanity in my family.”

“Insanity,” Reed repeated blankly. He shook his head. “Anna…every family has a few eccentrics. Why, my own family is known far and wide as the ‘mad Morelands.’ Surely—”

“No.” Anna stepped back, crossing her arms across her chest. “I am not talking about a harmless eccentric or two. There is madness in the de Winters. It has been passed down to Kit and me.” She drew a long breath. “A few days before you asked me to marry you, my father took me into his study and told me the truth. He had wanted to spare me, but when he saw how—how things were between the two of us, he grew frightened. He knew he had to tell me. That is why I pretended to be sick those days when you came to call. I could not bear to face you. Finally I realized that I had to send you away. I hadn’t expected you to propose that day, but, clearly, when you did, I could not accept.”

Stunned, Reed passed his hand across his face. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am sure,” Anna retorted. “Do you think I would cut myself off from love, from ever marrying, if I were not sure?”

“No. I just—”

“What my father told me that day was that there had always been rumors of…
oddities…
within the de Winters. Obviously the de Winter who built Winterset was, at the least, peculiar. But my mother, raised as she was from an early age by her maternal aunt, was unaware of the possibility. And it—the madness comes upon them late. She did not know about it, not for sure, until after she had married my father. It was only then that her brother, my uncle, began to exhibit symptoms of his madness.”

“Your uncle? The one who left Winterset?”

Anna nodded her head. “Kit and I had thought, like everyone else, that my uncle had moved to Barbados. But what my father told me that day was that my uncle’s madness, which began with episodes of bizarre behavior in his late twenties, had become increasingly worse in character, and more and more frequent. In one of his few rational periods, he realized that he had to do something, and so he and my father concocted this scheme to—to allow my uncle to live as his…illness dictated and also to spare the family embarrassment. Uncle Charles did not want Kit and me to know. He didn’t want us to be shamed by his behavior.”

Her voice wavered, close to tears, and Reed took a step toward her, saying, “Oh, Anna…”

She shook her head sharply, moving back. “No. Please. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to feel
anything
for me. Just let me finish.”

Reed stiffened, color flaring on his cheeks, but he only gave her a formal nod of the head. “Go on.”

She sent him a searching look. “If I tell you this, you must promise me that you will never breathe a word of it.”

“Of course.”

“My uncle did not leave. He moved into a small house deep in the woods, by Craydon Tor. He lives there with his valet. No one else knows of this besides Kit and me and our gamekeeper, who takes them food. Even Norton, who drew up the power of attorney, believes that Uncle Charles moved far away. Uncle Charles has elaborate delusions. He believes that—” She sighed, then continued. “He thinks that he is somehow the legitimate descendant of the Stuart kings. I don’t understand it, though he is able to draw a long chart showing one how the line comes down to him. He is quite certain that the Queen wants to get rid of him, because he is really the one who should be sitting on the throne.”

“Good Lord.”

She gave him a long look. “That is perhaps the sanest of his beliefs. He thinks that the Queen sends spies and assassins after him. He also believes that the angel Gabriel comes to him and tells him how to protect himself from the Queen’s assassins. He has laid out circles of rocks around his house in a certain pattern that is intended to somehow thwart the Queen’s men. He paints strange symbols on his skin and sleeps between two wooden slats painted with the same symbols, because he thinks this makes him invisible to the assassins—or something like that. I have trouble following his logic sometimes. He cannot bear to live indoors. He spends very little time in the hut where he lives, and he will accept it only because it is so hidden against the rock, with trees and shrubs all around it.

“The Queen’s men come mostly at night, he says, and so he does not sleep at night, but roams about the area outside the house, looking for enemies. Sometimes he watches from up in the trees. Other times he slips around, hiding behind rocks and bushes and trees. He sleeps outdoors, but only during the daytime, when his valet can keep watch for him. He is certain that cutting his hair or nails will sap his strength, or that letting his hair and beard grow conceals his true identity—I’m not sure which. He looks…In recent years, when people have sworn that they have seen the Beast of Craydon Tor, I have wondered if they actually saw my uncle. He looks like a wild creature.” She stopped and looked at Reed.

He gazed back at her, his face still stunned. “Anna…I—this is so difficult to take in.” He frowned. “Maybe your uncle’s condition is an aberration, something peculiar to him, and would not affect you.”

She shook her head. “No. There have been others. My father said that after my mother found out about Charles, she talked to her aunt, Margaret. Margaret was the sister of my mother’s mother, Lady Phillippa, who married Lord de Winter. After Lord and Lady de Winter died in a fire in the summerhouse, Great-Aunt Margaret took my mother and raised her in London. My mother forced her aunt to tell her what she knew, and Great-Aunt Margaret said that their parents had some suspicions about the de Winters. There were rumors. But they were so eager for their daughter to marry well that they ignored the rumors. My aunt said that my grandmother Philippa told her that her husband had described a great-uncle of his who heard voices and saw visions. He was kept out of everyone’s sight.”

Reed ran his hands back through his hair. “But that’s not you. You aren’t mad.”

“No. Not yet. But I could become so. What if my visions are a precursor of madness? Besides, do you really think that I would risk passing it on to our children? That I would contaminate your family’s blood? I would have had to be without honor to do something like that! Is that what you think of me?”

“No. No, of course not.” He paused, then said, “Why did you not tell me this three years ago? Why did you just turn me away?”

“I could not tell you! I didn’t want you to know. I couldn’t bear to have you think of me with pity and shame. To know that about my family.”

“But I loved you. And you let me think that I meant nothing to you. Less than nothing. You didn’t trust me enough, didn’t love me enough—”

“How can you say that?” Anna flared. “If I had loved you less, I would have married you and said to hell with all the consequences. What would I have cared about your family and its reputation? What would I have cared about burdening you with a wife who might turn mad in a few years?”

“Oh, yes, it was noble of you, all right,” Reed snapped. “But you gave me no say-so in the matter. You shut me out, gave me no opportunity to say or do anything. You arranged my life for me, without even the courtesy of asking what I wanted.”