Susan Carroll (22 page)

His brows rose haughtily. “You thought I
would hie you off to some sordid inn where any common knave might
look at you? I have a little more regard for your reputation than
that, milady. That is why I instructed Hastings to take great care
when spiriting you away to me.”

“But servants will gossip and—”

“Mine don't. Especially not the one I sent to
fetch you. I acquired John Hastings reluctantly at the insistence
of my cousin Drummond. He has turned out to possess the two traits
I value most in my servants, obedience and silence.

“But I have kept you standing in this drafty
hall long enough.” Mandell draped his arm about her shoulders. “My
house possesses far warmer rooms.”

Like his bedchamber, Anne thought with a
sinking heart, her mind filling inevitably with that Turkish
sultan's den she had once imagined, rife with shameful secrets and
satin sheets.

She allowed Mandell to guide her toward a
door at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open, urging her
across the threshold. Holding her breath, Anne stepped inside and
blinked.

The room was normal, almost sedate, a sitting
room of undeniably masculine influence, the glow of oil lamps
reflecting off rich paneled walls. A small but comfortable forest
green settee was drawn up near the hearth where a cozy fire
crackled, a book of Dryden's poetry left carelessly open upon a
tripod table nearby. Busts of Mozart and Beethoven peered down from
atop the mantel.

Somewhat reassured, Anne crept farther into
the room only to draw up short at the sight of the arch which led
into the adjoining chamber. She could make out the shape of an
enormous four-poster bed, the coverlets already turned down.

Shrinking back, Anne collided against
Mandell's hard frame. She gasped as he reached for her, but he was
only seeking to brush back her hood.

“Come out of hiding, Sorrow,” he said. “Your
presence has been noticeably absent this past week. I wondered if
you were seeking to avoid me, if you intended to cheat me out of my
promised reward.”

Anne felt a telltale flush spread over her
cheeks. “Of course not. But it was not the sort of debt I could
repay by posting you a bank draft through the mail. You could have
sent for me sooner. I would have come.”

“Would you have, indeed?”

Anne could not meet his eyes. He placed his
fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look up. “I tried to give
you a little time to make up your mind to come to me. You
disappointed me, Anne, and my patience finally wore thin.”

“And if I had tried to cheat you, what would
you have done?” she asked anxiously. “Would you have sought to undo
your part of the bargain?”

“There are many things I am interested in
undoing, my lady.” Mandell reached for the fastenings of her cloak.
“But our bargain is not one of them.”

His long graceful fingers deftly unbuttoned
the braided froggings. Anne exhaled, telling herself she must try
to relax. He was only taking off her cloak ... thus far.

Mandell swept away the garment, draping it
over a leather armchair. As he took in the details of her very
proper attire, his teeth flashed in a smile of genuine
amusement.

“By god, madam, you could be on your way to
church. Have you brought your prayer book as well?”

“No, but perhaps I should have,” Anne
retorted “No doubt you could use a few prayers said for your
soul.”

“Alas, milady, it is far too late for
that.”

Anne flushed under his sardonic regard. “I
told everyone I would be visiting my elderly godmother this
evening. I had to dress accordingly.”

“Your godmama finds you quite charming, but
far too pale as usual. Come, let me offer you some food and drink.”
He waved her toward the window, where the heavy velvet draperies
had been drawn, shutting out the night. Anne saw that covers for
two had been laid out upon a small table, some silver-covered
chafing dishes being kept warm on a sideboard.

“You intend for us to dine first?” Anne asked
incredulously,

“Would you have me seduce you on an empty
stomach?”

Her stomach was tensed into a thousand knots.
How could he possibly expect her to eat? When Mandell began to draw
back her chair, Anne shook her head.

“I am not hungry.”

“Let me at least offer you a little wine
then.” He picked up a glass of delicate crystal and reached for a
dust-covered bottle, a rare vintage that must have graced his
cellars for some time.

“If you insist, my lord. But I should warn
you it takes very little wine to make me fall asleep.”

Mandell paused with the bottle suspended in
midair, that expressive brow of his arching upward. “Then perhaps I
had better send down to the kitchen for some lemonade.”

“I am not thirsty, either,” Anne snapped. She
did not sound very gracious, but she had never felt more nervous or
out of her depth in her entire life. Not even on that dreadful
night she had made her debut at Almack's.

“All this politeness is not necessary, my
lord. Whatever you want to do with me, I wish you would just do it
and get it over with.”

“Some pleasures are not to be rushed.”
Mandell set down the wine bottle. He stepped closer, framing her
face with his hands.

His poor Lady Sorrow. It was difficult to
remember at this moment that she was a widow, a woman who ought to
know a little something of the world and men. She looked young,
vulnerable, and scared, as though she expected him to pounce on
her, tear off her clothes, take her right there on the floor.

It was not as though the desire burning
inside him waxed too cool for such a thing. But he had ever been a
man of iron control and possessed more finesse than that. He had
taken far too many pains over his conquest of the virtuous Anne,
planned too carefully to ruin all by a clumsy burst of passion. He
wanted her beneath him, hot and willing, trembling not with fear
but with a fire that would match his own.

“I'll have no martyrs in my bed, milady,” he
said, tracing his thumbs over her cheekbones. “I do not intend to
proceed until I feel you are ready, my beautiful one.”

“Oh, don't,” she cried, clutching at his
wrists, seeking to push his hands away. “Don't feel obliged to say
things like that, to try to pretend that I am beautiful.”

“Pretend? And whatever makes you think that
you are not?”

“I have only to look in a mirror.”

“Then you have been looking in the wrong one.
You should seek your reflection only in my eyes.” He kissed her
brow, reveling in the sweet fresh scent of her, the warm silky
texture of her skin.

“Before this evening is over, Anne
Fairhaven,” he vowed, “I shall not only have you willing in my
arms, but also convinced of how beautiful and desirable you
are.”

“That could take a very long time, my
lord.”

“We have all night. So if you truly have no
wish to dine, go sit by my fire and warm yourself. You seem quite
chilled.”

She obeyed him, marching over to perch upon
the edge of the settee with a resigned sigh. Mandell drifted about
the room, extinguishing all the oil lamps until the chamber was lit
only by the glow of the fire. When he moved to take his place at
her side, she sat ramrod straight, her gloved hands clenched
together in her lap.

He eased himself down, stretching one arm
behind her along the back of the settee, taking as great a care as
though she were a skittish dove that would flutter away at his
slightest movement

“You have exquisite posture,” he said. “Were
you ever in the military?”

His teasing succeeded in coaxing a half smile
from her.

“No, but I did have a very strict governess
who I am sure could have out-generaled Wellington himself.”

Capturing one of her hands, Mandell inched
back her glove enough to expose the delicate blue-veined area of
her wrist. He pressed his lips to her thundering pulse.

“Mrs. Brindlehurst!” Anne gasped.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That was the name of my governess. She
always insisted upon proper carriage. She—” Anne eyed him nervously
as he began to undo the buttons of her glove. “She always said it
was important to remain erect. Otherwise my bos—my frame would
start to sag.”

“I have never noticed any part of you
sagging.” Mandell tugged off her glove, delighting in the slender
grace of her hands until he saw her fingernails. Anne blushed
scarlet and tried to curl up her hand, but he refused to allow it,
holding up her fingertips, examining them closer.

“My dear Sorrow, what have you been doing to
your poor hands?”

“It is a bad habit of mine,” she said. “I
bite my nails in times of great stress.”

Mandell frowned, for the first time
understanding the agonies of apprehension Anne must have gone
through the past week.

“And I have been the cause of that stress?”
he said, kissing her fingertips one by one. He felt a shiver course
through her.

“You are not exactly the most restful
influence in my life, Lord Mandell.”

“Is that what you desire, Anne? To remain
calm, no excitement ever to touch your staid and proper world?”

“Staid and proper. That is what I am. I don't
know how to be anything else.”

“Then it behooves me to teach you.”

Mandell had never felt flooded with so much
tenderness toward any woman. His need to take her into his arms and
soothe away her fears burned as strong as his desire for her.

“Come here,” he commanded. Urging her to draw
her feet up on the settee, he guided her until she lay back across
his lap, cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

Anne's eyes widened as she braced her arms
stiffly alongside her.

“Relax, Anne. I am not going to hurt you.
Have I been such an ogre thus far?'

“No. But I feel too helpless with you holding
me this way and I don't know what you expect me to do.”

“I don't expect anything for now. Just talk
to me.”

“What about?'

“Tell me about Eleanor Rose.” He tucked a
stray tendril of hair behind Anne's ear. “Has it made you happy at
last, having your little daughter back again?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed. He could feel her
begin to melt a little. As he gazed down upon her flushed features,
Mandell thought if he were any less a villain, he would put a stop
to this now and send her home.

The radiant look shining from her eyes as she
talked about her child should have been payment enough for any man.
But it also lent her an irresistible beauty, the soft curve of her
lips far too tempting.

“It has been all I could do to keep Norrie
from making a nuisance of herself,” Anne was saying. “My sister
Lily does not have a great deal of patience with small children,
but Norrie is fascinated with watching Lily attire herself for
attending balls. I can remember being the same way when I was still
in the schoolroom and Lily was making her come-out. She is so
dazzling. You must have been there. You must have seen her that
night she first took Almack's by storm.”

“I am afraid not. I have ever eschewed
Almack's. Too many simpering virgins and predatory mamas. No doubt
that is how I also failed to notice you.”

“You were not alone in that,” Anne said with
a grimace. Mandell doubted she realized it, but she had settled
more snugly back against his arm. He suppressed a smile.

“I fear I was something of a disappointment
after the debut of both my sisters,” she continued. “Lily and
Camilla, the famous Wendham debutantes.”

“Lily and Camilla, their names always made me
think of a stroll through a botanical garden. Tell me, my dear
Anne, how did you ever escape being christened an Amaryllis or a
Columbine?”

“I suppose when Mama peeked into my cradle, I
did not make her think of flowers.”

“You make me think of one,” Mandell said,
exploring the delicate outline of her lips with his finger. “A
blossom whose petals are just about to unfurl.”

He bent forward to brush her mouth with a
kiss. Anne tensed at the first touch of his lips, but his kiss was
so gentle and lingering. It was as though he but tasted her,
sampling the texture of her lips, spreading a pleasant warmth
through her. Anne's mind reeled. She felt giddy, lightheaded,
almost floating in his arms.

She clung to him, her fingers slipping across
the open neckline of his shirt, making contact with that exposed
patch of warm bare skin. She heard Mandell's intake of breath and
drew back immediately, cringing with embarrassment

“I am sorry,” she stammered. “It is only that
you made me feel so dizzy.”

“It is all right, Sorrow. Feel free to touch
me. I promise I won't object.”

His smile was like slow heat, curling in the
pit of her stomach.

“I can't,” she said, blushing hotly. “You
must think me so awkward.”

“Actually what I was thinking is that it is
time to be rid of those braids. May I?”

“Well, I ...”

He did not wait for her assent, his fingers
moving through her hair, removing pins, untwisting the heavy braids
she had fashioned with such care. Her hair tumbled down to her
shoulders, spilling over his arm, feeling gloriously free. He
combed his fingers back through the tangled golden strands.

“Lovely,” he murmured. “You should always
wear your hair thus.”

“I would look like a half-mad hoyden.”

“You can be a hoyden tonight. You can be
anything you want with me, Anne.”

“What a terrifying offer,” she said, closing
her eyes as he bent to kiss her again, his mouth demanding a little
more this time. His tongue teased her lips, coaxing, and she parted
for him, allowing him access to the innermost recesses of her
mouth, allowing him to fill her with heat, to tease, to mate with
her as he would.

His hand moved between them, slowly undoing
the laces of her vest. When the fabric parted, Anne found it a
great relief, realizing she had done the laces far too tight. She
was able to breathe again.