The Temptation of Your Touch (29 page)

Struck by the full enormity of what might have happened if the thunder hadn’t awakened him from his dreams of Angelica, Max felt his compassion ebbing and his anger rising. Tossing the comforter aside, he said, “I want that man out of here.”

Hodges lifted his head. He and Anne both stared at Max as if he had just suggested they sacrifice a kitten on the front lawn.

“You can’t mean it,” she said. “It was nothing but a simple mistake. I’m sure he had no intention of—”

“He almost killed you!”
Max’s shout echoed through the drawing room, louder than any clap of thunder. “Us,” he amended, feeling the curious gazes of the others settle on him. “He almost burned us all to death in our beds. He’s a danger to himself and to everyone around him. I want him out of this house first thing in the morning.”

Hodges cowered in Anne’s arms, his quivering lower lip making Max feel like the worst sort of bully. But he wasn’t about to relent this time. Not when so much was at stake, Max thought, his gaze straying to Anne’s pale, ash-streaked face.

She gently extracted herself from Hodges’s grip and stepped in front of the butler, drawing herself up as if she were armored in far more than just a soot-stained nightdress and a disheveled pair of braids. She lifted her chin, her gaze openly defiant. “If he goes, I go.”

Max knew exactly what was expected of him then. It had been ingrained into his character from the day he’d been born. He was master of this house. He might be able to tolerate a bit of teasing insubordination, but a full-out mutiny—especially in front of the other servants—was grounds for immediate dismissal. His housekeeper had left him with no choice but to send her packing along with his butler and without so much as a letter of recommendation to guarantee her a chance at another position.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, glowering at her for a long moment before snapping, “In my study.
Now.
”

Chapter Twenty-six

L
ORD
D
RAVENWOOD TURNED ON
his heel and strode from the room, the beautifully carved planes of his face making him look positively demonic in the flicker of the lightning dancing through the broken window. Anne could already feel her courage starting to falter.

She gave Hodges a gentle shove in Pippa’s direction, her eyes silently pleading with the girl. “Look after him.”

Pippa nodded, looking far more worried about Anne’s fate than the butler’s.

Anne followed Dravenwood up the stairs, each measured step making her feel more as if she were following a black-hooded executioner to the gallows. Her alarm mounted when he didn’t even waste a yearning glance on Angelica as he strode past her portrait.

When they reached the door of the study, he stood aside to let her pass, still every inch the gentleman despite his bare feet, sleep-tousled hair, and murderous expression. His ivory shirt was unfastened at the throat, and Anne felt her cheeks heat as she brushed past him and noted that the top two buttons of his trousers were also undone.

He followed her into the room. She expected him to slam the door behind them, but he closed it with such deliberate care it sent a delicate shiver of foreboding down her spine.

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room while he lit the lamp sitting on the corner of his desk. The drapes were drawn, giving them a cozy reprieve from the jagged bursts of lightning and pouring rain.

Anne was halfway hoping he would retreat to his favorite sanctuary behind the desk, placing an impenetrable shield between them. Instead, he leaned against the front of it, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his feet at the ankles. The cool and composed Mrs. Spencer seemed to have deserted Anne, leaving her standing before this powerful man in nothing but her nightdress, her hair escaping from her braids in untidy brown wisps.

She forced herself to meet his level gaze. “Perhaps it would be best if we spoke of this in the morning after tempers—and passions—have cooled.”

“Ah, but I think we both know there’s not much chance of that, now is there, Mrs. Spencer?” he drawled.

So she was back to being Mrs. Spencer again, was she? When he had begged her to remain in his arms, her Christian name had sounded like a promise on his lips.

“I’m certain Hodges didn’t mean any harm,” she began, choosing her words with care. “It was nothing but an accident.”

“It was the careless act of a maniac. If you’re not worried about your own well-being—or mine—then perhaps you should stop and think about what would have happened had that fire cut off escape from the servants’ quarters. Or if Pippa and Dickon had failed in their foolish efforts to extinguish it and set themselves ablaze instead.”

Anne could feel her face blanch. She’d never seen Dravenwood’s striking features set in such pitiless lines. “I’ll give Hodges a stern talking-to first thing in the morning,” she vowed. “We’ll all be more vigilant in the future when it comes to keeping an eye on—”

“Just who was keeping an eye on him tonight when my supper was being prepared?”

A blade of ice pierced Anne’s heart as she relived that terrible moment when she had seen the skull and crossbones on the bottle and feared it might be
too late to save Dravenwood. “How did you know it was poison?” she whispered.

The corner of his mouth curled in a victorious little smile. “I didn’t. Until just now.”

Infuriated by his trickery, she glared at him. “It was an honest mistake on Hodges’s part. He thought we’d charged him with ridding the manor of rats.”

“How do I know it was all Hodges’s doing? If you hadn’t knocked my supper off the table in such a timely manner, I might suspect you were willing to let the poor deranged fellow do your dirty work for you. For all I know, you simply suffered a belated qualm of conscience. Or didn’t want to risk your pretty little neck being stretched on the gallows.”

She was so caught off guard by the unexpected compliment it took a minute for his words to sink in. “Are you accusing me of trying to
murder
you?”

“Don’t try to tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.”

Exasperated beyond bearing, she snapped, “I’m sure the thought has crossed the mind of everyone who has ever made your acquaintance!”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, although whether from fury or amusement she could not tell. “I’m growing weary of your secrets and lies, Mrs. Spencer. While I’m deciding whether or not to fetch the constable, perhaps you’d like to share if it was you or Hodges who shoved your former master
out the window? Or did Angelica do it in a fit of the sulks?”

Anne’s mouth fell open as he continued.

“I’ve never given much credence to rumors, having been the subject of them more often than not. But after suffering so many near-death experiences since my arrival at Cadgwyck, I’m beginning to think the villagers might be either more or less superstitious than I first believed.”

Tearing her guilty gaze away from his accusing one, Anne sank down in the chair in front of the desk. She was fully prepared to offer up some easily digested lie, but to her own surprise, when she opened her mouth, the truth emerged. She’d become such an accomplished liar that her voice sounded rusty and unconvincing, even to her own ears. “I’m afraid Lord Drysdale fancied himself quite the lothario. Apparently, a doting mama had convinced him at a very young age that no woman in her right mind could resist the charms of a bandy-legged, overgrown toad. From the moment he arrived at the manor, he was a bit . . . how shall I say it? . . . overly
friendly
with his hands. He was always patting Lizzie on the rump when she bent over to add a log to the fire or peeping up Bess’s skirts when she climbed on a stool to dust the top of a bookshelf.”

Anne stole a look at Dravenwood from beneath
her lashes. He was watching her intently, his face revealing nothing.

“One night after indulging in a few too many after-dinner cordials, he climbed the stairs to the servants’ quarters after everyone was abed and decided to creep into my room. I awoke with the stench of his breath in my face and shot up out of the bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. Startled out of his not particularly considerable wits by my less than welcoming response to his advances, he went stumbling backward, bleating like a stuck sheep. Unfortunately—for Lord Drysdale, that is—it was a warm spring night and my bedchamber window was standing wide open. We all agreed it was best just to tell the constable he rose in the middle of the night to use the convenience and took a wrong turn.”

Rubbing her chilled arms through the thin sleeves of her nightdress, Anne gazed into her lap and waited for Lord Dravenwood’s response. And waited. And waited. She was beginning to wonder if he had dozed off on his feet when she heard a strange sound.

She had expected him to express shock, horror, outrage, perhaps even sympathy, but the last sound she had expected was a deep rumble of a chuckle.

Her gaze flew to his face. He was openly laughing now, his grin making his eyes crinkle at the corners just as his brother’s had done and erasing a world of
care from his face. Anne’s heart did a helpless little somersault. If the man believed women were only after him for his fortune and title, he was madder than Hodges.

When his mirth showed no sign of waning, she surged to her feet with an indignant sniff. “I’m glad you found my sordid little story so amusing.”

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because the poor fool had the audacity to try to crawl into
your
bed.”

That only made Anne feel
more
insulted. “You needn’t mock me, my lord. I’m perfectly aware I’m no legendary beauty like Angelica Cadgwyck or your precious sister-in-law.”

“Oh, I wasn’t mocking you.” His grin faded, the sparkle in his eyes deepening to a thoughtful glint that almost made her regret her indignation. “I was mocking him for being so foolish as to try to storm the bastion of our Mrs. Spencer’s unassailable virtue.” Dravenwood pushed himself off the corner of the desk, bringing them entirely too close to one another. “I’ve already learned what an impossible feat that is.”

Anne knew it was her responsibility to put a more proper distance between them, but her feet seemed to be rooted to the floor. As he reached down to gently swipe a smudge of soot from her
cheek with the broad pad of his thumb, she drew in a shuddering breath.

His palm lingered against her cheek while his thumb strayed into far more dangerous territory, grazing her parted lips, testing their softness. She gasped against the firmness of his flesh, unable to hide the devastating effect his touch had on her. He was a most difficult man. Yet he caressed her with an irresistible ease, as if he had been born to the task.

His sooty fringe of lashes swept down to shutter his eyes as he leaned forward and touched his cheek to her hair. “Mrs. Spencer?” The smoke had left his smooth baritone even deeper and more husky than usual.

“Anne,” she corrected, her voice a tremulous sigh.

“If you’re going to shove me out the window, you’d best do it now.”

Anne’s hands closed over his upper arms as if to push him away. But her hands were no more cooperative than her feet had been. All they would do was cling to him. “I didn’t shove Lord Drysdale. He tumbled out quite of his own accord.”

Dravenwood nuzzled her temple with his nose, breathing deeply of her scent as if she didn’t smell of ash, but of some potent aphrodisiac he’d been seeking all his life. “I’m afraid I haven’t the strength left
to tumble out of my own accord. You’ll have to do it for me.”

Anne was tired of being the strong one. In that moment all she wanted to do was surrender to a strength and a will greater than her own. She wanted to be weak and wanton and foolish enough to make deplorable mistakes that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

And she wanted to do all of those things in this man’s arms.

“I forgot to open the window, my lord.”

“Max,” he breathed into her mouth in the heartbeat before he touched his lips to hers.

That gentle, grazing caress was nearly her undoing. If she hadn’t been able to dig her fingertips into the bunched muscles of his upper arms, she might have slid to her knees at his feet. Sipping softly at her lips only seemed to whet his thirst. He deftly deepened his kiss, coaxing the pliant petals of her lips apart with a tender, insistent mastery. She gasped as the warm, sleek velvet of his tongue swept through her mouth, claiming the nectar he found there for his own.

Without warning, the study door came crashing open. The two of them sprang apart. Anne could only pray she didn’t look as flushed and guilty as she felt.

Pippa stood in the doorway, her agitation so great she probably wouldn’t have noticed if Anne and the earl had been rolling about naked on the desk.

“What is it?” Anne demanded, her chagrin replaced by alarm.

Pippa’s entire body was trembling and her dark eyes were brimming with tears. “It’s Hodges. He’s gone.”

Chapter Twenty-seven