Trust Me (16 page)

And he expected to
find her awake.

Waiting for him…

A bolt of desire shot
straight into his loins. His cock began to harden and lengthen for her.

Yet, when he entered
her chambers, he found her candles snuffed, the fire banked and the bed
curtains drawn.

He removed his banyan
and slipped into her bed.

With the bed curtains
left ajar, the moonlight from the window illumined the black spill of her hair
against the white of the pillowcase. The sight fascinated him and made him
pause. He turned his face and pressed his cheek into the dense, silken tresses.
Her scent, lavender bath oils plus something feminine, spicy-sweet and uniquely
her, filled his nostrils.

From the rhythm of
her breathing, he knew she was awake but so still and silent as was her way
when deep in thought.

Or, more likely, lost
in thought.

His little
intellectual lady.

Time for him to
remind her of how overrated thinking could be.

He slipped his arms
about her waist and pressed his body to her lush curves.

She caught her
breath.

“That’s all for you,
my love,” he said, firmly pressing his rearing, leaking erection into her
softness.

God, he was starving
for her.

There was simply no
other way to put it.

She touched his
forearm, but he could tell how distracted she was from the way her fingertips
danced lightly along; there was no conscious will behind her touch, showing him
just how consumed she remained by her thoughts.

He shifted until he
could lay his cheek against hers then he cupped her breast, lifting its full,
lush weight, stroking its softness. “Anne.”

He traced the curve
of her shoulder with a trail of kisses, tasting the saltiness of her skin. Her
nipple stiffened beneath his fingertips. Luscious, she was simply too luscious.
And he wanted to taste all of her. Wanted to make her come and come again. Until
she was exhausted.

“Jon?”

Her tone was crisp
and practical, as though they were sitting in a stately drawing chamber and not
here, naked in their bed with his hard cock between them.

He chuckled then
shifted his pelvis and pressed his erection more firmly into the cleft between
her round, broad buttocks. “My love?”

“I have lain awake
all night, thinking on it.”

“Have you, on what?”
he said, prepared for a lengthy and perhaps disjointed discourse on some arcane
philosopher’s mouldy thoughts.

“Yes.
 
I have come to the conclusion that I do not
want to know about the others.”

“The others?”

“Yes, the others.”

“The Others.” He
chuckled softly. “Is that the name of some group of esoteric scholars?”

She went rigid in his
arms.

He’d offended her.

“I meant your sexual
conquests.” She spoke in the same snappish tone she’d once used with him when
he’d first attempted to seduce her.

His blood froze in
his veins. Had he possibly heard wrong? “My sexual conquests?”

His voice sounded
tight, almost hoarse. He didn’t recognize it. But the topic was a most
unwelcome one. Especially in light of Rebecca’s surprise visit tonight.

“As we move forward,
in our union—” God, the way she put emphasis on that last word. He almost
winced “—I hope you shall take pains to ensure that your conquests are not
public knowledge.”

As we move
forward, in our union…

Her words echoed in
his mind. Christ, the way she’d just said that. Her chilly tone made them sound
like two warring countries negotiating a peace treaty.

Did she really
imagine he was going to be unfaithful?

He moved away from
her, as though she’d suddenly become a pillar of flame. As though it were
painful to hold her. For it was.

She arose to a
sitting position, dark ringlets falling about her shoulders in disarray. She
pulled her spine so stiff it made her lush breasts, with their gorgeous
rose-brown nipples peeking through the sheer white of her muslin nightgown,
appear impossibly high. She had that superior, ducal, cold expression. “I don’t
think we need to become emotional about this, Jon.”

This was
not
his wife, not the sweetly submissive, ardent lover he had known in the past
weeks.

No, this was the
prickly, defensive Anne he had first met at Whitecross Hall.

”No emotion, eh?”

“Let’s not insult
either of our intelligences. Let’s speak of this rationally.”

“Rationally?”

“Yes.”

He knew his mouth had
dropped open. He couldn’t help it. Indeed, he found himself completely
speechless. Only she could reduce him to such a state of dim-witted shock. She
didn’t do it often but when she did…

He snapped his mouth
closed and fixed her with his harshest stare. “You will not take lovers.”

He recognized his own
voice. He understood the meaning of the words. However, he could not believe
that was the thought he’d selected to utter in this moment. It sounded very
like the frantic defence of a guilty husband. As though he believed himself
capable of betraying her. Of betraying everything he believed the two of them
could be.

He’d damned himself.
Lost the battle without even a moment’s strategizing.

It was too late to
withdraw it.

God, such was the
power of a woman, if a man allowed her to get under his skin.

Her black brows drew
together. “What?” Something seemed to pinch in his guts. Something primal and
beyond thought. The words simply forced their way past his lips. “I said you
will not take lovers.”

Now she gaped at him.

“I won’t allow it.”

Her eyes flashed.
“Since when have we been discussing
me
?”

“Isn’t that what this
is about? That you want to negotiate terms that would excuse your own forays
into adultery?” Where the devil had
that
statement come from? What was the matter with him? His heart pounded against
his chest. His ears were hot, his blood was hot.

Anger. He shook with
it internally. Anger like he had not known since his boyhood.

He should not allow
his ire to be raised. This was just Anne being knotty-headed and he must remain
in control. However, the subject unlocked something primitive, and heretofore
unsuspected, inside him and he—Good God, he couldn’t control his reaction.

“Whatever gave you
the idea that I desire to commit adultery?”

“It must be that,
Anne, for it can’t really be that you think I will keep mistresses. I dismissed
my long-term mistress—the most pleasing, agreeable mistress a man could ever
hope to find—I dismissed her for you.”

“Yes, your
Becky
.”
She compressed her lips.

His body went rigid
at that name on Anne’s lips. Yes, he meant to share more about his friendship
for Rebecca Howland with Anne. But he had wanted to wait until after their
honeymoon time.

There was a time and
place for everything.

But it all answered
the question as to why Anne had come in the drawing room today, with that
hunted, sallow-cheeked look. “Maria has been talking?”

Anne’s shoulders
lifted slightly then lowered. “Someone would have told me sooner or later.”

“Told you what? That
your husband had a mistress before he wed you?”

“No, that she suited
you in your-your… ‘peculiar proclivities’.”

Involuntarily, he
winced inside. Of course it would be threatening to Anne to learn that he had
shared the same types of intimate games of submission and dominance with
another woman. Even if it had happened before their meeting. He would chosen to
break that little bit of information in a far softer way than he was certain
Maria had.

“Maria assures me
that Becky fulfilled these proclivities so well that you are desperately fond
of her.”

“Bec—Mrs Howland was
more than a lover.”

How could he possibly
explain what Rebecca had been to him?

The woman who had
taught him about his true self?

His right hand in
times of war and turmoil?

No, too deep, too
weighty for this moment.

Best to keep the
explanations simple for now. He could expand on the matter over time as Anne
became more secure in their marriage.

“She is a friend. We
have known each other a very long time. Of course I am fond of her. But I do
not love her. And I have never been
in love
with her.”

Anne’s eyes were like
the darkest, deepest blue of a frozen sea. “You were not faithful to her.”

Her words were a
scathing accusation. She didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure she was capable of
understanding. She looked at life so absolutely. And so idealistically.

“I never pretended to
offer her fidelity. I did not love her.”

“And Maria?”

“Good God, I never
loved Maria Waterbury either. You know that. Nor did she love me. I never
promised her the things I have promised you. Our marriage was to be a business
arrangement. We both agreed on that matter. My name and title in return for her
to give me heirs.”

She just kept staring
at him.

Her lovely eyes
weighing.

Judging.

The pulsing anger of
earlier drained, only to be replaced by a deep, stabbing ache. An echo of the
past. In an instant he was whisked back in time. He was a mere child standing before
that huge, polished walnut desk. His grandfather towering over him, glaring
down his long, narrow nose.

Christ, the man had
seemed to be ten feet tall. That fierce, frowning expression. Those glacial
pale-blue eyes cutting through him. Judging him and finding him lacking.

Expecting him to
fail.

And he felt again,
that sweaty, itchy-palmed, sick-in-the-stomach sense of inadequacy. Of being
guilty as charged.

Jon took a quick,
deep breath and mentally shook himself.
Get control over yourself.

But he was losing
this particular battle. He must take a stand.

“I have sworn off all
other women. I have told you that.” He forced his expression to be stern and he
leant close to her.

Her eyes widened a
fraction.

He laid his hand at
the base of her throat. “I demand your loyalty. And I must have your complete
trust.”

She lowered her eyes.
Her body relaxed, he sensed it in his bones. He knew his power over her, just
as he’d known it at the beginning of every seduction of a woman who was weak to
dominance displayed by a man. He tightened his grip a fraction. Felt the
reactive shudder in her body. The increase in her pulse against his hand.

Her throat worked as
she swallowed. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“D-don’t do…
this
.
Not now. Not until we have discussed this issue.”

He had the advantage.
He should press his agenda until she forgot this whole matter and submitted
herself to his will. Completely. She would enjoy it, she would be satisfied by
it in the end.

But he couldn’t do
it. Not with Anne.

He lowered his hand.
“All right, tell me more.”

“You are a gentleman,
accustomed to a gentleman’s ways.”

“So you do not trust
me?”

She opened her mouth
then hesitated.

“You don’t.”

“It is not so
clearly-cut a matter, Jon.”

“Perhaps you should
explain it.”

“I am not sure I can.
Not adequately.”

“Try.”

“We experienced an
immediate and mutual attraction.”

“Well, that is
probably understating things a bit but yes, we did.”

She frowned. “It is a
common enough thing.”

“There was nothing
common about it.”

“As you say, but surely
as such a passion fades, two people like ourselves, so different in temperament
and taste, we will struggle to find common ground Oh, I just don’t want
anything to happen between us that will cause either one of us to turn away. I
couldn’t bear to ever lose our friendship.”

Her words stung.
“Anne, we are a little more than friends.”

“Perhaps we are
merely infatuated. Maybe we don’t realize it.”

 
Now he felt like someone had just punched him
in the guts. “You think our feelings for each other will fade?”

“How can such an
intensity of emotion fail to fade?”

Inner cold gripped
him, rendered him slightly sick.

“Haven’t your
feelings for others faded?”