Winter Blockbuster 2012 (72 page)

Read Winter Blockbuster 2012 Online

Authors: Trish Morey,Tessa Radley,Raye Morgan,Amanda McCabe

Rob couldn’t stay away from her. He hurried down the length of the table, past the laughing guests, to kneel down beside her. He took her hand in his amid the concealing folds of her skirt, and she gave him a startled smile.

‘Are you having an enjoyable time, fairest Anna?’ he asked quietly.

Anna smiled down at him, but he could still see that lingering, hidden sadness behind her eyes. ‘I don’t see how anyone could fail to enjoy themselves here. It seems like an enchanted house.’

‘A place of escape?’

‘Yes. But not as glorious an escape as your plays.’

‘Or as a song?’ He kissed her wrist quickly, breathing deeply of the sweet rose scent of her skin, and drew her to her feet. ‘Come, Anna—you shall name the song tonight …’

‘Where are we going?’ Anna asked, laughing as Rob led her up flight after flight of stairs. The reverberation of the company down in the great hall faded away below until there was only silence.

Rob held on to her with one hand and a lantern with the
other, carrying it high to light their mysterious path. Up here there were no windows, no ray of light except the glowing circle of the candle behind glass. The dark panelled walls grew closer around them.

But Anna was not frightened. Rob held her by the hand, and she felt light and almost giddy from the evening they had passed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt quite so carefree, able to laugh and eat fine food, drink good wine and listen to inconsequential talk of fashion and poetry that had nothing to do with ledger books and business. Surely she would soon tire of such frivolity, but for a night’s change, an escape, it was quite nice.

Yet she would never choose to leave this strange dark stairwell with Robert to return to the brightest, merriest party. It seemed a fitting end to a dreamlike day.

‘Rob! Where are we going?’ she asked again.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his eyes shining darkly like night stars in the candlelight. ‘You’ll soon see.’

‘Is it a chamber of horrible secrets, like in a play?’ she queried. ‘A dungeon where you keep all your enemies? Oh, nay, a dungeon could not be so high.’

‘And it would be no place for you, would it, Anna?’

She laughed. ‘Am I not your enemy, then?’ Sometimes when he looked at her she could swear she was—not his enemy, but someone who stood in his way. And at other times he looked at her as if he was starved for the touch of her. Just as she was with him. She could never understand him, never keep up with his quicksilver changes.

Rob suddenly stopped on the stairs, so quickly she stumbled against him. In a flash he let go of her hand and caught her around the waist, pulling her up against his body. The light wavered around them.

‘I hope you may never think of
me
that way,’ he said.

Puzzled, Anna shook her head. As an enemy? Nay. He baffled and angered her, and left her confused, but she could never see him as her enemy. He was so, so much more to her. But she could never tell him that—never let him see how he was changing her very heart.

‘Will I have to build a dungeon of my very own, then, just for you?’ she teased.

‘Or maybe I intend to lock you up here in the tower of Hart Castle,’ he answered. He bent his head to kiss the side of her neck, the curve of her breast above her borrowed bodice. His mouth was hot, hungry, as he tasted her, awakening her own desire all over again. ‘I could keep you all to myself here, away from the greedy eyes of rogues like Lord Maddingly.’

‘Maddingly?’ Anna said breathlessly. She wound her arms around his shoulders to keep from tumbling dizzily down the stairs. ‘He seemed rather nice. I’m sure he can’t be half as roguish as
you
, Robert Alden. You fly from lady to lady, leaving us all sighing sadly in your wake …’

He pressed her against the wall, holding her there with his body. Every curve and angle of them seemed to fit perfectly together, as if they were made to be just so. As Anna curled her hands into the soft fabric of his doublet, feeling the hard heat of his body underneath, he kissed her lips, open-mouthed, eager. Anna met him with equal passion and need.

‘Oh, Anna,’ he whispered as his kiss slid to her ear. ‘I don’t feel in the least roguish when I’m with you. I don’t see any other woman. You’ve cast a terrible spell on me.’

‘Terrible?’ she breathed, feeling unsteady and unsure, as if she was just a dizzy young girl again.

She didn’t like that feeling at all. She pushed Rob away and stiffened her shoulders. Too much had happened since she truly was an innocent girl—her bad marriage, her work,
all she saw every day around her in Southwark that showed her how little men could be trusted.

Especially Robert, who looked at her now as if he was just as stunned and lost as she was by what was happening between them. She should mistrust him above the others, for he could make his way past her carefully built walls as no one else ever had. He was so stealthy she hardly noticed until there he was, in her heart.

‘Show me your dungeon, then,’ she said. ‘We have come this far.’

Rob gave a brusque nod and spun away from her. She followed him up one more short flight of stairs to a landing at the very top of the house and a single door. He removed a key from inside his doublet and used it to open the door. It swung inward, perfectly silent on its heavy hinges, to reveal more darkness beyond.

He stepped aside with a low, courtly bow and said, ‘If you care to enter, my lady?’

Anna peered past him doubtfully. Tall windows lined one wall of the space, letting in the faint glow of the moon which cast odd-shaped shadows on the floor and around incomprehensible objects. Perhaps it
was
a dungeon—a torture chamber such as the ones they said lurked beneath the Tower in London.

But she had come too far to turn back now. She swept inside and Rob followed, closing the door behind them. He set the lantern down and she could see the room better.

It was not a torture chamber, but something even more fantastical. The octagonal room was lined with shelves and shelves of books. Locked chests were stored beside them, and there were long tables and stools piled with more books. She saw globes in brass stands, and strange, shining metal instruments.

‘What is this room?’ she asked as she wandered inside, examining mysterious objects and enticing books. She paused at a long brass tube on a stand, fitted with mother-of-pearl decorations.

‘It is Edward’s room of wonders,’ Rob answered. ‘He and his guests come here for their studies.’ He swung the tube round and showed her a small hole at the end. ‘Look through here.’

Anna peered through the tiny lens of the contraption, and gasped at the sight that met her gaze. Rather than mere pinpoints of silvery light, the stars were great, glittering orbs that seemed to sparkle and burst against the velvet of the night sky.

‘‘Tis glorious!’ she whispered. ‘What is this thing?’

‘A telescope,’ Rob said. He moved it slightly, giving her another marvellous view of distant, magical worlds. ‘Edward had it made in Venice, by the master glassmakers there, and sent back here for his studies. He corresponds about optics with Master Kepler.’

‘I could never have imagined such a thing.’ Anna drew back from the telescope, half expecting the sky to have taken on a new cast. Yet it looked the same as ever. Even the sky here was terribly deceptive.

‘Edward has set up a place here at Hart Castle where new discoveries can be made and the truth sought out in all its forms,’ Rob said. ‘Mathematics, astronomy, philosophy …’

‘And you are a part of it all?’

He gave a wary smile. ‘When I can be. My work is busy in London, and sometimes there are dangers in studying the ways of numbers and the stars. Some people do not understand it.’

Anna went to the open window and leaned against the ledge to study the faraway sky. It seemed so quiet, so placid,
a sea of black velvet sewn with the tiniest of diamonds. Yet through that glass it was something else entirely.

‘Once you told me there were other worlds beyond the stars, full of wonders and stories we have never heard,’ she said.

‘Did I?’ Rob said. She heard him move close behind her, the rustle of velvet as he crossed his arms.

‘When we sat together in my father’s garden. I’m sure
you
know those stories, for I see them in your plays.’

He came to stand beside her at the window, his shoulder pressed to hers. He was with her now, yet still he felt as distant as those stars. ‘I do know many a hidden tale.’

‘I wish we could go there now, to that world beyond the stars,’ she said.

‘Perhaps we can,’ Rob whispered in her ear. ‘Just close your eyes, hold on to me—and let me take you there …’

Anna closed her eyes and felt his touch on her shoulders as he gently turned her in his arms. He softly kissed her temple, her cheek, each of her closed eyelids, and she couldn’t breathe at his nearness. The world spun in sparkling darkness behind her eyes and she felt warm and shivering all at the same time.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, and his mouth claimed hers at last. Their kiss was hot and hungry, and she lost herself in it completely. The taste of him, the clean, spicy scent of him, the way his lips felt on hers and his fingers in her hair holding her with him—she
did
spin away into the stars, just with his touch.

And that was frightening, indeed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘F
AIREST
Anna, you do drive me mad,’ Rob groaned as he carried her through the door of her chamber and kicked it shut behind them.

‘I’ve often thought the same about you,’ Anna whispered against his neck. She tasted the salt-sweetness of his skin with her tongue, a raw hunger for him sweeping over her like a hot summer wind.

Rob dropped her feet lightly to the floor, only to wrap one strong arm around her waist and tug her close to him. His mouth stopped her breath with a rough kiss, their tongues pressing deep to taste and possess. He lifted her up and carried her back against the door.

She wrapped her legs tight about his hips and moaned as she felt him grasp her heavy skirts and pull them up, tossing them out of his way. His erection pressed against her belly, hard and insistent through the layers of fine wool and silk and linen.

His mouth traced a fiery ribbon of kisses along the side of her neck, her collarbone, where her fine gown fell away from her skin. She could feel his hunger, his need, as he kissed her—it echoed her own. Their careful masks fell away one
by one, and there was only them—Anna and Robert—bound by their desire for each other. Tied together by whatever it was they hid from the rest of the world, whatever it was in them that called out to the other.

Rob unhooked her ruff and tossed it away, crushing the stiffly starched lace, and Anna’s head fell back against the planks of the door. She closed her eyes and felt the searing heat of his kiss as he laid his open mouth against her breast. Her fashionable stays and velvet bodice pushed them into high, soft mounds, but it wasn’t enough for him. He hooked his fingers into the jewelled edge of the gown and with one hard tug they spilled free into his hands.

He held them on his palms carefully, lightly, as if they were rare, beautiful jewels, and Anna felt his long poet’s fingers reach for one of the aching, hardened nipples. He plucked at it, rolled it between his fingertips, until she cried out at the hot pleasure.

He bent his head and took it deep into his mouth, biting, suckling. She slid her hands into his hair, tangling her caress into the dark waves as her body arched and moved against his. He was hard between her legs, and she remembered what he had done to her in his room in London. Some mischevious spark flared into being inside her, and she let her legs fall away from his hips. Her feet touched the floor and she pushed him away from her.

‘Anna, what are you doing?’ he ground out roughly. ‘Let me …’

She smiled up at him. His eyes were black with hunger, and his lips damp and seductive. His whole body seemed to vibrate with lust, and it gave her a wonderful new feeling of—power. He
did
want her. No matter what troubles lay beyond their door, he wanted her just as she wanted him.

‘Nay,’ she said. ‘Let me.’

She reached down to slowly unfasten his breeches, letting
her hands brush gently over his erection. His body stiffened and his eyes narrowed warily as he watched her, but he didn’t move away. He braced his palms flat against the door to either side of her head.

She eased aside the folds of cloth and ran her fingers over his naked penis. It was iron-hard and hot under her touch, velvet-soft, the veins throbbing. She rubbed harder, a smooth caress down its length and up again, and it jumped against her hand.

A tiny drop of moisture gleamed at its tip, and she caught it on her finger. As Rob watched her in close, avid interest, she raised it to her lips and tasted him.

He groaned and said, ‘Anna, you will surely slay me.’

She laughed, feeling entirely unlike herself. She had never been seductive or bold—and it felt rather good. With him, anyway. ‘I hope not. You would be no use to me that way, Robert, not tonight.’

She let go of his manhood and curled her hands into the front of his doublet to turn him, so their positions were reversed and
he
was the one against the door. Slowly she fell to her knees, her skirts billowing around her.

She held him again, the length of him balanced in her hands, and she leaned forward to run the tip of her tongue over him. His whole body shuddered and she felt his fingers plunge into her hair, dislodging her pins and sending the careful arrangement tumbling loose down her back. Feeling even bolder, she took him into her mouth.

She could smell the faint, salty musk of his male desire, his desire for
her
, and it fanned the flames of her own need higher, hotter. She curled her tongue around him and tasted him.

His hands wound the strands of her hair tighter around his wrists and he tugged her away from him. She looked up at him, puzzled, and he gave her a crooked, unsteady smile.

Other books

Bonita Avenue by Peter Buwalda
Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem by Michelle Conder
Poverty Castle by John Robin Jenkins
Mistress Shakespeare by Karen Harper
Amalee by Dar Williams
Killer WASPs by Amy Korman