At Least Once More (8 page)

“Miss Abbott,” Gareth growled, closing on her from behind.

Ahead, the door, held by the butler, opened.

“Thompson, tell Mr. Abbott that His Grace is here for breakfast and send Marie to draw a bath, if you please.”

She sailed through the entry and up the stairs as the servant said, “Yes, Miss Abbott.” A second later, she heard, “Your Grace, if you please. This way to the breakfast room.”

A small smile teased her lips at Gareth’s frustrated huff. The smile fell when she realized he’d soon be sitting down to a meal with her brother. She clasped her throat. Surely he wouldn’t say anything foolish or mention this morning’s events?

But what could she do? There was no way she could face her brother with her—lover?—sitting across the table. The throbbing in her head and between her legs intensified. Definitely not. She and Gareth could work out their problems later, hopefully when her legs weren’t jelly and her emotions weren’t in turmoil.

She briefly considered knocking on Minerva’s door, but she was really in no state to talk to her sister-in-law. Not with unexpected twinges leaving her thighs quivering and her body wanting more. More of Gareth inside her, stretching her to the point of pain.

He might have thought her questions had been answered, but really, she couldn’t help but feel as if there was yet something more waiting. Was it wrong to want confirmation before committing her life to a man? Would Gareth take her to that precipice again and beyond it?

What would it be like to be bared to his gaze and have his hands and lips at her breasts while he thrust inside her?

She locked her knees as they threatened to buckle. She grabbed the doorknob to her bedroom for support. Resting her other hand on the wood grain, she took a deep breath.

There’d been that one moment of really sharp pain, but it had passed on a wave of pleasure. Then he’d slid even deeper and hit some magical spot deep inside that blended the sensation of pain and pleasure so seamlessly. She’d hardly been able to catch her breath.

Moisture coated her thighs, which were still sticky from earlier. This line of thought certainly was not helping. She shoved open the door and headed toward the privacy screen.

She’d been behind it but a minute when she heard the door open. “I’ll be out shortly, Marie.” Annabelle tossed her dress over the screen, undid the tapes to her petticoat and let it puddle to the floor. The door opened again. “Marie?”

“Yes, milady?”

She peeked her head from behind the screen, watched as two footmen carried in the hip bath, followed by six maids carrying pots of water. “Extra hot, please.”

She ducked back behind the screen and slid off her garters then rolled her stockings down. A small twinge in her lower back—akin to discomfort from long hours in the saddle—halted her movements. She sucked in a harsh breath. Definitely needed it extra hot.

The door closed again. Not bothering with a robe, she stepped from behind the screen wearing naught but her shift.

The room was blessedly empty and silent. She walked toward the bath.

“Did I hurt you?”

She stifled a squeak at the sound of Gareth’s voice and spun toward it, her hand over her racing heart. He stood beside the curtains.

What was he doing in her room? How had he slipped past Thompson?

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Had he come to find her out of concern? He’d asked if he had hurt her.

Her pride certainly, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “I’m fine. Why aren’t you breakfasting with William?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched when he clenched his jaw. “If you’re fine then why is there blood on your shift?”

She glanced at her shift. “I see no blood.”

He fisted his hands and ground out, “On the back side.”

She huffed. Really, why was he mad? She strode over to the mirror, the long strides stretching muscles no doubt tight from being used in unexpected ways. The throb between her thighs intensified with each brush of the soft muslin of her shift against nipples tautened to sharp points.

She spun and sought the bloodstain on the back of her shift. It was beneath the curve of her bottom. Relief swept through her. “I imagine that’s from my maidenhead.”

In the mirror, she saw shock wash across Gareth’s face. “You were a virgin?”

How dare he! She marched over to stand in front of him. Poking the hard muscles of his chest may not have made much of an impact on him, but she felt better. “So, you did think I was a woman of loose virtue.” She poked harder. “And you were just taking what I offered, as you would have of any woman who offered.”

Anger at herself clogged her throat. He hadn’t wanted her body. Not in the way she wanted him to, at least. God, how much more foolish could she get?

But wouldn’t any man have done the same thing in his position? A woman perched atop his lap, practically begging to be taken. Shame—not at what she’d done, but because she wanted to do it again—added fuel to her anger. “Well, don’t start worrying that I’m going to hold you to whatever,” she sneered, “noble intentions you might have tried to claim in the park. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man—”

“You sure as hell will marry him!” William’s voice thundered into the room.

Skin that had been warm with anger cooled with mortification as she faced her angry brother. Where had he come from? She hadn’t even heard the door open. “William, what are you…?”

His gaze swept her body. She wanted to cringe and cover herself, but instead, she straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, damn it!

“Clean yourself up and put some clothes on, Annabelle.” William’s gaze narrowed on Gareth. “Your Grace, if you please.” He indicated the door.

“Of course.” As Gareth brushed past her, he whispered, “Make no mistake, Belle. You are mine now.”

A shiver had her hugging herself. When the door closed, she walked over and threw the lock.

They could all wait! Tossing off her shift, she dipped a toe in the too-hot water. She was tired. She was sore. And the headache she’d pretended now threatened to become a reality under the onslaught of questions racing through her mind.

What had Gareth meant, she was his? That had been the second time he’d claimed her. The tender skin between her legs throbbed as blood rushed to the inflamed area.

The first time, he’d told her no more foolishness. She’d been uncertain what he’d meant at the time, but had she just been foolish—overreacted, let her insecurities blind her? Had he truly wanted her, and not just because she was a woman who’d spread her legs for him?

She tested the water again. It had cooled to just hot. She stepped into the tub. With a sigh, she sank down and settled against the tub. The heat slowly worked loose the taut muscles of her back and thighs.

Though the tender, swollen flesh of her woman’s mound still throbbed, she almost missed the extra evidence that he’d found her body desirable. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted—a man who wanted her person more than her money? Of course, she didn’t know his financial circumstances, but did it really matter? She wanted him to be the one to take her in hand and show her everything there was between a man and a woman, and he’d proved himself more than capable of doing both this morning. Remembrance tightened her skin and pebbled her nipples.

With a certainty, she knew when she met with William soon, she’d be told of her upcoming nuptials to Gareth. And, if her brother had gone to extreme measures to see her not married to Thornton, she could only imagine the lengths he’d go to ensure she walked down the aisle toward Gareth.

As for His Grace, he’d been determined to do the right thing at the mere threat of damage to her reputation posed by the appearance of Lady Evans and Sir Digby in the park. At the time, she’d been confused by the tug of desire for things she couldn’t name and irritation at those two gossips for interrupting her discovery of the potential answers to her questions. The thought of a forced marriage to satisfy an imagined compromise hadn’t set well with her.

A smile tilted her lips, but she was well and truly compromised now. Even if she truly didn’t want to marry Gareth, she had no choice.

Excitement twirled inside her. Was it possible she’d be married soon and be able to experience more of the pleasure Gareth had shown her this afternoon?

The flesh between her legs throbbed as the water’s heat and her thoughts made blood pool in the swollen folds. She covered the area with her hand and gasped at the flickers of pain created by the light pressure. She slid a finger between the folds to trace the path Gareth had taken earlier.

Letting her knees fall apart, she eased inside the swollen passage and explored the tender recesses. A gasp tore from her throat. She really was a wanton.

With her thumb, she found that bundle of nerves that delivered fire to her veins. Teeth digging into her lower lip, she fought past each tiny shard of pain for the pleasure beneath. She stretched herself with a second finger. The water lapped the sides of the tub as she set a pace similar to the one she’d ridden Gareth’s fingers with earlier.

Tiny spasms squeezed her fingers and tightened her thighs. Pressing against the magical spot again, she rode her fingers harder. Gareth’s fingers, both longer and wider, had been so much more enjoyable. Maybe because she could concentrate on just the pleasure.

She explored the soft inner flesh, flinched at the tenderness, and gloried in the rush of warmth and wetness that eased the passage. Not that this wasn’t pleasurable as well, just not quite as much as having Gareth’s hands on her, in her.

She thrust harder. The muscles relaxed and she slid a third finger in.

Her breath hissed out. There…there was that impossible fullness she’d felt earlier. She moved her fingers faster. The edge was near. So near.

She gasped when her inner muscles clasped her fingers tight and milked them like they’d milked Gareth’s cock earlier. Satisfaction and a sense of peace flooded her body even as the spasms intensified when she recalled him swelling even larger before flooding her with liquid warmth.

When the last spasm retreated, she slid her fingers free. The flesh was even more swollen, if that was possible. She wouldn’t be able to walk without recalling everything she’d experienced so far today.

She sighed. Maybe if she’d explored herself long ago instead of waiting to find a man, she wouldn’t have tried to run off with ineligible
partis
. But then again, she also wouldn’t have been tempted by Gareth on the terrace or found pleasure in his arms.

Was he still downstairs?

Not questioning her sudden desire to see him, she quickly washed, then rang for Marie to help her dress. However, when the maid arrived, she informed Annabelle that His Grace had left and William waited for her in his study.

She smiled. That could only mean one thing.

****

Annabelle cracked the study door and knocked even while poking her head through the opening. “William?”

Her brother glanced up, a pensive frown on his face. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Come in, Annabelle.”

Worry replaced the budding excitement that had accompanied her down the stairs. Why hadn’t he yelled? He always shouted when she got into a scrape. Always. She entered the room and shut the door. “Is everything all right with Minerva?”

He scrubbed a hand across his face, sat back in his chair, and sighed. “She’s fine.” A small smile broke his stony facade. “Apparently, I’m to be a father.”

“Really?” Annabelle crossed the room and minding the tenderness between her thighs, delicately perched on one of the two chairs facing the desk. “How exciting. Imagine, you and Markham finding out you’re to be fathers on the same day. I wonder if the babes will be born near each other.”

William closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath before opening them again. “And what exactly were you thinking, sneaking out to meet Markham this morning? The man’s a known rake.”

Annabelle straightened. “I didn’t sneak. Minerva and I always ride in the morning. Besides, it was the countess I intended to meet, not the earl.”

William quirked a brow but didn’t say a word.

Uncertainty tumbled Annabelle’s stomach. This William was more intimidating than the red-faced, screaming brother she’d squared off with in the past. That William, she matched yell for yell, but that type of behavior now seemed inappropriate. “I know. I shouldn’t have left the house without a groom, but I honestly expected to be meeting Lady Markham.”

William’s mouth pinched into a tight line. He closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “And when Lord Markham showed instead, why didn’t you return home?” Opening his eyes, he leaned forward and crossed his arms on the desktop.

Her stomach clenched. Why hadn’t she returned home? She couldn’t remember now. So much had happened in a mere two hours. She shrugged.

“And when Grey showed up, you continued not to think about the consequences to your reputation, and so you held a conversation with not just one, but two gentlemen. All without the benefit of a chaperone.”

Annabelle shrunk into the chair. “I’m sorry?” Strangely, this time, she meant those words, not because she regretted her actions, but because of how those actions reflected on her brother. He was her only family, or had been until he’d married Lady Minerva.

William shook his head. “No. I’m sorry for failing so miserably at guiding you and protecting you.”

Annabelle’s throat thickened with tears. “Don’t say that. You protected me as best you could after Mama and Papa died. I’m just incorrigible.” Tears welled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

William shoved from his chair and skirted the desk. He squatted in front of Annabelle and grabbed her hands. “Annabelle, you understand I can’t protect you from the consequences of your actions today. Only Grey can do that.”

She sniffed. “I know.”

William sat on his haunches. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. Given what you were screaming at him, I was sure I’d have to threaten something horrific like no riding until you acquiesced.”