“And I am tellingyouthat I will not be swayed,” she shot back, though she didn’t quite understand what he meant.
He released her, though her breath caught in her throat as his hand brushed past the curve of her waist, and his body pressed close to hers again.
“I will arrange a gathering here at Stonebridge just as soon as the rest of me household arrives. There’s a masquerade for us to attend,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper that made her skin tingle where his breath tickled. “Yewillfind yerself a husband at either one of those two occasions, and when ye have, we can all have our peace.”
With that, he pulled on the door handle, and the sudden swing of the door made Anna quickly step aside, mostly so Mr. Miller would not see her if he was still out there somewhere.
Offering no words of truce, compromise, or choice, Jeremy stormed out of the library with the same stormy air he had entered with. As Anna staggered back to her reading chair for comfort, she could not take her eyes off the open door, nor her mind off the man who had pressed her against it, making her feel things she should not feel—opening her mind to thoughts, wants, and freedoms that simply were not appropriate for a woman like her.
The longer she sat there staring, the more those feelings of excitement, passion, and curiosity darkened into a growing anger, spitting with the ferocity of hot oil. Beneath it, an undercurrent of sadness flowed, knowing that a kiss—her first, in fact—could have such little effect on him. He had stolen that gift from her, and though she had readily given it in the moment, there was a crushing loss inside her now that he had taken it and run. How could he kiss her and caress her so intensely one moment, his actions suggesting he would have continued if she had permitted it, then command her to find a husband the next?
If only Iwerea witch down by the Thames,she mused crossly, thinking of an earlier conversation,then I might turn you into a frog and keep you in the river, telling all of society that you simply vanished into thin air.
Instead, it seemed he wanted to be a constant thorn in the garden of her peace and quiet. And she had no idea what to do about it, for how could she uproot a man who was probably afraid of nothing and seemed just as stubbornly determined as her to stay exactly where he was?
He does not understand why I cannot leave.
If she went to London, she would be ostracized in a city that terrified her, for she had never lived anywhere but the countryside. And it would also mean cutting her staff in half at least, making them unemployed, for Jeremy wouldn’t keep them on with staff of his own.
If she went to the coast, even with repairs made, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t be taken from her too: sold or claimed or given to any children Jeremy might have. And it would be far worse to have that taken, years down the line.
So, she had no choice but to fight to stay here, even if Jeremy had the greater claim to it. The only claim, in truth.
“Your Grace?” Mr. Miller appeared in the library doorway, looking rather ashen.
Anna blinked. “Yes, Mr. Miller?”
“Are you well? I heard… what sounded like a struggle.”
Anna’s throat bobbed, embarrassment lodged there. “A disagreement. Nothing I could not handle.” She forced a smile. “Now, where were we?”
“The Roman Empire,” Mr. Miller replied, entering hesitantly, as if Jeremy might be hiding somewhere in the room. “Might I suggest the chapters on Caesar? I hear that those who didn’t favor him much dealt with him rather swiftly.”
Anna laughed stiffly, her skin still tingling in the aftermath of Jeremy’s touch. “I told you, I do not want to kill the man, I just… want him gone.”
But how was she supposed to exile a man who, by legal right, however unfair, now owned everything that had been her sanctuary? A man who could, very easily, exileherinstead?
Could he actually force me to marry?
Jeremy swore as he sank down into the ice-cold bath, cursing not just the temperature but the woman who had made it necessary.
The sooner she’s wed and out of me manor, the better.
The biting water crested over his body and settled, though the same could not be said for his mind. There was no way to wash that clear of his less-than-pure thoughts about Anna. Yet, it was his own fault that such thoughts were there in the first place.
“What did ye go and kiss her for, eh?” he muttered to himself, his hand closing around a vial of rosemary oil.
He had well and truly complicated things, but it wasn’t beyond repair. Between the masquerade ball and the gathering he planned to host when Beatrice and Sophie arrived, there would surely be a nice enough gentleman who wouldn’t hesitate to ask for Anna’s hand. Maybe even that oaf who was hosting the masquerade.
Aye, that’d be for the best. She’ll be happier wherever I am not.
The perfect hourglass shape of her body slipped into his mind—the breathy gasps that soughed from her lips, the way she had gripped his shirt and pulled herself closer, the fire with which she had kissed him back. He could still feel the softness of her hair and see the dramatic curve of her waist, not to mention the rounded swell of her backside, which had fit so perfectly in his hand.
Anger surged through his chest as his own thoughts were overridden by another man’s image. Another man who, by law, would have the right to claim her. One who would not know what he was doing and certainly would not appreciate the divine gift of what he possessed. Someone who would not have any idea how to ignite her into a frenzy and give her exactly what she wanted, even when she did not know it herself.
The only thing these English gentlemen know is how to dim a lass’s fire.
He had encountered enough of them during his school years and his time at university. He had not been impressed then, and he doubted much had changed.
