But she clearly did not get the hint that he was not in the mood for this. With her shoulders back and her chin raised, she stepped in front of him and stood there, preventing him from continuing his walk.
“You never leave a lady on the dance floor,” she said sharply. “You escort her back to wherever she was before the dance. You escort her back to her chaperone, if she has one, or her friends.”
Jeremy canted his head. “Ye have neither.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“And ye arrived with me, so where was I supposed to take ye back to?” he continued, hit with a little pinch of guilt at his last remark.
It could not have been easy for her to make or retain friends if everyone in society suspected her of playing a part in herhusband’s death. Even those who liked her and thought kindly of her would not be able to be seen with her, lest they tarnish their own reputations by association.
Ye must have been very lonely in that manor, lass…He almost said it, but Anna jumped in before he could.
“Anywhere!” she retorted. “You could have taken me to get refreshments, or we could have left altogether. What is worse, you left me there while everyone was staring. Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you not think I have borne enough of that over this past year or so?”
He bristled at her accusation. “Have ye ventured out of the manor that much?”
“Well… no, but I have read what they write about me,” she replied, her voice losing some of its ferocity. “They do not forget as quickly as you might think. Whenever there is nothing else to write about, they write about me. They ask where I have disappeared to, if I am not ashamed of myself, why I have not faced justice, what right I have to continue with my title and position when I snuffed out a nobleman’s life.”
He shrugged. “Don’t read it, then.”
“Don’t read—” She barked a laugh. “Goodness, it must have been so lovely in your quiet corner of Scotland, where nothing could bother you and society had no notion of who you were. Even if I do not read what they say about me, I canfeeltheir cruelty, their misplaced judgment.”
Jeremy took a step toward her, unable to help himself. “So, ye admit it; ye didn’t kill him?”
“Of course I did not,” she rasped, her hand flying to her heart as her bosom heaved with the exertion of her strained breaths. “I was terrified of him. I knew he was not a good man, but I was prepared to do my duty. As I said before, I had no choice. I had nowhere else to go.”
He lifted his hand to her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “When did ye say he died?”
“I… do not think I did.”
“So, tell me,” he encouraged, a strange, taut sensation of possibility taking hold of his chest.
Her throat bobbed as she stared fiercely into his eyes. “He died on our wedding night.” She turned away quickly. “Of course, everyone struggled to believe it was a coincidence. There must be countless ladies who have wished for the same thing on their wedding nights to men they do not know, do not like, and had no choice in marrying.”
Jeremy sensed the pain in her voice and moved instinctively before he could stop himself. His arm slipped around her waist, his hand sliding up the back of her neck, as he guided her backward into the shadow of the cedar tree.
Nay wonder she got flustered when ye tried to raise her skirts.He had assumed she was familiar with such things, being a widow and all. How mistaken he had been. If that man died on their wedding night, then she had likely only experienced it once, and it clearly hadn’t been a pleasant experience with all the death and indignity that had followed.
“Ye shouldn’t be afraid of the touch of a man, lass,” he purred, her quiet gasp pouring fuel onto the blaze of his desire as her shoulders bumped into the tree trunk. “Nay lass should.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes alight with surprise. “That is… easy for you to say.” Her teeth raked her lower lip as his hand skimmed the curve of her waist. “In that ballroom alone, you will find that… the majority did not want to marry their husbands. Yet, the gentlemen do not mind who they marry, for they will not be spurned and cast out for… indulging elsewhere.”
“That is a tragedy,” Jeremy whispered, close to her ear.
Slowly, unable to resist, he dipped his head further and let his lips graze the soft skin of her bare shoulder. Her body trembled in his embrace, her hands sliding up his chest with the hesitancy of someone who just needed encouragement. Something he was more than willing to give as he kissed the curve of her neck and pressed himself more firmly against her, so she might feel the effect she had on him.
“A lass should know pleasure,” he told her softly. “A lass should have the freedom to learn what she likes, what makes her shiver, what makes her burn with the fever of bliss. She should never bescared, and nay man should ever take a woman who is afraid or unwilling.”
He kissed his way up to her jaw, taking his time as he moved toward her mouth.
“Tell me, lass, are ye afraid?”
Her hands grasped fistfuls of his shirt, the light tug of her arms pulling him closer in answer. “Not nearly as much as I probably should be,” she murmured. “Out here, in the dark, alone with you.”
To hide his smile, Jeremy kissed her: hard and hungry and passionate, savoring the moment he had imagined repeating since he had kissed her in the library. This time, she did not hesitate to return the fervent, fiery graze, kissing him back with a wild abandon that would take a hundred ice-cold baths to forget.
He pushed her against the cedar tree, intoxicated by the smell of the needles and her sweet scent, each gasp from her lips fueling his desire more and more. The gardens and the unpleasantness of the ball faded away, leaving only her and the eager press of her mouth against his.
