Page 82 of Winterset

His lips brushed hers, caressing first her top lip, then the bottom. His hands came up, cupping her face and sliding back, his fingers tangling in her hair. His skin was faintly rough against the soft flesh of her face as his thumbs stroked over her cheekbones.

Anna’s eyes fluttered closed, and her skin flared with heat. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, the nipples prickling as desire flooded her loins. She remembered his fingers upon her breasts, caressing and arousing her, his hands sliding up her legs, seeking the hot, moist center of her. She ached there, her whole body alive and tingling with need, trembling with desire.

He kissed her, his lips soft and supple on hers, enticing and seducing her. Anna quivered, lost in his taste, his scent. His hands slipped down her neck and over her chest, coming to rest on her breasts. A soft moan escaped her as he caressed her, and she wanted to be free of her clothes, to feel his skin upon her naked flesh.

Her hands went to his chest, sliding up across his shirt. She could feel the musculature of his chest beneath the material, firm and strong. She wanted to slip her hands beneath his shirt and caress his bare skin, to know the texture of him. She thought of tasting him with her mouth, of sending the tip of her tongue lazily gliding over his skin.

Reed’s kiss deepened, and his hands dug in at her waist. He turned, bearing her back against the sofa. In another moment, Anna knew, she would be lost, unable to stop the hurtling force of their passion.

“No!” she gasped out, twisting away. “No. We cannot.”

Her hands came up to her face. She could not bear to look at him, knowing that even a glance might break her resolve. Anna jumped to her feet. She heard him rise behind her, and she whirled, one hand out.

“Please…no.” She looked at him, wanting with all her heart to throw herself back into his arms.

Color flamed along Reed’s cheekbones, and his chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. He had never looked so handsome to her, so desirable, as he did in that moment, and Anna clenched her hands at her sides, fighting her own treacherous instincts.

For a long moment they stood like that, caught in the tangle of their desire, and then, with an almost physical wrenching, Anna whirled and ran from the room.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Someone tried to break into Holcomb Manor that night.

In the middle of the night, Anna was pulled from her sleep by the sound of raised voices. She got up and wrapped her dressing gown around her, then hurried downstairs to the music room, where several of the servants were already gathered. Kit hurried in almost on her heels.

“What the devil is going on here?”

“Someone broke the window, sir,” one of the footmen answered, turning to Kit and Anna. “I was keeping watch, sir, like you told me, and all of sudden I heard this sound like glass breaking. So I called for John, here, and we started looking around. When we got to the music room, we found the pane broken and the window up. Someone had reached in and unfastened the lock, looks like. But I guess we scared them off.”

“Close the window and board up that pane,” Kit ordered. “We’ll have the glazier in tomorrow. Hargrove, set someone on that. Then get the rest of the men. We are going to search outside the house.”

While the butler snapped orders to the servants, Kit strode out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. Anna hurried after him.

He turned. “Where are you going?”

“With you,” Anna replied. “Where else?”

“You should stay in here.”

“I shall be with you,” Anna countered.

Kit started to protest, then raised his hands and let them fall. “All right. I can’t waste time arguing.”

They continued into the kitchen area, where Kit picked up the lantern by the back door and lit it. Hargrove followed them, handing out lanterns to the servants in clusters of two or three, and the entire group trooped out the back door, spreading out to cover the immediate grounds.

Kit and Anna walked through the garden, glancing in either direction, heading toward the trees at the back. They had not reached them when a cry went up from near the house.

Turning, they hurried back through the garden to where Hargrove and a footman were bending over something on the ground. When they grew nearer, they saw that it was one of the outside guards whom Reed had sent over. He was stretched out, unconscious.

“He’s been knocked out,” Hargrove told them. “I can feel the bump on the back of his head.”

They carried the man inside and laid him out on the servants’ table, where Anna could tend to his wound. The others returned to their search of the gardens, but few had any hope of finding the intruder.

Anna bandaged up the man’s head, and, when he came to, she gave him some of the powder Dr. Felton had left for Kit’s headaches. Everyone returned before long with the expected news that they had found no signs of any person on the grounds.

Anna looked at Kit worriedly. Obviously, whoever had tried to hurt Kit was not giving up on his plan. She had to find out who was doing the killings—and soon.

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