Chapter Fourteen

A nthony woke to Cecilia's stirrings beside him. Her hand trembled sleepily over his pectoral muscles and her naked thigh brushed against his groin as she shifted position in his arms. Opening his eyes to the late morning glow peeping through the bedroom curtains, he ran his hands down her back and caressed her rump playfully, drinking in the sight of her bare body bathed in golden sunlight. She snuggled into his embrace, her full breasts pressing into his ribs. He kissed her softly on the nose and she opened her eyes, purring deep in her throat. The signature wicked smile played at the corners of her lips and she ran her hand down his chest, over his abdomen where the deep, satisfied feeling of last night's love-making still warmed him, and rested it over his member.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, he's still there, at your service whenever you wish, my lady."

She smiled and sighed and closed her eyes again. He brushed her hair away from her cheek.

"Cecilia…"

"Hmmm?"

"I have questions."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Oh?"

He laughed. "I merely wish to know more of you."

She grinned and gave his cock a little squeeze. "I should think you know all of me by now."

He pulled her hand away from his groin and held it in his. She moaned in disappointment. He tried not to let her see the lust surging through his veins. He wanted her again. And again and again. He wanted her now. But he wanted to know some things first. He started with a harmless question. First step in any seduction: put the woman at ease. "Why do you always wear silk?"

She looked up, astonished, then laughed. "When I was George, when I had to hide my womanhood, I made myself two promises. One was that I would never, ever constrict my breasts again. The second was that I would never wear anything coarser than silk once I returned to being a woman." She leaned her face up to his and kissed him, letting her lips linger for a moment. He pulled away.

"Why did you kiss me the first night we met?"

"Because I wanted to." She smiled wantonly again and wriggled against him, rubbing her nipples into his ribcage. He sucked in his breath but held himself back from responding.

"Why did you tell me your story?"

Her eyes became serious, losing their mischievous sparkle. "I, I'm not…" She paused, seeming to search for the right words. "I understood you, from that first dance, and when you brought me my cloak and took me home. I thought that if I gave you what you needed, you would help me."

He pulled away. She sounded like she was selling herself to him. "What I needed ?"

"Yes." She licked her lips nervously.

He sat up, pushing her off him. "And what, pray tell, is it that I need , Lady Cecilia?"

She rolled away and stalked off the bed, throwing him a reproving glance, and pulled on her chemise.

Anthony would not give up so easily. She was using him. It was a new sensation, and not a pleasant one. "Please. Enlighten me. What do I need?"

She limped to the chair by the bed and sank down, covering her face with her hands. "Don't be this way."

"Is it sex? Is that what I need?" The indignation in his tone surprised him. It had been what he wanted, after all. Sex. With her. She didn't respond. "Look at me."

Her lip curled up and she turned away. "Do not presume to order me about in my own house."

He stood and yanked on his breeches. "Do not presume to know my needs."

"I knew your reputation." Her voice was almost pleading. He wouldn't let himself look at her. He was no primitive animal, obsessed with nothing but rutting. Well, perhaps he was, but it was damned insensitive of her to call him out on that.

"So you gave me sex in return for what, Cecilia? I must know," he spat.

"I didn't say sex," she spat back. "You put those words into my mouth."

"You didn't deny them." He pulled on his shirt and waistcoat.

"Perhaps I was wrong to trust you." Her voice was level and edged with distaste.

Anthony grabbed her by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet. "What did you expect, knowing my reputation?" She shrank away from him but he pulled her into him, holding her prisoner against his chest. "I am no knight in shining armor, Cecilia!" She flinched and tried to turn away. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she blinked back tears, and he released her, regret washing over him. For a moment, he'd forgotten that she'd been forced, subjected to the basest desires of man. And now she was feeling their brunt at the hands of a man she'd trusted. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she spoke first.

"Get. Out."

"Cecilia –" he reached out to brush the tears from her cheeks but she ducked under his arm and out of his reach.

"Get out now."

Her voice trembled, but whether with rage or with fear he could not tell. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He had surely hurt her now as much as Captain Brinkley had, and he didn't want to see the betrayal in her eyes. It already seared his back, her anger digging nails of remorse into his heart. He collected the rest of his clothing and turned the doorknob. Then he paused. He still had one more question, but he dreaded the answer. He looked back at her. She met his gaze, defiant.

"What do you plan to do about Captain Brinkley?"

A mask of indifference fell over her countenance; she squared her shoulders.

"Out."

He turned and left.