10. Quiet Lovers in the Night

CHAPTER 10

QUIET LOVERS IN THE NIGHT

A half-hour later

Making his way down the servants’ stairs as quietly as he could, Tom emerged into the first floor corridor, the candle lamp he held turned down so it only provided enough light to see a few steps in front of him.

The Aubusson carpet covering the wooden floor helped to drown his footfalls as he made his way past the door to the first apartment. On the other side of the next door, a lit sconce marked the entrance to the library, and he soon realized there was light coming from inside the room as well as from the sconce.

The library door was open.

Which meant someone was in the library.

He held his breath as he sneaked past and ducked into the drawing room across the hall. When he was sure he hadn’t been noticed, he moved to the next door—the apartment Anne mentioned—and pushed down on the door handle until he heard the faint snick of the latch releasing.

Pushing on the door, Tom kept his hand on the edge of the carved wood panel until he was all the way into the apartment. He was careful to hold down the door handle until he was sure the panel was back in place before allowing it to latch.

With the help of his candle lamp, Tom could make his way through what appeared to be a salon. Without tripping over the furnishings, he made it to the only other door to discover it was open. Beyond it, another lit candle lamp was sitting on a nightstand.

No one was in the bedchamber, though, and given a fire hadn’t been set in the fireplace, it was chilly.

Relieved to find several pieces of wood in a cradle next to the hearth—he knew he shouldn’t be surprised since it was Anne who saw to the apartment—he went about starting a fire. The fledgling flame had barely caught the kindling when he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Thank you for doing that,” Anne whispered, turning to close the bedchamber door.

“Are you already finished with the countess?” Tom asked, surprised to see her so soon.

“I am. She only had me undo her hair and help with her gown,” she explained, sounding confused.

“Probably because she knew you had other plans,” Tom said, arching a brow.

She grinned. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted.

“Did any of the other servants see you?”

“I didn’t bother going upstairs. They all knew I would be with her ladyship this evening, but still, I made sure to come here by way of the main stairs.”

Tom took her hand in his. “I think his lordship is in the library.”

“He is,” she agreed. “Graves set a fire for him right after dinner.”

Glancing around the bedchamber, Tom noticed she had already turned down the bed. “I haven’t been in a bed this size since...” He allowed the sentence to trail off lest he mention his late wife.

“Never for me,” she said, moving to sit on the edge of it. She gave it an experimental bounce. “The ropes are tight,” she murmured.

He joined her there, wrapping an arm around the back of her shoulders to pull her to him. “When I left you last year—after you kissed me so sweetly whilst I stood next to the coach—I was thinking about you all the way to London. Then you wrote to me so often?—”

“And you wrote back,” she whispered.

“—I promised myself I wasn’t going to ever leave you again. That is, if you still felt the same way now as you did then.”

“I do,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “I wasn’t sure until you found me on the stairs earlier.”

She dipped her head as a blush appeared. “You probably thought me fast.”

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” he countered. “It only convinced me of the words in your letters.” He turned to face her. “I meant what I said about not leaving you,” he warned. “When I take her ladyship back to London after Twelfth Night, you’re coming with us.”

She nodded, her grin widening into a smile. “I know. She told me.”

Tom gave a start. “What’s this?” Although he knew Lady Ritchfield was aware he was sweet on Anne—she had given him a number of missives from Anne over the past year even though the butler probably should have been the one to do so—he had never talked to her about his intentions toward the housemaid.

“She wants me to be her lady’s maid. In London,” Anne said, lifting a hand to the side of his neck .

His gaze going to his mind’s eye, Tom chuckled softly. “She’s finally going to pension that old goat,” he whispered.

“What’s this?”

Shaking his head, he turned his gaze back on her. “Watkins. Her lady’s maid. Probably a hundred years old and not a very nice woman, if you ask me. A more stubborn woman you won’t find anywhere else,” he murmured. “You’ll be a welcome addition to the staff, I should think.”

Anne regarded him with a grin. “Does the rest of the staff there know? About us, I mean?”

His look of confusion quickly passed. “Not yet, but they will,” he said. “Because I’m going to introduce you as me wife,” he claimed.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, are you now?”

Stiffening, he said, “I am.” When he realized what she meant, he scoffed. “Well, you are going to marry me, aren’t you? Because...” he turned and waved a hand at the bed. “We’re not spending the night in the same bed if you’re not.”

Anne sighed and tried her best to keep a straight face. “Well, if that’s the best you can do for a marriage proposal, then I suppose I have to accept it,” she chided.

Tom inhaled to answer before his brows furrowed. “Oh, that didn’t come out how I was expectin’ to do it,” he admitted. “My apologies.” He stood from the bed and turned to face her. Lifting her hands, one in each of his, he said, “Miss Salisbury, will you do me the honor of becoming me wife?”

Anne grinned and nodded. “I will, Mr. Walker.”

The two stared at one another for a long time before he gathered her into his arms and kissed her.

He had the ties of her apron undone and the buttons unfastened at the top of her livery before their lips separated. When he glanced down, he discovered she had already unbuttoned his waistcoat .

He pulled off her apron and was about to lift her gown when he paused. “Should I put you into bed first? It’s still a bit chilly in here,” he whispered.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she murmured, pushing his waistcoat from his body. She was undoing the knot in his cravat when he wrapped his hands around her wrists.

“Have you seen a man before? Without clothes on, I mean?”

Understanding immediately what he was asking, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “In paintings, I suppose,” she replied.

“Because I don’t know what you’re expecting, but?—”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting, either,” she interrupted, shaking her wrists free of his hold so she could continue undoing his cravat. “But we’ll turn down the candle lamps so it will be dark?—”

“But I want to see you,” he argued.

Anne stilled her hands. “Do you mean, in my shift, or...?”

“Well, the or ,” he affirmed. When he heard her scoff of shock, he added, “I know you’ll be gorgeous, Anne. Much finer looking than me, that’s for certain.”

She draped his cravat over the back of a chair and extinguished the candle lamp she had brought as well as the other two. The flames in the fireplace, now spread over all the logs, cast more than enough light in the room.

“If you insist, but I’m leaving my stockings on,” she stated. She encouraged him to sit on the bed so she could pull his boots from his feet. “I better not see a single look of disappointment, though.” The first boot landed with a thud a few feet away.

“You won’t,” he agreed. “But I’m keeping my shirt on. To be sure I won’t see a look of disappointment from you.”

She scoffed. “It’s hardly the same,” she said, tossing his second boot to land atop the first. Coming to her feet, she reached for the sides of his shirt and began pulling the fabric from his breeches.

“Have you done this before?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Beneath the hem of his shirt, she had her hand on one of the buttons of his breeches, and she stilled. “No,” she replied. “Of course not.”

He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “You’ve never...?”

Resuming her work on undoing the buttons, she shook her head. “I’ve not been with a man before, if that’s what you’re asking.” She palmed the hard ridge that had formed behind the placket of his breeches. “But I know what happens between a man and a woman. I’m not some young girl fresh from the schoolroom.”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut when he felt her hand press against his manhood. He had hoped to retain some control—this was their first time together like this—but if she continued what she was doing, he would be coming far sooner than he planned.

“Anne, I really need you to stop that,” he whispered. He placed a hand over hers to move it aside, and he felt how it trembled in his hold.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked in confusion.

He shook his head. “Anything but,” he replied. “However, I don’t want to hurt you , so we’re going to take our time, and I’m going to be sure you’re as ready for me as I am for you.”

She nodded and watched as he pushed his breeches and smalls from his body, followed by his stockings. The entire time, his shirt hid his manhood from sight.

He knelt before her and removed her shoes, and as he stood, supporting himself by gripping the poster at the end of the bed, he brought up the hem of her gown with his other hand. She didn’t put voice to a protest but raised her arms as he pulled the black gown over her head.

He was careful to shake it out and drape it over the same chair where she had left his clothes so neatly folded. When he faced her once again, he undid her stays and pulled them from her body.

Her white cotton shift hung down past the tops of her stockings, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the tips of her nipples or the dark triangle at the top of her thighs.

Tom swallowed. “See? You are gorgeous,” he whispered.

Anne stepped close enough so the fronts of their bodies touched. “I’m not sure if you are aware, but you’re standing in front of the fire,” she said, arching a teasing brow.

He chuckled. “So you think you’ve seen everything,” he guessed.

She nodded.

He stripped the shift from her body, turned and lifted her into his arms, Anne letting out a squeak of surprise as she gripped his shoulder. “Mr. Walker!” she scolded.

He merely grinned as he took her to the bed and placed her in the middle, his gaze on her face the entire time. Hearing her soft gasp when her bare skin touched the cool bed linens, he quickly moved to pull up some of the blankets to cover her, then climbed in behind her, doffing his shirt at the last minute. Gathering her into his arms, he kissed her with an urgency matching how she had kissed him in the stairwell. Despite their combined warmth, he still felt her trembling.

“What do I do?” she asked, when he finally ended the kiss.

“Allow me,” he said, his lips working their way down her cheek and to the space between her neck and shoulder. “To do this,” he added in a whisper.

She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his suckling lips, of his warm hand as it smoothed over her skin and cupped a breast to gently mold it. By then, he had his mouth there, too, his lips taking purchase on her nipple to worry it with his tongue and teeth.

When he turned his attention to the other breast, Anne had moved a hand to his head, her fingers spearing his hair and her nails scraping his scalp. Frissons skittered down his spine, and he had to let go of the nipple to inhale sharply. “You minx,” he accused.

Anne tittered, gripping his head with both hands. He wasn’t about to be deterred from his mission, though. Sliding down her body, he kissed her belly and then blew on the moisture left behind. Hearing her soft gasps only encouraged him. His tongue darted into her naval as he used a hand to push one of her thighs to the side.

When he moved lower, she bent her other leg, her breaths becoming louder. “What...?”

“Ssh,” he replied, his lips skimming over the tender skin of her inner thigh.

He felt her buck beneath him, but he wasn’t about to stop, not when his tongue was so close to its target.

He had his arms beneath her knees and his hands spread on her thighs when he glanced up her body. Although he knew she had been trying to watch what he was doing, he saw how her back had arched and her chest was raised. She had the bed linens gripped in her hands, her head tilted back on the pillow.

“Breathe, my sweet,” he said, right before his tongue slid between the folds covering her womanhood. He wasn’t expecting her to already be wet with need, but he knew she was even before he slid his tongue over the swollen nubbin. Circling it with his tongue several times, he listened to her quiet mewls and felt her lower body quake beneath his chin.

Sliding his tongue deep into her warm channel, he thrilled when he felt her body respond, the waves of her orgasm attempting to pull him in deeper. Desperate for his own release, he was up and over her in an instant, his manhood at her entrance. He pushed into her before she had a chance to realize what he was doing, before she had a chance to clench in an attempt to prevent his entry.

“Oh!”

“Breathe,” he said again, his mouth covering hers with a kiss. When he lifted his head from hers, he asked, “Are you all right?”

Her gaze darted about for a moment before she nodded in the pillow. “I... I think so.”

When he slowly pulled almost all the way out of her, she moved her hands on his shoulders. “What...?”

He slid a warm hand along her side, his thumb brushing the side of her breast. “Hang on to me,” he whispered. He pushed back into her, this time until he was as deep as he could go.

Anne inhaled slowly, nodding in the pillow even as she lifted her knees so they gripped his thighs.

Tom groaned his appreciation, resuming the retreat and thrusting motions of a dance as ancient as time. On his fourth thrust, Anne lifted her hips to meet his, and it was nearly his undoing. “Oh, my sweet, I do love you,” he whispered, his breathing ragged as he continued the movements that soon had him holding his breath and his body seizing as his orgasm gripped him in pure pleasure.

Anne slid her hands from his shoulders as his arms seemed to lose all their strength. When he nearly fell onto her, his chest pressed to hers, she wrapped her arms around his back and held on as he rolled onto his back.

Not letting go, Anne gasped, her eyes wide as she stared down at him. “Are you all right?”

He chuckled softly when he realized she had held onto him, her thighs still gripping his, her chest against his, her gaze one of concern .

Nodding, he said, “Better than I have been in my entire life, my love. And you?” His slid his hands up and down her sides, well aware her body still trembled.

She managed a wan grin. “Will we do it again?”

His eyes rounded. “Tonight?”

Blinking, she was hesitant with her nod.

Chuckling again, he seemed to think on it a moment before he said, “Well, mayhap in the morning, before we... before we have to leave this wonderful bed?” he countered.

She nodded. “All right. May I stay where I am?” She straightened her legs, wincing when his manhood left her body.

Grinning, he lifted his head to kiss her on the lips. “For the entire night if you’d like.” He watched as she reached around to pull the bed linens over their bodies and settle her head onto his chest. Kissing her on the top of her head, he whispered, “Good night, my love,” and promptly fell asleep.

A top him, Anne wondered how he could sleep. Her entire body seemed to buzz with excitement, her nerve endings behaving as if they had been asleep her entire life. She was aware of every thread in the bed linens and of the warm body below, of his pulse beneath her ear and the way it caused a tremor in his chest with every heartbeat. Of the scent of woodsmoke from the fireplace and the quiet crackles as the fire consumed the logs. Of the sounds of the house as the rooms cooled with the winter chill beyond the outer walls.

Eventually, she fell asleep, her last thought that she was betrothed to be married and would soon be moving to London.