Chapter Twenty-Two

J acob wasn't following the damn woman. If Anna had stayed in bed like she was supposed to then he wouldn't be chasing after her at all. Needs would have been met in the morning. It would have all been very convenient, very civilized. Yes, he probably would have started to look for her sometime in the late afternoon, but that could hardly be helped. Needs were needs.

However, it was barely midday and Jacob couldn't think. Well… he could think, but those thoughts weren't helpful. They were rather tawdry and centered on a naked Anna back in his bed. This was why he was on the hunt. This was why his work had suffered all morning. This was why he was behaving like a love-struck fool.

After an hour of active, embarrassing searching, Jacob finally caught sight of his elusive woman in the library. Sitting at a desk, head down over her papers, writing furiously, Anna had no idea that he was watching from the doorway. She was fastidious as ever, wearing a perfunctory yellow gown with a tartan headband over the top of her head. It reminded Jacob of something Anne Boleyn would have worn while she was busy seducing the king, only Anna wasn't trying to use her wiles on Jacob now. Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth as she scribbled away. Jacob's body reacted instantly to that tongue. How he wanted to suck on it; how he wanted to take it in his mouth and mingle it with his own.

But … love.

Anna was terrified of it, which meant there was still an embargo on kissing. And Jacob was terrified of losing anything that she might give him. So he would accept her conditions. Beggars could not be choosers, after all, and Jacob understood who was in control of their rendezvous—and it was most assuredly not him.

He'd always believed that being a viscount would give him unimaginable power, and yet he felt nothing of the sort while spying on her through the crack in the door. Jacob was back to being a child, overwhelmed with hunger and need, uncertainty and anger—not at Anna, but at himself, because he'd gone along with her supposition that their lust would fade in time.

But Jacob had known hunger—real hunger—and knew that sort of desire tattooed itself on the skin, never to be forgotten. Even when the desires were met, that ache remained, like a broken ankle that clicked after it had healed.

One needed to feed that hollowness.

Jacob had intended to do it then and there, throw Anna on the desk and slake his passion when the sun was high, scattering her papers on the floor to be lost forever.

But, once more, his power had been made useless. Damn guests. Sir John had wandered into the hallway and discovered him, asking for a moment of his precious time. It was horribly awkward, attempting to hide a cockstand while speaking to the father of the woman who was inciting the cockstand, but nevertheless, Jacob managed. Sir John kept him for an hour, addressing Jacob's mother's concerns about his work habits. It seemed his mother was distressed about his lack of advisors and managers, and worried that he might be spreading himself too thin. She'd asked Sir John to consult with him on the matter.

At first, Jacob was blindsided and furious at the older man's intervention in his affairs. His mother knew better than to invite others into their private lives; however, Sir John, as ever, was kind and circumspect about his advice, handing Jacob a list of names that he could vouch for, men he'd heard good things about and thought they could trust.

In the end, Jacob could only offer his thanks. Sir John might be a meddling bastard, but he was a helpful one. They left on good terms, especially as Sir John did not ask about Anna. Jacob had been waiting for it, knowing that sooner or later the baronet might be slightly inquisitive about the time that his daughter spent with Jacob in the cottage. There was a moment—a second, a crinkle around that eye—as they were saying their goodbyes that Jacob felt the topic would break to the surface. But Sir John let him retreat. Perhaps the old man was content now that his daughter was back in the house, her health seemingly restored. Clearly, Anna was right as rain. She'd talked merrily enough at dinner the previous night. Maybe that was enough for Sir John.

Once again, the aristocracy bewildered Jacob. Sir John had trusted him to do the right thing—trusted him to know what the right thing was. Because of his birth or because of his character? Did the peerage know the difference between the two?

Needless to say, when Sir John was finished with him, Jacob had plenty on his mind. And he had work to do. He could have spent the remainder of the afternoon sending out letters to the names on Sir John's list.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Jacob's imagination swam with visions of Anna. Fighting it was fruitless.

Which was why, soon after that meeting, he found himself hiding in some sort of linen closet off the servants' staircase toward the base of the kitchen. Jacob had meant to locate Beatrice and ask her for Anna's whereabouts. He'd had no idea that Anna would be in the middle of the kitchen's maelstrom.

Jumping into the closet was cowardly—as was eavesdropping from behind a crack in the door. Jacob was man enough to admit it. But the notion of grabbing Anna and throwing her over his shoulder while taking two steps at a time out of the hectic room was comical. He decided to wait. He could have waited in the comfort of his study, but that held little appeal for him. Hearing Anna's voice rise above the din of the barking orders and the clanks of pots and pans was too exciting to resist.

Especially when Jacob heard his name… and a long, exasperated sigh after it.

"I didn't want to even ask," he heard Anna say, "but I'm desperate." She giggled, and Jacob smiled. Anna didn't giggle enough. The soft, uninhibited sound made him think of the twinkling lights of glowworms that flashed at night while he walked around his pagoda, mysterious and warm. "Not desperate like that," she went on. "I mean, I'm desperate to make this event special, and nothing tastes better than your scones and biscuits."

Jacob heard a humph .

"Don't be upset, Beatrice. I'm asking you to help too. We'll need quite a bit for the girls."

"How many little ones are you expecting?" Aunt Iris asked. Her voice held a hint of disgruntlement, but she was obviously interested, maybe even a little excited by the challenge.

"I'm not sure yet," Anna replied. "Jacob is writing an article for the newspaper. I'm hoping that that will pique interest."

When Anna said his name, Jacob searched for some inkling of feeling, some hint of breathlessness or shyness. He found none.

Someone began to clap. Jacob's guess was Beatrice. The vivacious girl always seemed to be clapping for something or another. Another voice chimed in, but it was more muffled than the others. The kitchen was in full swing with maids coming and going, deliveries being made and stored, but this sound was different. It was almost as if someone was speaking in between chews.

"…what will you do about… You know how he feels."

"Yes, Violet, I am very aware of our nephew's opinions on the subject," Iris stated, rather testily.

Aunt Violet . Yes, she never was much of a baker, but she had a sweet tooth that rivaled Marie Antionette's. Jacob should have known he would catch her with the others.

"What if I speak to him?" Anna asked. "It's for charity. Surely he won't prohibit you from helping if it's what you really want?"

Iris didn't respond right away. Jacob was taken aback. It was an odd thing to listen to others speak about you. Their back-and-forths made him feel like a tyrant. Was Iris truly so worried about upsetting him with her baking? Did she love it that much? He knew that she enjoyed it from time to time, but he'd chalked it up to old habits dying hard.

He would never take something away from her if it was a source of such happiness. Didn't his aunts understand that prohibiting them from working wasn't about control? It was a gift. Seeing them toil and break their backs for other families their entire lives had been difficult for him as a young boy, and he'd dreamed to save them from such drudgery.

But now they were tiptoeing around him, afraid of stamping on his pride or hurting his feelings.

Just like everyone had with his father.

Was Jacob any better? Or had he replaced an autocrat just to become one himself?

Footsteps came toward the staircase. Jacob jolted away from the door. Lavender filtered through the thin opening, and he knew it was Anna taking her leave. He waited half a minute in case the others were close behind. When he saw no one else, he exited the closet and followed her up the staircase.

Jacob caught sight of her yellow skirts rounding a corner as he emerged onto the main floor. She was heading to the main staircase. Her hand was reaching for the banister when Jacob finally struck. Like a viper, he caught her just in time. He muffled her squeak with his palm over her mouth and twirled her into the nearest room, rejoicing when he realized it was the library. Who said that lascivious dreams didn't come true?

He kicked the door closed behind him, releasing Anna in the process. She continued to spin into the room, her eyes wide, her hair ruffled as she found her footing.

"What are you doing?" she said, hand on her heart. "You gave me such a scare!"

Maybe Jacob apologized. He couldn't be sure. With Anna's hand so well placed next to her heaving bosom, all he could think about was sliding that clothing from her body.

Anna's hand fell to her side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jacob stalked forward. "Like what?"

She back-pedaled, her gaze growing wary. "Like… like th-that," she stammered. "Determined."

Jacob's heart was pounding in his chest. Could she see that as well? His legs didn't falter. "Yes, I am very determined."

Anna bumped into the desk that she'd been scribbling on earlier. She reached back, holding on to the edge of the top with both hands. "Did… did you write the article for the newspaper today?"

Ha! The woman actually thought that she could throw off his intention with casual conversation. Not on her life.

Jacob answered with a slow nod as he stopped in front of Anna. He rested his hands on the desk on either side of her, caging her in. For a moment, Anna's green eyes brightened with something close to panic—like an animal ready to fight to free itself. Jacob continued to lean over her, and Anna bent back until her elbows hit the table.

He lowered his head to her chest, rubbing his nose and mouth over the curve of her breasts, imprinting his desire onto her. Anna's breath hitched at his audacity, a low purr emerging from her throat.

Spurred on by the fever Jacob could feel building inside of her, he ran his fingers over her shoulders, down the goosebumps on her arms to the top of her dress. He slowly pulled it down, exposing the lace undergarments hiding beneath.

"Jacob," she whispered. "You mustn't. Not here."

His mouth quirked into a mirthless grin. His blood was too hot for his smile to be anything other than predatory. Dipping his head again, he skated his tongue across the satiny expanse of her skin, savoring the salt and sweat and excitement as if it were priceless wine. "But you want passion. And I want you now. I want you here," he stated casually. He nudged her body flat on the desk, and her legs dangled over the edge.

"Here?" Her voice shook.

"I've been dreaming about it ever since I woke up this morning… alone."

She covered her face with her hand, and her voice came out muffled. "I had to go back to my room before my maid came."

"So now you're worried about propriety? When we've shared the cottage and one tiny bed?"

Anna picked her head off the table. An adorable frown was his reward. "So, this is my punishment? Ravishment in the library?"

With his other hand, Jacob worked on the buttons of his trousers. Anna's eyes darted to his movement, and he worried that he was going too fast. The woman wanted passion; she asked for lust. Nothing said that more than taking her on the table in the library.

"It's all about perception," Jacob replied, yanking his linen shirt from his waistband. "Most would see a ravishment as a reward, not a punishment."

She arched a brow. "It depends on who is doing the ravishing."

"Me, sweetheart," Jacob said, tossing up her skirts. "It will only ever be me."

Anna giggled, and once more, that sound made his heart pound all the way to his ears. It conjured images of moonlit nights, naked swims, and dew-drenched skin. And he wasn't alone. Jacob imagined Anna right there beside him.

The picture caused his stomach to flop over itself, his legs to wobble. It hit him like a ton of bricks. The scene was perfect in his mind. So incredibly idyllic. Jacob wanted it with a visceral need he'd never experienced before. He wanted her. With him. Forever.

He fell to his knees, pushing Anna's legs apart with clumsy force. He was losing control; his passion, his expectations, were getting the best of him. Taking a long breath, he forced himself to calm down, but her sex filling his lungs did the complete opposite.

Anna kept up her protests, but they were growing weaker. She tried to throw her skirts back down, obstructing his view. "Let's go back to your room," she said, her tone sleepy, like she was falling into a dream. "Anyone could walk in… My father—"

"I locked the door. Besides, your father is off with my mother to town. Something about art… or maybe horses."

You let them go alone? Why?"

Jacob shrugged.

Christ, he couldn't be expected to remember, not when he was faced with the dark curls of Anna's heat. He ran his hands up her legs, savoring the way the silk stockings molded against her calves.

Her laughter was husky and incredibly arousing. "Isn't that against your better judgment? I thought my father was to be watched at all times."

He slid his palms up Anna's upper thighs, massaging, devouring. Then he kissed her on each side, making her shiver. "I've come to appreciate when our parents distract each other."

Jacob glanced up and saw Anna gnaw at her knuckle. His cock was painful now as it bided its time. Everything about this woman was beautiful and made just for him.

There was that thought again.

Jacob frowned, returning to hide under Anna's skirts. Why did he keep ruining everything by thinking of a future? There wasn't one. Anna had already informed him of that fact. Fixating on it would only disappoint him and diminish the time she was giving him now.

He cleared his throat and came back to her center, leaning into the apex of her legs and licking the seam of her passage. A luxurious gasp came from the desk. And yet something still felt wrong. Jacob couldn't shake the nagging need to keep coming out from her shrine and watching her expressions. Not only did he want to give her pleasure, but he needed to watch her receive it as well. Never had he wanted that so much. He had to take control before he ruined everything, before he let lovesick words that he would ultimately regret slip from his mouth.

This was lust, pure and simple. There was no room for anything else.

Instantly, Jacob came to his feet and pulled Anna up to stand. Before she could question him, he twirled her around and bent her over the desk, hiking her skirts up to her waist once more.

Anna closed her eyes as she laid her cheek on the cold wood.

"I don't want to talk anymore." Jacob palmed her bottom with both hands, admiring the pale pink orbs with gluttonous hunger.

"We weren't talking."

She was right. But Jacob was thinking, so damned much, having a one-sided conversation with himself. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to worry about what he did or did not have. Like last night, he wanted to lose himself in her so fully and completely that all he could do was act. Let his body shatter and let his soul pick up the pieces later.

Anna shifted her weight back, softly pushing against his pelvis. Jacob hissed through his teeth; his cock was too sensitive. When she did it again, Jacob's control deserted him. With ridiculous speed, he lifted his shaft from his trousers and positioned himself at her entrance. Anna was wet and ready, her core primed for him. This time he didn't drive himself insane with subtle little movements. He thrust into her with one deep push, sheathing his cock between her walls, jerking their bodies forward on the table.

Anna pulsed and squeezed, and Jacob had to tense every muscle to stop from spilling inside her so soon. Like a lock to a key, a glove to a hand, her body was made for him. And Anna knew it all too well. She straightened her arms, bringing her torso off the table. Arching her back, she withdrew from him until they had almost broken contact, and then she slammed back onto his cock, impaling herself with a throaty groan.

And then it couldn't be helped. The act… the need took over. Digging his hands into her hips, he charged inside her, meeting Anna with matching energy. This was no dance; there were no sweet nothings whispered in between light caresses. Their need was too much. The strokes were high and rapid, their breaths lost and then found. The pace was brutal and elemental, primal in its savagery.

Because they were both searching for something in the other. Only as Jacob's hips slapped into the back of Anna's thighs did he understand that he was never going to find it. Not this way. It would never be enough. He wanted all of her, not just her body.

With that thought plaguing him, Jacob reached underneath her torso to hug her through his thrusts. Even with his shaft inside her, he still wasn't close enough. He found an erratic vein on her throat and licked it up her neck as his hips flexed back and forth. He worked his way up to her ear, sucking on her lobe while their lower halves continued to fight for ecstasy.

Jacob wanted to give it to her. He pumped in and out, harder and harder, shaking the table with his ardor. Anna's moans encouraged him, coming higher and faster as she fought for her end.

Twisting her body, she reached behind and cupped the back of his neck, bringing their foreheads together. For a moment, Jacob almost forgot himself and captured her lips, but her gaze stopped him. Anna's eyes opened to him, flowing into his body as surely as he was coming into hers. They said nothing, only exchanged breaths, lips so close he could lick her, as she bucked into him. One. Two. Three more times.

Her mouth opened in a sultry keen. Anna hurried to place her knuckle in her teeth to stanch her cry, but Jacob beat her to it. He held his finger to her lower lip, begging for her to accept it into her mouth.

Thankfully, Anna wrapped her lips around him and swirled his finger with her tongue as her sweet cunt clamped down on his cock, milking him with her release. The moment he felt her teeth graze across his knuckle, he exploded, unleashing his passion into her in a great wave.

Jacob screamed out in surrender, his voice hoarse and unrestrained. Anna continued to hold his face, watching him acutely, as if his outburst magnified her own intense experience.

Somehow, Jacob found the energy to remove himself from her. He tucked himself back in his trousers and lay shoulder to shoulder next to Anna on the desk, where they both stared up at the ceiling. It took a few minutes, but their breathing eventually mellowed, their chests stopped heaving, and all that was left was the glow of the aftermath reflecting off their dewy skin.

Anna hid her laughter behind her hands as she covered her face. "My God, what were we thinking?"

Jacob snorted. He took her hand and kissed her palm. "We weren't." He rubbed it across his cheek. "It was beautiful, wasn't it?"

He couldn't see it, but Anna's smile was tangible, like the sun's rays breaking through the clouds.

"Nirvana," she said softly.

Jacob squeezed her hand. "Nirvana."