Page 71 of The Return of the Rake

“I love you too, Anne. I never thought my heart could do such a strange and marvellous thing, but it seems to know how after all,” he said, and then cast the plans onto the seat opposite and pulled her to him, kissing her with such enthusiasm that the journey they had believed would be interminable ended far sooner than they might have wished.

King found he needed to pinch himself several times whilst introducing Anne to Mrs Keller and showing her about the home he had created for himself. It seemed too much to hope that this startling, challenging, beautiful woman was his wife, and he had the strangest desire not to blink, or to speak too loud in case he woke up. Nonsense, of course, but he felt nonsensical, happy and bewildered all at once.

He felt a burst of pride as she exclaimed over the property, congratulating him on how wonderfully it was furnished and decorated. To King, however, it seemed suddenly too dark, too masculine, with Anne’s delicate perfume suffusing each room, with the rustle of her skirts and petticoats and the feminine trappings of lace and ribbons set against the backdrop of his old life. He determined to speak to her about selling it as quickly as they could, but not right now.

Dinner was served in the small dining room, an elegant affair in which Mrs Keller took a deal of pride, for it was the first time she’d had the chance to cater for a proper dinner for a lady.

The table had never looked so elegant, with fine china and crystal glasses, and the silver shining brightly against the best linen tablecloth and napkins. King smiled, bemused to believe it really was his home. Having Anne here seemed to change everything for the better.

Still, the meal was an exercise in torture. Neither of them really had an appetite, at least not for the splendid food Mrs Keller had provided. King did his best to do it justice, rivetingly aware that Anne was too nervous to eat. She kept stealing glances at him, sometimes holding his gaze boldly and sometimes blushing and looking away, though she smiled and shook her head at her own silliness.

Finally, he could stand no more.

“Come on, let’s go up. Unless you want anything else—”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I was only waiting until you’d finished. Please, may we go up?”

He laughed at that, delighted by her urgency. “Whatever my lady wife wishes for, she may have.”

“Promises, promises,” she muttered provocatively, and then laughed and ran up the stairs ahead of him.

Anne heard King chuckling as he followed her up the stairs and into his bedroom. He closed the door and turned, leaning against it.

“Are you really here?”

Anne laughed and turned in a circle. “I believe I am,” she said, regarding him with a solemn expression.

King took a step closer. “You’re sure I didn’t dream it?”

“I’m quite sure,” she said, though her heart skittered about behind her ribs.

“I have dreamed of this moment too many times, Anne. It would be too terrible to wake alone again, wanting you so badly.”

Anne closed the distance between them and linked her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. “I’m too managing and difficult to be a dream, as you will discover to your cost, you poor fellow. I’m not the least bit dreamlike.”

“Yes, you are.” He held her face between his hands, cradling it as if he held something of infinite value. “You are the dream I never dared to wish for, a future so wonderful and so extraordinary I never even considered it as a possibility.”

He bent then and kissed her, tenderly at first and then with increasing ardour, yet still he was careful. His kisses had changed since he had discovered she was not really a widow and she missed the rough passion he had shown before. If only she could provoke him into treating her a little less like she might break.

“I want you,” she said, watching with a little shiver of pleased apprehension as his eyes grew dark at her words

He made a gruff sound. “I should hope so,” he said lightly.

She could see the need he had hidden from her until now, and it only increased her determination to see him unravel.

Anne slipped out of his arms and turned her back on him, giving him a coquettish smile from over one shoulder.

“Undress me,” she said, relieved her voice did not tremble, though everything inside her quivered with nerves and anticipation.

She felt his clever fingers go to work, unbuttoning and unhooking the layers. With each garment, the rasp of his hot breath against the back of her neck seemed to increase. It took far too long but finally only her shift and stockings remained. He stood close behind her and, though they did not touch, she felt the heat radiating from his body. Gathering her courage, Anne reached for the hem of her shift and tugged it up and over her head. He drew in a stuttering breath as the sheer material fluttered to the floor. Anne raised her arms and plucked the pins from her thick red hair. The gaudy shade had always embarrassed her, until she saw the way King revered it. The heavy tresses fell, cascading around her shoulders, and she heard his breath hitch again.

Her own breathing sped erratically as his hands settled on the swell of her hips, then slid up over her waist, until they cupped her breasts. Anne gave a soft sigh, resting her head against his shoulder. Gently, he caressed her skin as though he were mapping a foreign land and wished to commit every curve to memory.

“My God, Anne, how lovely you are. I’m half afraid to touch you,” he whispered, his anxiety sounding entirely sincere.

Anne turned in his arms, shaking her head. “I have never been delicate, Jasper. I’m strong, or else I’d never have survived. I have worked hard to get where I am and I’m no sheltered schoolroom miss, no hothouse flower. I have not been that for a very long time and I’m glad of it. Don’t make me feel weak by treating me differently now you know I am not quite what you expected. With you, I am stronger than ever, fearless and bold. Show me you want me that way, just as I truly am.”

She sank her fingers into his hair, pulling his head down to kiss him with all the eagerness she felt. She pushed at the shoulders of his coat, suddenly desperate for the touch of his skin against hers.