John exhaled in annoyance. “Only a few days ago, you talked of her like a promising piece of land, and now you stare at her as if she were the North Star.”
“I don’t need her to find my direction.” In truth, he saw that his sense of direction had already begun to alter since their wedding night. He felt himself gently veering off course.
“She’s only a woman.”
“She’s also my wife—and far more complex than I had thought.”
John snorted. “I’ve yet to meet any women of complexity.”
A corner of Leo’s mouth turned up. “Perhaps you need to reconsider the female company you keep.”
“Hell, the very last thing I crave is an added complication. I have my work in Whitehall, and if I want for female company, ’tis an easy matter to purchase precisely the kind I desire.”
Not so long ago, Leo held the same outlook. The edges were beginning to fray. He wondered—should he rush to stop the tear, or allow the fabric of his existence to be rent apart?
He knew two things: Whit would not be allowed to take his magical gift from him. For it brought Leo far more power than he had ever anticipated, and with that power, he could give Anne more and more. He found he wanted as much as he could grab, not for himself alone, but for her. A new development.
The other thing Leo knew: he couldn’t watch his wife dance with another man any longer.
Without saying another word to John, he strode away, directly into the movement of the dance. The dancers stared at him, their patterns stuttering to a stop in half-finished arcs and turns. He shouldered past Anne’s partner. A vicious satisfaction in seeing the nob stagger. Then Leo stood before Anne.
She, too, stared at him, her eyes wide, her hand suspended as she waited for the next form in the dance.
Leo took her hand in his, and stalked from the dance floor, towing her behind him. Like roaches, guests skittered out of his path. He moved on, out of the chamber, into the hallway.
“Get Mrs. Bailey’s cloak,” he snapped to a waiting footman. “And summon my carriage.”
As the servant darted off, Anne said, “That was rude.”
“I’ll give him a generous vail.” One always tipped servants when visiting another’s house, and Leo tipped liberally.
“Not the footman.”
He turned to face Anne as they stood in the entryway of Lord Overbury’s home. Leo searched her face for anger, even as he knew he didn’t care whether or not she was angry. He had acted, primal instinct pushing his body into motion, heedless of consequence.
Her eyes were bright. But not with anger. Something far more visceral. Excitement.
“Tomorrow.” He advanced on her, stalking her, yet she did not back up in fear. She met him straight on, until their bodies were less than an inch apart. “You teach me how to dance.”
“You have taken a sudden interest in it.”
He shook his head. “If anyone partners my wife, it will be me, and no other.”
Color stained her cheeks. “Dancing exclusively with one’s spouse is considered unfashionable at best. Gauche at worst.”
“Don’t. Bloody. Care.” He brought his mouth down on hers. Her lips were soft, silky. And eager.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him close, as she met his kiss. In the span of a day, already transformation had begun. For she knew him now—not perfectly, not entirely, just as he still did not fully know her—but this, the touch of lips to lips and the consuming of each other, this was known and explored further.
His blood was fire, his body instantly awakened and aware. He gathered her close and hated the elaborate cage of her gown, for he could not feel her completely, locked as she was in stays, panniers, and petticoats. The rustling of her silken dress sounded louder than a tempest. It maddened him, suggesting the movement of her body beneath her clothing.
He walked her backward, until the wall met her back. Pressed himself against her. This primitive need—it overwhelmed him. Never had the hunger for a woman been greater, the demand to take, and to give, in return. His cock was thick and impatient as he positioned himself between her legs, and as he rocked up, she gave a low, soft moan.
Hellfire, he wanted her. Like this. Now.
“My gracious!”
Leo swung around, snarling. Lord and Lady Overbury stood nearby, frozen in shock as they took in the sight of their guests on the verge of coupling right in the foyer. Several other guests gathered behind them. And the footman, holding Anne’s cloak.
Releasing Anne, Leo held out his hand toward the servant. The footman hurried forward with the cloak. Leo took it from him, then draped it around a stunned Anne’s shoulders.
“My carriage ready?”
The footman nodded and held open the front door. Leo flung a shilling at him before tucking Anne’s hand into the crook of his arm. They strode from the entryway, out into the night. He did not wait for the footman to open the waiting carriage door, but tore it open and helped Anne inside. With her seated, Leo threw himself into the carriage, sitting opposite his wife.
As the footman shut the carriage door behind them, Leo caught a glimpse of the assembly guests all standing in the doorway of Overbury’s house. They stared at the carriage as if it were the vehicle of the Devil himself. Leo smirked. They had no idea.
He rapped on the roof of the carriage, and it drove away, heading northeast toward Bloomsbury.
In the shifting shadows within the carriage, Leo’s arousal did not diminish. It grew only stronger. He thought about reaching across the space of the vehicle and gripping Anne about the waist, hauling her over so that she straddled him. Sex in a carriage could be damned enjoyable.
But a slight movement captured his attention. Anne was shivering within her cloak. And not from the cold.
Damn it. He had scared her. Again.
“You’ve nothing to fear from me.” His voice was rough, and he heard the hard consonants of his old accent.
When she spoke, her words were soft, barely audible above the rattle of the carriage wheels on the cobbles. “It’s what I want that frightens me.”
Chapter 7
Anne felt a change during the ride back to Bloomsbury. A crisis point, after which nothing would be the same. She didn’t know if it was him, or her. Perhaps they were both transformed. The carriage ride felt both interminable and brief. Across from her sat Leo, and passing torchlight flickered on and off his face. One moment, he became a vision of golden masculinity, the next steeped him in darkness, save for the gleam of his eyes. Both aspects frightened and intrigued her.
For the whole of the ride, he did not attempt to touch her. Neither spoke. Despite the chill outside, the atmosphere within the carriage felt hotter and heavier than any tropics. She breathed in, and felt every one of her nerves absorb the heat.
From the time she left her home this evening to now, she had transformed in a way even she did not fully understand. She felt the profundity of her body, its taut anticipation, and also the barely leashed hunger in his.
“Sit beside me,” she said into the darkness.
“Can’t.” His voice was an almost subterranean rumble. “I touch you, I won’t stop. And I’ll not take your virginity in a carriage.”
Anne did not know one could engage in lovemaking in a carriage. Now that he had introduced the idea, though, her mind filled with possibilities. It wasn’t capacious, but surely there was room enough, and the curtains could be drawn ...
“Stop.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know what you’re thinking, and if you keep thinking it, I’ll make it happen.”
“Perhaps I want you to.” God! She could hardly believe she had said that! Yet this night was abounding with possibility, just as she was.