Court had brought the seamstress to Annalía and knew the consequences and could handle them. He wasn’t destitute yet. Thanks to Hugh.
How ironic that Hugh’s robbing his accounts would be saving Court’s arse right now. Hugh had stumbled onto the new firearms company of Horace Smith and Daniel Wesson through his work, and had believed so strongly in it, he’d unilaterally invested for Court. Court had been prickly about his hard-earned money, but could only grumble now because this Wesson and Smith deal had begun providing income that would allow him to chip away at his debt. At least Hugh had the decency not to rub it in….
Now Anna, with her obvious forbearance, was shaming him. He would make her accept more. His brows drew together.
Oh, she was good.
He found her as she was gathering more books from the library. “Why did you no’ get more?”
“I’ll only need a few dresses. Aleix will be here soon to collect me, don’t you think? It will be silly to lug so much around and then all the way back home when we can return. Especially since I already have to use an entire bedroom for my dresses now.”
“You can have whatever you want.”
“I know. You are very gracious, but truly this is all I need.” She leaned up to kiss him on his cheek before she turned for her room with books under her arm. Her face had been sad.
Surely she wasn’t this good.
Twenty-seven
H ow could Annalía show MacCarrick how different she’d become if he hardly spoke to her anymore? She’d thought that when Hugh left he would relax some, but if anything, he’d grown more on edge.
If he was denying her because he couldn’t father children, then that was simply unacceptable. Whenever she thought about his admission, she wondered if he’d been ill as a child, and her heart hurt to think of him in pain.
If he was doing this because he saw her as spoiled and closed-minded, then she’d have to force him to see that she wanted to learn, that she wanted to be better.
Annalía knew the most pressing reason why he was distant with her. So clearly they needed to get this lovemaking completed so they could be together. Decided on her course of action, she began planning. Tonight she’d bathed with the scented soaps the seamstress had brought her—the peculiar woman had returned with more clothing and evidently everything else she could lay hands on. After her bath, Annalía had slipped on a new nightdress she’d chosen from the selection, chosen specifically for particular characteristics.
Now she was ready. She wasn’t as nervous as she’d imagined she might be—after all, this would be a bold move—but she knew that this was the course she was meant to take….
“MacCarrick!”
The door burst open a second later. “Anna, what is it—” He lost his voice when he saw her standing at the foot of the bed. “Go back to bed,” he ordered in a harsh tone.
It didn’t faze her. She stood determined before him and tugged the left string strap of her nightgown loose. The jet black silk slid down one side, just above her nipple.
His eyes widened as if in realization, then narrowed. “Doona do this.”
She reached back and unpinned her hair, shaking her head until it spilled down her back. Her fingers rested at the other tie strap of her nightgown, ready to pluck.
His hand was shaking as he ran it over his face. “You canna keep temptin’ me.”
She raised her eyebrows and tugged. The tie was on the verge of unraveling. She thought he was on the verge of unraveling. His body seemed to thrum with energy and tension throughout. She could hardly wait to touch it again.
His voice low, he said, “Anna, I am askin’ you, please, doona—”
She pulled it loose.
The nightgown dipped, hesitating over her hard nipples before floating down past her waist and legs. “What were you saying?” she asked in a purring voice.
His jaw slackened. Taking down her hair had been merciless. The nightgown? Without the nightgown, the ground he’d managed to gain, or at least maintain, was now unrecoverable.
“If you keep pushing me, I will take you to bed, but it will no’ be just to kiss you. It will no’ be like last time.” He struggled to keep his eyes on her face—away from her high breasts, away from her curving hips that he wanted to clench—yet even the look in her eyes was carnal. “There will be repercussions.”
“I understand.”
“I mean it, Anna,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I will take you this night, I swear it.” How could a man not be expected to make love to the woman he coveted above all things? When she presented herself like a newly unwrapped gift? He might as well be expected to voluntarily forgo breathing. Which was impossible. Denying himself the feel of her body?