He eyed her a long while. “No forms of tears are acceptable. Ever,” he spoke with a resolute firmness. “They’re merely a ploy used by women to wheedle their way into a gentleman’s heart.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Oh, the lout. Of course, she’d have the bad sense to go and fall in love with a gentleman who possessed an ill-opinion of women and happened to be missing a heart. “I don’t use tears.”
He dropped to his haunches beside her. “A lady is better advised to use her mouth to entice a man than those crystal drops.”
His words had the same affect as a powerful slap. They reminded her of Harry’s fleeting presence in her life. She might love him, but she remained nothing more than a bothersome miss whom he’d generously offered to help, and merely because of her connection to Katherine, not out of any regard or concern for Anne, herself. The knife twisted in her heart. The muscles in her throat moved up and down with the force of her swallow. “Is this just another lesson, then, Harry?” For the first time since she’d enlisted his support, she realized Harry, the Earl of Stanhope was, in fact. the one in desperate need of a lesson.
~*~
Tension snapped Harry’s body erect unnerved by the sudden realization—he’d not thought of the damned lessons on seduction once. Not when he’d had his footman find out from Anne’s maid when he could find the young lady alone. Nor when he’d visited Bond Street in search of a delicate pair of spectacles that would perfectly suit her heart-shaped face. And not when he’d come upon her in this tucked away copse, like Eve in her garden of sin.
Except now, she’d mentioned the damned lessons and an ugly vision wrapped its tentacle-like grip about his vile musings— Crawford taking Anne’s lush lips under his. Anne moaning as her blasted duke slipped his tongue inside and made love to her mouth the way Harry ached to worship her body.
Anne came up on her knees. “Should I touch a finger to the corner of my lips?” The tip of her index finger tantalizingly, invitingly stroked the edge of her mouth. She inched closer to him. “Or should I trail my tongue over my lips, invitingly.” The pink tip darted out and circled her lips, lingering on the plump flesh of her slightly fuller lower lip.
His heart thudded. “Where have you learned such a trick?” He’d kill the blighter who’d shown her such things. The role belonged to him alone.
She tipped her head. “Because it is wrong, Harry?”
Because it was right. Too right. And yet, wrong all at the same time. Desire flared inside him.
Her hand fluttered about her breast. She captured a loose, golden strand between her fingers and rubbed it along the modest décolletage of her gown. His breath left him. He’d had the pleasure of bedding some of the most inventive creatures on the Continent. Women of skill. Women who’d found pleasure in giving him pleasure. In this moment, he couldn’t recall a single one of their faces, their actions, or even their names. He saw only Anne. He caught her to him. “Are you seducing me, Anne?” he whispered harshly against her temple.
“Is it working?” she asked on a sultry whisper.
“It is, love.” He didn’t recognize the garbled quality of his voice.
She tilted her head back, eyes closed, searching for his kiss. Harry lowered his head. Their mouths a breath apart, heat rolling off her body in waves. He claimed her lips in a gentle meeting. Anne leaned into him and Harry deepened the kiss, knocking her glasses askew. She moaned. The heady erotic sound shattered the quiet and penetrated the spell she’d cast upon him. He drew back, chest heaving with the force of his desire. He wanted to freeze this moment with her. Make Anne his in every way; in a world away from the reality of broken promises and the pain of betrayal. Away from the fear of losing— again.
Her eyes flew open. “Why did you…?” Red blossomed on her cheeks.
He’d not lay claim to her body in this tucked away haven, just a stone’s throw from a possible passerby. He might be a bastard but there was still honor in him.
He adjusted her spectacles and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll not disrespect you more than I have here, Anne.”
“You didn’t disrespect me,” she blurted.
Except he had. Each time he met her without a chaperone, he risked ruining her with his attention. He fought back a groan. If the ton could see the change she’d wrought upon him, they’d be laughing all the way to the betting books at White’s to guess the date of his and Anne’s impeding nuptials. Harry blinked several times. Marriage? He stumbled back.