Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (30 page)

Sometime in the afternoon, she received a second missive from Lane informing her that he had returned safely to his town house after an uneventful session of Parliament.

Birds chirped outside the window, the bright light of the day slowly fading as evening took its place. She’d heard the faintly muffled comings and goings of her family and the servants shuffling about, completing their duties.

Their housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson, moved about so quietly and discreetly that Anna often forgot that she was there. But this household could not function without the housekeeper’s excellent contributions. When Anna was a little girl, she and Lane would jest that Mrs. Johnson was a myth; that the other servants had created the tale of her work and her office sat vacant below stairs. On more than one occasion, she and Lane would sneak into the bottom floor in an attempt to uncover her empty office. But as ever, there Mrs. Johnson sat, diligently working through the menu for the sennight.

Anna was accustomed to the usual comings and goings of her family and the staff; the noise was comforting to her. She had spent many days in that very seat, and even more in the family parlour below stairs, reading her beloved books and sipping at her hot chocolate. Her family understood that she enjoyed her solitude, just as she understood their need to bustle about.

The past fortnight had felt different, however. She had life growing inside of her. She had fallen in love with her closest friend, been kidnapped and nearly forced to wed an abominable man. She no longer read her books as an outsider dreaming of a life of adventure that she could only attain through fantasy. She
was
like the heroines in her books!

Now, reading about kidnappings, sword fights, and all sort of escapades no longer seem so foreign. She knew the fear these fictional women would feel; the excitement of running through the forest and into the hands of safety; of loving and being loved. That knowledge lent that much more delight and depth to her books.

Even now, her heart was still rapidly beating after reading one particularly exhilarating description of a fistfight between the hero and villain of Mr. Mystery’s latest novel. It brought to mind the bout between Lane and Frenchie ten weeks ago, which still put fear into her.

A knock pounded her door and Anna jumped in her seat. Charles poked his head through the doorway.

“Oh, hello, Charles.” She smiled at him.

“Good evening, Anna.” He smirked in return. “Will you be joining us for supper?”

“Is it that time, already?”

“I would think that you would have been aware, due to how famished you have been of late.” He winked playfully at her, opening the door fully.

“Of all the nerve!” She stood in mock righteous indignation. “You dare say that to a pregnant woman, you knave.”

The humour in Charles’ countenance faded at the mention of her current state, but he made a valiant attempt to hide it. “I believe we should put our battle of wits to the test, dear sister, and engage in a game of chess after supper.”

“Prepare to be trounced,” Anna warned. “What will I receive when I win?” She put her book on her vacated seat and walked to stand before Charles.

“When
you
win? I think not, little sister. When
I
win, you will reward me with the book of my choice from Hatchard’s.”

“Ooh! Splendid choice! That will be precisely what I will accept from you when
I
win.”

Charles chuckled, and Anna blew out a breath of relief—the tension between them had dissipated. She fell into step beside him as they walked through the corridors toward the dining room.

* * *

Charles silently seethed. He would find the blackguard that impregnated his sister and he would see the man hanged for his crimes.

Anna and Lane’s abductors had, as of yet, eluded him, but he would be damned if he stopped searching. If only he could ride out himself…but no. Anna needed him here.

With Boxton’s men neutralized, he had fewer concerns with his sister, but Boxton himself could still very well be a viable threat. Indeed, he must remain in London.

* * *

Anna ran a brush through her damp hair as she sat before the hearth in her bedchamber. The heat from the fire warmed her through her night rail, and the brocade rug was soft beneath her bottom.

The early evening sun had begun to hide itself behind the plentiful buildings of London town, sending streaks of orange light reaching through her large window.

Her stomach was full of roasted beef and Yorkshire pudding, and her mind was swimming with the night’s events. Mama had monopolized the supper conversation, discussing the new clothing that Anna would be required to purchase once her current wardrobe no longer fit her growing belly.

She was grateful that her parents had not demanded answers as to the identity of the baby’s father. She was not prepared to tell them, yet. Perhaps once she and Lane were properly engaged, or even married. Heaven knew what Charles would do once he learned the truth.

Despite the anxiousness roiling in her stomach, Anna smiled at the memory of Charles’ expression once he’d realized that he would lose their chess game. He had made an admirable attempt at beating her, and he had nearly done so, but the game had concluded with her as the victor. She very much anticipated their excursion to Hatchard’s.

A light laugh escaped her as she continued to brush her hair, stroke after stroke.

“You have beautiful hair.” The low rumble of Lane’s voice sounded behind her.

An unbidden squeak escaped her as she jumped and spun around. “Lane! Good heavens, you frightened me right out of my skin!” She brought a hand up to cover her rapidly beating heart. “How did you enter so silently?”

He lifted the boots he held in his hand. “I have found that when one wishes to be stealthy, lighter feet and soft stockings tend to render one nearly soundless. I waited until I saw the light in Charles’ study ignite before I ventured inside. He will likely spend hours pouring over correspondence and other such paperwork, so we must be quiet.”

Anna nodded. “My parents have been to bed for an hour, at least, and they are able to sleep through anything.”

“So you are aware, I sent your father a letter this afternoon. I am not certain whether or not he has received it, but I hope to seek an audience with him on the morrow.”

Anna’s lips quirked. “He reads his correspondence in the morning.”

His gaze flicked to her brush. “May I?” He notched his chin toward her, and she nodded.

He quickly joined her on the rug, settling himself close behind her. He removed the brush from her loose fingers and stroked it through her locks. She had never had a man brush her hair before. It was a highly intimate and…
erotic
experience. She could feel the heat radiating off his body behind her, and the grazing of his knuckles on her back as he ran his free hand through her hair after each pass of the brush.

They sat like that for quite some time. Anna closed her eyes, enjoying the bristles massaging her scalp and the arousing scent of cigars, brandy, and soap emanating from behind her. She inhaled, letting her head fall back as Lane’s actions filled her senses.

He slowly slid her hair aside and placed a soft kiss on the side of her neck, sending a shiver up her spine and gooseflesh dancing over her body.

“Mmm…” she moaned.

He kissed her again, sliding his lips leisurely along her neck. He tossed the brush aside and placed his hands on her hips, gliding them over her waist and fisting them in the material. His lips were hot, his hands even more so.

Anna’s breathing became erratic as need wove through her. Abruptly, Lane spun her and dipped to catch her lips on a gasp.

Instinct drove her as she reached for the silver buttons on his grey waistcoat. Lane tugged at the knot of his cravat. Soon, he was on his knees, pulling his white lawn shirt over his head while she reached for the fall of his trousers.

He groaned as she brushed her fingers against the bulging weight of his erect member with every button she unfastened. Finally, his manhood sprang free, and she released a delighted hum. Lane hastily kicked his trousers aside to land in a heap with the rest of his clothes, while Anna enjoyed the sight of him.

Lane was a strikingly gorgeous man. From his tousled blonde hair, knowing smirk, rippling muscles, and shapely, but highly muscular legs, to his amazing and utterly attractive personality. Anna’s gaze travelled over his arousal and felt immediately swathed in blazing heat.

In one smooth motion, Anna lifted her night rail off and flung it atop of Lane’s clothing pile. An empowered smile touched her lips at his swift intake of breath. She loved that she affected him as he did her.

She placed her hands on his warm chest and pushed him backwards until he lay flat on the rug. She took her time exploring his body, pausing at the scar on his right arm from the bullet that had grazed him. She kissed the reddened tissue before moving on to the rest of him.

He was warm, hard, and soft in all the desired places. She used her mouth, tongue, and teeth to tease, lick, and nip him, similarly to what he had done to her the night before. She delighted in returning the pleasure.

She assumed that one particular act, which he had most wonderfully performed on her, could likewise be done to him.

Slowly, she kissed her way down his body, then the tip of his stiff manhood. Lane gasped, and his member leapt before her. With a smile, she slid her tongue up and down his smooth skin, then around the tip. Heartened by Lane’s rapid breathing, she became more daring. She grasped the base of him in one hand and put the tip in her mouth. It was rather interesting. Salty and velvety…and entirely arousing.

* * *

Lane choked out another garbled gasp as Anna created suction with her mouth.
Thunderation!
He had always wondered what this particular pleasure would feel like. Now he knew. He had thought to ask for the experience before, but had never summoned the courage. Hell, he very much wished that he could allow it to continue. Unfortunately, he was perilously close to coming off in her hot little mouth, and he much preferred to climax
with
her.

She bent further over him, her hair teasing his hips as she took more of him into her mouth.

Lane groaned. “Sweet blazes, Annabel. You need to stop.”

She lifted, her lips leaving him with a
pop
. Uncertainty and disappointment clouded her features. “I didn’t do it correctly. I didn’t pleasure you, did I?”

Lane let out a startled laugh. “Anna, if you had gone on for a single moment more, I would have finished our evening before it had even truly began. You are extremely talented in that regard, I assure you.”

Her Machiavellian expression returned to her face, accompanied by a self-satisfied grin that made his heart flip over in his chest.

She moved over his body, and he gripped her hips, guiding her where he wanted her. She nipped at his neck, then smoothed the sting with flicks of her tongue.

Lane could not suppress the moan that escaped as Anna grasped his cock and guided it into her slick heat, settling herself atop him. Her hair hung around them as she began to rock back and forth, and her gloriously full breasts bounced and swayed with her every movement. By damn, he could never have his fill of this woman.
You are magnificent
.

“Why, thank you,” she breathed.

He hadn’t realized that he’d spoken aloud. “It is the truth,” he grunted.

Giving in to his desires, Lane cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples and rolling them between his forefinger and thumb.

Anna’s eyelids closed on a moan. She was getting closer, he could tell. He hoped he could hold out long enough for her to find her pleasure.

Suddenly, her rocking grew ragged, her breath halting. Her head fell back as she bit her lip to keep from calling out.

The sight pushed Lane over the edge, and he let himself go, growling as he spilled himself inside her.

With contented, panting breaths, Anna rolled to the floor beside him, resting her head on his heaving chest.

“Goodness!” she breathed as she pressed a kiss to his glistening chest.

Lane’s lips pulled in a crooked grin. “Come,” he murmured, rising from his reclined position and taking Anna with him.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, placing her gently on the turned down mattress. The bedclothes were crisp, clean, and cool to the touch. He slid in next to Anna and pulled the counterpane over them.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and settled her tightly against him. How could he have been so fortunate as to find a perfect woman? Not only had he discovered a consuming love, but he had also realized the remarkable delights of the bedchamber. This woman. This bloody remarkable woman had brought him into an entirely different life. And he would never let it go.

“I love you, Anna.” Lane closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of their combined breathing.

“I love you, too, Lane.” Anna’s muffled voice was the last thing Lane heard before he fell into a deep, satisfying sleep.

Chapter 37

Anna shifted in her sleep as a soft sound woke her from a dream. She ignored it and turned onto her side, her eyes still closed.

A soft knock echoed against the wood of her door, and Anna’s eyes shot open.

The unmistakable sound of her bedchamber door’s latch being pressed sounded next, and her heart immediately began a frantic, terrified pounding. Impossibly, time seemed to slow as she reached for the thin cotton of her bed sheet and the door swung open.

“Terribly sorry to wake you, Anna, but I had been meaning to ask you about the—” He froze. “
What the bloody hell is going on?
” Charles roared, waking Lane.

Anna sat bolt upright in bed, holding the sheet up to cover her breasts, while Lane leapt, stark naked, from under the counterpane.

Before she or Lane had any time to react, Charles strode forward and punched Lane in the face, sending him falling back against the mattress.