Free The Heir by Grace Burrowes Page B

bloodstock, and enjoy life.”
    “And what age are you, your lordship?”
    He sat back and took a sip of his drink. “Were you a man, I could tell you to go to hell, you know.”
    “Were I a man,” Anna said, “I would have already told you the same thing.”
    “Oh?” He smiled, not exactly sweetly. “At which particular moment?”
    “When you fail to offer a civil greeting upon seeing a person first thing in the day. When you can’t be bothered to look a person in the eye when you offer your rare word of thanks or encouragement. When you take out your moods and frustrations on others around you, like a child with no sense of how to go on.”
    “Ye gods.” The earl held up a staying hand. “Pax! You make me sound like the incarnation of my father.”
    “If the dainty little glass slipper fits, my lord…” Anna shot back, glad for the gathering shadows.
    “You are fearless,” the earl said, his tone almost humorous.
    “I don’t mean to scold you”—Anna shook her head, courage faltering—“because you are a truly decent man, but lately, my lord…”
    “Lately?”
    “You are out of sorts. I have mentioned this before.”
    “And how do you know, Anna Seaton, I am not always a bear with a sore paw? Some people are given to unpleasant demeanors, and it is just their nature.”
    Anna shook her head. “Not you. You are serious but not grim; you are proud but not arrogant; you care a great deal for the people you love but have only limited means of expressing it.”
    “You have made a study of me,” the earl said, sounding as if he were relieved her conclusions were so flattering—if not quite accurate. “And where in my litany of virtues do you put my unwillingness to marry?”
    Anna shrugged. “Perhaps you are simply not yet ready to limit your attentions to one woman.”
    “You think fidelity a hallmark of titled marriages, Mrs. Seaton?” The earl snorted and took a sip of his drink.
    So I’m back to Mrs. Seaton, Anna thought, knowing the topic had gotten sensitive.
    “You want what your parents have, my lord,” Anna said, rising.
    “Children who refuse to marry—assuming they remain extant?” the earl shot back.
    “Your parents love each other,” Anna said, taking in the back gardens below as moonlight cast them in silvery beauty. “They love each other as friends andlovers and partners and parents.” She turned, finding him on his feet directly behind her. “That is why you will not settle for some little widgeon picked out by your well-meaning papa.”
    The earl took a step closer to her. “And what if I am in need, Anna Seaton, not of this great love you surmise between my parents but simply of some uncomplicated, lusty passion between two willing adults?”
    He took the last step between them, and Anna’s middle simply vanished. Where her vital organs used to reside, there was a great, gaping vacuum, a fluttery nothingness that grew larger and more dumbstruck as the earl’s hands settled with breathtaking gentleness on her shoulders. He slid his palms down her arms, grasping her hands, and easing her toward him.
    “Passion between two willing adults?” Anna repeated, her voice coming out whispery, not the incredulous retort she’d meant it to be.
    The earl responded by taking her hands and wrapping them around his waist then enfolding Anna against his body.
    She had been here before, she thought distractedly, held in his arms, the night breezes playing in the branches above them, the scent of flowers intoxicatingly sweet in the darkness. And as before, he caressed her back in slow, soothing circles that urged her more fully against him.
    “I cannot allow this.” Anna breathed in his scent and rested her cheek against the cool silk of his dressing gown. He shifted, easing the material aside, and her face touched his bare chest. She did not even try to resist the pleasure of his clean, male skin beneath her cheek.
    “You cannot,” he whispered, but it didn’t sound like