Free Shev by Tracey Devlyn Page B

been a long while since Anne had held a child this way. With Jacqueline, the action felt as natural as breathing.
    Thankfully, when Jacqueline entered earlier, she hadn’t closed the door all the way, which allowed Anne to maneuver the sleeping girl through the narrow opening.
    The moment she stepped into the corridor, she came face-to-face with the Marquess of Shevington. He leaned against the wall, a hard look on his chiseled features, his body tense. Exhilaration like nothing she’d ever experienced before quickened her pulse. Thank goodness she’d had a firm hold on Jacqueline, or she would have dropped her precious bundle.
    “May I help you, my lord?”
    He let out a pained chuckle. “God forgive me, yes.”
    When he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, saying nothing more, Anne took that as her cue to leave. “Pardon me, my lord. I need to take Jacqueline back to the nursery.”
    She scooted around him as if he were a rabid dog and hastened away. Even though she’d made this journey only once before, her feet carried her to the nursery with absolutely no help from her mind. For her thoughts stayed trapped in a moment of time, centered on a tortured marquess.
    Tortured, yes. That was the exact emotion she saw blazing in his eyes for the brief second their gazes had connected. So many questions gurgled to the surface. Too many for her to grasp before the next deluge hit.
    After she had settled Jacqueline into her bed, Anne hurried back to her bedchamber. She practically skidded around the final corner and came to a stop. It was then that one question elbowed all the others aside. Why hadn’t he stayed?
    The empty corridor stretched before her, desolate and gray. In the logical part of her mind, she knew his defection was for the best. Had he stayed, they would more than likely have made love. She could no longer deny her body’s longing for a deeper, more intimate connection with him. And he wanted her too. She had seen the need burning in his eyes before he’d turned away.
    Though she had little experience with such matters, she had no doubt that one night in his arms wouldn’t be enough. Before long, his entire staff would know about their late night activities, and her reputation would be in shreds.
    Suddenly chilled to the bone, Anne entered her bedchamber with the same enthusiasm as a prisoner on her way to the gallows. She hovered just inside, peering at her surroundings through a fog-stained lens. The happiness she’d felt earlier was nowhere to be found. She’d been a fool to believe she could walk away from his lordship unscathed.
    They hadn’t even made love yet, and here she was, maudlin and hurting. How would she ever survive him if he welcomed her into his bed—over and over? She wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
    A strong arm snaked around her waist. Anne’s breath caught in the back of her throat. For a brief moment, she thought of the masculine silhouette she’d seen in the woods on the day of her arrival. Of the overwhelming unease that had pushed her back toward safety. In the next instant, all thoughts of danger fled. Somehow she knew, knew the man holding her from behind was Lord Shevington.
    Had she caught his familiar musky scent? Or had she seen his reflection in the window across the room? Recognition didn’t stop her from tensing against his hold.
    “I couldn’t leave,” he whispered near her ear.
    She closed her eyes, absorbing his words. He hadn’t rejected her. He’d stayed because he wanted this as much as she did. Despite all the reasons why they shouldn’t, they were going to spend the night entangled in each other’s arms, gloriously naked, and passionately sated. The darkness lifted, and Anne leaned back in his arms.
    He kissed her shoulder, then smoothed his lips along the exposed line of her neck. “Tell me to leave, and I will.” He swallowed, hard, his words belying his internal struggle to do the honorable thing.
    She did not want honorable.
    Covering his hand