Josie Dennis Page 4

  Patrick reached for her, and she froze. “Do not touch me,” she whispered.

  He started then grabbed the door handle that had obviously been his target. “I wanted to get the door.” He pulled it open and waved her in. “You may not have thought me a gentleman before, but I assure you I’ve gained more than a fortune in the war.”

  His words stabbed at her and she gasped. “I believed you a gentleman, though today you have proven me wrong.”

  She sailed past him, stunned when he followed closely behind. The door closed with a soft click. “What is your meaning?”

  “You were at the lake with Benton.”

  “Yes.”

  He stepped closer, his breath harsh in her ear. “You enjoyed what he did to you.”

  Had he seen them? She forced herself to breathe evenly, tamping down her embarrassment. “Yes. What is it to you, pray?”

  He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her back against him. “It is nothing.” His rigid posture and growling voice told her otherwise. “You are nothing.”

  She knew why he’d chosen those words. Wasn’t that what Lady Russell had said about him? “Let me go, Captain.”

  “You are quite the tease, Miss Ellis.” He brought his mouth to her neck, stroking her with his lips. “You have not changed in that regard.”

  She closed her eyes as he nibbled on her tender skin. “Let me go,” she said, softly this time.

  She sensed him shake his head, and then he turned her to face him. His mouth covered hers, taking and giving until she opened to his tongue. The kiss went on forever it seemed, until he wrenched away from her with a growl. “What game do you play with Benton?”

  Opening her eyes, she found him staring down at her. “I play no game.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was thin and breathy.

  He studied her, his breathing harsh. What did he see when he looked at her? The woman who spurned him, now a spinster dependent on her family for security? Did he think she was his for the taking because of the liberties she’d allowed his friend?

  Releasing her, he stepped back and sketched a bow. “I’ll not succumb again.”

  He all but tore the doors open and stalked back out onto the terrace. Turning, she let her feet carry her swiftly up the stairs to the nursery. Let Mary and Charles wonder at her whereabouts, if they gave her a moment of consideration. Let Louisa have at her two beaux. She herself had had enough of men in general and Patrick in particular.

  It wasn’t until she gained the nursery did she notice the tears wetting her cheeks.

  * * * *

  “She is quite singular, as you said,” Jon said, sipping his brandy. “I didn’t see her after I returned from our stroll. I admit I wanted to speak with her.”

  “It wasn’t enough you had your fingers in her pussy?”

  Jon reared back then smiled. “You followed us to the lake.”

  Patrick ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “It wasn’t well done of me, I admit.”

  Jon set his glass aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is it you wish me to say, Patrick? That I’m sorry I touched her?”

  “Perhaps,” Patrick grumbled.

  “I see. Perhaps I am not.”

  He studied his friend. “Perhaps? Admit it, man. You enjoyed making her come.”

  “So you watched all of it.”

  “No. By the time I spied you she was trembling with her release.”

  “You may say she’s altered from when you knew her, but I find her quite beautiful.”

  Patrick sank down in his chair. “As do I.”

  “Yet you flirted with that silly Louisa Cosgrove all afternoon.”

  “The girl is a distraction.”

  “She’ll get ideas, Patrick. You know she’s on the hunt.”

  “Perhaps I’ll let her catch me.”

  Jon’s brows shot up, and then he laughed. “She wouldn’t last a fortnight married to you.”

  Patrick smirked. “Thank you.”

  “You know she is not meant for you. She is a flighty creature taken with your stature and fortune. Do you think she could know the man beneath all that?”

  “Sometimes I think I don’t know that man.”

  Jon stood and crossed to him. “I do. I fought beside you, saved you as you saved me. You deserve better than a girl who only sees what’s in front of her.”

  Patrick closed his eyes and waved Jon’s words away. “I had that once.”

  “With Anne.”

  Patrick snorted. “Yes, with Anne. I kissed her.”

  Jon refilled his drink and sat once more. “I daresay you did more than that.”

  Patrick raised his head and looked at him squarely in the face. “I meant today, Jon. I kissed her today.”

  Jon let out a whistle. “You never did! When?”

  “After.”

  Jon waited a beat then cursed. “After she was with me?”

  “I had to know what she was about.”

  “What she was about? She had no notion of what was to happen between us, believe me. I’ve known enough women to tell when they are surprised by a certain turn of events.”

  “Yet she allowed your advances.”

  Jon grinned. “She more than allowed, Patrick. She reveled in them.”

  Patrick recalled the bliss on her face as Jon brought her to orgasm. “I know. I asked her what game she was playing with you.”

  A cloud passed over Jon’s face. “You are a miserable prick sometimes.”

  “I know that as well. She scolded me and I kissed her.”

  Jon appeared to consider his strange confession, his brow furrowed. At last he gave a nod. “Then we have a decision to make.”

  “What? Go ahead and take her, Jon. Fuck her. I don’t care.”

  “If you didn’t care you wouldn’t have treated her so and then kissed her. You want her still. Admit it.”

  His body clenched at the realization of both his attraction and her lack of it. “She doesn’t want me.”

  “Did she tell you that? If so, I’ll gladly do my utmost to make her mine. I wasn’t wrong when I said there was something about her beyond beauty. I’ve never encountered such a woman.”

  Pain twisted in Patrick’s gut. “No, she did not tell me she doesn’t want me. Devil take her, she returned my kiss.”

  “Did she?” Jon took a measured breath. “Then what, pray, are you going to do about her?”

  “What do you propose?” Patrick asked. “You seem to believe you have all the answers.”

  “I want her. Perhaps more than physically but that particular truth I cannot deny. God, my cock was so hard after her climax I nearly came in my trousers. It was some time before I could return to the picnic, I don’t mind telling you.”

  “We shared a bit of discomfort today, then.”

  Jon flashed him a smile which he, astoundingly, returned. “Look, we don’t have to decide the future tonight. The Cosgrove chit was going on about an assembly in the village Friday next. Attempt to distract yourself from Anne and give me a clear path. If that is what you truly want.”

  “And if it is not?”

  Jon smiled again, a bright expression that belied the wicked glint in his eyes. “Oh, I daresay we can find some way to occupy Miss Anne Ellis. Together.”

  Together? Yes, they’d shared women before, but never one who…meant something. Patrick searched himself for any flickers of anger or jealousy and found none.

  “What you’re proposing isn’t unusual, Jon. Not after the lives we’ve lived. But to share a woman like Anne? No. It cannot be done.”

  “A woman like Anne? You still keep her so high above you?”

  Patrick fell silent. Did he?

  “I believe that is the crux of the matter, friend.” Jon stood and gave him a lazy salute. “I am to my rooms, then.”

  Patrick watched him go. Was he right? Would Anne welcome more than what Jon had done? Would she take them both?

  What she would take wa
s of no consequence. He would never give himself to her again.

  Chapter 6

  Anne observed the assembly from her usual position with the matrons of Abbotsbury. Though she wasn’t quite on the shelf at twenty-five, all of their acquaintance believed her well and set on her way toward spinsterhood. Favorite aunt to Charlie. Devoted sister to Mary. Those were her roles, and just a fortnight ago she’d been resigned to them if not happy about it. That was before Patrick came to Abbotsbury and brought his friend Jon, however.

  Anne watched as Louisa twirled and spun on first Patrick’s arm then Jon’s. She didn’t want to watch, but there was little she could do about the matter. She and the other spinsters sat dangerously close to the dance floor. She supposed no one made a better chaperone than a gaggle of single women with little or no prospects. There was no mistaking the triumph in Louisa’s eyes from her vantage point, nor the smug assuredness in the grin she turned up at Patrick.

  “She looks quite well this evening,” the lady to her right said.

  Anne turned her head toward Jane Carstairs, a woman she’d known the whole of her life.

  “Yes,” Anne acknowledged. “Louisa seems quite in her element.”

  “A young lady out and ready to catch a husband,” Jane said in a low voice.

  Anne feigned mild agreement at the lady’s words. They were quite true, though she prayed Louisa wouldn’t catch either Patrick or Jon.

  “Well, she had better settle on one gentleman before long,” Jane went on. “Captains Wenworth and Benton may be friends, but I doubt they would be amenable to sharing a woman’s affections.”

  Anne started. “Sharing her affections?”

  Jane opened her mouth, then stilled. Her lips, always a little thin, nearly disappeared. “No. I shan’t speak of it.”

  Anne suspected Jane thought of her own romantic entanglements, years before Anne was much out in company. Something about a soldier and the blacksmith’s son. It was not discussed much of late, save as a cautionary tale to warn young ladies caught in the perils of passion to choose wisely. Hadn’t Lady Russell spoke of “poor Jane Carstairs” time and again as she adeptly turned Anne away from Patrick?

  “As you wish, Miss Carstairs.” Anne had no desire to hear her story, saddened sufficiently by her own situation.

  Jane leaned closer. “The two gentlemen seem to notice you when Louisa is otherwise engaged. Believe me, I can recognize when a man is interested.”

  Anne froze. She’d thought she’d imagined Jon’s and Patrick’s fleeting looks. Did others see them as well? Could they guess what she’d done with first one then the other? No. Jane was simply being romantic.

  Anne waved a hand. “We spoke at an event last week, is all. I am certain a familiarity is all you perceive.”

  Jane shrugged, her lip curled. “Familiarity. Hateful word.”

  Anne looked closely at her then. She had to be nearing twenty-eight years of age. The blacksmith’s son was the blacksmith himself now, married with two children. As for the soldier, Anne had no notion where that man was now. Sadness settled in Jane’s face, her skin pale and delicate and showing her age. What pain she must feel when she passed through the village. At least both Patrick and Jon would never settle in Abbotsbury.

  It wasn’t close enough to the sea, for one matter. Patrick had spoken of the sea like an entity during their short courtship, with admiration and awe. Surely Captain Benton had salt water in his veins as well. Her own discomfort would be of short duration then, at least from their physical proximity.

  “Excuse me.” She couldn’t bear to sit beside such misery when she was having enough trouble keeping her countenance in light of her own.

  Jane arched a pale brow then shrugged again. “Enjoy your evening, Anne. I am certain we shall see each other again, in a similar situation.”

  The woman’s words had a ring of finality Anne did not wish to contemplate at present. Rising, she nodded and went in search of refreshment. She stopped before the table when Jon stood in front of her, two glasses held in his hands.

  “Anne!” He grinned then dipped his head. “That is to say, Miss Ellis.”

  Anne drank in every handsome feature before her, from his broad shoulders to his well-fitting trousers. His uniform showed his blue eyes to perfection, and her belly gave a twist.

  “Good evening, Captain Benton.”

  He smiled, a beautiful expression that sent heat flooding through her body. “I was just looking for you.”

  “Oh?” She eyed the glasses and arched a brow. “Surely Miss Cosgrove grows thirsty.”

  He flushed a bit then shrugged. “Wenworth sent me off for these.”

  His words befuddled her, and stung a bit were she honest. “Is Captain Wenworth to claim that prize, then?”

  Jon laughed, to her relief. “Prize? Oh, I daresay the maneuvers are far from over, but the spoils are not what you presume.”

  Her mouth went dry as his meaning became clear. “You cannot mean…”

  He nodded to a gentleman passing by then handed her one of the glasses. “Drink, Anne,” he said in a low voice. “People are watching.”

  She longed to question him further, to find out precisely his meaning. He was right, however. It would not do to speak of either him or Patrick in company.

  “You seem to be enjoying yourself,” she said.

  He smiled again and drank from his glass. “I have wanted you in my arms all evening, but you appeared quite settled in your place there on the edge.”

  “It has been my place for years now.”

  “Nevertheless, it is time to go into the supper room.” He took her glass and set it on a nearby tray along with his own. “I shall have this small bit of enjoyment at least.”

  Her heart dropped to her toes. Before she could do more than begin to reach for him they were joined by Patrick and Louisa.

  “Oh, Miss Ellis!” Louisa exclaimed, her hand holding tight to Patrick’s arm. “Never say you are taking supper with Captain Benton.”

  “I hadn’t thought—”

  “She hadn’t thought you and Wenworth would join us,” Jon finished for her.

  Patrick glowered at her then favored Louisa with a smile Anne hadn’t seen on his face in ages. It was light and almost carefree. “Let us go in, Miss Cosgrove?”

  Jon and he exchanged a look whose meaning was lost on Anne. Jon seemed piqued while Patrick seemed defiant. Were the two of them truly warring over Louisa? Then what was the meaning of everything that had happened the day of the picnic?

  She could guess the answer to that question, fool that she was. Jon had his way with the spinster while Patrick was simply acting out of residual jealousy due to their former connection. It was nothing more to either one of them, nor was she more than a momentary entertainment.

  Jon held out his arm and she placed her hand on him, though she suddenly had very little appetite. Tension was thick between the two gentlemen and for once she was grateful for Louisa’s silly chatter rapping in her brain. She tasted nothing of what little of the fine fare she ate while she sought to ignore the conflict between Jon and Patrick. She had thought matters had been uncomfortable over in the spinsters’ corner. To be so close to these two men while hiding her own reactions?

  Enduring that was proving to be far worse.

  * * * *

  Patrick feigned interest in whatever Louisa Cosgrove was going on about while he attempted to surreptitiously watch Jon and Anne. He could see his friend’s attraction to her, in his very posture as he leaned close while they conversed. If only Louisa would quiet for a moment, he might catch some of what Anne said in that pleasing voice of hers. She gifted Jon with a smile, small but bright nonetheless. After his own behavior at the picnic, he was certain she would never smile at him again.

  The picnic. Jon had pleasured her. He’d watched as the glow of passion had bloomed on her cheeks and when her breath visibly caught he’d nearly felt it.

  Supper concluded and he and Jon stood. Louisa loo
ked up at him expectantly, but at least he was saved from asking her to dance again by society’s rules. If he continued to show her such attention all would assume banns would be read!

  “Miss Ellis,” he began, turning to Anne. “I haven’t seen you dance this evening.”

  Anne stared at him now, her wide eyes searching and vulnerable. “No, I have not danced.”

  He watched her for a moment. Did she feel the same pain she’d callously inflicted on him five years ago, then? Why didn’t that give him any satisfaction tonight?

  “Well, that should be rectified,” he said.

  Jon grinned and stood. “Capital idea, Wenworth.” He held his hand to Anne. “Join me for a dance, Miss Ellis? I believe you made a promise at the picnic to partner me.”

  Anne blushed pink at his words, but a smile curved her sweet mouth.

  “At the picnic?” Louisa asked. “Did he ask you when you were with him at the lake, Miss Ellis?”

  Anne appeared flustered as she nodded, but Jon’s smooth manners covered the awkward moment. Patrick could only watch as Jon led her out of the supper room. He turned away and all but felt Louisa’s hands grabbing at him as her eyes bored into him.

  “Let me escort you back into the ballroom, Miss Cosgrove.”

  She pouted, an expression that made her look ridiculously young. She must have guessed he wouldn’t dance with her again tonight. It was a pity, but the girl would have to accustom herself to that fact.

  When she was safely deposited with her brother and Anne’s sister, he took himself to the far side of the ballroom. He could see that sad group of widowed and single ladies in their cluster, that spot where Anne had sat for most of the evening. She didn’t belong there. She was nothing like those pale shadows.

  Yes, she’d turned him down, but why hadn’t she married someone of her own station then? Did that damn Lady Russell convince her to turn down every other offer she’d received until no more came?

  Almost reluctantly, he watched as Jon led her through the dance. She was supple and graceful in her movements, and those lines of worry he’d seen too often since coming into Dorset smoothed as the music and the company eased her. He felt himself smiling and didn’t care who noticed. They would never think he looked at Anne with such enjoyment. No one here in Abbotsbury knew of their past connection. He smirked to himself. No one even realized what a beautiful creature she was, save for Jon.