Teasing Your Wicked Heart

CHAPTER 20

"Gentlemen do not gamble in their own homes, especially when they are alone. They go to clubs for that, and I doubt you have suitable and verifiable information of where he takes his pleasures outside of the house."

With an unrepentant shake of her head, she turned her nose to Anne. "I don't believe a whit of it." She threw all the crumbs on the floor. "Much of it, might be all of it, are all invented." Her palms rubbed against her skirts, scratching the cloth with the remaining crumbs.

Anne was surprised at her friend's conviction. She just nodded with a hidden smile. Her friend must be in love with him to champion such a scoundrel like that, but she held her tongue.

That afternoon, she retired in the drawing room and allowed her fingers to drift over the pianoforte, making distinct sounds to disrupt the silence. A new bouquet of flowers caught her attention, freshly blooming in a crystal vase that was filled with water. She searched for a card and found none.

Her eyes shifted to the window and saw that Anthony had just arrived in his horse. He hopped down and was just handing its reins to a waiting servant. He removed his hat, shaking his hair at the front door steps before his footsteps echoed through the empty house.

"Is anyone at residence," he inquired loudly, and she heard Barnaby tell him of her presence in the drawing room.

His footsteps drew nearer toward the open door and within seconds, she was drinking in his sight. His tall broad frame stood under the carved wooden hinges of the door.

He bowed slightly, a lock of his dark brown hair falling before his brow as he took notice of the new flowers in front of her. He hadn't seen her for quite some time, as he had been busy managing what's left of the funds. He was also trying to contact Mr. Collins and corresponded to estate managers of Rosenberg.

"I haven't seen you for a long time," she said, echoing his exact thoughts.

He grunted in response and entered the room.

"What have you been doing," she asked curiously, moving towards the pianoforte tentatively.

There were many things she wanted to ask him, but none she could voice out so casually without sounding accusing.

Did you go to the club? Were you drinking? Was there a lady with you? Have you been gambling?

"Very mundane activities actually." He looked up, his chin tipping to the vase. "I see you've been enjoying many activities as well. Do I know him?"

She glanced back at the flowers and shook her head. "I could even hardly tell you who it is from, or who it is for."

Were you with Lady Edward? The question screamed in her head, but her mouth remained shut.

His face was groomed with casual nonchalance that she thought he would have ended the conversation there. But he removed his gloves, tugging at the ends of the fingers one by one. She watched him, aware of a heat creeping up from her chest.

"That many gentlemen showering you with attentions, then?" He stuffed the gloves inside his waistcoat. Anthony watched her inquisitively, taking note of her stiff posture, her arm awkwardly resting on the keys of the pianoforte.

"I have never heard you play. Why don't you play something for me?"

"I am not very good." She hesitated as he approached her. Her skin was prickling with awareness, she had ached for him every day, and now here he was, casually asking her of other male attentions. Unrequited love was such a cruel companion.

"I do not have many gentlemen suitors." She frowned at his accusation. Really, she was ignored by most of the ton, save for a desperate widower.

"You don't? Yet you receive flowers of different variety." Quirking a brow, he moved to the table and examined the flowers himself.

Satisfied, he faced her, motioning for the pianoforte again. "Go on now. There is no need of shy pretenses."

"I'm not pretending to be shy," she objected quickly. "I am not trying to be humble about talents I do not possess. I am merely saving you from an assault to your hearing."

He chuckled, the sound hearty and low that sent her tingling. "If you are afraid that I might laugh..." He placed his hands on hers and guided them to the keys, curious if she was really as bad as she said she was. "...you are wrong."

Her back was against his chest, his arms draping over hers as they settled on the keys. "I will most definitely laugh at you, no matter your skill," he whispered behind her ear.

His hands rested on the wooden panels, encasing him between his body and the pianoforte.

She shivered and struggled to read the notes on the ready music sheet. "I am not familiar with this piece," she said so softly that it seemed like a whisper.

"Play anything you like." Encouraging her once more, he maintained his body caged behind hers.

Her fingers moved lightly over the keys, playing a soft familiar tune of a much slower minuet.

His lips found her ear and trailed his lips towards her neck, down to where the skin met the elevation of her collarbone. She smelled so good, so clean and very female.

Anthony couldn't begin to describe what he felt when he saw her in the drawing room of his house. She belonged there, as she should, standing behind the couches near that pianoforte waiting for him to come home. It brought him ease just as it brought him comfort to have someone waiting for him, eager for his presence and attention.

But she wasn't his, and once she married, she would never be in his drawing room, waiting for him to come home.

His breathing hitched from longing and desperation, swirling a hot puff of air on the sensitive skin on her neck.

She gasped, her fingers releasing the keyboard, as she twisted her neck to meet his unfocused gaze.

Anthony met her lips, gently touching them together, feeling the softness and heat radiate through his body. His arm fell to the curves of her hips, encircling her waist and dragging her to him, pressing her back against his front.

This kiss was different, that he can ascertain most immediately.

There was a palpable tension in the room the moment he entered. All his life, his lips had not met this electrifying need and softness of being.

Their relationship had shifted over the weeks and Anthony hadn't the faintest clue of the how and why, and right at this very moment, he couldn't beg himself to be sensible.

Her mouth opened, allowing his tongue to taste her sweetness. Their breaths mingling as desire crackled in the air around them. Her palm cupped his cheek behind her neck, and his roughly shaven beard pricked her skin while he moved to capture her.

He pressed his lips further, and then drew away.

She opened her eyes and saw his steely expression. His eyes were narrowed and lips hardened as he stared at her.

"What is it," she asked softly.

"I shouldn't do this." He released her immediately, allowing cool air to wash over her.

At that very moment, footsteps echoed through the doorframe.

Lady Killsworth whose hat obscured her view had looked up to see Killsworth just a foot away from Sarah Jane who was leaning heavily on the pianoforte. Her brows furrowed, making a small line between her brows as she assessed the scene in front of her.

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A/N: Updated May 17, 2020. I had wanted to capture the tension of kissing someone you long for but couldn't have here. I hope I did it justice :) Let me know what you think in the comments.

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