The tingling in her groin was a signal that she was on perilous ground. Anna looked into his green eyes, so dark and so deep that she couldn’t quite determine if this was a game they were playing or something far more dangerous. And her good sense, shaped and controlled from years of living among high society, quietly shut down, allowing the real Anna, the Anna who yearned to be loved, to be held and caressed and adored and know all manner of physical pleasure, to slide deeper into the circle of his arms.
“I don’t rightly know how I’d want, sir, other than to say…” Her voice trailed away as she let her gaze roam his face, the perfectly tied neckcloth, the breadth of his shoulders, his thick arms. And then she lifted her gaze to his, saw something smoldering there, and recklessly whispered, “… that I’d most definitely want.”
He said nothing. The muscles in his jaw bulged as if he refrained from speaking, and she realized that they had come to a halt. But then his hand spread beneath hers, his palm pressed to her palm, and he laced his fingers between hers, one by one, and with the last one, he closed his hand, gripping hers tightly. “Tha sin glè mhath,” he whispered hoarsely.
Anna smiled, lifted a curious brow.
“I said, that’s very good, lass. Very good indeed.”
Sixteen
A dreary afternoon and an erotic, musicless dance cast Anna Addison in a whole new light. Grif had always thought her rather exotic, but now he saw her as someone who was… desirable. Captivating, in her own unique way. Sultry. Bloody sultry.
Not that she didn’t need work, for that she did, and quite a lot of it, actually, owing primarily to an annoying little habit she had of speaking.
But when she wasn’t speaking… ach….
As that dance went on, he had thought to kiss her again, for after all, what was more seductive than a lass’s tender kiss? But as he might have expected, Anna had a completely different notion, and put her hands on his chest and laughingly pushed him away, reminding him that he was merely acting a part and that she did not desire to kiss him in the least, nor did he desire to kiss her.
She had something of a point in that. Truly, he did not want to kiss her, and the fact that he had remained awake half the night thinking of how badly he did not want to kiss her he hoped had more to do with a particularly bad batch of beef than anything else.
Nevertheless, he at last arose from his bed and drank quite a lot of whiskey to numb the smoldering burn that dance had left behind in him, particularly in all those places where they touched each other. Like his hands. And his knees. His thighs and chest. His groin.
Diah!
All that smoldering had made him particularly anxious to get on with the lesson the following day.
Unfortunately, Dudley’s gout had flared up again, and it was Hugh who showed Anna in.
She glided into the room ahead of him, removing her bonnet. Hugh stood there watching her in a way Grif understood all too well. Anna looked up; Grif said, “MacAlister was just leaving, he was.”
“No, I wasna,” Hugh responded, and walked across the room, hand extended. “I beg yer pardon, miss, but we’ve no’ had the courtesy of a proper introduction—”
“Hugh MacAlister is me valet, Miss Addison,” Grif quickly interjected.
“Oh! How do you do?” she asked politely as Hugh took her hand.
“Quite well,” he said, bowing over it.
Grif cleared his throat. Hugh dropped her hand, but did not leave. In Gaelic, Grif said to Hugh, “What in God’s name are you doing? You’re a valet! You should be gone from here to wash clothing or some such thing.”
“Your valet?” Hugh spat, his eyes still on Anna. “It’s not as if you need to hide anything from her any longer—she knows what you’re about.”
“No, all she knows is that she has something I want, but she has no idea why, or how deep our lie runs. The less she knows, the better, ye canna argue.”
Now Hugh looked at Grif. “You’re the only one to have any amusement, is that it? Dudley and I are to waste away in some darkened parlor while you connive the beastie out of her?”
Anna cleared her throat. Both men stopped their argument and glanced at her cautiously. “Perhaps…I should come another time?”
“No!” they exclaimed at the same moment, and glared at one another again.
“We’ve almost done what we came to do, lad,” Grif reminded him softly in their native tongue. “Be patient, will ye?”
“Patient! And perhaps you might hurry it along,” Hugh snapped, but he looked at Anna and smiled, and said sadly in English, “I beg yer pardon, miss, but I’ve a… ah, a wardrobe… to, ah… tend,” he said, and with a very lackluster bow for Anna, he dragged himself to the door and through it.
Anna watched him go, her expression curious. When the door had closed, she shook her head as if confused and removed her pelisse. “Isn’t that the man you were fighting with? You were fighting with your valet? On my honor, I’ve no idea what you’re about, sir, but I am quite certain it can’t possibly be good!”
Never mind that—Grif was extraordinarily pleased to see she had taken his advice to heart. She wore a rose-colored walking gown trimmed in earth brown.