Beatrice felt herself being lowered to the ground, the bottom half of her gown growing wet with melting frost as the knees of Anthony’s trousers suffered the same fate. She supposed she should have been perturbed at the way the cold ground felt against her back, but Beatrice could not be bothered to care with Anthony hovering over her. His gaze swept over her pliant form, greedily taking in all that she had to offer, and Beatrice let her own eyes rove over his heaving chest.
She watched him sit back on his haunches, and she shook with anticipation or nerves when he reached for the hem of her dress. His fingertips had just begun to stroke her calf when Beatrice heard her name being called from the Manor. Anthony let out a low, disappointed grunt while Beatrice groaned quietly, the pair staring at each other with iris-devoured pupils and swollen lips before Anthony helped her back to her feet.
“I must admit this vexes me,” Anthony said wryly. “There I was, about to pleasure a beautiful woman, and fate conspired against me.”
Beatrice delicately put her gloves back on, trying to quell the unsatisfied lust raging in her veins, and murmured hesitantly, “Perhaps this is for the best. If…if you wish to continue this, I would like for you to have me in a bed…where we would both be comfortable.” Anthony stopped buttoning his shirt and walked back over to Beatrice, grasping her shoulders firmly.
“The next time we have this chance, I will not hesitate to make you see stars, Beatrice,” he assured firmly, seemingly sensing her embarrassment at asking for more. Beatrice willed herself to look up at him and found a sly appreciation on his face which made her cheeks flush an even darker shade of pink.
There was an undeniable tension in the air as they gathered themselves, but as they made their way back to the Manor, Anthony reached his hand out and slipped it into Beatrice’s. “Now, you should go ahead of me since it was your name which was called,” he reasoned when they were still a good distance away. “I will take my time following behind you, but make sure you are in another part of the house when I return.”
Beatrice frowned at this. “I do not think we need to complicate this, Anthony. I am sure no one would suspect us of anything as long as we arrived at different times.” Her stubbornness made him laugh, and Anthony shook his head.
“Even after we nearly make love in the woods, you are still quick to argue with me. Please, just trust me as you did then, and ensure that no one sees us in the same room for the next half hour,” he replied, glancing between Beatrice and the Saumon Estate as it loomed ever closer.
Beatrice shrugged, willing to assume that a rake would know best how to avoid suspicion, and stopped to take her art supplies from Anthony. The sun was shining brightly by now, warming the near lovers as Beatrice stood on her tiptoes to kiss Anthony one last time. They kept it short, for fear that they would not be able to stop, and he ushered her on her way with a push to her lower back.
She looked over her shoulder only once, a faint smile gracing her face as Beatrice watched him wave at her and wish the young lady well with a wink. With that good luck charm and the ghost of his kiss upon her lips, Beatrice hurried back to the house to find Minnie standing by the glass door which lead to the grounds. “There you are!” she exclaimed, shivering beneath her shawl. “What have you been up to?”
Beatrice forced herself to wear a mask of naivety and held up her art supplies. “I took advantage of the beautiful morning and went out to paint,” she explained, hiding the canvas from Minnie’s curious eyes. “You cannot see it, not yet anyway, for it is to be my wedding present to you.”
Minnie squealed and enveloped Beatrice in a hug, nearly crushing the canvas between them. Then, she pulled her friend inside and helped Beatrice take off her coat, admonishing, “I thought you had been stolen in the night, Beatrice! Everyone else is here – well, except for Mr. Grayson – and we are just about to have breakfast.” She stopped herself then, regarding Beatrice knowingly. “Doyouknow where he is? Perhaps you crossed paths while painting?”
Beatrice felt her heart begin to race and not in the anticipatory way it had when she surrendered to Anthony.
“I did not come upon anyone,” she lied, busying herself with smoothing out her gown. “That was why I went out so early – to be alone.” Minnie hummed but said no more about it, not wishing to hear any more about their plan until Beatrice was ready to tell it. The two girls joined the rest of the party in the dining room, and between bites of fruit, Beatrice found her mind drifting back to the way she had throbbed with want when Anthony placed his hands upon her.
* * *
Anthony did as he said he would and meandered back to the estate with all the gaiety of a schoolboy in love. He had managed to calm himself when Beatrice was putting her gloves back on, though it had taken all his strength for Anthony to subdue the stiffness he was suffering from. It helped that he had to comfort the young woman when she began to withdraw into herself, and Anthony was pleased to discover that he enjoyed comforting her as much as he did quickening her blood.
It could be my mind fixated on winning the wager and denying me much else. Or it could be that I do truly feel for Beatrice, he thought.
Either way, Anthony was sure that everything was going smoothly now that he had her complete compliance. It was certainly a callous way to think of such delicate matters, but his rakish personality would not allow him to fall in love so swiftly. Certainly, he enjoyed her company, and he was growing fond of her, and yet Anthony was not sure whether these feelings would dissipate once he had taken her. As he neared the estate, Anthony sent a silent prayer that they would not, for he did not wish to hurt Beatrice even if he won the wager.
When he entered, looking much worse for wear than he knew Beatrice had, Anthony was immediately set upon by a couple of male servants. They hurried him upstairs, muttering, “Let us warm you up, Sir, before you join the others for breakfast. Lord knows you cannot go down there looking half frozen to death.” Anthony nodded and allowed them to bring him a towel with some dry clothes before thanking the men sincerely. He would never admit it, for fear of his manhood being called into question, but Anthony was beginning to wish he had opted for a stroll instead of a swim.
He emerged, now fully dressed and looking as awake as one could after spending the morning in the chilly autumn air, to descend the stairs. At the bottom, Anthony was surprised to find the Viscount waiting with a stern look on his face.
“Where did you run off to this morning, Anthony?” Brandon Grayson inquired, his gaze as steely as the gray hairs in his mustache. “When I went to collect you for a conference with some of the other gentlemen in the library, you were nowhere to be found.”
Anthony grinned. “Why, Grandfather, I was swimming in the lake. I thought I would take advantage of the lack of guests when I awoke to strengthen my body before my mind.” He used phrases his grandfather had spoken in the past while giving lectures about the importance of maintaining one’s physical health to persuade the Viscount into a happier mood.
It worked tremendously well, and Lord Randlay’s expression shifted from serious to understanding. He clapped Anthony on the shoulder and heartily declared, “Well, that is wonderful to hear, Anthony! Here I thought you were sneaking around with Miss Beatrice, but now you tell me that you were out enjoying this fine morning with some exercise.” There was a proud twinkle in his grandfather’s eye, and Anthony almost felt awful for lying, but then, they were summoned to the dining room.
Instead of being lectured, Lord Randlay was simply walking beside him with a smile on his face, and Anthony was reminded of how much his grandfather cared. The gentlemen sat in their respective seats for this morning on either side of Lord Saumon, and the Viscount engaged their host in lively discussion. Anthony tried to participate, but his eyes were drawn down the table toward Beatrice where she sat in between Lord Ivanry and her sister. Anthony frowned when he noticed how distressed she appeared, and he could only assume it was because of what Lord Ivanry was harshly whispering in her ear.
“What do you think of Lord Saumon’s grounds, Anthony?” his grandfather asked suddenly, and Anthony was forced to bring his attention back to their end of the table.
“They are stunning, My Lord,” Anthony answered honestly, spreading some jam upon his triangular piece of toast. “Just this morning I spotted the most lovely creature while I was enjoying the splendor your land has to offer.”
Lord Saumon quirked a brow and asked, “What sort of creature, Mr. Grayson? I certainly hope it was only a deer and not your mind playing tricks on you in the cold.” His laugh boomed along with the Viscount’s, the men seeming to remember their own imaginations when they were young men.
Anthony grinned and shrugged, “It was a sleek, pretty thing, and I shall count myself lucky that it was not a woodland spirit come to lure me away.” Lord Randlay quirked an eyebrow at the hidden meaning in his words but said nothing because it was merely a light-hearted joke, and it did make Lord Saumon chuckle.
* * *
Beatrice was disappointed that she would not be sitting next to Anthony and instead was plunked between Lord Ivanry and Penelope. As happy as she was to put some space between the loathsome gentleman and her sister, it also meant that Lord Ivanry took the opportunity to whisper threats to her throughout breakfast. At first, he idly asked her, “Where were you?” as though he was only interested as a guardian would be.