AnchorandStorm (16 page)

“Ah,” she cried, as if the air had been forced out of her lungs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.

In this position, his hands were free to go to work. With his left hand, he reached up to caress her breasts. With his right, he stroked the swollen nub at the top of her slit.

“Oh Angus, oh my God,
Angus
,” she cried. It only took a few strokes to send her over the edge.

And Angus followed right behind her. He threw back his head and grunted his release, a climax so strong he felt as if his life’s essence drained out of him. He collapsed on top of her, his cock still buried deep inside her body.

They lay that way for a few moments as their breathing slowed and the sweat cooled on their skin. But, suddenly, he felt moisture on his neck that he knew wasn’t sweat. He raised his head and looked down at her. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she stared into his eyes.

Her expression startled him. It was more than one of mere physical gratification. He had seen that look before, on the faces of the lassies who had loved him and whose hearts he had broken.

He wondered how Callander would feel if he knew his wife had fallen in love with his groom.

“Let me up,” she said, pushing against his chest. When he didn’t move, she pleaded, “Angus,
let me go
.”

There was no mistaking the double meaning of her words. He rolled off her and watched as she jumped out of bed, threw on her nightdress and ran into the adjoining bedroom without looking back.

Could she really be as in love with him as he was with her? He didn’t know, but it gave him no small measure of satisfaction that Lord Callander’s wife was fleeing back to his bed…with Angus’ seed running down her legs.

Chapter Fifteen

Edgar Armstrong, Earl of Callander, stared at his wife across the breakfast table and wondered yet again if he had made a big mistake. It had been over three weeks since she had spent the night with Angus and at times she had seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, gazing off into space as she was doing now.

She had not changed toward Edgar in any way that he could detect. In fact, their lovemaking was better, even though he dared not enter her.

He had asked her not to ride, on the chance that if she were carrying a child, she would not risk a miscarriage. She readily acquiesced and as far as he knew, she had not even gone to the stable to see Angus. But still he wondered. Was she thinking of Angus when she was making love to him? Was she remembering how it had felt to have Angus inside her…and did she long to feel it again?

Edgar himself would never forget that morning. He had slept fitfully, knowing what was happening in the next room and wondering if he would come to regret instigating it. He came instantly awake when he heard the door open and then Emily was in his arms. She was crying and shaking and holding onto him as if her very life depended on it.

“My dear, what’s wrong? What is it?” He tried to hold her far enough away to see her face, but she wouldn’t let him go.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

Edgar’s voice became stern. “Emily, did he hurt you?”

With that, she did pull away slightly and look up at him. “No, Edgar, he didn’t hurt me, I promise. Just hold me.” And she wrapped her arms around him again, though not quite as desperately as before.

A movement in the doorway caught Edgar’s eye. In the dim, gray light of dawn, he looked up to see Angus standing there, totally naked, his arms stretched above his head, holding the top of the doorframe. He was staring at them…or rather, staring at Emily, with such an expression of longing that Edgar almost felt sorry for the man. Angus’ cock, although not fully erect, was turgid and gleamed with a sheen of moisture.

Angus’ eyes shifted briefly to Edgar. He knew Angus had witnessed the entire scene between himself and Emily. He stared back at him for a moment, then Angus turned away and left. In another few minutes, Edgar heard the sound of the hall door closing in the next room.

Emily had fallen asleep in his arms. He lay back against the pillows and held her, trying to make sense of the feelings that warred inside him. Emily swore Angus had not treated her badly, but if he had, it was their own fault. They had asked for this, hadn’t they?

Still, it was unnecessary for him to flaunt his prowess in Edgar’s face.

Edgar forced his mind back to the present. Emily continued to stare out the window and like every other morning, she had taken little of her breakfast.

“Why don’t you go to the stable this morning, my love?”

She turned to him with a startled expression, as if he had discerned her thoughts. “You—you don’t want me to ride.”

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t go to the stable.”

“If I am not to ride, there is no need for me to go there.” She made a great show of folding her napkin neatly and laying it next to her plate.

“You will have to see him at some point in time. Someday, you will begin riding again. Is there some reason you are afraid to face him?”

“No,” she answered too quickly, “I am not afraid. I-I simply have no reason to.”

“Emily, I am well aware that you have feelings for him.” Her head snapped up and she looked into his eyes. She shook her head and opened her mouth as if to deny it, but he cut her off. “You must have, after what the two of you shared. I am not asking you to avoid him completely. You can’t. I only ask that you not forget to whom you are married.” Now it was he who turned his gaze to the window, embarrassed by the note of desperation in his voice.

She came around the table and knelt at his feet. “Edgar, you know it is only you I love. Haven’t I told you that enough times for you to believe me? Haven’t I proven it to you? What more do I have to do?” She laid her head on his knee.

He bent over and kissed the top of her head. Sliding his hands down her back to her waist, he urged her up to sit on his lap. They held each other in silence for a while, then he said, “It really is a lovely day outside. Why don’t you go for a walk, get some fresh air?”

“Will you join me in the garden?” she asked. “We can read to each other, it will be the way it was when we first met.”

“I have some correspondence to attend to, but I can join you in about half an hour. How would that be?”

“Delightful,” she said and gave him a kiss that left no doubt that she still loved him.

Emily retrieved the book of sonnets she’d been reading from the library and walked out the rear entrance of the house. She stood on the stone terrace overlooking the gardens and gazed around. It was indeed a beautiful day, the warm sun on her face almost chased away the chill she felt down to the marrow of her bones, as she thought back to the events of the past month.

The man whom she loved more than her own life had asked her to have intercourse with another man. She couldn’t call it making love—that’s what she did with Edgar. Even though he no longer entered her, they made love in other ways—the ways he had shown her on their trip to the continent. But when she thought back to their lovemaking before the accident and the revelation about his illness, there was no comparison between what she had done with Edgar and what she did with Angus three weeks ago.

She knew Edgar had her feelings in mind as much as his own when they made love. He always saw to it that she was being fulfilled and he never hurt her or frightened her. Even the feel of his manhood inside her used to be comforting—not too large, not too hard. Making love with Edgar was warm and gentle and tender and safe.

With Angus, however, it had been powerful, overwhelming, frightening.
And wonderful.
She felt a blush rise in her cheeks at this last thought. It wasn’t supposed to have been that way. It was one time only—hopefully—a service done and that was all. But even as she lay with Edgar, even as he did things to her body that brought her to overwhelming climaxes, she remembered the feeling of fullness Angus had given her. And was ashamed because deep inside, she longed to feel that full again.

That is why she didn’t want to face Angus and the longer she could avoid it, the better. It was still too soon after their night together. She was afraid she would give her feelings away—by a look, a brush of her hand against him, something, anything that would let him know she wanted him. Oh she was sure Angus wouldn’t want her, there was no worry there. She just didn’t want to make a fool of herself the next time she saw him.

And yet, if it had only been the physical longing, she thought perhaps she could have handled it. But deep inside, she knew there was more to it than that. They had shared an intimacy that night that went beyond the mere joining of two bodies. That’s why she had been avoiding him. She didn’t trust herself to face him again.

She wondered how her father had known they would be such a good match.

She prayed that she had conceived, so that she would never have to be unfaithful to her husband again, with her body or with her heart. Angus MacNeill was like a rare delicacy—once tasted, the memory of it only made one want it that much more. But delicacies came at a high cost. And she would not pay by risking her marriage.

At the foot of the stairs from the terrace, the path to the stable led off to the right. She could see the stone building in the distance, but there was no one moving about. With a heavy sigh of resignation, she descended the steps and followed the path straight in front of her, down into the garden—being careful to avoid the honeysuckle arbor.

From the shadow inside the stable door, Angus watched Emily standing on the terrace.
She’ll come to me now
, he thought.
Finally, she’ll come.

When she hadn’t shown up for her rides after their night together, he had not been surprised at first. He had imagined she wanted to spend most of her time with Callander, to try to convince herself that she loved him again.

But as time went on, he began to wonder why he never saw her. Then one day, he asked about her when he went to the kitchen for his supper.

“How is Lady Callander, Essie?”

“What, lad? Oh fine,” the plump, little cook replied, “why do ye ask?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “’Tis just that she hasn’t come for her rides lately. I thought she might be ailin’.”

“Och, no, she’s more than fine.” Essie giggled, the sound too young for one with so much gray in her hair. “Why, she and the laird are billin’ and cooin’ like a pair o’ turtledoves. I dinna think I’ve ever seen two people so happy wi’ each other.”

He wanted to laugh and say,
It’s an act, can’t ye see that? It’s me she loves, not him.
But he knew his position. Any such comments would only backfire on him and he would find himself in prison again, despite Callander’s promise to the contrary.

So with the passage of each new day, Angus’ mood blackened even more, waiting for the time he could finally speak with her. He considered himself more than patient for not forcing a confrontation with her before now. More than once, he had been tempted to march up to the front door of the house and demand to see her.

She had used him and cast him aside like so much offal. He had not expected his position on the estate to change after the service he had done them, but he had not expected to be ignored either.
How dare she treat me like this
, he thought.

So now, when he saw her disappear from sight as she descended the stairs, he waited. The stone wall surrounding the garden and the high trees inside it hid her from view, but soon she would emerge from the side gate. Then he could ask her why she had stayed away. Then he could see if that look was still on her face. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he hoped it was.

But the gate didn’t open.

Damn her!
If that was the way it had to be, he didn’t care anymore, he would make the first move.

He hurried up the road and let himself in by the side gate, then started down the path. He expected to find her in the honeysuckle arbor, but the bench there was empty. He continued on to where the main path from the terrace intersected the one he walked, to the spot where he had stood and watched her the night of the party. At that point, a narrower path went off on an angle, into the rose garden. He saw her then.

She sat with a book in her lap, but her eyes were closed and her head lay against the back of the stone bench. It reminded him of her pose the day he had come to talk to her about Callander’s proposal. She seemed just as strained then, but today, she was even more beautiful. Her hair appeared as spun gold in the sun and the warmth of the day gave a rosy glow to her cheeks. It was only when he looked closer that he saw the dark circles under her eyes.

He still stood a good distance away, hidden by the trees lining the main path and he knew he hadn’t moved or made a sound. But suddenly, she sat up and looked straight at him, as if she had sensed he was there. Then she stood and took one, two, three hesitant steps toward him before she stopped and just stared. Her hands clenched and twisted the fabric of her skirt and she seemed to be imploring him with her eyes not to come any closer.

But he would not be put off this time. He wanted to know why she had been avoiding him. What she felt about him after their night together. What she felt about her husband now.

He took a step forward but saw her turn and look toward the house. Then he heard it—the sound of slow, hesitant footsteps crunching in the gravel path. She ran forward…but not to him.

Callander embraced his wife as she threw her arms around his neck. They turned their backs on Angus and made their way deeper into the garden.

Damn the both o’ them!

Angus went back to the stable, trying to convince himself that what he was feeling was anger, not hurt.