Persuasion: The Wild and Wanton Edition Page 14

  By coolly giving the reins a better direction herself they happily passed the danger; and by once afterwards judiciously putting out her hand they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung-cart; and Anne, with some amusement at their style of driving that involved the Admiral touching his wife as much as possible while she chuckled and confidently steered the carriage, which she imagined no bad representation of the general guidance of their affairs, found herself safely deposited by them at the Cottage.

  Chapter 11

  The time now approached for Lady Russell’s return: the day was even fixed; and Anne, being engaged to join her as soon as she was resettled, was looking forward to an early removal to Kellynch, and beginning to think how her own comfort was likely to be affected by it.

  It would place her in the same village with Captain Wentworth, within half a mile of him; they would have to frequent the same church, and there must be intercourse between the two families. This was against her; but on the other hand, he spent so much of his time at Uppercross, that in removing thence she might be considered rather as leaving him behind, than as going towards him; and, upon the whole, she believed she must, on this interesting question, be the gainer, almost as certainly as in her change of domestic society, in leaving poor Mary for Lady Russell.

  She wished it might be possible for her to avoid ever seeing Captain Wentworth at the Hall: those rooms had witnessed former meetings which would be brought too painfully before her. When her father and sister had been out, Frederick visited, and it had been novel to conduct their tête-à-têtes indoors rather than out beneath the tree in the garden. This fortuitous turn of events had happened very seldom — Anne could only remember two times, and she certainly would not have forgotten other occurrences — during the small amount of time they were engaged.

  The first time had been the day after they first made love in the garden. Anne left a note for Frederick under their tree, and it was only moments after their scheduled meeting time that he showed up at the house as she had requested. The butler had barely maintained his decorum, going so far as to raise one shaggy, gray eyebrow at Anne as he had admitted the young man to the library, a place Anne knew they would be uninterrupted. Now, remembering back, Anne was sure she’d felt the sting of the servant’s censure, but the only emotion that came to mind now was the overwhelming anticipation of being alone in the house with the man she loved. Frederick had waited impatiently for the butler to bow and exit the room; he had shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet. The click of the door closing reverberated through the room like a shot, and, instead of Frederick approaching her and kissing her senseless, as she had hoped he would do, he turned from her and marched to the library door.

  With his face all but pressed into the polished wood of the doors, he spoke so softly she barely heard. “Am I here for the reason I think I am here?”

  Anne’s eyes devoured the back and shoulders she hoped to finally see bare; their breadth made her mouth water, but even lust could not overshadow the concern that flared when she noticed how stiff and hunched his shoulders were. The flare grew until Anne wondered with mortification if she had tacitly proposed they do something that Frederick found immoral to the extreme. The letter she had left for him had merely said, “Meet me at the house.” However, the subtext had practically screamed its hidden addendum of what Anne planned to do with him there. She had thought he would be as excited as she — they had, after all, made love only the day before. Certainly her request to meet here was not so far off the path they had been traveling down. Perhaps he was having regrets? Or, perhaps, her request to make love again so quickly was evidence of a perversion?

  Anne delayed responding as long as possible, as an unnamable sickness formed into a lump within her throat would not allow her to speak anyway. Her hands knotted in front of her, and she twisted her fingers brutally as she mentally searched for some way to get them out of this awkward situation. Why, oh why, had she been so forward?

  She took so long that Frederick turned his face to the side, displaying the features she had come to love in glorious profile. He still did not look directly at her. “Anne?” he asked quietly.

  The sound of her name, though quiet, caused Anne to jump. Suddenly, the words stuck in her throat tumbled out, tripping over one another in the space between them. “I am sorry — it was silly of me to suggest — of course you are right — I promise I am not wanton — ”

  At this last statement, Frederick finally reacted. He spun back toward her, his expression unreadable, though Anne was not certain it contained any denunciation. In fact, he looked quite — affected. “Anne, stop,” he said in a low, deep voice before finally, finally smiling at her. “Darling, are you under the impression that I disapprove of a request to come to your home and lay my hands upon you?”

  The air in the room was oppressive for the few heartbeats it took Anne’s mind to engage and correctly interpret his words. “Y-You mean to say — that you do not?”

  She barely got the words out of her mouth before Frederick was barreling across the library. He threw his arms around her and hauled her into his body so roughly, she would have stumbled and fallen had he not held her so securely. The next moment, his lips were upon hers, and he was thrusting his tongue through her teeth with a harsh moan. He probed her mouth with his tongue thoroughly, touching every part of her that he could reach with his hands, which seemed to be everywhere at once: grabbing her bottom to pull her lower body in so he could grind her belly against his rampant arousal, filling themselves with her breasts, threading their fingers through her hair.

  He took her hand from where it clutched his jacket and placed her palm against the hard length pushing the front of his breeches. With a hiss, he pulled back from their kiss. “Does that feel like disapproval to you?” he rumbled.

  Anne sucked in a breath, hoping the air would help steady her wildly tilting world. “No,” she breathed, experimenting with a small rotation of her hand. He gifted her with an approving groan and thrust his hips against her, grinding his erection even more against her hand. He placed a palm to each side of her face and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “You daft, beautiful woman,” he whispered, his lips a hair’s breadth from her own. “What would ever persuade you to think such a thing of me?”

  It was hard to think through the distraction pressed into her hand, and the thumb that was now brushing her bottom lip, but Anne strove to answer him. “You were so — serious — and you would not look — Your back was to — I thought you were leaving.”

  “Leave you?” he asked, leaning in even closer to replace his thumb with a brief brush of his own lips. “Darling, I was praying for the strength to do just that in case I had misinterpreted your letter.” His kissed her once more, this time pausing long enough to sweep his tongue against the roof of her mouth before continuing. “I could not believe I was so lucky as to have a woman who would want me again so soon.”

  Anne blushed furiously. So her desire for him was abnormal. She tried to pull away so she could hide her flaming cheeks and think of some excuse for her behaviour without the mind-altering effect of his touch, but Frederick refused to release her. His hands upon her cheeks flexed briefly, and he tilted her head up so she had no option but to look into his eyes. His gaze practically smoldered, and Anne felt an echo of heat within her womb as any nervousness and embarrassment fled completely.

  “It took all of the strength I had not to set upon you as soon as the butler left.” One of his hands left her face, and she next felt it in the small of her back. He pressed, pushing her into his body and eliminating the small space she had forced between them in her attempt to retreat. He groaned when her breasts crushed against his chest once more. She felt a fine tremor roll through him. “I want you so badly, Anne, I fear I will not be gentle.”

  A thrill of excitement shot up Anne’s spine. “Then, do not be,” she whispered.

  His sea-coloured eyes darkened as though a storm approached, and Anne�
�s body began to drip with want, but then he sighed and smiled, though the smile seemed forced. “Perhaps later. Now, I wish to savor you as I did not take the time to do yesterday.”

  His tone held a good heaping of self-reproach, and Anne leapt to correct him. “Everything about yesterday was perfect.” Every unpracticed touch, every rough thrust, every eager kiss — they had all combined to create the perfect experience.

  His smile softened. “I agree.” His voice had deepened to the point that she felt it rumble through her body clear down to her toes. “And I promise to make to-day even better.”

  His grip upon her loosened, and then he lowered his head so slowly, Anne had more than enough time to anticipate his kiss. His lips were soft when they touched hers, and he drew in a long, uninterrupted breath, as though he were tasting her on his air. His embrace, though slack, was all-encompassing. One hand clutched her chin, holding her still and preventing her from taking their kiss beyond his control. His other arm wound around her back and up through her shoulder blades until it ended with his fingers massaging her nape. He parted his lips and teazed the seam of Anne’s with his tongue.

  Anne’s body went absolutely liquid. Frederick’s hand left her chin, and he caught her as her knees gave out, sweeping an arm behind her legs and pulling her into an embrace against his chest. He did all of this without taking his lips from hers, and Anne next gained cognitive thought to the discovery that he was carrying her across the library and lowering her to the sofa. Each movement he made was marked with languid passion, and she could not help but think that savoring definitely had its draw.

  He broke the kiss to settle her upon the cushions of the sofa, seating her upright like a lady, with her back against the back of the sofa, and her feet upon the floor, and then he knelt in front of her.

  His hands disappeared from her sight, and she felt a draft upon her ankle. He propped his fisted hands, full of her skirts, upon her knees and paused to give her a wry, endearingly crooked smile. “You will have to be quiet this time, dearest,” he said with mock gravity. “We have already scandalized the poor butler to the point of quitting.”

  A bubble of pure happiness rose up in her chest and manifested itself in a breathless laugh. She had been rather noisy in the garden yesterday. “Are you quite sure that a gentleman would draw attention to such a thing?” she asked while leaning forward to place her hands upon his and pull them closer to her body, dragging her skirts up even more to reveal the length of her stocking-clad thighs to the point where the stockings stopped and her skin started.

  He had been on the brink of a reply, his lips parted, and his eyes dancing with mirth, when he chanced a quick glance at her lap. His eyes met hers again, but quickly drained of anything but need. Slowly, so slowly, his eyes traveled down from her face to her lap once more, and she heard his shuddering intake of breath and saw his shoulders rise and fall quickly. Her gaze followed his, and she saw him release her skirts with one trembling hand, and cautiously drag the pad of his forefinger across the bare skin at the top of her thigh, causing a line of goose bumps to break out in the path of his finger.

  Anne’s breath forced its way from her lungs in a loud whoosh, but Frederick’s focus never wavered. “How did I not take the time to look upon you properly?” he said so softly, Anne was sure he was talking to himself. His finger moved back over the field of goose bumps, and her skin tightened even more. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “So soft.”

  He leaned forward, his chest propped against her knees, and pursed his swollen, full lips. He blew a stream of warm air across the skin he had been fondling, and with a moan, Anne arched her back and spread her knees without thought.

  “Oh, yes, Anne,” he said reverently as his upper body fell into the valley between her thighs. His hands gripped her hips and he rose up on his knees to kiss her once more. His fingers flexed on her flesh as he slowly rubbed his tongue against hers. Too soon, he ended the kiss. She moaned in protest, but his lips kissed the corner of her mouth, and then moved to her jaw, her ear, her neck, her collarbone.

  A harsh moan erupted from Anne’s lips as she threw her head back to allow him better access. His chuckle blew against the moist skin of her neck. “Shhh,” he breathed into the hollow between her neck and shoulder before moving down to kiss the top of one breast where it strained above her bodice.

  Anne clamped her lips closed, biting them so hard she worried she would draw blood, but she would not give him any cause to pause in what he was doing to her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and studiously schooled herself to be gentle and not pull, though she ached to do so with all of her heart.

  He startled her when he moved beyond her breasts, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses that scorched her skin through the fabric of her dress to her rib cage and stomach. It was not something she had expected, but it was so delicious, she did not wish to stop him. However, when his chin scratched against the exposed skin of her thigh, Anne grew alarmed.

  “Frederick?” she asked breathlessly. She tugged at his hair gently, but the man would not budge.

  “Shhh,” he said again, his breath tickling her most private place through the inadequate barrier of her drawers. He shocked her even more when he leaned down further and pressed an almost chaste kiss to the top of her cleft through the soft, linen covering.

  Anne could not breathe. Pleasure so intense she nearly peaked spiked through her entire body. Her lungs seized, and her fingers flexed once more in Frederick’s hair, this time, she feared, too roughly, for he jerked beneath her hold.

  “Shhh, darling,” he said once more, pulling back slightly to give her a look that was probably meant to be censorious, but was too altered by lust to be very effective.

  Anne moaned in protest, wishing with every fiber of her being that he would return his face to where it had just been. “I did not — ”

  Just then, the sound that Frederick had actually heard reached Anne’s ears. The business-like clack of lady’s shoes sounded from the hallway, and Anne heard Lady Russell in deep, loud conversation with the butler.

  Anne gasped in horror as her eyes flew to the door of the library, but Frederick reacted much quicker. He jerked her skirts back down, the breeze their billowing caused blowing his blond hair back from his face. “Be calm,” he admonished while scooting further back on his knees, and drawing one up, foot flat on the floor.

  When the door flew open, Lady Russell and the disapproving butler were within its frame. Anne watch in mute suspense as Lady Russell’s eyes roved them while a dark frown marred her brow, but she only saw Frederick down on one knee before Anne, her hands held between his, and an imploring look upon his face.

  That was the moment Lady Russell learned of their betrothal. They never corrected her assumption that she had stumbled upon Frederick proposing with the knowledge that they had already been engaged for days. It would not have mattered any way. Lady Russell quickly and contemptuously escorted Frederick out, and then she began the constant litany of lectures on familial duty that had driven Anne to near madness.

  The second time Frederick had visited the home while the family had been out ended much the same way save for two things: first, Lady Russell had caught them in obvious preparation to make love: Frederick’s coat had been tossed aside in a pile on the floor, and his fingers had been deep inside Anne’s body; and second, her lectures upon Anne increased in vehemence and piling on of guilt until she finally persuaded Anne to break the engagement by relaying the alarming news that Anne was more like her lecherous father than her saintly mother. Lady Russell could not have guessed how successful such a statement would be in convincing Anne to break from the man she loved so much, an act Anne had carried out the morning her courses appeared and ruined any remaining argument Anne knew could convince Lady Russell of the necessity of marrying Frederick.

  These memories were bitter medicine, and Anne longed to keep from remembering them more often by prolonged absence from her former home; but she was yet more
anxious for the possibility of Lady Russell and Captain Wentworth never meeting anywhere. For obvious reasons, they did not like each other, and no renewal of acquaintance now could do any good; and were Lady Russell to see them together, she might think that he had too much self-possession, and she too little. Or worse, she could wonder if they had lapsed into the indiscretions of her youth, and the lectures would recommence.

  These points formed her chief solicitude in anticipating her removal from Uppercross, where she felt she had been stationed quite long enough. Her usefulness to little Charles would always give some sweetness to the memory of her two months’ visit there, but he was gaining strength apace, and she had nothing else to stay for.

  The conclusion of her visit, however, was diversified in a way which she had not at all imagined. Captain Wentworth, after being unseen and unheard of at Uppercross for two whole days, appeared again among them to justify himself by a relation of what had kept him away.

  A letter from his friend, Captain Harville, having found him out at last, had brought intelligence of Captain Harville’s being settled with his family at Lyme for the winter; of their being therefore, quite unknowingly, within twenty miles of each other. Captain Harville had never been in good health since a severe wound which he received two years before, and Captain Wentworth’s anxiety to see him had determined him to go immediately to Lyme. He had been there for four-and-twenty hours. His acquittal was complete, his friendship warmly honoured, a lively interest excited for his friend, and his description of the fine country about Lyme so feelingly attended to by the party, that an earnest desire to see Lyme themselves, and a project for going thither was the consequence.

  The young people were all wild to see Lyme. Captain Wentworth talked of going there again himself, it was only seventeen miles from Uppercross; though November, the weather was by no means bad; and, in short, Louisa, who was the most eager of the eager, having formed the resolution to go, and besides the pleasure of doing as she liked, being now armed with the idea of merit in maintaining her own way, bore down all the wishes of her father and mother for putting it off till summer; and to Lyme they were to go — Charles, Mary, Anne, Henrietta, Louisa, and Captain Wentworth.