Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 14

Anne took Cedric's offered hand as he guided her into the coach. She watched in silent interest as he tapped the tip of his cane against the metal step that hung down from the door. He looked handsome in his black evening clothes, clean-shaven and brown hair tamed just enough to give the impression that he'd risen from bed after a night of rough play and combed his hands through it.

Once Cedric seemed certain the step was there, he raised a booted foot up and slowly lowered it down. This gave him confidence, and he reached out for the edges of the coach's open doorway.

"Here, let me help..." Anne began.

"I'm fine!" Cedric snapped as he climbed into the coach and felt around him for the seat. When he sat down directly next to her, he jabbed his cane on the roof to signal the driver to move.

"My lord, I don't think it's proper for you to sit so close to me."

"As I reminded you this afternoon, Anne, I don't do proper. Now would you please give me your hand? I should like very much to hold it." He demanded this so gruffly she was torn between refusing him flat out and laughing at his audacity.

"If you think I'll just give you any part of my body when you are in such a foul mood, you are gravely mistaken." Anne scooted as far away as possible, but Cedric soon crowded her.

He threw up an arm in front of her, resting his palm flat on the wall next to her head, trapping her in the cage of his body. Anne's pulse raced as Cedric's face drew close to hers. His vacant brown eyes seemed so cold that she couldn't repress the shiver they drew from her.

"I should not have snapped at you," he said quietly, his warm breath fanning her face.

"Are you apologizing then?"

"It is as close to one as you will get. Now, give me your hand. Do not make me ask again or I shall simply do as I wish without asking permission."

"Why?" Anne dared to ask. Her breath hitched as he sought her left arm. Finding it, he slid his rough grip down to her wrist and pulled her hand into his lap.

"I should like to hold it, that is all. Surely you would permit such a chaste desire from your future husband?" He flashed a mocking smile in her direction as he surrounded her hand with both of his.

"Relax, Anne," he said calmly.

After a long minute she did, not even realizing she'd been so tense before. They rode in silence, listening to the clatter of the coach on the cobblestones before Cedric slid her glove off and began to stroke her hand. He drew long, lazy patterns on her bare skin and then turned her hand over to explore her palm, tracing her lifelines to the rapid pulse of the underside of her wrist. Then he did something she had not expected.

He raised her hand up and pressed his lips to her wrist. Anne watched in fascination as he flicked his tongue against her skin, his lips curving into an unconscious smile, the way one does when tasting something unexpectedly sweet and the pleasure of it catches the taster off guard.

Cedric then took one of her fingers into his mouth, sucking it between his lips. Anne held in a whimper at the sudden flush of heat and the aching throb that came from within. The feel of his mouth hot and wet around her finger did something to her. Her tongue moved out to wet her lips just as Cedric's tongue circled her finger, teasing it, caressing it, and then he lightly nipped her.

"Oh!" Anne tried to jerk her hand back into her lap, but he did not let her go. Instead, he pulled her against him, his other arm banding around her waist.

"Ask me... Ask me to kiss you." He dipped his head with exquisite slowness.

When his nose brushed hers, his lips followed, sweeping against her slightly parted lips. "Ask me to end your resistance. Let me inside you."

Had Anne been thinking clearly she might have realized he meant more than something physical. But her mind was focused on the more literal images his words conjured. Cedric rising above her, propping himself on his arms as he buried himself deep between her legs. To her surprise the image was not as unwelcome as she feared it might be.

Her silence was answer enough. Cedric pushed her away from him so roughly that she fell back onto their shared seat with a startled gasp. For an instant she saw rage, disappointment and despair on his face before he schooled his features back into that ever mocking self-assurance. Cedric had let her retreat, but Anne worried that the smug look on his face promised future moments where she would not be allowed to do so.

His arrogance angered her. She wanted to scream, to hit him, to leave the coach and go home, but she squared her shoulders and said nothing. It was the only way she could show him that he hadn't affected her.

"It is a simple satin gown, russet brown with a bit of an autumnal orange hue to it under the right light."

Cedric reached out, his hand settling on her thigh as he explored the feel of the satin beneath his fingers.

"I am glad you aren't wearing that awful black crepe anymore. I despised the way it felt when I touched you. A woman's clothes should create pleasure when sliding against one's skin. It should entice her lover's touch."

Anne was bewitched by the spell his hand wove over her thigh, the slow exploring caress. So light that it did not disturb the satin, yet she still felt the heat of his skin sink through her gown, creating a heady anticipation deep in her womb.

His touch reminded her of her father's stable master, Harvey, as he worked with wild unbroken geldings. Harvey always gentled the wildest of the young horses with his soft whispers and feather-light touch.

Suspicion suddenly flooded Anne. Was Cedric planning to lull her into thinking she was safe and then pounce? Surely that was his plan. Just as she steeled herself to demand he cease touching her, he stopped of his own accord and set his hand back on his lap as though nothing had happened.

"I do not think Emily will mind you casting off your mourning blacks. Emily is a most understanding little creature. Sometimes I think she understands too much." This last sentence was delivered in such a disgruntled mutter that Anne couldn't help but wonder what he meant, not that she would dare ask.

"I hope you are right," she murmured instead.

"You'll soon find out that I am often right. Do not be shocked by it." His tone was imperious, but she sensed the faintest hint of teasing behind it.

"I can't help it if I am shocked, my lord. Your arrogance is limitless after all," Anne retorted.

"As it should be," Cedric replied. Part of her wanted a nice vicious fight with him for his cheeky tone, but he wouldn't even give her that, the insufferable cad.