Read Online A Lady by Chance (Historical Regency Romance) by Cheryl Bolen - Free Book Online
Authors: Cheryl Bolen
Tags: Regency Romance
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She savored the feel of him within her and lovingly stroked his firm body.
He rolled back to his side. She moved, too, to keep from disengaging him. His powerful hand lightly touched her temple and brushed away the damp hair, softly kissing her brow. He began to trace her features with a long finger, placing soft kisses on her eyelids, her nose, then came to brush gently on her mouth. She smelled his heat and the brandy and the scent of their sex and was oddly sated by it.
She kept her arms around his rock hard back. Her face rested on his chest, his harsh, heavy breathing reassuring. She lay in the peace of him, a deep contentment washing over her.
His mind in a drug-like stupor from the sensations she had aroused and the overpowering emotions she touched, he held her close, delighting in her rose water scent and the feel of her smooth skin against his own. When the sensual fog began to clear from his brain, he remembered everything clearly. The way he languidly kissed her mouth and her extraordinary body. The way he had been more intent on giving her pleasure than in seeking his own. The way he called out her name repeatedly. In a lifetime of vagrant passion, he had never done these things with a woman before.
He held her close, stroking her satiny flesh with a gentleness that surprised himself. Soon, her rhythmic breathing told him she was asleep. While his own body craved sleep, his mind fought it, his thoughts racing with exhilaration brought on by the fragile beauty of the woman he held in his arms. The unnamed yearnings of the past sixteen days, he knew now, had been his deep hunger for Anna. His own Anna.
His arms cradled her. He reveled in the bliss of his possession. He remembered his vow to cherish her, and he knew that whatever lay ahead, he would protect her until his dying breath.
When he awoke in the morning, Anna's huge brown eyes peered into his own and a sweet smile lit her lovely face. She had pulled up the sheet to cover her nakedness.
He trailed a single finger along her cheek and the slope of her chest, then down further, to gently follow the contour of her breast. "Your aptitude for learning exceeds my expectations."
He stifled her smile with a heavy kiss. "Now, to continue your instruction."
Chapter 8
It was well past dark when Haverstock came home the next day. Anna had been watching from her chamber window and scurried down the broad staircase to greet him.
She watched warily as he gave his greatcoat to the butler. His step slow, his hair tousled, Haverstock looked tired enough to have performed yeoman's work at great length. Her heart caught at his haggard appearance. He looked to be twice her age. Then, she realized his secretive post at the Foreign Office was what drew all his strength, and a bitter anger welled within her.
At the foot of the stairs, she remembered Sir Henry's instructions to play the adoring wife. She held out her hands and forced a smile. "My lord, you look so very tired."
A flicker of pleasure passed over his face as he gazed at her. "That I am, my dear."
"Please bring a fresh pot of tea to my chamber," Anna instructed Davis, linking her arm through her husband's and mounting the stairs. "You must come warm yourself before my fire, Charles. A cup of tea is just what you need."
Haverstock collapsed on the settee in front of her fireplace. She bent over him, tenderly loosening his cravat. "There, now, get comfortable and relax." Their eyes met, merging them, driving the anger from her. She stroked the shadows of his beard. "You have worked far too hard today." She told herself she was merely playing the role Sir Henry demanded of her, winning her husband's confidence through her feigned devotion. The problem was, she feigned little where Haverstock was concerned. When she was with him, he earned an unpretentious affection.
Only when they were apart did she recall his traitorous deeds. Because then she was not drawn to the depth of his black eyes and
He rolled back to his side. She moved, too, to keep from disengaging him. His powerful hand lightly touched her temple and brushed away the damp hair, softly kissing her brow. He began to trace her features with a long finger, placing soft kisses on her eyelids, her nose, then came to brush gently on her mouth. She smelled his heat and the brandy and the scent of their sex and was oddly sated by it.
She kept her arms around his rock hard back. Her face rested on his chest, his harsh, heavy breathing reassuring. She lay in the peace of him, a deep contentment washing over her.
His mind in a drug-like stupor from the sensations she had aroused and the overpowering emotions she touched, he held her close, delighting in her rose water scent and the feel of her smooth skin against his own. When the sensual fog began to clear from his brain, he remembered everything clearly. The way he languidly kissed her mouth and her extraordinary body. The way he had been more intent on giving her pleasure than in seeking his own. The way he called out her name repeatedly. In a lifetime of vagrant passion, he had never done these things with a woman before.
He held her close, stroking her satiny flesh with a gentleness that surprised himself. Soon, her rhythmic breathing told him she was asleep. While his own body craved sleep, his mind fought it, his thoughts racing with exhilaration brought on by the fragile beauty of the woman he held in his arms. The unnamed yearnings of the past sixteen days, he knew now, had been his deep hunger for Anna. His own Anna.
His arms cradled her. He reveled in the bliss of his possession. He remembered his vow to cherish her, and he knew that whatever lay ahead, he would protect her until his dying breath.
When he awoke in the morning, Anna's huge brown eyes peered into his own and a sweet smile lit her lovely face. She had pulled up the sheet to cover her nakedness.
He trailed a single finger along her cheek and the slope of her chest, then down further, to gently follow the contour of her breast. "Your aptitude for learning exceeds my expectations."
He stifled her smile with a heavy kiss. "Now, to continue your instruction."
Chapter 8
It was well past dark when Haverstock came home the next day. Anna had been watching from her chamber window and scurried down the broad staircase to greet him.
She watched warily as he gave his greatcoat to the butler. His step slow, his hair tousled, Haverstock looked tired enough to have performed yeoman's work at great length. Her heart caught at his haggard appearance. He looked to be twice her age. Then, she realized his secretive post at the Foreign Office was what drew all his strength, and a bitter anger welled within her.
At the foot of the stairs, she remembered Sir Henry's instructions to play the adoring wife. She held out her hands and forced a smile. "My lord, you look so very tired."
A flicker of pleasure passed over his face as he gazed at her. "That I am, my dear."
"Please bring a fresh pot of tea to my chamber," Anna instructed Davis, linking her arm through her husband's and mounting the stairs. "You must come warm yourself before my fire, Charles. A cup of tea is just what you need."
Haverstock collapsed on the settee in front of her fireplace. She bent over him, tenderly loosening his cravat. "There, now, get comfortable and relax." Their eyes met, merging them, driving the anger from her. She stroked the shadows of his beard. "You have worked far too hard today." She told herself she was merely playing the role Sir Henry demanded of her, winning her husband's confidence through her feigned devotion. The problem was, she feigned little where Haverstock was concerned. When she was with him, he earned an unpretentious affection.
Only when they were apart did she recall his traitorous deeds. Because then she was not drawn to the depth of his black eyes and
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