Page 25 of The Play’s the Thing (The Cricket Club #2)

A nna had no idea how or when they’d ended up in the hermit’s cottage.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, recognizing the shrill chirps outside, signaling morning. Jacob slept peacefully behind her, his arms draped over her middle as if even in his dreams he worried that she might leave.

Her mind told her to get up and run back to the house, but her body had a distinctly different opinion. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt, not when she felt so blissfully alive, so acutely happy. It was a new feeling, unknown territory, because it came with no regret or shame. Her needs and wants were in perfect alignment. With Jacob.

Anna’s skin still sizzled and hummed from the night. With kissing newly added to their bedtime repertoire, their lovemaking had taken on a whole new adventure and a new meaning. No patch of skin had been left unmarked, but it was her lips that Jacob had luxuriated in. He came back to them again and again with a raw fervor that left nothing to the imagination. He’d branded her with his possession.

Anna was his. And Jacob was hers. Nothing else mattered.

Nevertheless, the longer Anna remained in that bed, the faster her mind ran. Even in the warmth of Jacob’s hold, with the heat of his breath on the back of her neck, Anna worried. Because she had done what she’d said she would never do. She’d fallen in love. With a good man. A decent man. A man who was brave enough to take what he wanted. To take care of what he wanted.

The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him.

Her thoughts must have been loud, because Jacob began to stir. He stretched languidly, caressing her hips with his palm, rising along with the sun, in more ways than one.

He was the alchemist whose touch continued to transmute her. How easily Jacob made her body feel like it flowed with molten gold.

He repositioned her backside so it was snugly cushioned against his engorged manhood. He laid a lazy kiss underneath her ear. “Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and sonorous. Hungry.

His forearm rested under her breasts, and he raised his palm to cup one in his hand. It was a casual motion, an action of ownership and worship. Anna sighed against the onslaught of delicious feelings climbing up from her toes, like water traveling from a root up the stalk of a plant. Her body was slowly filling with desire.

“We should go,” she said.

Jacob rocked his hips into her in a restless, lackadaisical manner, like the two of them had all the time in the world, like there was nothing to fear, no worries to be had.

If only Anna could allow herself that reprieve. The only time her brain ever shut off was when they were making love.

“We have time,” he said, kissing her neck again. Jacob didn’t back away this time, keeping his lips on her skin, allowing them to wander in an idle and distracting fashion.

Anna’s laugh was breathy. She lifted her arm and reached back to cup his head. “We really should go.”

“We will,” he said, nuzzling her. She should have known the hand on her breast wouldn’t stay still for long. He kneaded her flesh, plucking at her turgid nipple between his fingers. “And when we do,” he continued, nipping at her earlobe, tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue, “I will go straight to your father and explain everything.”

He pinched her breast harder, and she let out a tiny squeak. “E-everything?”

Jacob’s chuckle came from deep in his chest. “Well, almost everything.”

Anna wanted to laugh too. She wanted to spin in Jacob’s embrace and lock her lips to his in celebration of this moment.

But her fears were too great. Everything … Everything was moving too fast. She still had so much to tell him. And it was so very difficult to locate the words, to pinpoint the perfect explanation with his shaft nudging insistently between her thighs.

“Open up, sweetheart,” Jacob said, applying pressure to her hips, bending her torso away from him.

It was a war on two fronts. Jacob’s attack was artful and merciless. She never had a chance. Anna bent her body and her will to him.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “Just like that, let me come in one more time, love.” The passiveness in his voice was gone. Anna detected an edge of franticness now, an unraveling of control. His breath came quicker against her neck, and his hands shook while they roved across her front.

Anna loved Jacob like this, loved it when his veneer of respectability gave way to the rabid passions he hid so well inside. She relinquished her anxiety and control. She let the fears over the future rise off her, carried by the heat of their bodies.

She reached for his hand and held it on her hip, twining their fingers together, then twisted her neck to meet him, capturing Jacob’s mouth in a long and lingering kiss that invaded her senses. They lost themselves in the kiss, clinging to one another, circling their tongues in play that felt both thrilling and dangerous.

When Jacob finally surged inside of her, she screamed into his mouth. His fingers came to her lips, soothing her fever before he captured her once more.

After that, their lips never parted again. As Jacob rolled his hips into Anna’s, their mouths created their own dance, one that mimicked the rhythm of their bodies but was led by different music. The kisses were thorough and sweet, never-ending and ravenous. They spoke of love and trust, devotion and future. They were the stuff of daydreams, while their bodies evoked the wicked night.

Anna’s pulse quickened. A frisson of energy was building. Jacob pushed inside her, his thrusts more erratic, needier. He pressed his fingers into her hip, while his other hand held on to her breast, stabilizing his pumping. He became harder inside her, thickening and stretching her walls, his appetite growing. Anna was mindless. She clutched and clawed at him; her kisses turned savage, her hips demanding.

Until she split in half. Shards of light cut through her, shattering her consciousness, of everything she thought she knew about herself in this world. As Anna pulsated around Jacob’s shaft, milking him for all that he could give, she fell into an abyss; long and far she fell, with only darkness around her. And she had no fear. Because the light inside her broke her up into such small pieces that she became one with the abyss. Anna was everywhere and everything.

And she couldn’t fear herself.

Jacob’s release came fast, and he locked his arms around her as he jerked and convulsed, laying himself bare and empty against her. Their sweat-slicked bodies molded together as one; their panting reverberated like a mantra.

Inside their tiny cottage, they had created a temple. A sanctuary.

Anna held Jacob’s forearms tight as he continued to shudder. Then she twisted to take his face in her hands, offering him a soft kiss, settling the emotion that held him in its firm grip. His eyelids were heavy, his mouth upturned, though he was too exhausted for a true smile.

Words were on the tip of her tongue. Words that Anna desperately wanted to say. Jacob’s stormy eyes regarded her, and she could have wept at their kindness. The love she saw echoed through her soul and gave no hint of stopping. It clogged her throat, making any sound difficult.

So Anna told him how she felt in the best way she could, in a language that she had forgotten and that Jacob had helped her remember. She lifted her chin and brushed her mouth over his. It was a fleeting kiss. Over before it had begun.

But its message was clear. This is only the beginning.

*

Days later, Anna would wonder why she didn’t sense the danger sooner.

On returning to the house that morning, she heard the shouts and commotion just as Jacob did. There was a faint whiff of anger and dissension in the air as they stepped past the threshold. And yet she didn’t pull back. She didn’t grab Jacob and return to the gardens, allowing their love a few more days of cover.

Jacob’s arm was wrapped proprietarily around her waist. Naively, Anna had thought she was finally safe from her past. That her penance was finished.

But the second they turned the corner into the drawing room—and Anna witnessed the blistering shade of red on her father’s face—she understood that those thoughts had been foolish. Hauntings never ended because ghosts never died.

Phillip’s caustic laughter tore her attention away from her father. He clapped at her appearance, curling his lips away from his teeth in a vindictive smile. Anna expected him to come for her. She straightened her shoulders, waiting for a biting comment; however, Phillip turned his ire on her father.

“And you say I’m a menace?” he asked Sir John, his voice abnormally high, laced with vitriol. “I didn’t ruin your daughter. Clearly she’s wanton. Just look at her.”

A vein throbbed in the middle of Sir John’s forehead. He stepped toward Phillip so quickly that the younger man moved back, hitting the back of his legs against a chair. “Don’t you dare speak about her!” he exploded, shaking.

Anna moved out of Jacob’s arms. “Father?” she asked.

Sir John attempted to contain himself, but his eyes were shifting, his hands clenching. “Go back to your room. I’m speaking with Phillip. We’re almost done.”

Phillip lifted a brow. “Are we?” He grinned. “So, you accept my offer?”

“What offer?” Anna asked.

Sir John sent her a helpless look. “Please, Anna, go upstairs.”

“What is going on?” Jacob asked, walking to the center of the room. Anna watched him closely. His fists were clenched and his gaze was fixed on Phillip’s devious expression.

“I apologize, my lord,” Sir John said. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice in your home. I… I…” He shook his head. “I momentarily lost myself.”

Phillip scoffed. “Why are you apologizing to him ?” he said, sneering at Jacob. “He just spent the night with your daughter. He doesn’t even have the good breeding to hide it.”

“How dare you!” Jacob went for Phillip, but Anna had anticipated it. She wrapped her hands around his arm, holding him back. It was a fruitless action. She was strong, but Jacob was stronger. However, Sir John aided her, positioning himself in front of Jacob.

“Please, my lord, I will handle this,” Sir John implored. The lines of his forehead were deep and heavy; his panic was unmistakable.

Jacob took a steadying breath, pointing a finger at Phillip. “I want you out of my house,” he stated firmly. “I never wanted you here to begin with.”

Phillip made a face. “I never wanted to be here either, my good man. I just came to settle some business, and we’re almost done.” He focused on Anna’s father. “Aren’t we?”

Sir John’s head shook back and forth as if he had lost control of his movements. “You can’t have her,” he rasped. “I can’t let you.”

Phillip waved a hand in the air. “Oh, Sir John. You act like I’m a fiend, some villain from a fairy tale. You know me. I’m a good man. I’ll treat her with the respect she deserves—you have my word.”

Anna’s stomach dropped. Wife . Phillip still wanted her. How? Why?

“You can’t do this, Father,” she said. “I don’t want him. I don’t even know why he’s asking.”

“I don’t want you .”

The words stabbed at her like a dull knife. Anna blinked. “What?”

Phillip huffed at Jacob. “Especially not now .”

“Then what?” Anna’s mind reeled. “Then who—” Her blood turned to ice as realization struck her. The words tripped from her mouth. “B-Beatrice. You want Beatrice.”

Phillip clapped. “ Brava . Of course I want Beatrice. She’s not damaged goods.”

A flash of color whipped past Anna, giving her no time to react. Jacob’s fist came out of nowhere, hitting Phillip’s nose square and true. Anna cringed at the gruesome crack and the splatter of blood that flew through the air, landing on the drapes along the window.

“Fuck!” Phillip screamed, holding his face in both hands. He bent over in pain, which only served to make the blood gush over his fingers to the floor like a macabre waterfall. “I think you broke my nose!”

With a grimace, Jacob inspected his hand, stretching and clenching it to ascertain if it, too, was broken. He didn’t seem upset by the prospect. “Good,” he replied. “Now get out of my house.”

“Don’t you think I want to?” Phillip screeched. “I’m trying to leave. I’m just waiting on Sir John!” He stalked to the chaise, where he deposited himself with a comical sigh, holding his nose up in the air while blood dripped down his chin. Anna was bemused by his behavior—it was as if this wasn’t out of the ordinary for Phillip. As if getting punched in the nose during a conversation was just a trifling inconvenience between gentlemen. She wondered how she’d ever thought she knew him at all.

“Now, Sir John,” Phillip went on, growing impatient. “As we were saying, I need a wife—one with a generous dowry. I initially came for Anna, but since that didn’t work out, I’ll take Beatrice. I have no time or inclination to court another woman. Our families know each other. I will soon be a baron. She could hardly do better.”

Anna sniffed. “She could marry a chimney sweep and do better.”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be jealous now, Anna. You had your chance. It’s not my fault you’re defective.”

Jacob marched to the chaise, fist raised once more. “What did you call her?”

Anna caught him right in time. Murder was in his eyes, and no one in that room knew what to do with a dead body. Besides, her curiosity was inflamed. She needed Phillip to keep talking.

Sir John stamped a foot. “I’ve already told you. You cannot have her.”

Phillip’s blue eyes pierced through the blood as he scrutinized the man. “Even after all I’ve told you?” he said. “I would ruin you.”

“Father?” Anna asked.

Sir John ignored her, continuing to meet Phillip’s chilling gaze. “Some parts of me, no doubt. But not all.”

The two stared for a few beats longer, engaged in a silent conversation, a battle of wills.

Phillip broke first. With an expletive, he hauled himself up from the chaise, more blood dripping to the carpet as he bowed to Sir John. “I don’t want to do it, you know. You leave me no choice.”

“Every man has a choice,” Sir John replied.

Phillip chuckled. “Well, then I am giving you a chance to rethink yours. I will wait a few weeks hoping you change your mind and decide not to ruin your entire family. If not… Well…” He shrugged.

Then he exited the room swiftly.

Anna had to give her father credit. He waited for the odious man to leave before he collapsed on the floor.