That made him all the more dangerous. She would go riding with him—she’d promised. But she’d take her own protection, one destined to end Greyley’s desire to ever go riding with her ever again.

Chapter 17

Nothing is quite so satisfying as a brisk ride in the park. Except, of course, eating, sleeping, drinking, and playing cards.

Lord Alvaney to Sir Rotherwood, while sharing port at White’s

“The brown waistcoat, my lord?” Ledbetter’s voice resounded with disbelief.

“Yes, damn it. And be quick.” Anthony was to meet Anna in ten minutes and he was running late.

Yesterday, after the incident at the pond, Anthony had changed into dry clothing and then retired to the library. Instead of being greeted by the faithful Dalmapple, he found Brand waiting. From his vantage point of the library window, he had apparently witnessed a good bit of Anthony’s conversation with Miss Thraxton and was brimming with an inappropriate amount of curiosity.

Anthony had brushed aside Brand’s insinuations that there was more between him and Anna Thraxton. But still…he couldn’t forget the heat that flared between them. It was the damnedest thing.

His marriage to Charlotte was to be the usual arranged affair—once she’d given him the children necessary for the continuation of the Greyley line, she’d go about her amusements just as he planned to go about his. Like many men of the ton, he’d probably have taken a mistress once the patina of wedded bliss wore thin. After the first year, of course; he was a gentleman, after all.

All that had changed once he’d seen Anna Thraxton in a dripping wet gown. He’d be damned if he’d wait another moment. Though he’d been born an Elliot, he’d been raised a St. John. When he wanted something, he obtained it. And he wanted Anna Thraxton. She would be the perfect mistress; he was certain she would be as passionate in bed as she was out of it. All he had to do was awaken that passion and fan it to heights she couldn’t ignore.

The idea played through his mind over and over. The end result was that he had stayed up far too late planning his stratagems, imagining the ultimately pleasurable outcome of his success. He would make sure the alliance would be to her advantage as well. It bothered him to see a woman of her station laboring away, regardless of the fact that it was becoming more and more plain that she had a gift for taking care of people.

She deserved silks and sapphires, a lovely home and the safety of knowing she’d never have to labor again. And he was going to give her all of that, and more.

The tantalizing thoughts followed him to bed and he’d dreamed of winning Anna in ways that left him hot and ready. It was the early hours of the morning before he finally fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep that lasted well past the time he usually rose.

He glanced at the clock, cursed loudly, then yanked on Brand’s riding boots. They were a size too small and pinched like the devil, but he didn’t care. The intractable Miss Thraxton would not wait a second past the appointed time.