They jogged back to Westminster Bridge, where Michael managed to flag down a hackney carriage. Inside, he found that his hands were shaking. He had lived on the frontier. He’d been charged by a bear. He was no stranger to life-or-death situations.
But seeing Anne in danger was something different altogether.
Watching that cretin lay hands on her, knowing that, had he not been there, that worthless piece of trash would probably have raped her… Michael finally understood the true meaning of things that had only been words before. Words like bloodlust and battle rage. He was furious, but in the moment, he’d felt fear such as he had never experienced before. The threat of getting mauled to death by a bear was nothing, nothing, next to the terror of something bad happening to Anne.
And even though she was out of immediate danger, Michael felt like a gunpowder wagon bumping along the road, ready to explode if a wheel threw up a single spark. He didn’t trust himself to say one word to Anne right now. He wasn’t mad at her, but there was no possibility of him speaking without shouting.
On the seat opposite him, Anne pulled off her cap, and her hair came tumbling out of its knot. God, she looked beautiful in the moonlight, with her hair falling all around her and that high color in her cheeks. She looked… freshly tumbled.
Just like that, all the violent emotions thrashing around inside of him transformed into pure, unadulterated lust. He wanted to bury his hands in her hair, bury his face in her neck, and then bury his cock inside her. He wanted to reassure himself that she was alive, she was well, and she was his.
He curled his fingers around the edge of the seat to stop himself from grabbing her and hauling her into his lap. He was in no condition to touch her; she deserved gentle caresses, and right now all he wanted to do was pound into her like a rutting animal. Hell, he hardly even dared to look at her.
But as she tossed her cap aside, he noticed that her fingers were trembling. He seized her hand. “What’s this?” he demanded in a voice that shook. “Are you hurt? Upset? Overwrought?”
Anne gave him a look. “Overwrought?”
“Your hands are shaking.”
“So are yours!”
He released her as if he’d been singed. “You don’t want to know why my hands are shaking,” he said darkly.
“Yes, I do,” Anne said, and that was when he noticed she was panting.
“Don’t push me right now, Anne.”
“Do you not know me at all? Telling me not to ask makes me all the more determined to know. You may as well go ahead and—”
He grabbed her with a snarl, hauling her into his lap so that she straddled him. His lips crashed down on hers, and then he was devouring her. His hands were not gentle, for all that they shook as he ran them absolutely everywhere over her body.
God, he needed to get control of himself. This was Anne, his Anne, his future lady wife, and here he was, mauling her like a rabid animal. Although she was tolerating it stoically. She was kissing him back, her arms around his neck, her hands stroking over his shoulders, and if he didn’t know better, he would have said that her hips… that her hips…
That her hips were grinding against his rock-hard cock.
He jerked his lips from hers, his hands coming up to frame her face in shock. “Anne?”
He could read her face, even in the near-darkness, and what he saw there was lust. Without breaking eye contact, she reached down and stroked his straining erection through his trousers. “Is this why your hands are shaking, Michael?” she asked breathily.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice guttural.
She gave a shaky laugh. “Then I have good news for you. It’s the reason my hands are shaking, too.”
It was like throwing oil upon a flame. He had no reason to hold back now. He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss as he struggled to pull up her skirts with hands that trembled. He couldn’t get them untangled, and yet the bunched fabric yielded, and Anne settled deeper against him. He realized with a shock of pleasure that she was helping him.
He reached between her legs and found her already slick. She cried out at his touch, and he could tell she was already close. He started rubbing her with his thumb, and—
She was almost thrown from his lap as the hackney jerked to a stop in front of her house. She mewled in protest as Michael withdrew his hand. He all but ripped the door off and climbed out with Anne in his arms.
He set her down just long enough to throw some coin at the driver. It was probably ten times their fare, given the driver’s low whistle and enthusiastic, “Thank you, m’lord!” But Michael could not have possibly cared less. He had already swooped Anne up in his arms and was sprinting up the steps.
Hugh opened the door, and Michael had an impression of the befuddled expression on his face melting into amusement as Michael charged toward the stairs, taking them three at a time.
As soon as Michael crossed the threshold into Anne’s sitting room she kicked her legs free. She looped her arms around his neck and strained up for a kiss, and Michael was right there with her, falling upon her like a starving man. They were tearing at each other’s clothes; he heard a button pop off his jacket and hit the wall. By the time Michael got Anne down to her shift, she had stripped him to the waist.
He moved to sweep her up and carry her through to her bedchamber, but she swatted his hands aside and began struggling with the buttons on the placket of his trousers.
“I need you now, Michael,” she panted.
“Yes. I’ll take you through to the—”
“Now,” she said again, pulling open his trousers and shoving them down. “Right here. Right now. Against this wall, if we have to.”
“Anne,” he said in a strangled voice.
Her face flew to his with wide eyes. “Oh—am I too heavy? Can you not do that?”
He gave her a Look.
She smiled wryly. “Of course you can.” She lifted the hem of her chemise, then jumped up and locked her legs around his waist. He instinctively caught her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He struggled to form a coherent sentence as she began kissing his neck. “It’s just—pregnant. You don’t want to get pregnant. And—God, Anne—I—”
“I don’t care. I’ll take the chance. I need you. Right now, Michael.” She attempted to slide down over him.
“I can’t be gentle—”
“I don’t want gentle!”
Her searching attempts to guide his cock to her entrance finally succeeded, and Michael shuddered with pleasure as he slid inside her. He heard a feral groan emerge from his own throat. She was wet and slick and hot and tight and perfect, and more than that, she was alive and she was his, and nothing had ever felt so good.
He swung her around so her back was against the wall, and then he was pounding into her, his last threads of control destroyed. He had no thought but of chasing the climax that was bearing down upon him, but the sensation of Anne’s fingernails digging into his shoulders was able to pierce his lust-filled haze. He glanced down and saw an expression of ecstasy so pure it looked almost like pain crossing her face, and then she was screaming his name as he experienced the delicious sensation of her passage throbbing and trembling and squeezing his cock.
Seeing her climax sent Michael into a frenzy. He wouldn’t have thought he could have thrust faster or harder, but suddenly he was doing it. God, nothing had ever felt this good, he was desperate to find his own peak, he was—
He was interrupted by Anne screaming his name again, another orgasm coming fast on the heels of her first one. Michael made a strangled sound, and then it was his turn to cry out her name, as he was almost blinded by the intensity of his own climax.
He finally stopped with a shudder, still holding Anne aloft, his forehead coming to rest upon the wall just above her head. He was breathing as hard as if he’d sprinted all the way from Lambeth.
Once the room stopped spinning, he smiled at Anne, hoisted her up, and prepared to carry her to the bed, her legs still wrapped around his waist.
He made it exactly one step before he started to trip, as his trousers were down around his knees. His discovery was met with a bright giggle from Anne.
He shifted her onto one of his arms so he could use the other to haul his trousers up but didn’t bother to button them. They were coming off.
“You think that’s funny, do you?” he asked, carrying her into the bedchamber.
“Yes, actually, I do.” Her smile was coy as he laid her down upon the bed.
He tried and failed to keep his features stern. “Quit making me laugh.” He peeled Anne’s shift up over her head, groaning as the beautiful sight of her naked body came into view. “I’m still cross with you for having put yourself in danger.”
She mewled as she began to caress his chest. “You don’t seem cross. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were in an excellent mood.”
“It is constitutionally impossible for a man not to be in an excellent mood after such an explosive orgasm.”
She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”
“I hope you will have many occasions to put this information to good use in the future. But don’t let my supremely well-pleasured grin fool you. I am vexed, extremely vexed. I could have killed that man I was so furious when he grabbed you.”
“Mmmmm,” Anne purred. “I’ve never seen you quite so close to the edge before.”
Michael grinned. “You liked that, didn’t you? Seeing me punch him.”
She squirmed uncomfortably. Or maybe her squirming was because he had turned to caressing her breasts. “Michael!”
He brought his fingers to her nipples, which made her squirm even more. “There is absolutely no point in lying to me, Anne Astley. I can read your face. And even if I couldn’t, it would be fairly obvious from the way you just climbed me like a tree.”
Now she was definitely blushing. “Perhaps,” she allowed. Michael arched an eyebrow. She sighed. “You were just like the gallant knight in a fairy tale defending my honor. I didn’t expect it, but I suppose it was a bit, er, stimulating.”
Michael’s hand drifted lower. “A bit stimulating? You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.” Anne sat up suddenly, pushing him down on the bed, and climbed up to straddle him. “And might I point out that I wasn’t the only one growing excited there in the carriage. Explain that, Michael Cranfield!”
Michael grinned, stroking his hands over her hips. “Oh, I was as randy as a stag in October. Everyone knows men get all charged up by fighting.”
“I didn’t know that,” Anne muttered.
“I don’t suppose it’s the sort of thing your governess would tell you. But it’s true. At least now you know how to get back in my good graces the next time I have to punch someone in the face for you.”
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”
“Indeed, although what followed was most enjoyable, even if someone was barking orders at me like a fishwife. ‘Right here, Michael. Right now, Michael. Against the wall, Michael.’”
Anne huffed. “I don’t seem to recall you complaining.”
“Not at all. I’ve always liked your commanding side.” He brought his hand to the juncture of Anne’s legs, where he gave an experimental caress. Surely enough, she was warm and wet and ready for him again. “In fact,” he said, lifting her up to position her right over his cock, which had once again risen to the occasion, “why don’t you boss me around some more? Your wish is my command.”
Unsurprisingly, Anne was able to come up with some additional tasks for him. And even less surprisingly, Michael was happy to perform each and every one.