The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(68)

The other woman tightened her lips. “I’ve done it before. It comes in handy in my trade.”

Anna closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. What do you need?”

Under Pearl’s direction, Anna quickly gathered water, rags, and bandages, as well as the jar of her mother’s salve. Pearl worked over her sister’s face with her help. The little woman was matter-of-fact, even when Coral moaned and tried to knock away her hands. Anna held down the injured woman’s arms so that Pearl could finish bandaging. She sighed with relief when Pearl indicated they were done. They made sure that Coral was as comfortable as possible before retiring to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of tea.

Pearl sighed as she lifted the hot tea to her lips. “Thank you. Thank you so much, ma’am. You’re so good.”

Anna half laughed, a funny little croak. “It’s I who should thank you, if only you knew. I need to do something good right now.”

EDWARD THREW DOWN his quill and paced to the library windows. He hadn’t written a coherent sentence all day. The room was too quiet, too big for his peace of mind anymore. All he could think of was Anna and what she’d done to him. Why? Why choose him? Was it his title? His wealth?

God! His scars?

What possible reason could a respectable woman have to don a disguise and act the part of a whore? If she’d wanted a lover, couldn’t she have found one in Little Battleford? Or was it that she liked playing the whore?

Edward rubbed his forehead against the cold glass of the window. He remembered everything he had done to Anna in those two nights. Every exquisite place his hand had touched, every inch of skin his mouth had tongued. He remembered doing things he would never have dreamed of performing with a lady, let alone one he knew and liked. She’d seen a side of himself that he’d made pains to hide away from the world, a private, secret side. She’d seen him at his most bestial. What had she felt when he had pressed her head toward his cock? Excitement? Fear?

Revulsion?

And there were more thoughts he could not stop. Had she met other men at Aphrodite’s Grotto? Had she shared her beautiful, lush body with men she didn’t even know? Had she let them kiss her wanton mouth, let them paw her breasts, let them rut on her willing, spread body? Edward pounded the window frame with his fist until the skin cracked and blood splattered. Impossible to wipe the obscene images from his mind of Anna—his Anna—with another man. His vision blurred. Christ. He was crying like a lad.

Jock nudged his leg and whimpered.

She’d brought him to this. He was completely undone. And yet it made no difference because he was a gentleman and she, despite her actions, was a lady. He would have to marry her, and in doing so give up all his dreams, all his hopes, of having a family. She couldn’t have children. His line would die with his last breath. There would be no girls that looked like his mother, no boys that reminded him of Sammy. No one to open his heart to. No one to watch grow. Edward straightened. If that was what life held for him, so be it, but he would make damn sure Anna knew her price.

He wiped his face and jerked the bellpull savagely.

Chapter Seventeen

The man in her bed stared at Aurea and then spoke softly. Sorrowfully. “So, my wife, you could not let well enough alone. I will quench your curiosity, then. I am Prince Niger, the lord of these lands and this palace. I have been cursed to assume the form of that foul raven by day and all my minions to become birds as well. My tormentor made one caveat to the spell: If I could find a lady to agree of her own will to marry me in my raven form, then I could live as a man from midnight to dawn’s first glow. You were that lady. But now our time together is at an end. I will spend the remainder of my days in that hated feathered form, and all that follow me are also so doomed….”

—from The Raven Prince

The next morning, Felix Hopple shifted from one foot to the other, sighed, and knocked at the cottage door again. He twitched his freshly powdered wig straight and ran a hand over his neckcloth. He’d never been on an errand quite like this one before. In fact, he wasn’t sure his job really entailed it. Of course, it was impossible to say that to Lord Swartingham. Especially when he stared at him with smoldering, black, devilish eyes.

He sighed again. His employer’s temper had been even worse than usual this past week. Very few knickknacks remained intact in the library, and even the dog had taken to hiding when the earl stalked through the Abbey.

A pretty woman opened the door.

Felix blinked and stepped back a pace. Was he at the right house?

“Yes?” The woman smoothed her skirt and smiled tentatively at him.

“Er, I-I was looking for Mrs. Wren,” Felix stuttered. “The younger Mrs. Wren. Have I the right address?”

“Oh, yes, this is the right address,” she said. “I mean, this is the Wren cottage. I’m just staying here.”

“Ah, I see, Miss…?”

“Smythe. Pearl Smythe.” The woman blushed for some reason. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, Miss Smythe.” Felix stepped into the tiny entryway and stood awkwardly.

Miss Smythe was staring, seemingly entranced by his middle. “Coo!” she blurted. “That’s the loveliest waistcoat ever.”

“Why, er, why thank you, Miss Smythe.” He fingered the buttons on his leaf-green waistcoat.