Haversham were still in residence, and if they might like to fuck her silly, perhaps? Anne snorted at her musings. She could just see Reeves’ face at her question.
She sighed. Breakfast was long over, and there were all the minutia and endless, mind-numbing chores living in a small cottage on an even smaller income required.
Soon her mother would be coming in to check on her. She tried to give Anne as much time and space as she thought an independent twenty-six-year-old woman required, but she was still a mother at heart. A mother who carried around an endless list of things that needed to be done.
Anne grudgingly stood up, prepared to martyr herself like a responsible,
independent twenty-six-year-old woman should. Her mother still handled many of the duties normally assumed by the wife of the vicar. Mr. Matthews was as yet unmarried, and he appreciated Mrs. Goode’s help. Anne could hardly complain about doing some weeding when her mother was tending a houseful of sick children and their mother over at the Ferstons. It would also mean that they’d be paid in chickens and eggs by the Ferstons, and the parsonage would send over some much needed staples as well. Anne smiled as she remembered they didn’t need so much now, not after Freddy had taken care of them yesterday.
Her heart lightened considerably when she remembered Freddy’s kindnesses
yesterday. With a sigh she relived the day, pausing on the vision of Brett’s tender look as he’d begged her to accept the new gloves he purchased for her. Of course, the thought of the new gloves made her think of the old ones and Brett’s hand working its way inside, and she got that marvelous shivery feeling all over and she was back at the start again. Would they come today?
Anne finally managed to make it out of the dining room. She found her gardening gloves by the kitchen door. “Mrs. Tilton,” she told the older woman, who was happily mixing shortbread and humming as she worked, “I shall be in the garden if you happen to see Mother.” She wasn’t truly worried about her mother’s ability to track her down.
She was thinking of other potential guests. Just then there was a firm knock at the cottage door. Anne spun about and, lifting her skirt indecorously, took off running for the front of the cottage. “I’ll get it,” she hollered back at a surprised Mrs. Tilton.
Without pausing Anne breathlessly yanked open the door at the same time she came to a teetering halt. Freddy and Brett were standing on the other side, grinning widely from surprised faces. “Hello,” Anne said breathlessly with a huge smile.
“Good morning, Miss Goode,” Freddy said, clearly amused.
56
Retreat From Love
He reached for her hand and she stuck it out only to realize she still had on her gardening gloves. “Oh bother,” she muttered as she yanked them off.
Freddy couldn’t contain his laughter, and Anne saw Brett rub his upper lip in the way she’d noticed yesterday when he was trying to hide a smile. “You seem to have a great deal of trouble with gloves,” Freddy drawled as he took her naked hand in his. He was still wearing his expensive gloves, and Anne’s knees literally got weak at the feel of the leather against her palm. Her breathing hitched and Freddy’s gaze held hers knowingly as he kissed the back of her hand. Oh my God, was that his tongue? Anne thought in shock, feeling the soft, warm, wet tip tracing a little pattern along the vein in the back of her hand.
“I’m becoming obsessed with them.” Anne’s voice was shaky. Freddy pulled away with a puzzled look. “Gloves, I mean.”
Freddy’s look darted to Brett, who was watching them with an odd look. “Yes,”
Freddy said quite clearly, “I myself have had one or two thoughts about gloves since yesterday.”
Brett blinked and looked at the two of them. His cheeks turned pink as he realized what they were referring to. “I am sorry I ruined your gloves, Anne,” he apologized
She sighed. Breakfast was long over, and there were all the minutia and endless, mind-numbing chores living in a small cottage on an even smaller income required.
Soon her mother would be coming in to check on her. She tried to give Anne as much time and space as she thought an independent twenty-six-year-old woman required, but she was still a mother at heart. A mother who carried around an endless list of things that needed to be done.
Anne grudgingly stood up, prepared to martyr herself like a responsible,
independent twenty-six-year-old woman should. Her mother still handled many of the duties normally assumed by the wife of the vicar. Mr. Matthews was as yet unmarried, and he appreciated Mrs. Goode’s help. Anne could hardly complain about doing some weeding when her mother was tending a houseful of sick children and their mother over at the Ferstons. It would also mean that they’d be paid in chickens and eggs by the Ferstons, and the parsonage would send over some much needed staples as well. Anne smiled as she remembered they didn’t need so much now, not after Freddy had taken care of them yesterday.
Her heart lightened considerably when she remembered Freddy’s kindnesses
yesterday. With a sigh she relived the day, pausing on the vision of Brett’s tender look as he’d begged her to accept the new gloves he purchased for her. Of course, the thought of the new gloves made her think of the old ones and Brett’s hand working its way inside, and she got that marvelous shivery feeling all over and she was back at the start again. Would they come today?
Anne finally managed to make it out of the dining room. She found her gardening gloves by the kitchen door. “Mrs. Tilton,” she told the older woman, who was happily mixing shortbread and humming as she worked, “I shall be in the garden if you happen to see Mother.” She wasn’t truly worried about her mother’s ability to track her down.
She was thinking of other potential guests. Just then there was a firm knock at the cottage door. Anne spun about and, lifting her skirt indecorously, took off running for the front of the cottage. “I’ll get it,” she hollered back at a surprised Mrs. Tilton.
Without pausing Anne breathlessly yanked open the door at the same time she came to a teetering halt. Freddy and Brett were standing on the other side, grinning widely from surprised faces. “Hello,” Anne said breathlessly with a huge smile.
“Good morning, Miss Goode,” Freddy said, clearly amused.
56
Retreat From Love
He reached for her hand and she stuck it out only to realize she still had on her gardening gloves. “Oh bother,” she muttered as she yanked them off.
Freddy couldn’t contain his laughter, and Anne saw Brett rub his upper lip in the way she’d noticed yesterday when he was trying to hide a smile. “You seem to have a great deal of trouble with gloves,” Freddy drawled as he took her naked hand in his. He was still wearing his expensive gloves, and Anne’s knees literally got weak at the feel of the leather against her palm. Her breathing hitched and Freddy’s gaze held hers knowingly as he kissed the back of her hand. Oh my God, was that his tongue? Anne thought in shock, feeling the soft, warm, wet tip tracing a little pattern along the vein in the back of her hand.
“I’m becoming obsessed with them.” Anne’s voice was shaky. Freddy pulled away with a puzzled look. “Gloves, I mean.”
Freddy’s look darted to Brett, who was watching them with an odd look. “Yes,”
Freddy said quite clearly, “I myself have had one or two thoughts about gloves since yesterday.”
Brett blinked and looked at the two of them. His cheeks turned pink as he realized what they were referring to. “I am sorry I ruined your gloves, Anne,” he apologized
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