Chapter Twelve #2
She burst into the hall and charged blindly for the front door, throwing the thing open in her need to feel the fresh air and sunshine upon her skin.
Those false faces with their obvious disdain didn’t bother her. What did she care for such shallow-minded prejudice?
No, she’d run from something far more damning.
The admiration in Jackson’s piercing gaze.
At the knowing in his eyes.
He sees me.
And never looks away.
The shield around her heart cracked. Anna stood on the front drive and worked hopelessly to patch the fissure before it broke irrevocably, and she was laid bare to him once again.
Jackson found her on the drive, not three feet from the front door.
Back rigid, hands in fists at her side, she was like a coil ready to spring apart.
He gladly stepped into the line of fire.
“That was quite the performance,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Though I don’t think there was enough clutching of the chest or song soliloquies.”
She glanced over her shoulder, the look in her eyes tired. “Have you seen even one play?”
“Does scandalous theater count?”
Her shoulders slumped forward. “I should go back and—”
“If you say apologize, I will rush for the physician.” At her defeatist manner, he may call one yet. She’d clearly taken ill.
Anna sighed. “I should make amends, at least.”
Jackson couldn’t agree. He’d never had so much fun watching the beau mode roast over her hellfire. “You should go back and take a bow.”
“I’d be booed off the stage.”
“On the contrary. Figaro looked close to a standing ovation there at the end. You may be required in an encore.”
She made a face. “I didn’t see your brother among the guests.”
“Too busy delivering your righteous speech,” he pointed out.
Anna scowled. “You mock me.”
She looked relieved at the fact.
“You find the game unpleasant, I see,” he said. “In that case, how do you feel about light teasing?”
She sighed. “You wish to vex me.”
“I do believe I’ve succeeded.”
She turned away, her gaze going to the house. “Seems I’m less skilled at attending engagement meals than I am at regular ones.”
“Forced social niceties while consuming beef confit.” He didn’t need to pretend his shudder. “Bad for the digestion.” He cut her a glance and shook his head. “I’d say you did us both a favor by storming out.”
She huffed, brightness returning to her eyes. “You didn’t need to race after me.”
Because his defense was a slap to the face in her eyes.
“My lady,” he said with a sigh. “I am a gentleman.”
She snorted. “The role doesn’t suit you, Duke.”
“How could I not follow my bride in her distress? What if there were a shortage of handkerchiefs to be found? Why, you’d be forced to wipe your bodily fluids on your sleeve.”
That look on her face—the same look she’d given a beetle with its innards partially exposed when they’d been children. “I do believe it is you who will find yourself in distress should you think to treat me like some overcome damsel.”
Talk about a role not well suited to the actor.
“Nothing to say in your defense, sir?”
She was spoiling for a fight.
“My manners are abysmal. The guest list was lacking. The footmen served champagne instead of white wine.” Jackson smiled. “Thank God, the eggs weren’t dry.”
Not so much as a twitch of the lips on her face. “They were hollandaise.”
“I told Cook to see the yolk didn’t so much as touch the heat before they were mixed in cold.” Mrs. Lamb had looked ready to quit on the spot when he’d asked for such a thing. “All to suit your tastes, my dear.”
“They were inedible,” Anna said.
He winked, seeing her mask cracking at the edges. “I knew you’d appreciate my efforts.”
She looked away. “You needn’t have gone to the trouble.”
“All part of my master plan.”
“To bang your head against a wall?”
“To capitulate you.”
“You mean call for my surrender?” A flash of teeth said she’d go down fists swinging. “Let me guess, more rational arguments? Or failed seduction attempts?”
“I was thinking bribery.”
Her gaze cut to his, and—yes, there—a spark of life. Curiosity. Another of the woman’s apparent flaws. As if Annabeth Greene weren’t the most flawless woman alive.
“A picnic, perhaps?” he suggested. “With jellied fruit tarts. One quick word to Carter and we could slip away.”
“Eating in the dirt.” She sniffed, clearly interested. “Hardly a bribe.”
“And if I said our picnic spot would be at the stream?” He paused for dramatic effect, knowing his next trump card would win the hand. “The oak has grown so large, only a fool would think to climb it.”
The rain the past few days had been so heavy, he doubted she’d had time to explore the grounds. They’d both been confined, stuck too long in one place.
She frowned at him, but there was a spark in her eyes. “That is playing dirty. You know we cannot walk out on our own engagement party.”
“Why not?”
She stared. “You’re serious?”
He grinned, belying his next words. “I’m always serious.”
“Ha.” She planted her hands on her hips, a new glint of mischief in her gaze. “You forgot something crucial, Duke.”
He couldn’t wait. “And what is that?”
She lifted her skirts, revealing she was wearing ankle boots with no stockings.
His mouth went dry at the sight of bare skin. It took effort to drag his gaze back to her smirking lips.
“I don’t play fair, either.” She shot off into the woods.
Jackson leaned back his head and closed his eyes as he groaned. She was a hellion, a temptress.
Anticipation stirred heat low in his belly. No matter how many times they’d raced to the stream as children, he’d never beaten her. He was convinced she had some secret shortcut.
“Come along, Duke!” Husky laughter followed her taunt.
Jackson smiled and took off at a dead run, winding through tree trunks and jumping over fallen logs. They weren’t children any longer.
He was an agent of the Crown. A man who’d honed his body and mind to take on even the most cunning criminals.
There was at least a sliver’s chance of overtaking her now.
No. A chuckle to himself. He had no need to win this race.
What he did have was every intention of catching her.
And making her his at last.