Chapter 22 #3
“Enough.” He unfolded to his feet and closed the distance between them.
Her eyes widened, and she took a small step back as if she feared he meant to do her harm. Likely thanks to the image he currently presented in his rumpled clothes, unbuttoned waistcoat, unkempt hair, and shadowed beard.
He wanted to tell her he would never hurt her, but the words lodged in his throat as an unnamed emotion overwhelmed him. Taking her hands in each of his, he unfurled her fingers with infinite care.
“You have your facts wrong, Annabelle,” he said, his tone gruff. “As I've stated on numerous occasions, you are not as I expected. Furthermore, I do not detest you, and I think you know this.”
His traitorous gaze flicked to the massive, empty bed behind her, and his cock stiffened. Hell. Everything in him screamed to show her just how much he didn’t detest her and put an end to this nonsense.
She tugged her hands free of his and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Be that as it may, sir, I fear you are once again operating under the false assumption that you have any say over what I will or will not do. Allow me to disabuse you of the notion. I will not marry you under these circumstances.”
“No?” he drawled. Lifting one hand, he tucked a loose lock of silken hair behind one of her ears, allowing his fingertips to linger over the task. Her skin was so soft. Like satin.
She shivered and closed her eyes in a brief, gratifying tell.
Annabelle was not immune to him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her and had from the first. And here they were, in his chamber, her wearing nothing more than her sleep rail and wrapper.
He moved closer, bringing them toe-to-toe.
“N-no. I will not marry a man simply to satisfy his conscience. Nor will I marry a man because society dictates it.” She spoke the words, but by her tone, she no longer felt quite so certain.
“No?” He placed both hands on her shoulders and pulled her, unresisting, toward him. “I wonder how your parents would feel, given the option? Shall we put it to them?”
“There is no need. I’ve told you that I have a chaperone arriving, any day now, after which, I shall depart for London.”
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Annabelle, admit it. Our marriage is a foregone conclusion.” He nuzzled her cheek and then loosed a wicked chuckle at her shuddered exhalation.
“You have been compromised,” he continued, his lips grazing her cheek as blood rushed in his ears. He wanted her. “Sooner or later, the facts of your stay here will lead to the public. Someone is going to know that you've spent multiple nights under my roof without a proper chaperone present.”
“That is not necessarily true.” Her voice was a mere whisper.
“Enough,” he growled, then trailed kisses over her jaw.
At the last moment before his lips covered hers, she spun away, putting her back to him.
He wanted to howl.
“I cannot think with you near,” she admitted in a breathless voice.
That made two of them. Desire for her hollowed out his insides. The urge to follow after her like a pup after his master threatened to overwhelm his senses.
No. He would not sink to that. If she wanted to do this the hard way, so be it.
“A woman died,” he said through his teeth. “Your maid. The coroner will make an official report. Your name—your real name—will be revealed. And even if we can prevent that, assuming you really do have a chaperone coming—”
“You doubt me still?” She turned to face him, eyes shooting daggers. “You would marry me while believing me a liar?”
He would not take that bait. “Any chaperone worth her salt will insist upon marriage. For the life of me, I cannot comprehend your objection. Sixteen months ago, you had all but walked us down the aisle. And you said yourself, come this Season, your parents will secure a marriage contract to a man of their choosing. I gathered this was not something you looked forward to, but perhaps I misunderstood. Perhaps you are under the illusion someone more impressive is likely to come along.”
An unmistakable cry of dismay spilled from her lips, and a wealth of unhappiness flooded her eyes.
Hell and damnation. What was wrong with him? He’d gone too far. Said too much.
She recovered swiftly, drawing herself upright. “I am not stupid,” she said with quiet dignity. “I know I am unlikely to receive a better offer. But I will not forever bear the blame for our union like some sort of urchin begging scraps.”
“Annabelle.”
“I tell you, I have sent for the perfect chaperone. One who will not insist that we marry.” Her chin quivered, and guilt shafted through him. “As a matter of fact, and I should probably have mentioned this sooner, the woman for whom I sent is—”
“What on earth is going on here?” A familiar feminine voice, raised in sharp disapproval, cut through the air like a knife.
Annabelle’s face went devoid of color as she turned to stare at the doorway behind him.
Sterling had no need to glance in that direction. Nevertheless, he executed a one hundred eighty-degree turn and pasted a banal smile on his face. “Caroline, this is a surprise.”