One long finger traced a path along her jaw and caressed her lower lip. Dark eyes regarded her from under the veil of half-lowered lashes. Nicholas smiled, but it wasn’t the usual lazy calculated curve of his lips. Instead it seemed almost wistful, which was not a word she would ever have applied to the Duke of Rothay.
“Are you still wary?”
Caroline stirred, which took some effort because she felt so marvelously sated and content. “What?”
“That night in your carriage, you told me you were wary of me.”
She shook her head, her hair moving across her shoulders and bare back. “I said I was wary of scandal.”
“Aren’t you still?”
Did that mean he was never going to offer her more than what they just shared? Not sure how to answer, Caroline rested against him, silent, uncertain, her happiness fading a little.
“Caroline?”
Slowly, she admitted, “If you are asking me to conduct an affair with you again, I hope that is not the question you rode here for. Those days we spent together were a revelation for me. That isn’t a secret to you. Sexually, yes. But not just the enlightenment I found in your bed. Remember when we were in the clearing and made love for the first time? I realize I did not make the suggestive comment you wished for, but I told you the truth. You are a very nice man, Nicholas. All of the trappings of title, birth, wealth, and sexual skill aside, you’re . . . you.”
Gently, he touched her chin, forcing her face to tilt up so they stared at each other. “And what does that mean?”
How she wished she could be nonchalant. But she couldn’t. She whispered, “I fell in love with
you
. That man, not the Devilish Duke, but the real one.”
Chapter Twenty-five
T
hree days. It had been three days since he’d returned to London from that little inn where he guessed Nicholas and Caroline were still enjoying themselves immensely.
Derek, on the other hand, was not having a good time. Staying away from his uncle’s town house had been torture, but he hardly wanted to arrive on the doorstep like a vulture lighting on a doe the minute the dissolution of Annabel’s engagement became public, so he’d waited.
Three very long days.
Dusk had descended with insidious purpose and then darkness and still he sat, morose and uncertain. His normally neat desk was cluttered with paperwork he’d barely glanced at because he didn’t have the ability to concentrate. A waft of the night breeze carried in scents from the street and garden, the smell an eclectic mixture of chimney smoke and overblown roses.
It was late. Maybe he should go out to White’s or Brooks’s, find a corner and bottle of whiskey, and . . .
And what? Sit
there
and think about her instead? Yes, that would be productive.
The slight scraping sound woke him from his abstraction and he frowned, startled as he turned to look at the open window in his study. The rustle of fabric told him he wasn’t imagining things, and he sat transfixed as he saw one slender leg slide over the sill.
He might have been alarmed, but very rarely, if he had to guess, did intruders have such shapely calves. Nor did they wear evening gowns of cream-colored silk. Riveted by surprise, Derek sat frozen in his chair.
But his heart had begun to pound.
Annabel landed on the floor, her breathing audibly agitated, and then straightened, shaking out her skirts. The curtains behind her moved in a flutter, framing her slender body. As if it were the most natural thing on earth for her to crawl in his study window, she said merely, “I saw your light.”
Belatedly—because he was still in disbelief—Derek thrust himself to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. “Annie, what are you doing?”
She stood there, all golden hair and ivory skin, her chin tilted up at a slight angle, the look in her blue eyes defiant. “Isn’t this our current method of calling on each other?”
He stared back, wondering if he was having some sort of absurd hallucination. “The devil it is. If you want to call—and ladies don’t call on gentlemen—come with a battalion of chaperones and through the front door.”
Her chin went up a little more. “I see. One set of rules for you, and another one entirely for me. It’s perfectly fine for you to crawl through my bedroom window if you have something to say, but I don’t have the same latitude?”
Derek shoved his hand through his hair. “Good God, Annie, you know you don’t. Do Thomas and Margaret know you’re here?”
“Of course not.”
He felt himself pale. “Please tell me you didn’t walk.”
“I could hardly call for the carriage, could I? It isn’t far and I’m not a cripple.”
A young woman alone on the streets at—he glanced at the clock and saw it was well after midnight—this hour, even if the neighborhood was fashionable and quiet, was reckless enough to make him feel weak-kneed. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You little fool.”
“I need to talk to you.”
Headstrong
was far too tame a term for her. He spoke harshly, because he was still reeling from the chance she’d taken, with not just her reputation but her safety. “I’m going to see you safely home.”
“No.” She took in a shuddering breath, and shook her head. “I have the courage to do this now. In the morning I may change my mind. Besides, I want to move forward and not spend one more minute immersed in this inner battle I cannot seem to resolve. Aren’t you interested in what brought me here?”
It was the same question he’d posed to her the night he’d been desperate enough to crawl into her bedroom.
She had told him no.
But it hadn’t been the truth. He’d seen it in the vulnerability in her eyes.
There had been enough misunderstanding between them without adding more lies to the mixture. Derek said simply, “You must know I am.”
Thus given permission, she hesitated, so lovely in the faint glow of the lamp that had burned low, the cream color of her gown making her look more innocent and young than ever. Except it was cut low enough to modestly show the upper curves of her full breasts and there was nothing childish any longer about her. She was an alluring woman in every way, her independent spirit included.
And it was captivating, which he didn’t need. He was already her captive.
He helped her by saying, “I heard.”
She didn’t try to pretend she didn’t know what he was saying. “Yes, I imagine everyone knows by now I severed my engagement with Alfred. I felt terrible doing it, but not as terrible as if I’d done him the disservice of marrying him. He wasn’t even particularly surprised, I think, just like you said.”
Derek just looked at her. Slowly he raised a brow.
“Don’t be smug,” she said.
It would have been more effective if her voice hadn’t cracked. It wasn’t much, just a single hitch in her speech, but it was enough.
For hope.
“I shall contrive not to,” he murmured. “I am not even sure I have any reason to be smug. Is there? Except, perhaps, your unconventional arrival and presence here at this hour.”
“I’m still angry with you.” She didn’t quite answer the question.
“I’ve noticed,” he conceded in grim humor. “Never have I paid so dearly for a mistake.”
She looked at him with luminous eyes, her mouth trembling just a little. “I don’t even know why I should speak to you. I have spent the past year trying to reconcile the man I thought I knew with who you really are, and I haven’t enjoyed the exercise. Give me one logical reason to trust you.”
No part of him ever thought this was going to be easy. There was a certain advantage—and disadvantage—to knowing someone very well. She loved fully, but felt betrayal with the same amount of passion. Derek took a moment, and then said quietly, “Annie, I understand I was both insensitive and a fool last year. Please, label me both without argument. But, on my part, can’t
you
understand what was happening between us felt both forbidden and foreign? You were so young, and there I was, with this reputation I can’t shake that half stems from my father. Let’s toss in an ill-advised penchant for my uncle’s ward. I was hard-pressed on how to act.”
“So you fell right into the countess’s eager arms.” The accusation in her eyes was unmistakable. She
was
still angry.
But she was also there.
She’d
come to
him
.
“I’ve explained why and apologized.” He groped for the right words, something to ease the tension visible in the set of her slender shoulders. “Permanence was not something I had ever considered before.”
“Before?”
The delicately asked question challenged him. Very well. She needed to hear it. He supplied, “Before you.”
“But you are now?”
“Adjusted to the idea of permanence?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, the muscles visibly rippling in her throat. “I need proof.”
Well, that was hardly an easy order to fill, but she deserved at the least what Hyatt had given her and even more. He said hoarsely, “Marry me, Annie.”
She took a step toward him, the expression on her face difficult to interpret. “You want me to marry you?”
“I just asked.” Derek couldn’t believe he’d said it so easily, relinquishing his freedom without hesitation or regret. “Yes, I want you to marry me. To be my wife.”
“If you are sincere, let’s settle this.” Her face wore a determined look, her fine brows just slightly knit, her soft mouth compressed. “So, take me.”
He went still, every muscle in his body tensing. Stunned and shaken, he stared at her. “What?”
“Is your hearing impaired?” She moved closer and he didn’t miss the gentle sway of her hips, provocative whether she did it consciously or not. “Take me to your bed. We have until dawn.”
Speechless, he felt his body react, though emotionally he was resistant to the suggestion. After a moment, he managed, “I have no intention of treating you with dishonor.”
Her smile was unexpectedly provocative for an untried young woman. “You are supposed to be the most skilled lover in England, correct? I believe that’s what you’ve put forth before all of society. You even wagered what is reputed to be a small fortune on that claim.”
“I was—”
“Yes, I know,” she interrupted, gazing up at him, her delicate features shadows and curves in the flickering light. “You were inebriated at the time, but still the notion must have come from some inner conviction and I want you to prove it. To me.”
“Annabel.” The reproof lost its effect when his gaze dropped to her mouth against his will. “Don’t tempt me, please.”
“Why not?”
“Thomas will have my head, for one.”
“Let’s not tell him.” She came close enough to place her hand on his chest. Through the fine linen of his shirt he could feel the slight pressure. “I want this for myself. No doubts, no chance you’ll change your mind, no going back for either of us. If there is one thing I do know about you, it is you don’t seduce innocent young women. Even when I told myself I hated you, I didn’t count that as one of your sins.”
He didn’t, it was true enough.
“So,” she went on as if what she was suggesting was logical and made perfect sense, “if you do this . . . if you compromise me, I’ll know your proposal is genuine.”
“It is genuine,” he protested, not sure how to proceed, because being propositioned by a normally proper young lady was out of the realm of his experience. Her doubt was insulting to a degree, but he hadn’t given her much reason to trust him either.
“Then you agree?”
“We can wait until our wedding night.” Desperation to act like a gentleman vied with his swelling cock. She was so close, so tempting, so much the focus of his every desire. . . .
“I don’t want to wait. This is important to me.”
The conviction in her voice undid him. Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do? Apply for sainthood? The woman he wanted more than anything on earth was petitioning him to take her to bed. Besides, a traitorous voice whispered in his brain, there was gossip enough over her severed engagement and she couldn’t immediately become formally engaged again without the whispers rising to deafening proportions, so a quick, quiet wedding was in order anyway.
Derek tried one more time. “I’ll see you home.”
“No. You claim you love me. Prove it.” Her mouth trembled. Not much, but enough he noticed.
He said in a choked voice, “I don’t just claim it. I do love you.”
“Then kiss me.”
He wanted to touch her, to kiss those soft rose lips, to hold her against him and make her wonder what could be.
What
would
be. He knew how to give a woman pleasure, how to coax those heated sighs and subtle movements, how to bring her to the brink of ecstasy and slide her over the precipice at just the right moment.
Annabel looked up at him, so beautiful it made his breath catch in his throat. “Do you understand how this is for me?” Her voice was muted, her eyes misted.
“Over the past year,” he informed her, a little thin-skinned himself, “I’ve come to understand a great deal about thwarted love, Annie.”
“Show me. I think I understand it too.”
He couldn’t take it. The urge to hold her was too much. As was the azure shimmer in her eyes. Derek caught her against him. He smoothed his thumbs over the sides of her cheeks, now damp with betraying wetness, feathering his lips over her brows. “Let me define it for you. We can compare notes. It is torture, but yet again the greatest bliss. It is heartache but also joy. It is wonder and despair at the same time. Am I close?”
A nod, almost imperceptible, moved against the cradle of his hands.
“Annie.” He lowered his mouth.
“Yes.”
Their lips met, touched, parted, and yet met again. Through all the legions of women, through all the detached dalliance and lighthearted repartee and careless moments in forbidden bedrooms, he’d never felt this way. Never such welling tenderness, never such agonizing need, never such an aching desire.