With eyes blazing, Dalmar turned upon Annabelle. She stood with her hands covering her face, weeping uncontrollably.
"I hope you
'
re satisfied,
"
he said cruelly.
"Did he…
did he get away?
"
Dalmar
'
s hesitation went unremarked by Annabelle. "Yes, more
'
s the pity.
"
"You would have killed him.
"
"He deserved to die.
"
He found her pelisse and draped it over her shoulders. "Put your arms around my neck,
"
he said, and swept her into his arms.
There was nowhere else she would have rather been. His protective power, in some sort, was the catharsis for the violation she had suffered at those other hands. She nestled against him, absorbing his warmth and strength, her head resting against his broad shoulder. She tried to put the scene she had just witnessed from her mind.
"How did you find me?
"
she asked at length.
"The maid, what
'
s-her-name, said that you went to look for your nephews along the riverbank.
"
"Oh God, I forgot about the boys!
"
"Rest easy. They
'
re safe and sound, apart from the swats their father administered for throwing us all into high dudgeon.
"
He added the last to lighten her mood. She responded with a watery smile, then began to weep softly, and finally with deep, shuddering sobs. Without breaking stride he cradled her fiercely to him, crooning low, barely intelligible endearments against her temple.
When they came onto the High Street, there were few people about. The bonfire was to be lit at any moment, the climax of the day
'
s festivities, and almost every soul was on the Cliffe, waiting for the master of ceremonies to set things in motion.
Inside the Bull, things were very much the same. The
taproom was practically empty of loiterers, with the exception of the odd crone who had imbibed a dram too much and had sunk into oblivion.
Calling for brandy and a pitcher of hot water, Dalmar carried Annabelle up the stair
s
to the chamber she was to share with some of the other ladies. Mary was there and hurried ahead of them into the room, lighting candles with a taper from the coal fire which blazed in the grate. Dalmar dismissed her with instructions to find their party on the Cliffe and convey the intelligence that Annabelle had been found but was in no shape to participate in the rest of the events planned for later that evening. When Mary had removed herself from the chamber, he set Annabelle gently on the counterpane atop the bed.
F
or a moment Henrietta could not believe what she was seeing. Annabelle was in her husband
'
s arms! And he was kissing her passionately! And then it came to her. Of course! The woman in her husband
'
s arms was Mrs. Snow. It could be no other, since her maid had given her the intelligence that Annabelle was feeling under the weather and had decided to forgo the rest of the night
'
s revelries.
Rage and despair followed in quick succession. She tore her eyes away and forced herself to take an interest in the scores of masqueraders who paraded around the blazing bonfire. From their staggers she deduced that many of them were unequivocally in their cups. And whether from the license afforded from their nightlong carousing or because of the anonymity they were under the misapprehension their masks and costumes provided, few comported themselves with anything resembling dignity. Did her husband really suppose, she wondered bitterly, that she would not recognize the man behind the pirate
'
s garb? Even in those flickering shadows and in that secluded nook under the cover of a spreading laburnum where he had stationed himself, she could identify him easily.
She felt the wet stab of tears in her eyes and swallowed spasmodically. The scene disgusted her! Sour grapes, a little voice whispered in her ear. It was true. If only
she
were the woman in her husband
'
s arms, she would view the spectacle of
other couples stealing kisses with far different eyes.
"Take a leaf out of Annabelle
'
s book,
"
Dalmar had told her. She still could not believe that she had confided so much to a total stranger. After the confrontation in the mantua maker
'
s with Mrs. Snow, she had not been herself. She had locked herself in her room, and before she could talk herself out of her insane jealousy by reminding herself that every husband indulged in these little peccadilloes, Dalmar had been there, requesting her advice on a matter respecting a suitable bridal gift for Annabelle, or so he had said.
They
'
d never even touched on that subject. He
'
d taken one look at her red-rimmed eyes and had gently but remorselessly pried the whole course of her unhappy circumstances out of her, beginning with the vain hope she had entertained at the beginning of her marriage that she could make her husband love her.
She had expected the Earl to take the predictable masculine view and chide her for indulging such romantic fancies. Dalmar had done no such thing. On the contrary, he had listened with almost fatherly sympathy and had left her with that enigmatic piece of advice, "Why don
'
t you take a leaf out of Annabelle
'
s book?
"
Only, it was not so enigmatic. Hadn
'
t her own father been saying as much to her for years past? "Be yourself, girl,
"
her father was used to say, "not this spineless wax impression of respectability. Who do you think you are pleasing?
"
And then, more darkly, whenever she corrected his speech or manners, "You
'
re a dead bore, Harry, a dead bore!
"
It was true. She was a bore, a dead bore, and she did not know if she could be the girl she once was.
It
'
s too late,
she thought with something like despair. Charles seemed to be immune to her overtures, and there had been many since her conversation with Dalmar. She might as well not have existed for all the notice her husband paid her, if tonight was anything to go by.
Though she
'
d decked herself out as Nell Gwynn, one of Charles II
'
s notorious mistresses, in an attempt to break the patterncard of rectitude she habitually presented herself as, her husband had not so much as glanced in her direction. As
the ladies had descended the Bull
'
s narrow staircase, his eyes had been riveted on Annabelle, as had the eyes of every gentleman present. And no wonder! In that formfitting highwayman
'
s get up, Annabelle
'
s figure was revealed for what it was: perfection. And not even Lady Diana in all her feminine frippery could come close to the dash Annabelle projected, albeit unconsciously.
Mrs. Snow, also, for all their close resemblance, could not hold a candle to Annabelle
'
s
panache
. And my husband prefers the company of that vulgar, over-painted doxy to mine,
thought Henrietta, self-pity giving way to a simmering indignation. Her eyes involuntarily sought the object of her ruminations. Mrs. Snow
'
s head was resting comfortably against Sir Charles
'
s broad shoulder, unconscious or uncaring of who might witness their loverlike embrace. The eyes of the two women met and held, Mrs. Snow
'
s lips curved in a slow smile of triumph.
So be it,
thought Henrietta, finally tearing her eyes away.
I
'
m, done with play-acting. My husband has found himself a conformable mistress. I
'
ll be damned if I
'
ll play the conformable wife for him. I have a life to live. It
'
s time I got on with it.
In that moment she turned her back on Sir Charles, both figuratively and literally, and glanced about her, seeking the other members of the Rosedale party. Her eyes alighted on Colonel Ransome and Mrs. Pendleton. If appearances were anything to go by, those two were involved in another of their tiresome spats. Though they pretended a hearty and mutual dislike, she was not fooled for one minute.
A movement caught her eye. David Falconer was beckoning to her, inviting her to join him and Lady Diana. She went with alacrity.
"They
'
re just about to throw the effigy of Guy Fawkes on the fire,
"
he said as she reached him.
"Hold onto your hat, then,
"
she replied, her smile answering the look of concern she
'
d surprised in his eyes. "His head is stuffed with gunpowder.
"
The constable and some of his cohorts went around, warning the bystanders to step back from the flames. Henrietta ascertained that the children were safely under the supervision of Mary and Bertie and gave herself up to the sheer enjoyment
of the occasion.
Silence descended as two stalwart men approached the blaze. With practiced movements they swung the "guy
"
back and forth in their arms as the crowd chanted in unison, "Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!
"
The effigy of Guy Fawkes, complete with tall hat, went hurtling into the fire. A moment later the roar of the crowd was blotted out by a small explosion which rocked the center of the bonfire. Sparks went flying in every direction.
Again the chant was taken up by the crowd. "Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!
"
Henrietta added her voice to the others, but in her mind
'
s eye it was not an effigy of the unfortunate Guy Fawkes who was cast into the fiery inferno.
Chapter Sixteen
A
nnabelle lay on the bed motionless, eyes closed, comfortingly lulled by the sounds of Dalmar as he moved around the room. In normal circumstances she would never have permitted his ministrations. Her parsonage upbringing had predisposed her to be the one who took care of others. But she was badly shaken, and almost childishly grateful for the reassurance that was offered merely by his presence. He bathed her sore jaw, then raised her head and forced her to drink from a small glass of brandy. No words were exchanged. But Annabelle submitted with uncharacteristic docility. With his strong arms around her she felt as warm and as safe as a chrysalis in its cocoon.
She did not know how long her thoughts drifted. She stirred. The room seemed too silent. Alarmed, she pulled herself to her elbows.
"David?
"
He was sitting right by her, at the edge of the bed. Her initial rush of relief gradually evaporated when she became conscious of the hard, compelling scrutiny of those brilliant eyes.
"They meant to kill you,
"
he said. "You do realize that?
"
Her reply was unequivocal. "Yes.
"
From the moment her abductors had removed their masks, she had known that her life was forfeit. They would never have taken the chance that she could later identify them.
A nerve twitched spasmodically in his cheek. "Drowning was too easy a death for those bastards!
"
"Don
'
t say so! Oh, can
'
t you see? Y
ou
'
re putting yourself on
their level!
"
His mouth twisted in an angry sneer. "You would say so, naturally, when I saved your life, not to mention your virtue. Or were you the instigator of that attack?
"
"What?
"
He was furious, and she could not believe it.
"Spare me the outraged innocence! Didn
'
t I warn you not to leave the Bull? A woman on her own is fair game! You invited what happened to you tonight!
"
Annabelle looked at him with eyes widened in shock. Her lips trembled. Reproachfully, she said, "The same way I invited what transpired in your rooms in the Palais Roy
al? The same way I invited…
"
"Precisely!
"
God, he didn
'
t know what was the matter with him! He didn
'
t know what he was saying, nor did he care. She had put her life in jeopardy. If he hadn
'
t gone looking for her— his mind refused to complete the thought. Residual rage fanned to life within him. Somebody had to pay for what he had been through in the last hour.
"Just look at you!
"
he raged. "How could anybody take you for a lady in that rig? You look as though you
'
ve been melted down and poured into those trousers! And what have you done to your hair? It
'
s indecent the way you are flaunting every female curve and contour of your body!
"
Indecent, provocative and so unjust. Couldn
'
t she tell what she was doing to him? His eyes slid over every female curve and contour he had accused her of flaunting; the delicate arch of her long white throat, the pout of those full, ripe breasts, the tiny waist he could span with his hands if he had a mind to, the lush flare of her hips, and those long legs which would wrap around him, holding him so securely at the moment of climax in their lovemaking. God, she didn
'
t have to flaunt anything. It was just
…
there! The tightening in his groin grew painful.
He had almost lost her, and he needed reassurance badly. Couldn
'
t she see that? Apparently not.
"How do you feel?
"
he asked.
She eyed him warily. "Fine, fine. Just a little bit shaken. No, really, I
'
m fully recovered.
"
His eyes swept over her. "You
'
re sure?
"
"Quite.
"
He didn
'
t have to think about what he was doing. He went to the door and locked it.
Annabelle watched mesmerized as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed first his boots and then his shirt and trousers. She didn
'
t know where to look and fastened her eyes on the pulse that throbbed in his throat.
"It
'
ll be hours before they
'
re back,
"
he told her. "They haven
'
t even lit the bonfire yet.
"
Swallowing, she said, "I don
'
t think I understand the male psyche. Honestly, David, I don
'
t mean to invite anything. I didn
'
t think…
"
"You never do!
"
She let that pass. "I am not inviting anything,
"
she told him, not angry, not frightened, just forthright. There would be no misunderstandings this time, she promised herself. He had to admit that he wanted her too.
His voice was like molten steel. "I
'
m going to make love to you and there
'
s not a damn thing you can do about it.
"
"No,
but…
"
"For God
'
s sake, Annabelle! We are going to be married in a matter of weeks. If it
'
s your father you
'
re thinking of, put him out of your mind. I
'
ll put things right with him if the occasion arises.
"
She stared at him blankly, trying to make sense of what he
was saying.
Misunderstanding her silence, he said in a persuasive tone, "Pregnancy isn
'
t the end of the world! So what if our first child arrives a month or so early? It happens to lots of couples. We
'
ll just brazen it out. But don
'
t turn me away now. Can
'
t you see I
'
m going to pieces. Dammit, Annabelle, I need you now more than ever.
"
Pregnancy! Her heart turned over. The thought of having a baby, no of having
his
baby, made everything inside her ache with an indescribable yearning. Fantasies about babies had always had the power to tug at her heart-strings. But this was different. Awesome! Dalmar
'
s child! Her blood sang. His seed would take root and fill her belly. Together, they would create a new life. It was a miracle! It was mystical! It was
…
and then
she knew!
"You used the right word to get what you wanted,
"
she told him. "You should use it more often. Oh come here, you big bully! Don
'
t you know by now that I love you? Well, what
'
s the matter? Cat got your tongue?
"
She smil
ed, an age-old feminine smile. "
That
'
s an invitation Dalmar. You won
'
t get a better one.
"
She looked at him with wide, trusting eyes, luminous with love. Dalmar was too choked to speak. "I love you,
"
she had said. No one, in his whole life, had ever said those words to him. He was shattered, but at the same time, he felt like ten feet tall.
He came down on her like a ton of coal. In five seconds flat, he had stripped every stitch of clothing from her back. He wasn
'
t taking the chance that she would retract her offer. Not on that night of all nights. His need went beyond his lust for her woman
'
s body. Pleasure was the furthest thing from his mind. He had damn near lost her! His drive to possess was like a raging bloodlust, a torment that ripped his self-control to shreds. She was alive. She was his. And only by joining his body to hers could the mindless fear inside him be laid to rest.
"Don
'
t ever,
ever,
put me through that hell again,
"
he told her, his hands almost fierce as they claimed her intimately. The violence of his touch took her by surprise. Beneath the press of his weight, he felt her stiffen. He groaned. "No! Don
'
t hold back! Annabelle, give in to me!
"
He raised himself slightly, his body trembling from the rigid control he was trying to impose. "I don
'
t want to hurt you, but I can
'
t stop now
…
Annabelle
…
please!
"
Gradually, Annabelle relaxed beneath him. Her fingers splayed out across his back, gentling the tension which corded the hard, masculine muscles.
"It
'
s all right,
"
she whispered. "It
'
s all right.
"
His fingers probed and invaded the intimate woman
'
s flesh between her thighs. When she became slick and wet for him, his breathing stopped, then became harsh. Like an inferno burning out of control, desire exploded through him.
He couldn
'
t wait; couldn
'
t give her the time to catch up to him. "Forgive me,
"
he expelled on a hoarse breath. He thrust
her legs open and surged into her, losing himself in her soft woman
'
s flesh. Involuntarily, feminine muscles contracted around him, and Dalmar went soaring over the edge.
When he finally pulled away, he could not look her in the eye. Such a thing had never happened to him before. He was supposed to be an accomplished lover, for God
'
s sake, not some callow youth with his first woman. He was appalled at what he had done.
"I
'
m sorry,
"
he said, breaking the silence. "I lost control.
"
He rolled to his side, pulling her with him, his arms cradling her tightly. "It won
'
t be like that again, and that
'
s a promise.
"
She cupped his face with both hands. "I love you,
"
she said softly.
Their eyes held and locked. "I
'
ll be honest with you,
"
he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. He didn
'
t know where it had come from. "I don
'
t know what that means. But if it
'
s any consolation, I
'
ve never felt for any woman what
I
feel for you.
"
She lowered her lashes, but not before he had seen some of the light go out of her eyes.
"Annabelle!
"
Her name was torn from him. He wished, then, that he had lied to her. Tightening his hold on her nape, he forced her to look up at him. "Can
'
t you accept what I
'
m offering? I
'
ll be a faithful husband. I
'
ll never look at another woman, I swear. I
'
ll never give our children cause to be afraid of their father. I
'
ll take care of you, protect you, yet you
'
ll still have a free hand to run your business empire.
I'll…
"
She silenced him by placing the index finger of one hand over his lips. "It
'
s all right,
"
she repeated, trying to gentle him of these new emotions which had raised a storm in his eyes. "I understand. Words are only tools to express ideas, after all. At the best of times, they are grossly inadequate.
"
Her lips turned up in a siren
'
s smile.
Fascinated, his eyes focused on the mole to the left of her tantalizingly curved mouth. He couldn
'
t believe the effect this woman had on his body. "You
'
re right,
"
he told her, a new huskiness darkening his voice. "I
'
ve never been good with words. I
'
ll show you what I mean.
"
He cupped her hand and brought it to his aroused, throbbing
manhood. She gave a start, and tried to pull back, but he prevented it.