"You
'
ve got the sequence wrong,
"
she scrupulously pointed out. Not even the flicker of a smile touched his lips.
Oh God,
she thought despairingly,
has the man no sense of humor?
Slapping her hands palm down on the flat of the desk, in a voice calculated to intimidate—the one which never failed to win an argument in the world of commerce—she stated unequivocally, "Enough is enough! You may not have noticed, but you
'
ve just broken one of your own cardinal rules. Don
'
t forget, Lord Dalmar, our personal and business lives are to be kept entirely separate. Now, if you wish to discuss the matter of selling out your share of the business in a reasonable and civilized manner, I am open to suggestion.
"
She evaded his long reach with only inches to spare. And by the time he had vaulted the desk, she was halfway to the door. She dragged it open. His hand lashed out and slammed it shut. As the door handle was wrenched from her grasp, she felt the pain of it right down to her toes. Her temper flared.
She spun to face him. With both hands she beat a tattoo upon her heaving bosom. Though he was only inches from her, s
h
e baited, "Come on, Dalmar, come and get me, if you dare. I
'
m not afraid of you, you overgrown tadpole! Touch me—I
'
m warning you—touch me and I
'
ll knock your block off!
"
He did more than touch her. Like a ton of coal, he came crashing down on her, flattening her against the door till she thought her ribs would break. Strong fingers closed around her throat.
Torn between anguish and fury, he let his fingers tighten alarmingly. "If you
ever
again let another man touch you,
"
he
railed in her ear, "I
'
ll wing your bloody neck before I murder you.
"
"It
'
s one of my policies,
"
she hurled back.
"What is?
"
he bellowed.
"What
'
s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander! And don
'
t you ever forget it, David Falconer!
"
They were both panting hard from a combination of exertion and spent anger.
"Did you say those words to another man?
"
he asked, his voice harsh with emotion.
She couldn
'
t think what he was getting at. He administered a rough shake to loosen her tongue.
"Well?
"
he demanded. "Did you tell some other man that you loved him too?
"
"Of course not!
"
she replied at once. "How could I, when I still love you? Besides, you don
'
t really believe that there were other men, do you? But I mean it, David Falconer, I
'
m warnin
g you, next time, next time…
"
His whole body went rigid, then gradually relaxed as the meaning of her words slowly penetrated. "Oh Annabelle,
"
he said, "oh Annabelle, can you ever forgive me?
"
For a long, agonizing interval she was silent, and he groaned in despair. "When I thought I had ruined my chances with you, I went crazy. Can
'
t you understand? Nothing mattered anymore. Those women, I don
'
t even know who they were.
"
It was several moments before he realized Annabelle could not find her voice for tears. Cradling her face with both hands, he implored, "Don
'
t cry, love. Please don
'
t cry. I
'
m not worth it.
"
She let out an anguished cry and threw herself into his arms. "
Never, never
say such a thing again, or I shall
hit
you, David Falconer! You don
'
t know,
can
'
t
know what you are worth to me.
"
She went on in a similar vein for several minutes, her words muffled against the lapel of his coat. When she began to talk incoherently of guardian angels and knights in shining armor, he thought it time to intervene. He kissed her swiftly.
"Is it true? Can you still love me, knowing what I am?
"
he
asked softly.
"What are you?
"
Her eyes were brimming with tears and unabashedly luminous with a love she did not try to conceal from him.
"I
'
m my father
'
s son,
"
he said, his voice choked with emotion. "A man with bad blood in his veins.
"
"Haven
'
t you been listening to a word I
'
ve been saying?
"
she asked passionately. "You
'
re not the man your father was, nor anything like him. Even if you are a hard man, I know you to be a man of honor. You live by your convictions. You
'
ve proved that many times over.
"
She drew in a deep, calming breath, knowing that her next words might be the most important she had ever said in her life. "Forgive me, my dear, for not trusting you more. I should have known from our first encounter at the Palais Royal what manner of man you are.
"
"Admit it! You were terrified of me even then!
"
he said roughly.
Smiling through her tears, she said, "You
tried
to terrify me, you odious man! But you didn
'
t succeed. How should you, when you almost lost your life defending me? I can never forget that duel you fought with the Frenchman, even if you can.
"
"As I remember,
"
he said softly, "it was you who
saved me. You came dashing down those stairs and diverted his attention.
"
"I saw the whole of it, did you know, just shadows against the wall? I couldn
'
t tell who was who until I saw one man go down and the other come in for the kill. And then I knew.
"
At the recollection she shivered.
"What did you know?
"
"I knew that you had too much honor to kill a man who was wounded. It just isn
'
t in you.
"
He let out a long, shuddering breath. "Annabelle, abo
ut Lord Temple…
"
She covered his lips with the tips of her fingers. "Don
'
t,
"
she whispered. "There
'
s no necessity to explain yourself to me. Once I began to think things through, I knew that I could trust you to do what you thought was right. It
'
s been like that
from the beginning, only events and circumstances have sometimes blinded me to the truth. Can you forgive me?
"
His voice shaking with emotion, he said, "It
'
s I who should be begging your forgiveness. Oh God, when I think of how I took those damn diaries away from you! I
'
m no better than my father!
"
"How can you think that?
"
she cried out. "Would John admire you, or Ransome, or Bertie, or Henrietta, if you were anything like your father? Would Richard love you? Would
I?
"
Grinning whimsically, he said, "You left out Lady Diana.
"
"Diana doesn
'
t count,
"
said Annabelle, brushing away her tears. "She
'
s such a dear that she loves everybody indiscriminately.
"
He laughed and shook his head. Framing her face with both hands, he asked in a more serious vein, "Are you going to deny that sometimes I frighten you half to death?
"
Sniffing, Annabelle retorted, "I didn
'
t say you were perfect. So you needn
'
t get a swelled head. But,
"
her lips curved in a self-satisfied grin, "I just proved that no matter how much I provoke you, you
'
ll never do me any harm. It
'
s just not in you.
"
"What? I don
'
t think I understand.
"
"You don
'
t really believe that I was going to publish Harriette Wilson
'
s memoirs, do you? It was all a sham to rile you, so that I could prove to you that there
'
s nothing to fear when you are in one of your rages.
"
"Good God!
"
He slammed his fist into the door, and Annabelle jumped. "You were taking one hell of a chance,
"
he roared. "Have you no sense, woman?
"
"No!
"
she yelled back with equal force. "Loving someone means that you are willing to take a chance on them. Haven
'
t you learned that yet?
"
She really believed everything she was saying. He could see it in her eyes. He had never felt more humbled in his life, or more
…
cleansed. It was as if this one adorable, willful, fearless girl had put the specters of his past to flight.
It took him a moment to find his voice. "Oh Annabelle, Annabelle,
"
he said, "there
'
s not another woman like you.
"
She pulled back and looked up at him through her sooty lashes. He was fascinated by the pout to her lips.
Between sniffs, she said, "Those women—they all had red hair.
"
For a moment he was baffled and did not know how he should answer her. The last thing he wished for was a discussion on the nameless, faceless women he had shamelessly used in the weeks following the final break with Annabelle. Feeling his way carefully, he said, "Don
'
t you like red hair?
"
"What kind of question is that?
"
she said petulantly. "You know I dye my hair.
"
He had to ask. "Annabelle, why do you dye your hair?
"
"Because it
'
s red, of course, and I absolutely detest red hair.
"
It was impossible to say anything in reply. He fought the temptation to give in to his laughter. Her next words sobered him.
"At least we can part as friends,
"
she taunted.
He turned instantly truculent. "I may murder you one of these days, but give you up? Never!
"
She smiled a very watery, feminine, knowing smile. "You don
'
t frighten me, Dalmar. And
that for
your famous
Falconer temper,
"
and she snapped her fingers under his nose.
He threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Annabelle,
"
he said, "God help me, I love you.
"
She grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I love you too,
"
she breathed, and nestled her head on his broad chest.
Moments later she felt his fingers tangle in her hair. He brought her face up, and his eyes, assessing, devoid of any trace of humor, gauged her bemused expression. She recognized the look on his face.
"You
'
re mad!
"
she choked out, and made a helpless motion of one hand to take in the small room.
"I can manage,
"
he countered, "if you help me.
"
"
There isn
'
t room to swing a cat in this little boxroom,
"
she desperately shrilled. "Not a spare inch of floor space or a couch
o
r…
or whatever!
"
His fingers were already at the back of her gown, slipping the
small buttons from their buttonholes. "There
'
s a chair and a tabletop,
"
he said huskily. "I
'
ll let you choose.
"
"That
'
s very good of you, I
'
m sure. But if you think I
'
m going to let you
…
"