The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

Annalise gave him a look that spoke volumes, grabbed his face, and kissed him hard. “Tell the driver to go faster,” she rasped against his lips, sending his heart racing at a breathtaking pace.

  He chuckled, returned her kiss, and obeyed, delighting in the sudden heady sensation that being merely content would never be enough again.

  Epilogue

  Annalise woke far later than she usually did, she could tell from the light in the room, the sunlight scattering beams across her pillow. She stretched lazily, her body stiff and aching, but remarkably well rested. The air was cold outside of her bed, so she burrowed more deeply into the comfort and warmth of the blankets.

  She smiled to herself as she recalled the events of the day before, hardly able to believe they were real and not her fanciful imaginations.

  Duncan had them racing for Gretna and married by a charming old man who wouldn’t budge in providing the ceremony until Duncan had assured him that her injuries were not sustained by his hand, but were what he was saving her from. He had taken Annalise aside and given her an interview of sorts, and only after he was assured of their mutual love, affection, and safety, would he proceed. She didn’t think that the usual “anvil marriages” were so conducted, but she was pleased to have been slightly unconventional.

  It had faintly occurred to her to wonder if Tibby might have been offended by their actions, more so by her lack of invitation, but then, Tibby always approved of independent thought and action, so long as the results were beneficial to all.

  Surely there was no greater benefit or reward than a happy marriage between two people so in love.

  Though they had scarcely been married twelve hours, Duncan had already outdone himself by way of husbandly duties. He had secured them the finest room in Gretna’s most established inn, which was just fashionable enough for his tastes, and not extravagant enough to offend hers. His first course was to insist upon her being tended to by a physician, given her condition and injuries, and when all came back positively, he ordered a hot bath for her.

  She wished she could say it had been embarrassing for her, as he had tended to her himself, sending away the maids. But on the contrary, it had been the most intimate and liberating of experiences. She had never been so vulnerable, so aware of herself and the damage that had been done. He had been so gentle and comforting, never once grimacing or looking the least bit unsettled. He had only expressed his love and admiration, showering her lips and her skin with soft kisses and caresses, washing the blood and dirt away. He had praised her so sweetly her skin had tingled with it, and his gentle reminders of her blushes only made her more self-conscious.

  She would never forget the sensations of his fingers in her hair, gently massaging her scalp with the soap and water, then softly stroking it as he rinsed. His low, soothing voice gently ordering her about, always with a sweet word of praise or love. She didn’t know what he had planned, only that he wanted to proudly show off his wife to the good patrons of their Gretna inn, and enjoy a quiet evening meal with his bride.

  Annalise had no such desires, much preferring the simple solitude of their bedchamber and the night ahead of them to anything involving the public, but the promise in his eyes told her it would be worth it.

  He unknowingly recreated everything about the dream she’d once had of him, save but one part. In her reality, he was there for the lot of it. Though her dress and her hair were far simpler, the feelings were the same. She had been scrubbed from head to toe, and her body felt alive, as if no injury had ever been placed upon it.

  He had dressed her carefully, and led her to the mirror so she could see herself, just as in the dream. Again, he had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he murmured loving words. Then he had exhaled, dipped his head against the back of hers, and pressed a soft, but searing kiss to the nape of her neck.

  Gasping at the sensation, Annalise had reached a hand up to his hair, tangling her fingers in his dark tresses, and pulled his mouth towards her hungry lips.

  Suffice it to say, they made no public appearance last evening.

  She rolled over to snuggle against her husband, only to find the space empty and cold. She raised her head and blinked her sleep-worn eyes. The space beside her was rumpled, but empty.

  She turned back over and looked around the bedchamber. “Duncan?” she called softly.

  There was no response.

  She frowned slightly and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She looked around the room in confusion, but it was well and truly empty. She frowned and pushed herself out of bed, reaching for a morning dress borrowed from the innkeeper’s daughters. She shivered in the morning air and put the wrap on as well, leaving the ties loose.

  Barefoot, she padded to the door that led to the sitting room, hoping she would not have to venture out further into the general public in search of her new husband.

  She opened it, only to find him opening the door beyond that led to the rest of the inn.

  He stopped in surprise, gave her a quite thorough look of appraisal, and smiled at her in a way that made her cheeks flame in response.

  “One would think that would get old,” he murmured, closing the door. “And yet…” He set down a tray of food, shaking his head. He went to her, slid his hands around her waist, and leaned down to kiss her lips lightly, yet with so much heat she shivered in delight. “Good morning,” he murmured, giving each reddened cheek a soft kiss.

  “Good morning,” she replied, still shy, but cupping his chin and pressing a firm kiss to his smiling mouth.

  He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. “I had hoped to bring you breakfast in bed, but they were a bit long about it.”

  She shrugged and smiled as her stomach growled in response to the aroma. “I don’t mind,” she told him.

  He chuckled and gave her a quick peck. “Yes, so I hear. But I would much rather you hadn’t woken up alone.”

  She pulled back with a grin. “Then you’ll just have to be more expeditious tomorrow.”

  He laughed and tugged her towards the table. “And the day after that. And the day after that. And…”

  She covered his mouth, laughing. “Enough!”

  He pulled out a chair for her and then sat beside her, smiling as they each filled their plates. He sobered just a bit. “I don’t ever want you to feel alone again, Annalise.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him, covering his hand with hers. “And you can call me Annie.”

  He looked surprised. “But they called you Annie. I don’t want you to be reminded. I don’t want you to think of them ever again.”

  She gave him the small smile she knew he loved. “I’m not. And I won’t be. Not when you’re the one saying it.”

  His breath caught and he smiled, squeezing her hand. “You don’t like being Annalise?”

  She returned the smile and kissed his hand. “I love it. You’ve changed me, Duncan, and not just because of my name. I never minded being Annie. I will be Annalise for everyone else, and you may call me that whenever you like, it doesn’t matter. But between us, because you love me and I love you, I can be Annie again.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. “All right, Annie,” he murmured with a wink. “It will be our secret.”

  She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. “Eat something, you’re getting ridiculous.”

  They ate a bit here, a bit there, talking lightly about nothing, stealing looks and smiles meant only for the other. She told him how she loved falling asleep in his arms, how happy she was, how she felt like this was all a dream. He promised this was their reality, and it would always be this way. He asked if she wanted to live in London or the country, she did not care either way. She became quite embarrassed when Duncan mentioned how adorable her little snore was while she slept, but he repeatedly assured her that it was charming and it made him love her more. She highly doubted that, but he would not be swayed.

  She loved hearing him say he loved her. She would never tire of hearing it.
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  “What?” he asked softly, touching her smile.

  Annalise looked up at him, unaware she had done anything. “What?”

  “You were thinking something, and you smiled. I want to know.”

  She shook her head slowly back and forth, still smiling. “No.”

  “No?” he asked in surprise, a strange twinkle in his eyes. “But I am your husband, you have to tell me.”

  “I do not. That was not in the vows.”

  He snorted. “I married you via blacksmith in Gretna. The vows are what we make them.”

  She held up a finger in warning. “You, sir, are never allowed to criticize my wedding simply because it was not in a church. The vows are binding and unbreakable, made before God, and I never vowed to not have secrets.”

  Duncan tilted his head and his smile became soft, warm, and melted her sternness and her bones in one breath.

  “What?” she breathed when he shook his head.

  “Nothing,” he murmured, taking her hand and kissing the palm. “I simply have a new favorite memory of you.”

  She opened her mouth in confusion and his thumb reached out to stroke her now parted lips.

  “I’ve been collecting several over the past few weeks,” he continued, turning her into a soft, melted puddle. “And just when I think I cannot have more, you do something, say something, look a certain way… And my heart feels like it’s going to burst. Every time. I think you are going to be the death of me, Annalise Bray. And I could not be more pleased about it.”

  “I love you,” she whispered, unable to help herself. She wanted to cry, but was feeling so joyful she couldn’t manage it.

  “I love you.” He stroked her cheek again, and then his smile turned mischievous. “But I will make you tell me your secret.”

  “You will not,” she said, pulling out of his tantalizing touch.

  “Oh, you doubt me?” He attempted to look fearsome. “I have ways, you know. To make you talk.”

  She gave him a look that she had seen Moira give many times over. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  One brow slowly rose. “Oh, no? Am I not a strong and fearsome creature?”

  She considered it, then nodded. “Strong, yes, most certainly. But fearsome? Not in the slightest.”

  “Shouldn’t a wife fear her husband?” he asked, his eyes dancing merrily.

  “I rather think she should love him.” It was true, in her estimation. She had known a lifetime of fear. She much preferred this feeling of love, and a lifetime of it.

  “I see,” he murmured slowly. “And do you? Love your husband?”

  Again, she pretended to consider it carefully, chewing her lip a little. “Do you know, I think I do.”

  “More than yesterday?”

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed, smiling brilliantly. “Much more.”

  He looked the slightest bit unsettled, cleared his throat, and adopted a serious expression. “But you do not fear him?”

  She shook her head, still smiling. “Not a bit.”

  He held her gaze steady. “I see.” He sighed and shrugged. “Well, I suppose I shall have to live with that in all areas save one.”

  Suspicious, she raised her chin a touch. “And that is?”

  He rose from his chair, then suddenly swooped down and scooped her into his arms, tossing her over his shoulder.

  “Duncan!” she shrieked, laughing in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m off to show my wife just how fun fearing me can be.” He headed directly for the bedchamber, his strides full of purpose.

  “And shouldn’t you fear me in return?” she asked as they entered the room and he kicked the door shut behind them.

  “Oh, I can assure you, my love, I am quite terrified of you.” He swung her down again into his arms, and the heat in his eyes and his smile caused her heart to immediately race in delight.

  “And it is the best feeling in the world. Now, be quiet and fear me.”

  “Yes, my love,” she murmured, sliding her hands into his hair and pulling his mouth to hers.

  But she wouldn’t tell him her secret. Not yet. She could hold out, endure whatever sweet torments he could give and never reveal a thing.

  Because she was strong now and she knew it.

  He had shown her that. He had given her everything she had dreamed, and everything she never dared to.

  And forever would not be time enough to love him adequately for that.

  But she could try.

  About the Author

  Rebecca Connolly has been creating stories since she was young, and there are home videos to prove it. She started writing them down in elementary school and has never looked back. She lives in Minnesota, spends every spare moment away from her day job absorbed in her writing, and is a hot cocoa junkie.

  Coming Soon

  The Burdens

  of a

  Bachelor

  “A fair façade hides many scars.”

  by

  Rebecca Connolly