by Kim Bowman
“Annie… if it means anything, I’m…” Sorry. “I’ve enjoyed our time together.”
“I understand why you did it,” she said evenly, using one hand to push back the hair cascading over her shoulder. “Why you married for your inheritance. You have a dream and I was—” She thrust her chin forward. “I want you to know… you have a wife, you’ve fulfilled the terms so… I won’t upset your plans. I hope you’ll start that shipping company.”
Jon frowned. “Do you honestly believe I married you for my inheritance? If you believe nothing else, please believe that wasn’t my motivation — not in the least. I could have married any one of a number of eligible women at any time to receive my inheritance.” He shrugged and sent her a feeble smile. “You are the only woman I’ve ever met who made marriage seem a good idea.” The smile widened. “Most of the time.”
She closed the distance between them. Or perhaps he did. He only knew she was suddenly molded tightly against him, her warmth reaching out, twining through him. He inhaled, and the scent of citrus exploded, boiled through his senses. She’d rinsed her hair with lemon juice. He’d never again smell that fruit and not think of her.
She trailed kisses along his throat, pushed aside his shirt collar and used her tongue to toy with the sensitive skin just in front of his shoulder. With a groan, Jon combed his hands through her hair, tilted her head back, and sought her lips. She opened to him at once, and he wasted no time taking what she offered.
She’s still my wife, he reminded himself as he lifted her and carried her to his bed. If they had but one more night, it would have to last him a lifetime.
Annabella wrapped her free arm around his neck and went on kissing him. Her gentle sighs settled over him like a soft blanket as he followed her down to the bed.
Sometime later, Jon pulled the covers over both of them, though he scarcely felt any chill. Annabella ran her foot along his leg. “We wasted so much time, you and I. And the irony of it all is that if I’d just gone to London as my mother requested, there would have been no deception between us, and we might have had a chance…”
The statement was so sad, perhaps even more so because he’d wondered what would have happened had she attended her own birthday dinner at Grey’s. “Or we might not have seen each other at all… not the way we did at the cottage. Or here. Can you honestly say you would have given me a second glance if you’d met me in London?” He picked up one of her curls and wound it around his finger. “Just two people politely greeting one another in passing… Besides…” He gave the curl a gentle tug. “Grey certainly wouldn’t be marrying Juliet—”
Annabella shifted slightly away from him, shaking her head. “Silly! We don’t know that.” She outlined his lips with her thumb and then flopped down again to rest her head on his chest with a sigh.
Jon kissed the top of her head. Except we do. “You will never lack for anything, Annie. I swear.” I love you.
“Ummm,” she said, her body softening against him.
Jon lay still, listening to the steady whoosh of her deep breathing until he was certain she’d fallen asleep. Then he tossed back the covers, lifted her, and carried her back to her own room. His throat swelled, and his eyes burned, and everything in him pleaded for him to carry her off.
Because that had worked so well…
Instead he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead then drew up her bedclothes. He watched her for a long moment and then blew out the candle, turned, and walked slowly back to his own bedchamber.
Chapter Thirty
The carriage jolted forward. The crunch of gravel beneath the groaning wheels seemed to echo the heavy weight crushing Annabella’s heart. For a few brief glorious moments in Jon’s arms, she’d been foolish enough to think they could be together after all. Then, in the harsh light of morning, she’d awakened to find herself in her own bed. Alone. He couldn’t even hold me in sleep last night. What she had believed to be a beginning had been her husband telling her goodbye.
He’d been formal at breakfast, stiff and almost cold as he’d seen her and her mother to the coach. She stared through the window and watched Blackmoor Hall recede more and more with each crunch of gravel.
Next to her, Regina flounced about on the seat like an unhappy, dying fish.
“Whether you like it or not, your grace, and with all due respect, as long as Dawes is still not in custody, it is of utmost importance that I follow your stepson’s orders.” Stowe’s clipped tones raised a prickling sensation along Annabella’s neck. “I shall escort you and Lady Annabella…”
Lady Annabella. That name sounded so foreign to her now… as if it belonged to someone else. Lady Annabella Mary Lysandra Price. That person was long gone, having been replaced by Annie Durham — Lady Seabrook. The woman who shot arrows with the dowager during the day and turned into a tigress at night.
He’d awakened her, taken her to the height of passion. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. She nearly wished she were carrying his child. Maybe then he’d want her. The thought made her heart skip a beat, fluttering in her chest as if to show its approval.
But it was wrong to use a child so. Inexcusable, really. She wanted Jon to want her. Not need her or feel obligated because she might be carrying a babe. She wanted to be Lady Seabrook, Lord Seabrook’s wife.
Then why are you leaving, you ninny?
I have to leave… just like Papa had to. He left because Mother had no place to go. I’m leaving because this is Jon’s home.
As if in argument, her father’s soothing voice answered, “Loving someone also means you must know when to stay.”
“…and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Mr. Stowe. I’m quite certain…”
Regina’s harsh tones brought Annabella back to reality, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stave off the tears. How had she never realized before just how different her parents were? Her mother constantly reminded her to behave like a proper lady so a proper nobleman would appreciate her. While Papa had… Papa had been ever the romantic.
“Annabella, my heart… if it’s a nobleman you want, I have no doubt a nobleman you shall marry.”
But this wasn’t just any nobleman. This was Seabrook… her Seabrook… her Jon.
I love him. With all my heart I love him. But he let me go… never even asked me to stay.
She glanced down at her lap. The fan her father had given her rested half open, drawing her back to when he’d given it to her. “One day, Lady Annabella, you will find you have choices of the heart. When that day comes, I pray you will choose love over what others might perceive to be the right course.”
Oh, Papa. A soft sigh slipped out.
“Annabella, are you unwell?” The back of her mother’s fingers gently brushed the side of her cheek, causing a tear to trickle down.
Had he sent her away? Or had he allowed her to leave? Suddenly that distinction made all the difference. “Stop the coach!” Annabella demanded, raising her fist and pounding on the roof. “Stop!”
“Annabella!” Regina stared aghast. “What’s got into you?” She tried to settle an arm around Annabella’s shoulders.
“Lady Godiva’s heart, Mother!” She jerked out of Regina’s embrace and pushed open the door, startling the footman on the other side. Grasping her skirts in one hand, she jumped to the ground.
An arrow stood embedded in the dust at Annabella’s feet, its black fletching fluttering in the gentle breeze. She lifted her gaze at the north tower and recalled setting it in the bow, aiming through the archeria. What a proud moment it had been when that first arrow had embedded itself in the dirt, and Jon had looked up, startled. She’d commanded her husband’s full attention then. And finally held the advantage of height.
And yet… even though she’d shot arrows at him, he’d come after her… rescued her from Dawes…
“I’ll always find you.”
My husband. She took a step then another.
“Annabella! For heaven’s sake! Have you gone
mad?” Outrage and desperation laced Regina’s voice as she scrambled from the carriage. “Come back this instant! This is hardly the behavior of a lady.”
Whirling about, Annabella smiled. “You’re wrong, Mother! For the first time in my life, I’m behaving exactly like a lady ought — a lady I hope my husband will love.” She gave her mother a long, hard look, begging her to understand.
Mr. Stowe pushed Regina aside and hopped from the coach. “My lady, I must insist—”
“Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Stowe.” Annabella turned and began walking up the drive. “But only my husband may insist I do anything.”
“Annabella! I—” Regina sighed. “I… Be happy, my dear. I love you.”
The words, too infrequently spoken between them, brought fresh tears to Annabella’s eyes, but she pushed on, her steps quickening.
As she caught sight of Jon standing near the entrance, she left the dusty drive and broke into a headlong run across the lawn, holding her skirts high so as not to trip.
He moved then, walking toward her with measured paces. Joy and love like she’d never known exploded in her heart anew. How could she have thought of leaving him?
Now I know what you meant, Papa. When you said marry a man I love, someone to whom I would willingly give my whole heart. Jon is that man. And he already has my whole heart.
Her steps faltered, slowed as they neared one another. Their gazes collided, locked.
Please love me. Please don’t let it be too late.
She stumbled into his waiting arms beneath the watchful eyes of the cat sculpture. Jon’s heart raced beneath her cheek, but he only gave her a moment before he drew away. He searched her face though his was unreadable as he jammed his hands into his pockets.
A muscle worked in his jaw, but he made no effort to speak… nor to reach for her.
You are much more stubborn than you let on, husband. Very well, it’s no more than I deserve.
Annabella planted her hands on her hips. “Seabrook, I find it in very poor taste that you were simply going to let your wife leave without the slightest protest.” She thrust out her chin. “What have you to say for yourself, sir?”
“I—”
“Your horse, my lord.” The stable boy rounded the corner of the castle with the chestnut stallion.
Annabella’s eyes widened in disbelief as her temper exploded. “You insufferable rake! Here I was feeling I’ve been nonsensical about you, and you once again prove you can’t be trusted! You had no intention of letting me leave, did you?”
His expression never changed. “No.”
She let out a curse. “Of all the — it would serve you right if I did leave you!”
He folded his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow, mischief dancing in his eyes. He nodded at the empty lane. “Your coach seems to be leaving without you, lady fair.”
Along with her luggage, Annabella realized with dismay. Resigned… and completely content, she let out an exasperated sigh and tapped her foot. “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to offer your wife your arm and escort her into the house?”
“No.”
Annabella recoiled a half step. “No?”
“Not until you tell me you love me.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and her mouth fell open. “You must be jesting.”
~~~~
Jon wanted to take it back, to fall on his knees and tell her he couldn’t live without her. At the first turn of the wheels on the carriage carrying her away, he’d known he couldn’t let her go.
She must not leave.
The silence ticked on endlessly, giving rise to his panic. How could he have been so stupid? Why didn’t I just take what she was offering and be happy? After my deceit I should thank the stars she came back.
But if that’s what he’d been willing to settle for, he’d have just abided by his grandfather’s wishes and married anyone with a title. Could I have lived with that?
“I’m here, aren’t I? What more do you need?”
“I need it all. I require the words, madam.”
She perched her hands back on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “And what of you? I don’t believe I’ve heard ‘the words’ from you either, sir.”
He opened his mouth to protest then slammed it shut. Had he ever told her his feelings? “That… is entirely irrelevant, as you were the one leaving, and I was the one coming after you.” He let his glance drift to where the groom still stood holding his horse. Beecham’s face had gone ashen, and the reins shook violently in his hands.
Annabella and Jon burst out laughing.
“Beecham, be so kind as to follow the coach and retrieve Lady’s Seabrook’s luggage,” Jon said, keeping his eyes on Annabella. “My wife seems to have brought herself home.”
“Yes, m’lord!” The groom launched himself into the saddle and took off at a gallop.
Finally, Annabella shook her head. “Seabrook, if I’m to stay, then I shall require a new wardrobe.”
“New wardrobe?” He stared at her, filled with newfound wonder. “I sent Beecham after your luggage.”
“Yes, new wardrobe. One with much cooler attire.” She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her dark green eyes glistened with love and tears. “For if you are destined to spend eternity as the devil’s neighbor, then I intend to follow you.”
Sparks ignited in his heart, warming his body. He released the breath he’d been holding as his arms hugged her closer. “I love you. With all my heart I love you.”
She pulled back, looked into his eyes, and smiled. “And I love you.”
The raw emotion and tenderness in her eyes and her softly spoken words were his undoing. He felt as if he’d just conquered the French singlehandedly. If he never saw another sunrise and had to give his soul to the devil for all eternity, he’d die the happiest man in England.
All because he’d earned the love of one Annabella Price.
As he bent his head to take her lips in a hungry kiss, an arrow shot just above his head. He let out a curse and twisted his body to cover his wife, his eyes searching for the culprit.
“Glad to see you two have come to your senses,” Gran called from the archeria of the north tower. “Now, run along and find something to occupy your time, Jonathan. Frenchie is more than an hour late for archery practice.”
“You could have killed us!” Jon shouted. Then he glared at his beautiful wife, who was trying to keep from bursting with laughter. “She’s dangerous enough. Don’t encourage her.”
“Oh, pish! If I’d wanted to hit you, I would have.” Gran stepped out of view, leaving a dark hole in her wake.
Jon shook his head, keeping a watchful eye on the tower window for several moments just in case Gran decided to rain arrows down on them again. Finally certain she was done using them as targets, he turned back to his wife. “Annabella, I—”
She put her finger to his lips, her brow furrowed. “No, don’t call me that. I hate it when you call me that.”
He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Well… not to point out the obvious, but your name is Annabella. As you once took great pains to remind me.”
She pushed against his chest to break his hold, but he held her fast. “I beg your pardon, but my name most certainly is not Annabella. My name… is Annie Durham.” Her arms encircled his neck again, and she touched her lips to his in a feather-light kiss. “But you may call me Lady Seabrook.”
“How about I call you Annie-my-heart?”
Her only answer was to smile before pulling his mouth to hers for a searing kiss.
Epilogue
Annabella stared through the study window. A steady mist formed rivulets on the glass, blurring the view of the garden and the forest beyond just as surely as the thoughts in her head blurred.
She stared at the blank page in front of her, the drip of ink on the end of her quill. So much had happened, so much that Annabella wanted to share with her dear friend, Juliet. She didn’t want
to wait until they saw each other again, but it seemed such a daunting task to put into writing.
The door to the study opened, and she looked up. Jon had obviously been out in the rain and hadn’t yet taken time to change, though he’d doffed his hat and coat and left them somewhere. Water dripped from the ends of his hair and ran along his cheeks. Annabella forced herself to sit still when what she wanted to do was race to him and capture every errant trail of water.
“Are you back from Mr. Webber’s office already?”
“I am.” Arms crossed over his chest, Jon leaned against the doorjamb.
Suspicion prickled along her skin, and Annabella leaned forward for a closer look at her husband. “Why do you look like Queen Dorothea after she’s been at the cream?”
“I’ve managed to secure backing for Durham and Price Shipping.” He spoke in a casual tone as one might while making an observation about the weather or the color of wallpaper. But his eyes seemed to glow with pride as he regarded her with bold intensity.
His shipping company! He’d managed it just as he’d said he would. Annabella’s heart swelled. “Durham and Price?”
“Yes.” A smile played around his mouth as he stepped into the room and closed the door. “To honor your father. That is, if you’ve no objection.”
“Thank you,” she forced over the lump of emotion in her throat. She allowed herself a few deep breaths before continuing. “I suppose this means you’ll have to travel like…” …like Papa did. She couldn’t say the words out loud. She’d wait for him, of course. Always. But she would doubtless have many lonely days ahead of her.
Jon closed the distance between them, crouched in front of her then took both of her hands. First, he pulled her right hand to his lips and dotted kisses along her knuckles then lowered it again but didn’t release her as he gazed deep into her eyes.
“There… will be traveling,” he admitted slowly. He pulled her left hand to his face and pressed his cheek against the back. “I’d rather hoped you would come along with me… we can see the world together.”
