Annabel's Christmas Rake

by Jillian Eaton

  “Think nothing of it.” His gray eyes flicked to Annabel, and despite the cold seeping into her bones courtesy of her wet garments she felt a sudden spark of heat. “I could not allow such a pretty lass tae come to any harm.”

  “Indeed,” Temperance murmured, her sharp gaze missing nothing as she glanced from Lucas to Annabel and back again. “Well then Mr. O’Brian,” she began in a falsely cheerful voice that had Annabel lifting a brow, “I think the least we can do is invite you for dinner! I know my sister – who happens to be Annabel’s sister-in-law – would like to thank you personally, as would Lord and Lady Townsend.”

  Lucas stiffened. “I am sure that will not be necessary.”

  “But of course it is!” Temperance trilled. “Do you not think so, Annabel?”

  Confused by Lucas’ sudden coldness when he had been so hot only a few seconds ago, Annabel opened her mouth to reply but Delilah cut her off.

  “You simply have to come for dinner, Mr. O’Brian.”

  “And why is that?” he asked warily, looking for all the world as though he were a wolf who was being cornered by three very sweet – albeit cunning – hunters.

  Delilah smiled. “Because if you do, Mrs. Plumworth will be forced to make something other than mutton stew.” She lowered her voice to conspiratorial whisper. “We have had it for two days in a row, you know. It is quite good, but beginning to get a bit congealed on top. Oh!” she continued, doe eyes widening, “and because we have lost our sister, who was our chaperone, and without a chaperone to deliver us safely home who knows what could happen. We could be robbed!”

  “Or raped,” Temperance said solemnly.

  “Or murdered,” Annabel added, just for good measure.

  The edges of Lucas’ mouth pulled down in a scowl that made Annabel wonder why he was so very averse to accompanying them home. When she’d been atop of him he certainly hadn’t complained! So why did he now look as though he would rather jump in front of a runaway sleigh than join her for dinner? Perhaps it was the prospect of meeting her parents that was raising his hackles, although she could not imagine why. Her brother could be a bit protective at times when it came to her gentleman callers, but both her mother and her father were always unfailingly polite. Then again, she supposed Lucas wouldn’t exactly be a typical caller. The truth of it was she’d never met anyone like him before, let alone welcomed them into her home as a potential suitor and husband.

  Husband.

  Now where had that thought come from? Even thinking the word gave her a tiny jolt. She stole a secret glance at Lucas from under her lashes. His jaw was clenched, his eyes the color of a restless, seething sea.

  Annabel loved the sheer depth of his gaze, and the knowledge lurking within it. Knowledge of things she couldn’t even begin to contemplate from behind the gilded cage of her privileged upbringing. For despite his refined clothing and the noble way he held himself, it was clear – at least to Annabel – that Lucas was a man who had struggled, and was struggling still. To the outside world he may have been seen as nothing more than an arrogant rake with a devil may care attitude, but she knew there was more to him than that. She’d seen it with her own eyes when their gazes had met, and felt it with her own hands when their bodies had been pressed so intimately together.

  Sometime during the commotion he had lost the red scarf that had drawn her eye from all the way across the park and the front of his throat was exposed, revealing a tempting sliver of golden skin. She wondered if the rest of his body was similarly sun kissed, and her cheeks filled with color as she realized she’d just imagined him completely naked.

  Goodness, had it warmed by several degrees or was it just her? Having never experienced the hard punch of desire before, Annabel was unaccustomed to its symptoms: namely a warm, sticky feeling inside her stomach and a silky tingling of awareness between her thighs. All she knew for certain was for the first time in her life she was completely smitten.

  And the man she was smitten with wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

  “I do not know I can fit all of ye in my sleigh.” Lucas rubbed his chin, tapered fingers skimming through the bristly scruff. On another man the shadow of beard would have looked untended. On Lucas it looked as though it had always been meant to be there, and only added to his dark allure. “In fact, I am certain of it.”

  “Oh we will fit,” promised Temperance, a mischievous light gleaming in her hazel eyes. “Even if Annabel has to sit on your lap.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In the end, they managed to fit in Lucas’ sleigh without Annabel needing to sit in his lap (much to her secret dismay) and after waiting for nigh on an hour for the traffic to clear made straight for Grosvenor Square.

  The Blackbourne home was tucked back from the street behind a wrought iron gate and two large, towering oaks. A cold wind whipped through the branches, dropping snow onto Annabel’s uncovered hair as she led their tiny group – with Lucas trailing in the back, a scowl firmly etched upon his countenance – down the narrow stone walkway to the front door.

  Candles glowed in every window, battling back the encroaching darkness that was stealing in on a shadowy tide. Beneath each candle hung a wreath, bound with red ribbon and tied with silver string. Annabel had lovingly constructed every wreath herself, using fresh pine boughs cut from a tree out behind the house. She knew both of her parents had thought her time foolishly spent, but if this was to be the first year they spent Christmas in London instead of their manor in the country, she saw no reason why she could not bring pieces of the country to London.

  Next December they would be sipping warm wassail while looking out across an open field, but this year moving not one, but two families after they’d just settled in had been too large a task to even contemplate.

  The door swung inward without warning, revealing a distraught looking Lynette. She rushed down the steps in her stockings, followed closely by Annabel’s mother. Her father and brother remained in the doorway and she felt a hard knot form in her stomach when she dared a quick glance at their formidable expressions. If the hard set of their jaws was any indication they were not happy with her, and she could not say she blamed them. Had things gone according to plan she would have been home over three hours ago and no one would have been the wiser. Unfortunately, things so very rarely seemed to go according to plan – at least where her plans were concerned.

  “Where have you been?” Lynette cried, her voice carrying on the wind as she grasped Delilah by the shoulders and gathered her close before moving on to Temperance. “I turned around and you were gone! I looked forever, but I could not find you, and after the sleigh incident I feared the absolute worse. Oh, now that I know you are not dead I could kill both of you!” she said even as she wrapped both arms around her sisters and pulled them in tight.

  Lucas remained in the back, more shadow than man as he observed the reunion between the three siblings with a furrowed brow, as if such displays of familial worry and affection were unfamiliar to him. Seeing the bemusement on his face, Annabel felt another knot form in her stomach as she wondered if her daring rescuer had any family of his own.

  As though he could feel her sympathetic stare he turned his head and their gazes met, hard gray clashing against soft, compassionate green. Her lips parted, wanting – needing – to say something to ease the pain she saw in his eyes but before she could speak a word she found herself pulled to the side and enveloped in a hug that left her breathless.

  “Annabel Louise Blackbourne, where have you been?”

  With a wince, Annabel tried to slip from her mother’s suffocating embrace, but Lady Townsend was having none of it.

  Surprisingly strong despite her advancing years, she kept her daughter in a firm grip as she marched her up the steps, through the front door, and straight into the drawing room. “Hot tea and biscuits,” she barked to the nearest servant, who quickly nodded and dashed out of sight.

  It wasn’t often that Annabel’s mother lost her temper, bu
t when she did everyone – including the staff – knew to stay out of her way.

  “Sit there,” she demanded, jabbing a finger at a velvet upholstered settee with mahogany trim, “and tell me precisely what you have done and where you have been. Every detail, Annabel Louise, or so help me – who is that?”

  Having sat meekly on the settee as ordered, Annabel’s head jerked towards the half-closed door when her mother’s voice rose an entire octave. “Oh,” she said, mind racing as she thought of the best way to introduce Lucas in a favorable light.

  He had followed everyone inside and now stood to the back of the foyer, his tall frame and broad shoulders making him the largest person in the room, larger even than Annabel’s brother, Nathaniel. He’d taken off his hat and a thick dark curl hung low over his brow, giving him an innately roguish appearance Annabel found to be very appealing. Not that she was about to admit as much to her mother! It did not take a genius to realize Lady Townsend did not see Lucas’ appeal. Her displeasure was carved into every inch of her face, from the lines across her forehead to the hard set of her mouth as she frowned at her unexpected houseguest.

  “Well?” she asked, stern emerald gaze returning to her daughter. “Who is he, Annabel, and what is he doing here?”

  “His name is Lucas O’Brian,” Annabel said, trying – and miserably failing – to keep a breathy note of excitement from her tone. “And he saved my life.”

  If Lady Townsend was caught off guard by such a shocking admission, it did not show in her expression. “Is that so,” she murmured, slender eyebrows drawing together over the bridge of her nose.

  “Yes, it was a rather remarkable act of selfless heroism, which was why I thought – that is to say, we thought – you and father would like to meet him.” It struck Annabel that this was the very first time she’d ever wanted her mother to approve of a potential suitor instead of the other way around.

  Not that Lucas was a potential suitor.

  At least, she did not think he was.

  Was he?

  Annabel liked Lucas – much more than she should have, given their brief acquaintance – but did he like her? He’d certainly acted as though he had when they were tangled up on the ground and their faces were so close she’d felt his warm breath on her lips, but from the moment Temperance and Delilah arrived he had turned as cold as the snow itself and remained frozen ever since. She’d attempted to thaw his icy demeanor in the sleigh to no avail. In the blink of an eye the charming Irishman who had nearly teased her into giving away her first kiss had turned into a surly curmudgeon.

  All things considered, she was rather surprised he had entered the house at all.

  “Is he a nobleman?” Lady Townsend asked. “If so, he does not look familiar.”

  “He is not a member of the peerage.” At least, I do not think he is, Annabel added silently, given that she knew nothing about Lucas save his name and his country of origin.

  Lady Townsend pursed her lips. “I suppose, given Mr. O’Brian saved your life, that he can be invited to dinner. But–” she warned, holding up a gloved finger when Annabel’s face broke out into an unfettered grin, “–I hope you know he is not the sort of man your father and I approve of you associating yourself with.”

  “You do not know anything about him!” she protested.

  With a prim sniff, Lady Townsend rose. “I know enough. Men like Mr. O’Brian have a certain…look…about them. I am certain he seems very dashing, especially compared to some of the gentlemen whom you have been entertaining as of late, but Mr. O’Brian is not the sort you should be wasting any time on, my dear. To put it bluntly, the man is a rake, and rakes are not to be trusted under any circumstance. Do you understand?”

  Annabel shot to her feet. “What I understand is that you are terribly close-minded! Mr. O’Brian has been nothing but polite and respectable to me” – except for when he held me against his body and asked me to thank him with a kiss – “and I do not think a person should be judged on their outward appearance.”

  “You are right,” Lady Townsend conceded, much to Annabel’s surprise.

  “I – I am?”

  “Yes. I do not know Mr. O’Brian personally, and should not condemn his character before getting the opportunity to know him better. That being said, I am afraid your deplorable behavior speaks volumes as to your character, Annabel. What were you thinking, to give your father and I such a fright? This is the third time this month you’ve snuck off without a chaperone!”

  Annabel hung her head. “I know,” she mumbled, shame heating the nape of her neck, “and I apologize, but I–”

  “No,” her mother said firmly. “No more excuses, do you hear? From now on you will conduct yourself with the proper decorum befitting of a young lady. Your outlandish behavior has reached its end, Annabel. It was allowed when you were young and did not know any better, but your actions carry with them real and dire consequences now that you have come of age. I am not telling you this to make you upset,” she said, her tone softening when she saw Annabel’s crestfallen expression. “But to help you become the lady I know you can be.”

  For all her stubbornness and independence, there was nothing Annabel hated more than knowing she had disappointed her parents. The weight of her mother’s disapproval hung over her shoulders like a heavy yoke, making it difficult to meet her gaze.

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  “Good. Well then,” Lady Townsend said, taking her daughter’s arm after a quick glance out the door, “it seems as though Lynette and her sisters have gone upstairs to change for dinner. Why don’t you do the same, my dear. But first” – her eyebrows lifted – “I should very much like to meet Mr. O’Brian.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Annabel hesitated in the doorway, her gaze flicking to Lucas who still stood in the corner of the foyer, his back to the wall. Paintings depicting hunting scenes hung on either side of his head, their gilded frames garish and overdone in comparison to Lucas’ harsh beauty.

  Rake or not, he truly was the most breathtaking man she’d ever laid eyes on. Was it any surprise she already found herself so taken with him?

  In one tall, dark package Lucas comprised everything she’d always been told to stay away from, but like a moth drawn to flame she couldn’t drag her eyes from his compelling frame. She knew it was not reasonable. She knew logically she shouldn’t have fallen so hard and so fast for a man she hardly knew. But when it came to lust and love, reason and logic were hardly guiding factors.

  Annabel had always been a woman who embraced what she felt, for better or for worse. She did not shy from her feelings, nor try to suppress them behind a wall of polite composure as so many other young ladies had been taught to do. ‘Smile and look pretty, no matter how witty’ was a popular mantra amidst the social circles of the ton. Not surprisingly, it was a saying Annabel had never put much stock in. After all, why should she have to mind her tongue and disguise her intelligence when men were allowed to reveal their stupidity in droves? Because she was a female, and as such her feelings and opinions were considered less important?

  Bully on that.

  She would continue to say what she wanted to say and feel what she wanted to feel, even if that feeling included a sizzling electric connection to the completely unsuitable Lucas O’Brian. So he did not have a title and his mannerisms and dress may have suggested a tendency towards rakishness. It did not make him a bad person, and she was convinced that with a bit of time she would be able to win her mother over on his behalf.

  Lucas’ head turned as she stepped into the foyer. Something flashed in his eyes; a flicker of deep, tumultuous emotion that caused Annabel’s breath to catch in her throat and her pulse to quicken its rhythm.

  “Mr. O’Brian,” she said, pleased to hear her voice was smooth as silk despite the sudden thundering of her heart. “I should very much like to introduce you to my mother, Lady Townsend.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Brian.” Annabel’s mother ex
tended her right hand.

  Without missing a step, Lucas raised her hand – encased in a white lace glove – to his mouth and pressed his lips upon the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Townsend. It is easy to see where your daughter gets her beauty from.”

  Other men had said similar things when introduced to Annabel’s mother, but none, Annabel noted with a satisfied smirk she expertly hid with a well-timed cough, had made her blush and stutter.

  “You – you flatter me needlessly, Mr. O’Brian!” Lady Townsend waved a hand in front of her pink cheeks. “My daughter tells me you saved her life today.”

  “It was nothing, my lady. I was more than happy to be of service.” His silver gaze went to Annabel, its heat sending a shiver of awareness rippling down her spine before he refocused his attentions on her mother. A vague smile played with the corners of his mouth. “I must admit it is not often I am able to play the knight in shining armor.”

  “Well I am certainly glad you decided to don your suit of armor today,” said Lady Townsend. “My daughter means the world to me and I – well, I am glad she has been returned safely home.”

  “Mama,” Annabel murmured, wrapping an arm around her mother’s plump waist as she heard the sudden teary quiver in her voice. Despite their differences of opinion, there was no denying their strong bond. They may have seen things differently from time to time, but it did not lessen their love for one another and Annabel was grateful every single day that she had a mother who cared for her so very much. One who actually listened to her when she spoke and considered her opinions worthy of value. She supposed it made her mother – and in her turn her father – a bit unusual, but she didn’t mind. The Blackbourne’s had always flirted with the edge of decorum, often choosing to do what was right instead of what was considered popular.

  Waving a hand in front of her glittering eyes, Lady Townsend drew a deep breath and managed a watery smile. “Suffice it to say, her father and I are in your debt and would like very much if you could join us for dinner.” She smile faded into a frown. “Annabel, where is your father? And your brother?” Twisting in place, she cast a bewildered glance around the empty foyer. “Where did everyone go?”