Annabel's Christmas Rake

by Jillian Eaton

  “I believe Lord Townsend went into his study,” Lucas offered.

  “His study? Honestly. I will be back in a moment. Annabel, please see our guest to the parlor and offer him something to drink.” Picking up her skirts, she hurried from the room, muttering under her breath about errant husbands and leaving Annabel and Lucas completely alone.

  “Well,” she said as the silence between them began to lengthen and grow into something tangible. “What would you care to drink?”

  Studying her with a dark gaze that revealed little of what thoughts were brewing behind his stoic countenance, Lucas shook his head. “Nothing. I will not be staying.”

  “But my mother–”

  “Will be glad to see my back.” He took a step in her direction, and even though the foyer was quite large by London standards it suddenly, inexplicably, seemed quite small. “To be sure I am not exactly the sort of man a mother welcomes with open arms, lass.”

  “You saved my life.” Defiant, she lifted her chin. “It should not matter what sort of man you are.”

  “Oh no?” Chuckling under his breath, Lucas advanced another step and yet another, his movements as sinuous and smooth as a wolf’s. Without quite realizing what was happening until it was too late, Annabel found herself pinned against the far wall. She stared up into his eyes, transfixed by the change she saw in his irises. One moment they were a steady slate gray, the next a tumultuous wave of silvery heather. “If your mother knew what was good for her – and for you – she would not have left you alone in my company.”

  “Why – why is that?” Annabel hated the breathy catch in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She tried to swallow, only to discover her throat had gone dry as dust. Her heart was beating so fast she feared it was about to burst out of her chest and the tingling between her thighs was nearly unbearable. If this was lust then it was easy to see why countless women before her had ruined themselves with cads and ne’er-do-wells alike. A gentleman may have made a more suitable husband, but surely for a lover there was no one better suited than a rake.

  Especially one with piercing gray eyes and an engaging brogue she could listen to for hours on end.

  Lucas lowered his head, and she felt the slide of his bottom lip across the sensitive curve of her ear as he whispered, “Because I am a blackguard if ever there was one, me love.” His voice lowered to a husky drawl that made her shiver. “And everyone knows blackguards and innocents dinna go well together.”

  She blinked up at him. “S-surely we could make an exception.”

  For a moment his entire countenance went perfectly blank, as if her words had shocked the charm right out of him. A line appeared in the middle of his forehead, drawing his dark brows together. “Annabel, you dinna know what you are saying.”

  “I certainly do,” she countered. “I am saying I am attracted to you, and I know you are attracted to me, and I see no reason why we cannot act upon that attraction.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Holy Joseph.” Looking at her incredulously, Lucas slowly shook his head from side to side. “No reason? For sure it is I can count to ten with one hand tied behind me back! You’re an innocent, lass, and you’ve no business speaking in such a manner.”

  “I may be an innocent, but that does not mean I am ignorant,” she said stubbornly. “I know about passion.”

  “What do you know about passion?” he scoffed.

  “Enough.” Tilting her chin up, she regarded him with calm conviction. “Enough to I know I have never felt it with anyone other than you, and I know you feel it as well, whether you care to admit it or not. Well?” she demanded when he remained silent. “Do you want to kiss me or don’t you?”

  “For sure it is I want to do more than kiss you,” he growled under his breath before he drew his shoulders back, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared down at her. “You’re a pretty lass with pretty ideas, but I am not the man for you, me love. Trust me on that.”

  Only a few inches of space separated them, but it might as well have been a furlong. Exasperated by Lucas’ sudden change in demeanor – she’d been certain he was going to kiss her this time! – Annabel mimicked his posture, squaring her shoulders and folding her arms before she said, “How can you possibly know such a thing? You do not know the first thing about me.”

  “And you dinna know the first thing about me.”

  “Excellent,” Annabel declared, her mouth curving into a bright smile.

  “Why is that excellent?” Lucas asked warily.

  “Because now we can get to know one another. My middle name is Louise. I have two brothers, although one is a bit of a black sheep whom no one speaks about. I love horses, and I strongly believe the rights of the poor and the lower class should be vastly improved upon.” A long golden curl fell from her messy coiffure and trailed down across her shoulder when she canted her head to the side. “Now you go,” she prompted when Lucas remained silent.

  He uncrossed his arms and, in a move that sent a jolt of awareness rippling straight down to her loins, slammed his hands on either side of her head, trapping her between his firm, muscular body and the cold plaster wall. “You want tae know about me, do ye now?” he asked in a voice that was both soft as silk and hard as steel.

  “Yes,” she whispered, unconsciously wetting her dry lips with a quick slide of her tongue.

  Lucas’ jaw clenched as his sharp gaze followed the tiny movement and with a visible degree of effort he forced himself to look up from her mouth and meet her wide, unblinking eyes. “I am a lowlife gambler, lass. I have no love for anyone and anything other than me self. I use women for their bodies, and I feel no remorse when I am done with them.”

  Instead of being repulsed by his admission, Annabel felt only sympathy. What a hard life he must have led to believe himself so unworthy of love! He did not strike her as a self-absorbed man, which meant the only reason he put himself first was because no one else ever had. What would her life be like without the love and support of her family? She dared not even imagine it.

  Moved by compassion, Annabel lifted her hand and gently clasped his cheek, narrow fingers splaying across the scratchy bristle of his beard. She felt him tense, but he did not pull away, further reaffirming her belief that there was a connection between them. Not one born of time or knowledge or common interest, but of destiny.

  Annabel was far too practically minded to believe in fate, but something had made her look up in the park and find Lucas. The same something that had made him turn and find her.

  In a sea of faces, they’d found one another. And then he had saved her life.

  Fate or coincidence, it did not matter. Their futures were destined to be entwined. She felt it in the very depths of her soul and she knew if Lucas only dared to look, he would feel it in his as well.

  She was sure of it.

  “Your life does not sound like a very rewarding one,” she said softly, her eyes searching his for the key that would unlock his hard, bitter heart and give her the answers she sought. Instead he remained closed to her, and his harsh, bitter laugh raised the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck.

  “For sure it is a bloody worthless existence, but ‘tis the lot I have been handed. If I thought I was deserving of a lass like you, things might be different.” For an instant, an instant so quick that if Annabel had so much as blinked she would have missed it, his expression softened…but before she could slip through the crack in the wall he’d built up around his heart it was sealed. “But I am not, am I?”

  Again he laughed, and her fingers slid from his warm, rugged cheek when he turned his head away to stare bleakly at the opposite wall. “You are a sweet girl, Annabel Blackbourne, but you deserve far more than the likes of me. Unless you’re simply out for a bit of taste and tickle?” He looked back at her, the dark gleam in his gaze catching her unawares. She froze, a wide-eyed deer who had stepped far beyond the safety of her quiet forest glade.

  “Is that it?” he said roughly as he grasped her waist an
d yanked her flush against his body. “Bored with your wealthy nabobs, are ye then lass? Want to know what it feels like to be with a real man before ye become some lord’s fancy wife?”

  “No.” She tried to twist to the side when he pressed his mouth against her jaw, but he was too strong. Bloody stubborn bastard. She knew what he was doing, and she wasn’t fooled by it, not for a second. Lucas saw himself as a villain, and he was trying to convince her of the same. But she refused to see him as a black-hearted rake. Not when she’d witnessed the great lengths to which he had gone to in order to save her life.

  Lucas O’Brian was certainly no prince, but a villain?

  No.

  He wasn’t that.

  No matter how hard he pretended otherwise.

  “Stop,” she said firmly when she felt his hands skim down and around her waist to cup her buttocks. He squeezed the plump flesh, kneading it through the thin fabric of her muslin gown, but when Annabel glanced at his face she saw his expression was pained, as if he did not like his actions any more than she.

  “I said stop.” This time she punctuated her command with a hard right jab to his chest. Her fist was too tiny for the punch to hurt, but it was more than enough to startle.

  “You hit me,” he said, sounding shocked.

  Annabel lifted her chin. “And I shall do it again if I have to. Although,” she added, a troubled line appearing between her winged brows, “I do not condone physical violence.”

  “Certainly could have fooled me,” Lucas grumbled, making a show of rubbing his chest as he took a step back, releasing her from the wall. “You’ve a strong hook, lass. Have ye ever considered taking up boxing?”

  “Have you ever considered not being a complete and utter sod?” she countered. “You are not going to scare me off as easily as that, Lucas O’Brian, so you’d best not even try.” Folding her arms and taking a deep, settling breath, she prepared herself to say everything you were never supposed to say to the object of your affections. At least not out loud, not to their face, and certainly not after only knowing them less than a day. “I felt drawn to you from the first second I saw you in your sleigh. I do not - that is say, I have never…” Flustered, she grasped a tendril of hair between her fingers and began twisting it into a tight coil. “I am not a fanciful woman. I do not believe in fairytales and princesses and fire-breathing dragons. And I never believed in love at first sight until…until I saw you.”

  “Bloody hell lass, are ye daft?” Countenance stormy, Lucas towered over her tiny frame, no doubt in another attempt to intimidate her and send her running. Hissing air between his teeth when she refused to give an inch, he shook his head and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t want your love. I don’t want to get to know ye. I don’t want a wife, if that is what you’re angling for in that fool head of yours, and ye surely dinna want me for a husband. I am not the type to settle down, me love. Not for anyone.” He scowled. “And certainly not for a tiny blonde fairy with more fluff between her ears than common sense.”

  “No?” she said sweetly, batting her lashes.

  He set his jaw. “For sure it is a resounding no.”

  “Then what are you still doing here?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  What was he still doing here? Truth be told, he didn’t have the faintest idea.

  If Lucas believed in such things, he would have thought Annabel had put him under some kind of bewitching spell. From the first moment he’d seen her in the park, the pretty little wench had captivated him as no other woman ever had.

  She’d completely enthralled him, and he was helpless to resist her charms.

  What little there was of them.

  He still could not believe she had struck him. For sure the tiny jab had hurt nothing else save his pride, but the audacity it had taken to deliver such a blow was mind-boggling. Grown men were often afraid to look him in the eye, and yet a tiny slip of a lass had stood toe to toe with him and punched him straight in the chest.

  Was it any wonder his heart had stumbled?

  Not fallen, he assured himself. I’ve not yet fallen in love.

  But there was no denying he wasn’t standing quite as tall as he had before he and Annabel met.

  Twelve hours ago the day had begun as any other. He’d ended another meaningless affair, indulged in a bit of gambling, and taken his mare out for a lively jaunt through the park.

  Yet somehow, someway, he’d ended up in a fancy foyer staring down into the sparkling green eyes of a stubborn blonde lass who was chirping in his ear about love-at-first-sight.

  Bloody hell.

  Where had he gone wrong?

  The bitch of it was, he did feel something for Annabel. How or why he hadn’t a clue, but there was a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with her quick right hook. She has bamboozled me, he thought with a dark scowl. God only knew other women had tried, but this one – against all the odds - had finally succeeded.

  “You are right,” he said curtly. “I never should have come here tae begin with.”

  “Then why did you?” she asked, clinging to his side like a dog to a bone when he turned on his heel and marched towards the front door with long, determined strides. “Because you felt something when you saw me. I know you did,” she persisted. “And that is why you are running away. Because you have never felt a connection like ours before, and it scares you to know that you could actually fall in love.”

  Lucas stopped short. Jaw clenched tight, he glared daggers at the wooden door and prayed for the patience he would need to get through it without losing his temper...or his bloody mind. “Let me get one thing straight, lass. I am not running away, and I sure as hell am not scared.”

  “That is two things, actually. I mean,” Annabel squeaked when he whirled to face her, “I am sure it does not really matter in the grand scheme of things, but if we are being technically correct…”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “For sure it is I have never met a more irritating female in all of me years.”

  “It does seem people tend to find me a bit trying at times. But we all have our little quirks, do we not?”

  Lucas opened his eyes to Annabel’s tentative smile. God, but what that smile did to his gut. He should have walked away then and there. If he was in his right mind, he surely would have. But nothing about this was right. “Ye seem like a lovely girl,” he began, not wanting to hurt her feelings but needing her to know that any talk of ‘love-at-first-sight’ or a ‘connection’ between them was complete and utter lunacy. “And I can see this all means a great deal to ye, but surely ye can see the wrongness of it. You’ve known me for less than three hours, lass. Whatever sort of man ye think I am, I can assure you I’m not. I know the appeal of flirting with someone ye shouldn’t be, but I trust ye know in your heart of hearts that this is not going tae work for either of us.”

  “Is that what you truly believe?” she whispered, biting down hard on her bottom lip as her eyes welled with tears.

  Lucas shifted his weight from side to side, uncomfortable with the guilt the tiny droplets of moisture on her lashes made him feel. When was the last time a woman’s tears had made him want to comfort her instead of walk out the door? He couldn’t recall. “Yes,” he said gruffly. “Ye are a beautiful young woman, Annabel, and one day you’ll make a beautiful wife. But not tae me. Find yourself a right and proper nabob, have a couple of little ones, and live the life ye were meant to. We were never meant tae cross paths, lass. I am glad we did as I saved your life, but best to leave it at that.”

  She sniffled. “If that is what you truly think is best…”

  “Yes.” He nodded so quickly he felt something in his neck pop. “For sure it is.”

  “Then kiss me.” Her tears vanishing in the blink of an eye, Annabel stared up at him bold as you please.

  “Then - what?” he sputtered.

  Folding her arms behind her back, she lifted her chest as she rose up on her toes. “Kiss me,” she re
peated. “If all of this means nothing - if I mean nothing - prove it. Kiss me, then walk out the door without looking back, and I will believe we were never meant to meet.”

  “Very well,” he said gruffly. To hell with staying away from the innocents. She had dragged him into this mess, not the other way around. And now she would find out what happened when foolish little girls got too close the fire. After giving the foyer a quick glance to make certain no one was lurking in the shadows - what her bloody family was thinking leaving her alone with him for so long he hadn’t a clue - Lucas took her arms in a steady grip, lowered his head, and kissed her.

  The moment their lips touched, he knew he had made a mistake.

  This was no ordinary kiss, nor one he would be able to forget the moment it was over.

  From the instant Annabel’s mouth softened beneath his and she released a soft, breathy moan he was lost. Lost to the taste of her. Lost to the scent. The feel. The sheer intensity of it all.

  He had kissed hundreds of other women and made love to dozens more.

  All of whom had been more experienced.

  All of whom had known the unspoken rules.

  And yet for all their experience and knowledge, not a single one had touched his heart.

  Until Annabel.

  As far as kisses went, it was quite innocent. There was no thrusting of tongues or grinding of hips. Instead, he held her gently in place as he explored her mouth, taking great delight in discovering the shape of her lips and the taste of her flesh.

  Strawberries. She tasted of strawberries and sunshine and everything that was good and right in a world that had only shown him darkness and despair.

  When the kiss finally ended and he’d lifted his head, Lucas kept his eyes closed, savoring not only the moment, but the utter peace it had brought him. With Annabel in his arms and his mouth on her mouth he’d felt...weightless. Weightless and filled with possibility and hope and love and every other warm emotion he’d always thought to be too far beyond his grasp.