Only Mine

by Cheryl Holt

  He’d been frantic all day, worried about her and terrified over why she’d run off. He still hadn’t learned where she lived. If she got it in her crazed female head to sneak off and never return, how would he locate her?

  The idea that she could vanish forever was disturbing in ways it shouldn’t be. As she’d bitterly mentioned, he was about to wed Veronica, and he wouldn’t cry off from that decision. So what about Annabel?

  He was starting to suspect he might be in love with her. Was that it? Well, if it was, it was a hell of a time for it to occur. He was utterly besotted, almost obsessed and so physically attracted he feared he might ignite the whole Earth with his searing desire.

  “I can’t do this with you again,” she said.

  “Hush, Annabel.”

  “We’re courting disaster.”

  “I could never view a single minute with you to be a disaster.”

  “You’re simply enthralled by me because you can’t have me. You’re rich and spoiled, and you’re aggravated that I can’t be yours.”

  “It’s much more than that.”

  “What is it then?” she asked. “Explain it to me.”

  “I told you. You make me happy.”

  “It will kill me when we part.”

  “Then we won’t part.”

  “Am I to hang about on the fringe of your life as your paramour?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how long, Benjamin?”

  “Until we’re sick of each other.”

  “I can’t do that!” she complained.

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I love you,” she suddenly said.

  On hearing her declaration, his heart actually lurched in his chest.

  I love you too!

  The vehement message rang through his head, but he couldn’t speak the words aloud. So what if he loved her? Why announce it? Heightened emotion would merely ensure matters were more complex between them.

  “I’m lucky then,” he murmured instead.

  She didn’t weep or beg him to reply with similar sentiment. She simply said, “That’s how pathetic I am, and it’s why I left Lyndon Hall. I love you, and it doesn’t change anything.”

  “What would you like it to change?”

  “I want you for my own!”

  “I’d marry you if I could, Annabel.” Would he? The prospect produced a wave of delirious joy.

  “You would not,” she scoffed. “Don’t pretend. I’m so far beneath you I’m surprised you can see me.”

  “I would marry you,” he insisted. “Truly, but I can’t because I’m bound to someone else, and you understand what kind of man I am. I won’t cry off. I can’t.”

  “I know. It’s just that I’ve never craved much in this world. I’ve never demanded things or pined for things. I learned at a young age that it only brought disappointment.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “This one lousy occasion I allowed myself to dream, even though I shouldn’t have. I’m sick with regret.”

  He couldn’t bear her distress, not when it was impossible to fix the dilemma. He wished he could give her what she sought. He wished he could wed her, but it was the one gift he wasn’t free to bestow.

  He had no idea how to maneuver himself through the verbal maze where they were trapped. He needed to show her how much she meant to him. His days with her were growing very short, minutes ticking to a close. He couldn’t guess how many more times they could be together, but he didn’t suppose it would be nearly as many as he was hoping. He had to take advantage of each waning opportunity.

  He began kissing her again, and she joined in with a desperate yearning. She’d been attired for traveling, eager to sneak away before he could prevent her, and he started undressing her—jacket, gown, shoes, stockings, corset, chemise, drawers. He was delighted she was wearing so many pieces of clothing. It provided him with plenty of chances to tease and torment, to ooh and ah over how pretty she was, over how much she pleased him.

  Once he had her naked, he stripped off his shirt and lay down again, their bare chests connected, her lush breasts urging him to hurry, to finish it.

  Yet he was in no rush. He wanted the clock to slow and stop. He wanted to dawdle incessantly so the encounter would last forever.

  As he widened her thighs, as he centered himself, she said, “Be careful with me.”

  “Always, Annabel.”

  “With my heart, Benjamin, but with me too. Don’t plant a babe.”

  “No, I won’t. I swear.”

  But an impulse swept over him, one that was almost feral in its intensity. He was wildly anxious to sire a child on her. It was crazed and reckless, but when he shut his eyes, he could envision them ensconced in a cozy cottage in the country, his front parlor filled with little girls who looked just like her.

  Or perhaps it would be boys who looked just like him, boys who were imperious and proud and commanding.

  He entered her, his cock easily finding its way home, and they sighed in unison, a feeling of rightness and satisfaction rocking them both. He drove her up the ladder of pleasure, kissing her, caressing her, proving with his hands and body what he couldn’t force himself to admit aloud.

  He loved her very much and predicted he always would.

  Her passion crested, and he let his flare too, his seed shooting from his loins, and though he’d vowed to be careful, he wasn’t. For a fleeting moment, he had to wonder if he wasn’t deliberately trying to ensnare her. If he got her with child, she could never leave him. She could never be completely free.

  He flexed to the end then collapsed onto her, their respiration and pulses gradually returning to a sane level.

  “You’re a cad, Benjamin Grey,” she said when they could speak again.

  “I know.”

  “Is it your plan to trap me?”

  “Maybe,” he confessed, and he grinned. “I think I might do anything to keep you with me.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly demonstrated that I’m an idiot and a fool, and the disgusting part is that I’m not even upset with you.”

  “You have to be mine—in whatever manner I can make it occur.”

  “You’re mad, but so am I.”

  “We’ll head to Bedlam together. We’ll share a room there.”

  He rolled onto his side, and he rolled her too so he was snuggled to her back. He grabbed the quilt and pulled it over them, nestling them in a warm cocoon.

  They were quiet for an eternity then she miserably muttered, “I love you. I still love you.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What if I never stop?”

  “I wouldn’t deem it a bad thing.”

  “You wouldn’t.” She shuddered, as if with dread. “What will happen now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just tell me we can have a good ending. You don’t have to mean it, but tell me so I’m not quite so scared.”

  “You don’t have to ever be scared. Not when you’re with me.”

  “You obviously believe that, but I’m terrified.”

  He kissed her shoulder. “It will be fine, Annabel.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes, I promise,” he replied, although he didn’t see how it could be.

  “Then I’ll choose to trust you,” she said. “I shouldn’t, but I will.”

  She dozed off, and he held her, taking stock of every tiny detail so he would never forget. There was a poignant intimacy in the air, and he didn’t want it to ever fade.

  Eventually, he dozed too, but his mind was whirring, trying to figure out a path for them. He couldn’t locate it, but he’d promised her it would be all right.

  He’d make it all right if it killed him.

  MICHAEL ENTERED HIS SUITE at Grey Manor. It had been a lengthy night in London, and he’d relished most of it. He probably should have stayed there and reveled until morning, but when he and Wesley had left the ball, they’d wound up with Veronica and her friends with al
l of them heading to the theater.

  Veronica had flashed such beseeching looks at him that he’d decided to leave. Plus, he’d been anxious to check on Annabel to be sure she’d arrived back at Grey Manor safe and sound after her excursion with Captain Grey.

  He felt responsible for his sister, and he didn’t like Captain Grey at all. The man was a libertine, and while Annabel was usually shrewd and discerning, Michael didn’t suppose any young lady could ward him off for long.

  Dawn was approaching, and he was exhausted. He would sleep for a few hours then initiate a card game. The whole purpose of his attending the party had been to win money from Wesley’s rich guests, but with all his trips to London to flirt with Veronica he’d barely gambled. That situation had to be rectified immediately.

  He removed his coat and tossed it on a nearby chair then he walked into the bedchamber, eager to fall into bed. But he quickly staggered to a halt.

  Annabel and Captain Grey were peacefully slumbering, entwined in each other’s arms, and they were undressed, providing stark evidence that slumber hadn’t been the sole reason for their being under the blankets.

  Dammit!

  He’d been worried this might transpire, and while he’d initially pushed her to consider an affair and what they could gain from it, now that it had begun he was wishing it hadn’t.

  He didn’t want to spend more time with the Grey brothers. Wesley didn’t have any money, and the Captain was too shrewd to be tricked in a con. Then there was the problem with Veronica. She’d turned out to be a flighty nuisance he couldn’t abide. So they needed to vanish, but Annabel had thrown a wrench into his plans.

  She’d succumbed to Captain Grey, but she was the most remarkable woman the Captain would ever meet, and her affection could never be enjoyed for free. Captain Grey would have to pay for his pleasure, and Michael would see that he paid plenty.

  He spun and tiptoed out.

  R. BOSWELL.”

  Michael Fenwick must have forgotten he was concealing his identity and using a fake surname. On being summoned by Benjamin, he continued down the hall, not remembering to play his part.

  Benjamin rolled his eyes in exasperation and hailed him again. “Mr. Boswell! If I might have a moment of your time?”

  The boy whipped around. With his discovering Benjamin in the hall, one might have assumed he’d appear nervous or cowed. But he glared back at Benjamin as if they were equals, as if Benjamin could never rattle him.

  Benjamin hated it when his power to intimidate was wasted.

  Fenwick was twenty-two, as was Wesley, but there was nothing about the pair that indicated they were the same age. Fenwick oozed a glamour and maturity Wesley could never acquire if he had a hundred years to practice.

  Wesley had been coddled by their mother and was a weaker sort of person by nature, and Benjamin figured it was why Michael Fenwick had glommed onto Wesley. Fenwick likely looked at Wesley and saw an easy mark, and Benjamin wasn’t certain what he should do about it.

  He’d told Wesley to send Fenwick packing, and he obviously hadn’t. If Benjamin intervened, he’d wind up quarreling with Annabel.

  He suspected that the better plan might be to call Fenwick’s bluff, to inform him Benjamin knew he was up to no good and that he should immediately end whatever scheme he was pursuing with Wesley. He had no idea if it would work. Fenwick was the type of individual who acted however he pleased—just like his sister—but Benjamin had to try.

  “What did you need, Captain Grey?”

  “We’ll talk in my library.”

  Benjamin spun and walked to the ostentatious room, and he plopped down in the chair behind the desk. He was an army officer so he was adept at bullying younger men into behaving as he demanded, but he predicted Michael Fenwick would be a tougher nut to crack.

  If naught else was gained from the exchange, perhaps he could quiz Fenwick about their childhood and thus glean details about Annabel’s past.

  Proud as a peacock, Fenwick strutted in. He was handsome and flamboyant and dressed like a bloody prince. Where had he come by his character traits?

  He marched over and pulled up a chair, and he studied Benjamin, his confidence and insolence making Benjamin eager to whack him alongside the head and order him not to be impertinent.

  “How about if you start, Captain?” Fenwick said. “I’ll go second.”

  Benjamin was taken aback by the overture. “What?”

  “You tell me what you have to say, and I’ll listen to you. Then I’ll tell you what I have to say, and you’ll listen to me.”

  “You’re cocky. I’ll give you that.”

  “I was born cocky.”

  “Is it an inherited trait?”

  “Most definitely. From my father.”

  “Who was your father?”

  “Cecil Fenwick.”

  He didn’t recognize the name, and with Annabel being so secretive about her antecedents, he’d thought the man must have been a notorious fiend.

  “If your father was a Fenwick,” Benjamin said, “and your sister is a Fenwick, why are you parading around my home proclaiming yourself to be Mr. Boswell?”

  He’d presumed Fenwick would dissemble, but he shrugged and grinned. “I was intending to scam your brother out of his money, but he doesn’t have any.”

  “You admit it?”

  “Yes, and you look surprised that I have. Would you rather I lied about it?”

  “No, but I didn’t expect you to blurt it out. I was prepared to drag it out of you.”

  “The game seems to be up so there’s no reason to pretend, is there?”

  “No. I’ve told Wesley that I want him to sever his acquaintance with you.”

  “He’s an adult, Captain, not a child, and he doesn’t like you very much. Do you suppose he’ll heed you?”

  A muscle ticked in Benjamin’s cheek, his urge to clout Fenwick growing by leaps and bounds. He was as sassy and brash as his sister.

  “Why use Boswell?” Benjamin asked. “It’s your sister Lydia’s married name.”

  “Yes, and I chose it as a joke. If she or her father-in-law discovered I was calling myself Boswell, they’d both drop dead of apoplexies. I’d kill two despicable birds with one stone.”

  He was cool and poised, his gaze clear, his composure unflappable, and Benjamin found himself disconcerted and amazed.

  “Why set your sights on Wesley?” he asked. “What made you select him?”

  “He’s lonely and unhappy. He’s very naïve too so it was easy to befriend him. He doesn’t think badly of anyone. It would never have occurred to him that I might have ulterior motives.”

  “No, I don’t imagine it would.”

  Benjamin drummed his fingers on the desktop. He’d wanted to rattle Fenwick, to scare him a bit, but it was impossible to perturb him.

  “What should I do with you, Fenwick?” he inquired.

  “Why must you do anything? Your party will continue for another few days. I’ll wager, win some money from your wealthy guests, then I’ll leave.”

  “You won’t see Wesley again?”

  “I can’t promise that. I live in London, and we’ll probably cross paths there. I won’t deliberately seek him out, if that’s what’s worrying you, but I won’t avoid him if I bump into him on the street.”

  “I could forbid you to speak to him.”

  “Then I’ll simply inform him that you shooed me away, and he’ll be more inclined to socialize with me. As I mentioned, he doesn’t like you very much.”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.”

  “I like Wesley,” Fenwick claimed. “He’s a tad juvenile on occasion, but I like him. He could benefit from having a man like me watching his back.”

  Benjamin scoffed. “So long as you don’t pick his pocket while you’re standing behind him. How did you and your sister become the people you are? Where did you learn your dastardly habits?”

  “Our father taught us.”

  “What was his position
in the world?”

  “He was an actor, gambler, confidence artist, and lover of women everywhere.”

  Benjamin nearly choked. “A confidence artist?”

  “Yes.”

  “You sister told me he passed away recently.”

  “It’s been six months now.”

  “How did he die?”

  “In a duel—over a trollop.” Fenwick raised a caustic brow. “She wasn’t worth it either. Annabel is still grieving.”

  “You all had different mothers.”

  “My father was a veritable Romeo, Captain. He never met a girl he didn’t try to seduce.”

  “Lydia’s mother was...?”

  “A vicar’s daughter with a small dowry.”

  “And yours?”

  “A beautiful, brazen actress.”

  “And Annabel’s?”

  Fenwick smiled a sly smile. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  “She doesn’t like to talk about her relatives on the other side of her family.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  Fenwick assessed him so thoroughly that he couldn’t decide if the next comment would be the truth or a lie. The bounder was mesmerizingly smooth, like a carnival barker whose silky voice lured customers to part with their hard-earned coins.

  “Her grandfather is Lord Roxbury,” Fenwick said. “Or was. The bastard is dead now.”

  Benjamin blanched. “The Bramwells? I know them. I went to school with Aiden.”

  “Yes. He’s Annabel’s first cousin.”

  “Her mother was one of the old earl’s daughters?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re full of yourself, Fenwick, and you spin an excellent tale, but I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “Why wouldn’t you? The blasted girl met my father and eloped with him a week later for which she was promptly disowned and disinherited.”

  “Why do I suspect it was not a love match?” Benjamin sarcastically said.

  “I can’t guess if my father loved her or not. I think he loved the idea of her having a lot of money, but of course after she shackled herself to him the money evaporated. Rich people are so stingy that way.”