by Darcy Burke
When she trusted herself to speak, she lowered her hand. “You haven’t lost me. And you won’t. I still love you. I will always love you.”
“Truly?” He brought his hand to the side of her neck. “I can’t imagine you loving me when I can’t really love myself. When I lost Eliza, I lost myself. I didn’t think I could be found.”
“Well, I found you. And I’m not going to let you go.”
He dragged his thumb along her jaw. “Sometimes the depth of my emotion frightens me,” he said softly. “It’s why I tried so very hard to hold myself from you, despite being pulled quite strongly toward you from the moment we met. Losing Eliza, discovering how I lost my parents… If I lost you—”
She shook her head fiercely, thrilling at his admission of the way he felt about her from the very beginning. “You won’t.”
He smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes that pressed on her heart. “I will always be afraid of losing those I love. That’s simply what happens to me.”
“You haven’t lost Selina.”
“No, but I nearly did. We were apart for almost twenty years, and that was my fault.”
She put her hands on his cheeks, holding him tenderly. “None of this is your fault. How can you even think that?”
“It’s amazing what you can get yourself to believe.”
“Then believe this: I love you, and you’re quite stuck with me.” She lifted her left hand from his face. “I have the betrothal ring to prove it.”
“I was certain you’d want to cry off,” he whispered.
“I was angry.” The edge of her mouth lifted in a wry smile. “But I really didn’t want to endure a second broken engagement because my betrothed was arrested.” She inhaled, the smile fading. “You aren’t going to be arrested, are you?”
“I don’t think so. At least not according to Harry.”
“He would know.” Anne caressed his jaw, his collarbones.
He put his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his palm heating her skin. “You had every right to be angry, particularly about Chamberlain. He’s a blackguard. I’ve had to talk myself out of having him thrashed in Newgate.”
“You could do that?”
“I know many people,” he said darkly.
“How did you meet Gilbert?”
“He came into a gaming hell I owned near Covent Garden.”
She gaped at him. “You also owned a gaming hell?”
“Two. I sold them last year.” His fingers skimmed along the rise of her hip.
“Is there anything you haven’t done?”
One side of his mouth ticked up. “I haven’t been an earl.”
“Not yet,” she said with determination. “You need a bandage. And some rest.”
“Are you inviting me to stay?”
She slipped from the bed and picked up her dressing gown from the bench at the foot. “For a while.”
“I’ll go before it’s light.”
Tying the gown closed, she went in search of something to use as a bandage, eventually finding an old petticoat in the bottom drawer of a dresser. She tore a strip of fabric from the hem and hoped it would stretch around his chest. To be sure, she ripped off a second length.
When she returned to the bed, he was under the covers, which were pulled up to his mid-abdomen. Half the rigid muscles were visible, and she licked her lips. He was so very handsome.
“Are you going to stare at me or put the bandage on?”
Exhaling, she busied herself with the task of tying the strips of cloth together and then wrapping them around his chest, taking care to cover his wound. She knotted the ends over his sternum and surveyed her work. “That should be fine, provided you don’t exert yourself.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What manner of wife will I be if I don’t look out for your welfare?” She removed her dressing gown and lay it back on the bench before sliding into the bedclothes.
Before she could reach his side, he turned and drew her back to his chest. “We will try to sleep, then.” He kissed her temple, her cheek, the spot below her ear, his breath tickling her flesh.
Anne sighed, settling back against him and reveling in the warmth of his embrace. This was all she’d ever wanted. No, it was more than that.
This was heaven.
The soft, even sound of Anne’s breathing and the silken texture of her limbs entwined with his should have been enough for Rafe to fall into a deep, restorative sleep. But he was too aware of how good she felt in his arms and of how fleeting moments like this could be.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in the fragrant softness of her hair. Nuzzling the back of her neck, he gently cupped her breast.
“It doesn’t feel like you’re trying to sleep,” she whispered.
“Just getting comfortable.”
She wiggled her backside against his erection. “Is that what this is?”
He laughed against her neck and kissed her shoulder. “I can’t help it if you’re irresistible.”
“I won’t contribute to making you bleed again.”
“You don’t have to.” He trailed his lips across her flesh as he lightly teased her nipple. “You don’t really need to move at all.”
She arched slightly when he pinched her flesh between his fingers. “Mmm. I don’t know if I can stop myself.”
“Actually, you will need to move your leg a bit.” He reluctantly released her breast and skimmed his palm down her abdomen before bringing it across her hip. “Like this.” He gripped her thigh and bent her leg at the knee. “That’s better.” He traced his fingertips along the back of her thigh and up along the curve of her backside. Dipping the pad of his forefinger into the cleft, he moved down and then forward until he found her wet sheath.
Anne’s muscles tensed, and she sucked in a breath as he pushed inside her. She lifted her leg higher, granting him easier access to her sex.
“Even better,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder with lips and tongue before nipping her flesh. He traced her clitoris with firm, circular strokes. Her hips moved, seeking his touch as she moaned softly.
“Please. Rafe.”
He speared two fingers into her and pumped several times. “Take me into you,” he whispered against her ear, moving faster.
“I want,” she panted. “I want all of you. Please.”
“If you insist.” He snagged her earlobe with his teeth as he gripped his cock and guided himself to her sex. “Arch your back a bit, my love.”
She accommodated, and he thrust up inside her, her wet heat welcoming him. He closed his eyes and moved his hand to her thigh, holding her as he rocked slowly in and out of her body.
The muscles of her back tightened against her chest, as did the ones in her leg. He could feel her working toward her orgasm and began to move faster.
He moved his hand back to her breast and thrust up deep into her, drawing a low, gravelly moan from her throat. She cast her head back, exposing her neck, and he latched onto her sweet flesh as he stroked and tugged at her breast. Her hips twitched as her sex clamped around him.
“Come for me, Anne.” He pulled on her nipple and swept into her with a persistent rhythm, his own release building as pleasure suffused him.
She cried out, turning her head into the pillow to muffle the sound as her muscles squeezed his cock. He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting as he spent himself inside her.
Several minutes later, after he’d left her body, she turned and snuggled against his side as he lay on his back, his breathing returning to normal. “That wasn’t particularly restful.”
“It was the best I could do,” he said. “I look forward to showing you just how much I can exert myself in bed.”
She cupped his cheek and drew his head toward hers so she could kiss him. “I look forward to that too, among many other things.”
“I still can’t believe you want to marry me after everything you’ve learned.” He stared into her eyes as if he could look long enough
to see that she’d changed her mind.
“You’re a good man. You’ve been a victim of tragic circumstances.”
He looked up at the ceiling, a familiar anger simmering inside him. “I don’t like being a victim. I’ve worked hard to take charge and be in control. I hate feeling helpless.”
“We all do.” She kissed his shoulder and flattened her palm on his chest. “I hated that I felt like I had to marry Gilbert. I wanted you. And I didn’t even know who you were. I regretted that anonymity pact we made more than anything.”
He heard the scorn in her voice and held her more tightly. “I do too. There are many things I regret. My association with your former betrothed is near the top of the list. Not telling you about him is right there beside it.”
“I am not without blame. I should have told you my godfather was thinking of contesting your claim. I love you both, and I wanted so badly for you to forge a relationship. He’d been a second father to me my whole life. I hoped he could be the same for you, especially after we became betrothed.”
Rafe tensed at the mention of his uncle. “Do you love him still?”
“I don’t know.” Her hand pressed down on his chest. “I don’t trust him. Nor do I like him.”
Despite everything that had gone on between them, the secrets revealed, the wrongs confessed, Rafe hesitated to tell her what he knew he must. “I’ve been reluctant to share something with you. Something that will forever change your feelings for him.”
She came up on her elbow and looked down at him. The blonde curtain of her hair fell on his shoulder and arm, the silken strands tickling his flesh. “This doesn’t sound good at all.”
“It’s not. It is perhaps the worst thing you can imagine.” He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs wouldn’t quite cooperate. Instead, his ribs shuddered, and ice coated his veins. “Selina and I visited our nurse a week ago. She was ill, on her deathbed, in fact, but she confirmed that she and her brother, the footman who worked at Stonehaven, were responsible for the fire and for ensuring that my father died. However, they were also supposed to see that I died too.”
Anne froze above him, her eyes fixed on his, her lips parted, but no breath escaped her mouth.
Rafe continued, “The nurse couldn’t bring herself to murder a child, so she took me and my sister and gave us to her brother. He brought us to London.”
“What does my godfather have to do with this?” The question was a bare whisper, a dark fear she didn’t want to voice or face, and he couldn’t blame her.
He cupped her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He paid them to start the fire and ensure my father and I died in it. He wanted my mother to live, but she refused to leave without saving my father. It may be that Mallory wanted her for himself. He’d loved her too, but she chose my father.”
Anne breathed, but shallowly. Other than that, she still didn’t move.
“Anne? I know this is too much to bear—”
“It’s insane.” She fell back onto the bed, shaking.
Did she not believe him? Rafe steeled himself, for he had no proof beyond the words of the now deceased nurse. He rose up on his hand so he could see her face. “It is true, however,” he said quietly.
Silent tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and into her hair. She opened her mouth but didn’t speak, instead just gently shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry, Anne.” He itched to wipe her tears away, but he still wasn’t sure what she was thinking. “Should I go?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “No. Why would you ask that? And don’t apologize to me. None of this is your fault—I’ll keep saying that until we are quite old and gray. But it also wasn’t the whim of fate. My God, your uncle did this?” Her voice diminished as she spoke until the last word was merely a breath.
“He did, and the worst of it is that I have no evidence.”
She pushed herself to sit up and he did the same. “What about your nurse?”
He grimaced as his frustration boiled. “She died.”
“And her brother is also dead?” At his nod, she narrowed her eyes, her features tightening with determination. “There has to be something.”
“Harry is looking. He sent someone to Stonehaven who interviewed everyone who worked on the estate when the fire happened. They recounted details that support the nurse’s story—they didn’t find my or Selina’s bodies, and the nurse and her brother, a footman, disappeared after the fire.”
“Well, that is something.”
He slumped back against the headboard. “It’s not enough. Not when Mallory has submitted a counter claim detailing my crimes and unworthiness to hold the title. It’s not as if he’s lying about that.”
“Perhaps not, but he is lying. And I’m going to prove it. He trusts me. I’ll get him to confess.”
Rafe sat up straight and clasped her shoulders. “Absolutely not. He’s a dangerous man. If he doesn’t personally commit murder, he is not above hiring it to be done.”
“He’s not going to murder me,” she said with a certainty he would never possess. “But maybe he’d murder you. He meant to when you were, God, five?” Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes once more.
Rafe put his arms around her and drew her against him. “Shhh. That was a lifetime ago. I’m here. I’m alive.”
She hugged him back fiercely, squeezing him so that he could barely breathe, and he did not care in the slightest. “And I need you to stay that way.” Pulling back, she tucked her wild curls behind her ears. “We need a plan. Tomorrow is the ball at Brixton Park. I can arrange to go with my godfather and—”
He took her hands. “Absolutely not. If you’re going to try to get him to confess, you need witnesses. In any case, you will not be alone with him. Ever. Do you understand?”
“I understand. But you can’t be there, at least not with me. I have to convince him that I’m ending our betrothal and that I hate you now, that he was right.” She made a face. “I will have to work very hard not to toss up my accounts saying that.”
“Please, Anne, you don’t need to do this. I won’t put you in danger.”
“We’ll plan everything perfectly.” She looked away from him, her mind clearly working. “We’ll need Harry and Anthony, perhaps Rockbourne too.”
“You’ve already come up with a scheme.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “Perhaps. Or at least the beginning of one.”
He thrust his hands into her hair and pulled her to him for a long, searing kiss. “I never imagined I would love someone again. I never wanted to.”
Her answering smile was bright and wonderful, and it filled all the darkest crevasses in Rafe’s heart. “I’m glad you let down your guard and decided to let me in.”
“Just promise you won’t leave me.” He couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.
“I promise.” She kissed him again, and it was as if he stood in the sun, eyes closed as delicious warmth bathed his soul.
He loved her optimism, her determination, her absolute ferocity to protect and care for those she loved. If anything happened to her as a result of this scheme, there would be nowhere Ludlow Mallory could hide that would keep him safe.
Chapter 17
The summer night was warm and perfect. The moon was up, and the stars were growing brighter by the moment in a nearly dark sky. The scent of roses, honeysuckle, and fresh-cut grass filled the air. The sounds of the ball carried on the faint breeze: laughter, conversation, and the music emanating from the ballroom, though most everyone was outside, either in Brixton Park’s famed maze or the surrounding area. It felt like a pleasure garden such as Vauxhall, not a private estate hosting perhaps the last large ball of the Season.
Despite all that, Anne stood near the maze with Jane and Anthony and felt none of the giddy excitement such an evening should herald. Instead, she was a bundle of apprehension as she went over their plan in her mind for the hundredth time and prayed nothing would go wrong.
If things went aw
ry, it certainly wouldn’t be because they hadn’t thoroughly prepared. Or that they didn’t have enough help. In addition to Anne and Rafe, their extended families were also part of the scheme—Jane and Anthony, Selina and Harry, Beatrix and Thomas. Even Harry’s brother, North.
“Have you seen him yet?” Jane asked, surveying the crowd. They’d arrived nearly an hour ago and had spent time speaking with the hosts, the Marquess and Marchioness of Ripley, as well as several other friends.
“Rafe or my godfather?” Anne hadn’t seen either despite looking desperately for them both. Ludlow, because finding him and luring him inside was the start of the plan. And Rafe because, well, she wanted to see him.
No, she needed to. Seeing him would give her all the courage she needed. Not that she was afraid. She was angry. And ready to ensure her godfather paid for his crimes.
“Mallory,” Jane answered.
“No, I haven’t.” She’d assumed Rafe would be easy to spot, given the fact that he towered over most people. A tall, blond gentleman several yards away caught her eye. Anne took a step forward. “Is that Rafe?”
Jane clasped her arm. “You’re not supposed to speak with him. In fact, if you come into contact with him, you must give him the cut direct. You’ve a role to play for your godfather.”
“I know.” And for that reason, she must not cross Rafe’s path, for she really didn’t want to give him the cut direct, even if it was only pretend.
Anthony leaned toward them. “Here comes Mallory.” No one in their tight circle referred to him as Stone or the earl anymore. He was Ludlow or Mallory or, perhaps most often, that blackguard.
A rush of anticipation—and not the good kind—swept through Anne. She straightened her shoulders and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see the fury beneath her lies.
Jane gave Anne’s hand a quick squeeze before edging closer to Anthony on her other side.
Ludlow smiled as he approached. “Good evening, my dear Anne. Jane. Colton.” He inclined his head toward Anthony who greeted him with a clipped “Stone.”
