His life hadn’t been destroyed. But hers had. All because of his childish joke.
Although she could hide her body beneath the water, she couldn’t hide the dark humiliation gathering on her face like storm clouds or the agonizing mix of anger and utter wretchedness swelling up inside her at the reminder of what he’d done to her all those years ago. The same cruel joke that might yet cost her Glenarvon.
From the puzzled expression in Quinn’s eyes, he noted the sudden change in her but didn’t yet realize the full implication of what he’d said, and she didn’t dare speak past the tight knot in her throat to explain for fear she might cry. Because she would never allow herself to cry in front of him, never allow him to see how much his teasing had hurt her.
“Belle, are you— Oh Christ.” He lowered the dress to the grass as the stupidity of what he’d so thoughtlessly said sank over him, and his grin faded. His eyes softened apologetically. “I’m sorry…It was so long ago that I’d forgotten all about it.”
But she hadn’t, and doubted she ever would.
“Here.” He placed the dress back onto its neat pile where she’d left it and rose to his full height, then turned his back to her and walked off a few paces to give her privacy. “Come out whenever you’re ready.”
* * *
With his back turned and his eyes focused on the darkening shadows painted across the countryside by the fading sunset, Quinn heard the soft splash of water behind him as Belle moved quickly toward the bank.
He smiled. Annabelle Greene. Quick-tempered, defensive, serious…exactly as he remembered. Easy to excite and irritate. And a helluva lot of fun to torment.
When they were children, he’d loved to spend his time thinking up ways to goad her to frustration. After all, she’d been an easy target. As a bluestocking whose nose was forever pressed into one book or another, she was always painfully proper and prim even as a child, impossibly shy, and never let herself have any real fun. So he’d nicknamed her Bluebell, a combination of her name and bluestocking, just to antagonize her. The name stuck.
“Are you all right?” he called out over his shoulder as he heard her emerge from the water, partially turning his head. Then he added, just to taunt her, “Bluebell.” He couldn’t say what it was about her that fueled his puckish side, but Quinn enjoyed taunting her, far more than he should.
“I-I’m fine!”
He heard her teeth chatter when she answered, and fleeting guilt stabbed him for keeping her in the cold water just because teasing her amused him. Or perhaps her answer was forced out between clenched teeth in anger at the use of her nickname. That would certainly be the Annabelle he knew.
Good Lord, had it really been six years since he’d seen her?
The last time had been in London when she was starting her first season. As a young lady not quite grown into womanhood, she’d been at that age when her curves were just beginning to blossom and soften. The stick-with-ears she’d been all her life had suddenly grown into her long legs and big honey-hazel eyes, her previous gawkiness turning graceful and her shyness mellowing into a natural demureness that other ladies only pretended to possess. The Bluebell had suddenly turned interesting, even to the jaded buck he’d already become.
And then, somehow, without quite knowing how it happened…he’d kissed her.
Even now, after all these years and countless intimate encounters with experienced ladies, he remembered that innocent kiss. All fumbles and eager awkwardness, hidden from sight beneath the rose bower at St James House in the middle of the countess’s annual ball. He couldn’t remember what possessed him to go into the shadows with her, or what exactly led to having his arms around her, his mouth on hers, her willing body pressed hard against his. But he remembered the sweet tang of honey on her lips, the wild scent of heather that clung to her skin, the pliant softness of her curves…the utter confusion that gripped him afterward.
She was the Bluebell, for God’s sake. Aunt Agatha’s companion. Innocent and inexperienced. And wholly intriguing for all of it. She’d left him wanting to steal away with her again.
Until his brothers ruined everything, including the rest of his London season.
He’d foolishly confided in Robert, who thought it hilarious that he’d kissed a bluestocking. So hilarious, in fact, that Robert devised a practical joke to drop a bucket of blue paint over his head when he went to meet Annabelle in the library of Ainsley House. But Belle arrived first. By the time Quinn entered, she was already gone, with only a puddle of paint and a very red-faced, blue-handed octogenarian book buyer left behind, surrounded by a gaggle of society ladies all snickering behind their flitting fans as if something more than book buying had been going on.
Of course, it hadn’t. Belle would never…but it was exactly the kind of incident that the busybody gossips of the ton loved to seize on and cruelly spread. Especially to someone like Annabelle, who had never been accepted into their ranks in the first place.
In the aftermath, Annabelle and Aunt Agatha suddenly left London, putting an abrupt end to her season. And Quinn pummeled Robert, which made their parents send both of them immediately back to Chestnut Hill.
Six years had passed, and he hadn’t seen her since. Although based upon the barbs they’d just exchanged, she hadn’t changed. And oddly enough, he was more relieved than he wanted to admit that she hadn’t.
He offered affably, unable to stop himself, “Need any help with your stockings?”
“Just stay right where you are!”
“But I’m very good with ladies’ stockings.”
“Oh,” she muttered beneath her breath, “I’m certain you are.”
He chuckled. Same old Annabelle, all right.
It was good to know that some things hadn’t changed, especially when everything else in his life was turning on end. Including the unexpected invitation to visit Glenarvon, which had nearly knocked him flat. So did its implications. Because Aunt Agatha had implied in her letter that she had financial matters to settle, which only boded well for him.
To say his prospects as a third son were limited was a grand understatement. Oh, certainly he’d proven himself successful in managing the family’s estate, assisting Sebastian after he’d inherited when their father died so unexpectedly. More successful, in fact, than anyone who knew of his wild reputation would ever have imagined. In just two years, he’d increased profits by over fifteen percent.
But it was Sebastian’s estate, not his. Proving himself on his own merits meant that he had to find another path for himself, where being the brother of the Duke of Trent meant nothing, where his own capabilities decided his success. He also knew he wasn’t the church or military type, neither desiring to end men’s lives nor save their souls.
So he’d set his sights on America. Several thousand acres already awaited him with a land broker in Charleston, where he planned to create not only his own American estate but also a trade business. He had ten thousand pounds in savings and a decent allowance that would see him settled into a fine living there for himself. An allowance that Sebastian kept threatening to take away if he didn’t start to behave, although Quinn knew the threat was empty, especially since Sebastian was now happily married and…well, happy. It was hard to fear a growling dog when the animal had lost its bite.
But he had only twelve weeks to make his way to Charleston before the contract was voided and the land went to another buyer. Given that deadline, this trip to the borderlands wasn’t convenient, but he wasn’t too proud to pass up any additional blunt he could get his hands on.
Of course, he also knew that the visit to Glenarvon included seeing Annabelle Greene and that they hadn’t parted under the best of circumstances. But he’d assumed that they’d been good enough friends once that they could tolerate each other for a few days before he rode on to the coast. Then his new life would begin. And not a moment too soon.
“Quinton! You got dirt in my stockings!”
He rolled his eyes at her angry grum
ble and grinned. Yep. Exactly the Bluebell he remembered.
Unless…
How much exactly had the Bluebell changed during the past six years?
The temptation to satisfy his curiosity about her was too great to ignore. And who could really fault him for taking a quick glance? After all, any man would be curious about a woman he hadn’t seen since she was eighteen, since the night she let him kiss her beneath a rose bower and stole his breath away. A now naked woman standing right behind him…
“And grass all over my dress.”
The last time he’d seen her she’d been on the cusp of womanhood. Would she be the same gangly girl he remembered? Would she still be nothing but skin and bones, sharp angles, and big feet? Fate would undoubtedly make him pay for this, but he couldn’t help himself—
He glanced over his shoulder.
His breath hitched in his throat when he caught sight of her in the fading golden-purple sunset, all curvy naked and dripping wet, her body half turned toward him as she hurried into her clothes. Sweet Lucifer. Full breasts with dusky-pink nipples drawn taut from the cold water, round hips and long legs that stretched all the way up from her toes to her…Well. She’d certainly grown into her feet, all right, along with the rest of her.
He swallowed. Hard. No, not a single sign left of the stick-with-ears.
The Bluebell had become a woman.
And God help him, he wasn’t prepared for that, or for the visceral reaction in his tightening gut. Good Lord, for the Bluebell. And when she turned to drop her shift over her head, unknowingly teasing him with another angle of her ripe body, the new view was just as breathtaking.
He was wrong. Fate wasn’t making him simply pay for this stolen glimpse of her. Fate had just punched him in the gut for it.
He turned around before she caught him drooling after her like some green pup. Clenched at his sides, his hands trembled, and he inhaled deep, slow breaths to steady himself.
Well, things had certainly changed in the past six years. In all kinds of new and interesting ways.
Coming to Glenarvon was proving to be a grand idea.
“Just one moment more,” she called out. “I can’t quite reach…”
More fabric rustled behind him, and Quinn imagined her lissome body twisting to reach to fasten up her dress, her breasts straining tantalizingly against her low-cut bodice as her back arched. One long leg half exposed by a raised skirt revealing the lacy edge of her stocking, which he could slowly roll down her thigh and follow along in its wake with his mouth—
“I’m almost through.”
Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried not to think of how round and full her derriere was as she bent over to slip on her half-boots. He blew out a harsh breath of aggravation that she of all women could elicit such a response from him that even now his cock tingled.
“Hurry up, will you?” he prodded irritably. Because he wasn’t certain how much longer he could stand there, not looking.
“There,” she announced. “I’m dressed.”
Thank God. He turned.
And froze beneath the full force of her smile.
Sweet and genuinely enchanting—and far more beguiling than he remembered—Belle gazed up at him through long, lowered lashes. In her sprigged muslin dress, with her damp, caramel-brown hair now pinned into place, she looked perfectly proper, as if she hadn’t just been caught swimming naked. She barely came up to his shoulder, yet packed the punch of an Amazon with her quiet allure and natural grace. Gone was her insecurity, replaced by a shining confidence he remembered seeing in her only once before, right as she’d wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him.
And that surprised him nearly as much as seeing her naked.
“It’s good to see you again, Quinton,” she admitted quietly.
She held her hand out to him, and he caught the scent of heather wafting on the air. The same wild, floral scent he remembered from six years ago.
“Welcome to Castle Glenarvon. I’m so very glad you’re here.” Her cheeks pinked delicately, and the tingle in his cock turned into an ache that swirled up his spine as she added, “So much more than you know.”
About the Author
Anna fell in love with historical romances—and all those dashing Regency heroes—while living in London, where she studied literature and theater. She loves to travel, fly airplanes, and hike, and when she isn’t busy writing her next novel, she loves fussing over her roses in her garden.
You can learn more at:
www.AnnaHarringtonBooks.com
Twitter at @AHarrington2875
http://facebook.com/annaharrington.regencywriter
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www.annaharringtonbooks.com
Also by Anna Harrington
Dukes Are Forever
Along Came a Rogue
How I Married a Marquess
Praise for Anna Harrington’s Novels
HOW I MARRIED A MARQUESS
“Had me practically drooling with anticipation from one page to the next…The characters are fabulously crafted and gloriously complicated…the author balances the dark with a light, witty humor and a sexual tension that adds sizzle to every scene…How I Married a Marquess is intense, satisfying, and cleverly unpredictable. Consider me a freshly minted fan of Harrington’s style of happy ever after.”
—USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog
“The Secret Life of Scoundrels comes to a rousing conclusion as Harrington delights the readers with the charming characters, fast pace and unique story. This talented writer crafts romances that captivate, touching readers’ hearts while bringing smiles to their lips.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Extremely entertaining…I enjoyed this well-written tale.”
—RomRevToday.com
ALONG CAME A ROGUE
“Harrington creates fast-paced, lively romances with unconventional characters and plot. For her second novel, she adds heated sensuality and a gothic twist. There is little doubt that she is fast becoming a fan favorite.”
—RT Book Reviews
“In this thoroughly entertaining story, seduction and adventure take center stage. Nathaniel is far more honorable than he will admit, and Emily far braver than she ever imagined. Together, they form a formidable pair that readers are certain to love.”
—BookPage
“Harrington has created a richly woven novel, complete with romance, a touch of mystery, and wounded, believable characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A fast-paced, high-action thrill ride punctuated by hot and sexy games.”
—FreshFiction.com
DUKES ARE FOREVER
“A touching and tempestuous romance, with all the ingredients Regency fans adore.”
—Gaelen Foley, New York Times bestselling author
“Harrington’s emotionally gripping Regency-era debut, which launches the Secret Life of Scoundrels series, is ripe with drama and sizzling romance…The complex relationship between Edward and Katherine is intense and skillfully written, complete with plenty of romantic angst that propels the novel swiftly forward. This new author is definitely one to watch.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“As steamy as it is sweet as it is luscious. My favorite kind of historical!”
—Grace Burrowes, New York Times
bestselling author
“Pits strong-willed characters against one another, and as the sparks ignite, passion is sure to follow. There is a depth of emotion that will leave readers breathless. The pages fly.”
—RT Book Reviews
Fall in Love with Forever Romance
STARLIGHT BRIDGE
By Debbie Mason
Hidden in Graystone Manor is a book containing all the dark little secrets of Harmony Harbor…including Ava DiRossi’s. No one—especially her ex-husband, Griffin Gallagher—can ever disco
ver the truth about what tore their life apart years ago. Only now Griffin is back in town. Still handsome. Still hating her for leaving him. And still not aware that Ava never stopped loving him…
HOMETOWN COWBOY
By Sara Richardson
In the New York Times bestselling tradition of Jennifer Ryan and Maisey Yates comes the first book in Sara Richardson’s Rocky Mountain Riders series featuring three bull-riding brothers. What would a big-time rodeo star like Lance Cortez see in Jessa Mae Love, a small-town veterinarian who wears glasses? Turns out, plenty.
THE BASTARD BILLIONAIRE
By Jessica Lemmon
Since returning from the war, Eli Crane has shut everybody out. That is, until Isabella Sawyer starts as his personal assistant with her sassy attitude and her curves for days. But will the secret she hides shatter the fragile trust they’ve built? Fans of Jill Shalvis and Jennifer Probst will love Jessica Lemmon’s Billionaire Bad Boys series.
CHAIN REACTION
By Tara Wyatt
Alexa Fairfax is practically Hollywood royalty, but after she discovers a plot more deadly than any movie script, Alexa desperately needs a bodyguard. So she accepts the help of Zack De Luca, a true friend with a protective nature—and chiseled muscles to back it up. Zack is training to be an MMA fighter, but his biggest battle will be to resist his feelings for the woman who is way out of his league…
If the Duke Demands Page 31
