The Wicked Wallflowers

by Tammy Andresen

  “I would never hurt you.” He slid his fingertips along her face and then cupped her cheek with his palm. “But not all men are scrupulous. And if you found yourself alone like this with another, you’d be at his mercy.”

  Then, as if to prove his point, he bent down and captured her lips with his. No man had ever touched her this way and her knees finally gave. She didn’t fall however, his muscular arm about her waist held her to his massive chest. She spread her fingers out on his jacket, feeling the ridges and valleys of his flesh that his clothing hid. Delicious.

  He raised his lips a bit only to dip back down and press his to hers again. Harder and longer until her own breath caught, and she blazed a trail to his neck. She slid her fingers along the top of his cravat and then laced them behind his head as he kissed her again and again.

  Finally, he lifted his head, his breathing as ragged as hers. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the beat of it entwining with hers. “Do you see how easy it is to fall into a kiss like this? To lose yourself and forget that people are milling in the light just feet from where we stand?”

  She gasped, cold reality washing through her and she tried to jerk away but he held her tight. “Let me go,” she hissed. His words had both made her remember where she was and the agenda he seemed to have. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her, he was intent upon teaching her a lesson. Why was that? Why would he want to help her?

  “Hush,” he whispered close to her ear. “We’re not trying to get caught. But understand you can’t consort with rakes. They wouldn’t stop like I just did, and they wouldn’t give a fig about preserving your reputation.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “And if you do find yourself in trouble, you tell me.”

  A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed it back down. She wasn’t even sure what he meant by that, but no man had ever offered to help her if she found herself in trouble. She tightened her fingers on the back of his head. “Luke?” His given name rolled off her tongue with an intimacy she’d never imagined.

  He watched the crowd and suddenly pushed them both back into the light, spinning her so that she was no longer pressed against his front, but at his side. “If we don’t cross in front of the doors in a moment, Dryden will come looking,” he muttered, steering her, on wobbly legs, back into the room.

  She blinked in the light of the candles, her eyes adjusting but her thoughts still a jumbled mess. She’d been kissed for the first time by a surly lord who resembled a tiger. In that moment, her bones had melted, and her heart had thundered. She’d been dismantled and put back together in an entirely new way. What she didn’t know was if she’d ever be the same again.

  * * *

  Luke had made a terrible error. His pulse still raced. He’d wanted to show her how easy it was to become a man’s prey, but he was fairly certain that his plan had completely failed. Because it was him who’d fallen under her spell.

  She stumbled next to him and he resisted the urge to put an arm about her, mold her to his side, keep her safely tucked against him. Doing so would be a declaration of his intent. To publicly touch her would surely tell everyone he intended to marry her. He closed his eyes for a moment as he slowed the pace. Would it be so bad if he did proclaim Annabelle his?

  But the answer quickly followed. Actually, it would. His father, as a marquess, had married the most beautiful, intelligent woman the season had to offer. One of his weaknesses had always been vanity. And when he’d decided to marry, he’d chosen the best.

  The difficulties had begun almost immediately. He had wanted a beautiful and intelligent woman who also agreed with everything he said. His mother had resisted. And the more his father demanded, the less she gave. Their marriage became a daily battleground and once he was born, he was the field.

  Weaving through the crowd, he touched his scar again. He vividly remembered the day he’d gotten it. His parents had been fighting—ugly, screaming—and his mother had called him to the room, likely to threaten his father that they’d leave. He’d pulled a knife from his belt, the glint of it still embedded in his memories. He’d reached for his father’s arm, he’d barely been eight years old, fear making his hands numb. His father had tried to shake him off, but the knife was still in his hand. With one motion, his father had sliced open Luke’s face.

  He didn’t remember much of the next few days. He’d been stitched, developed a fever. When he’d recovered, he and his mother had returned to her family until her death three years later.

  His father had ceased fighting. He’d looked…broken as they’d left. Not that Luke had forgiven him. Anger welled up inside him still.

  He’d stayed with his mother’s family until his eighteenth birthday when he’d moved to the property given to him with his honorary title of earl. When his father had passed, he’d taken his rightful place as marquess. He’d had the room where his face had been scarred stripped and refurnished, but he still had yet to step foot between its walls.

  “My lord,” Annie said as she squeezed his arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” he answered, unable to look at her. “Why do you ask?”

  “Your arm is tight as a bow string.” Her fingers softly trailed up and down the inside of his elbow.

  How easy it would be to take this woman to wife. Kiss her senseless and pretend he didn’t know how the story ended. “I shouldn’t have done what I just did. Out in the garden.” He inwardly winced. “I only meant to show you how dangerous pursuing rakes could be but I…I crossed the line.” Perhaps his father had started with the best of intentions too.

  She gave a small nod. “It’s all right.” She stopped walking then, her voice dropping low. “I don’t plan to marry and so I’m not sorry you kissed me. It might be the only one I ever have.”

  His throat went dry. He’d expected her to rail in anger, or betrayal, or at the very least derision for his actions. But she sounded almost as though she were thanking him. “That was your first kiss?” He wanted to smack himself. Hard. Right across his bloody face.

  She nibbled at her lip as she gave her head a tentative nod, pink staining her cheeks. “I have had other interests and I…” Her voice trailed off.

  He stared at her lovely features, her creamy skin looking radiant in the candlelight as memories of those achingly sweet lips under his assaulted him. How was it the longer he knew her, the more interested he was? “I must confess that I am exceptionally curious to know what it is you’d like to do for the rest of your life if not marry.”

  Chloe waved from her seat, both she and Caroline wearing matching looks of concern. Dryden, however, did not look worried, he looked…angry. Exceptionally so. His fists clenched at his sides, his mouth pulled into a taut line.

  Luke swallowed. Very few men frightened him, but in this moment, Dryden might just have managed it. If Dryden chose to push the issue, both he and Annabelle could find themselves with very different futures than the ones they’d intended. Which would be a disaster for her if he proved to be anything like his father. Bloody bullocks. What had he gone and done?

  Chapter Eight

  Annabelle stopped short, her eyes widening. She’d had never seen Fin look so fierce. His eyes had narrowed into two slits of dark, burning anger and his body was taut like a string. “Where have you been?”

  “I…we…only went out onto the terrace,” Annabelle stuttered.

  She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but his eyes managed to shrink even smaller. “I’m not asking you, Annie. I’m asking him.”

  Luke straightened. “As Annie said, the patio.”

  “Annie?” Dryden repeated the word like an accusation, low and deep. “You and I are going to go have our own turn on the patio.”

  “Fin,” Chloe reached for her husband. “I’m sure nothing untoward—”

  Fin ignored her, an oddity in and of itself, and stepped up to Luke. “Let’s go.”

  Annabelle dropped her hand as Luke turned, heading back the way he came, Dryden following close behin
d. “Oh dear,” Annabelle said as she followed their path across the room.

  “Indeed.” Caroline had come to stand next to her.

  Chloe stepped up to her other side. “I’ve never seen Fin like that before.”

  Annabelle gnawed on her lip. “I don’t understand.”

  “He followed you out to the patio when Harding interrupted your turn with Lord Marksman.” Chloe’s hand fluttered. “Then he couldn’t find you.”

  Annabelle’s stomach dropped. “Oh dear.”

  Caroline nodded, then reached for her hand, stepping closer. “Tell me you didn’t do anything that might ruin you. I hope you learned from me.” Caroline’s voice caught. “We’re supposed to be preventing these women from being ruined by rakes, not facilitating these sorts of acts.”

  Heat radiated from her face. “I’m already ruined, Caroline. I can’t marry with my father’s situation as it is.”

  Chloe tsked. “That isn’t true. You likely won’t marry a lord without a proper dowry, but you could marry if you wanted. A merchant, a businessman, doctor, or barrister.”

  She gave an involuntary shiver. Her lack of a dowry was the shield she held up to keep people from asking too many questions but in truth, she didn’t want to marry. Unlike so many other women, she used her nom de plume to generate income for herself. She had land and she could build a small home. Caroline had an ample allowance from her mother and wanted to move in with Annabelle. Of course, her friend might change her mind, so Annabelle wanted to be prepared to support herself. “Marry a doctor? To what end?”

  Chloe blinked. “To be happy, for one. To have a family and a home.”

  She had a family. Her father. What good had that done for her? “I don’t need anyone but you, and Caroline, and Penny.” She didn’t talk about how much it hurt her that her father barely acknowledged her existence. That he hadn’t seen fit to provide even a basic future for her. Nor did she plan to ever put herself at a man’s mercy again.

  “But…” Chloe started.

  Caroline held up her hand. “Let it be. I know you are happy with Fin and we’re so happy for you, but not all of our stories are going to end like yours, Chloe.”

  Chloe let out a little huff. “Fine.” Then she drew in a deep breath. “If you’re serious about not marrying then we’ve a larger problem anyhow. We need to make sure that Fin does not have you engaged by the morning.” Her mouth twitched. “Though, I think if Lord Harding offers, you should accept.”

  Annabelle was normally quick with her words but those stopped her dead. Her mind simply wouldn’t work. Marry Harding? “Why should I accept?” She clasped her hands together.

  “He likes you,” Chloe said softly. “In fact, I believe he likes you a great deal. And perhaps you could work out some sort of arrangement like Penny did with Wes.”

  Annabelle frowned rubbing her forehead. Penny had made an arrangement where she and her husband would marry for convenience, each free after their first year of marriage to pursue their individual lives. Of course, they’d fallen in love and now couldn’t be torn apart, but that was a different story entirely. “An arrangement?” Her brain wasn’t working properly.

  “Are you all right, Annabelle?” Caroline squeezed her hand. “You’re acting very strange.”

  Her vision was a bit blurred. “I’d like to sit actually.” This was all a bit much to take. She’d had her first kiss, now her friends were trying to convince her to marry and Fin was on a warpath. “Or perhaps I need to return home. Would you fetch Fin for me?”

  Chloe started. “Of course.” Then she disappeared as Caroline pulled her back to the chairs. “Try not to worry, Annie. It will all be all right.”

  Somehow, Annabelle wasn’t so sure. She felt as though her world had tilted and it would never be the same.

  * * *

  Luke stood with his arms crossed, a mirror image of Dryden across from him as they stood in a sheltered part of the garden. “I’ve been trying to tell you. I was warning her about carousing with rakes. She seems to have this crazy notion of educating women about the pitfalls—”

  “That again?” Dryden’s arms dropped, and he fisted his hands. “They assured me they’d given up the endeavor.”

  Luke let out a small breath of relief. “I only needed to speak with her where I couldn’t be overheard. She could get herself in real trouble.” His chest tightened at the lie. He’d meant it as a lesson, but he’d taken it further.

  Dryden stepped closer. “If anyone else noticed, you’ll not slip the marriage noose this time. I’ll see to it.”

  Luke’s own fists clenched under his arms. “I’ve no intention of leaving Annie in a compromised position and I didn’t slip the noose. I’ve never even met Lady Cecilia, I wasn’t going to marry her.”

  Fin’s mouth twisted as though he doubted that were true. He brought his finger up, pointing it at Luke. “Annabelle is not a lady to be trifled with. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Very,” he answered. Dryden was correct. If he had to, he’d marry her. He’d find some way to protect her from himself.

  “Fin,” a female voice called, the high sound cutting through the night. “Fin, are you there?”

  “Here,” Dryden called back. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Annabelle,” Chloe called back, her voice catching. “She doesn’t feel well.”

  Dryden spun about, starting toward the path. “You sound worried.”

  “I am.” Chloe burst into the clearing, reaching for her husband. “She’s barely making sense and she asked to sit and then to leave. She looks dizzy and I…” Chloe stopped, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m worried. She’s so smart I forget she’s fragile. Her father could break down the strongest soul.”

  What did that mean? A rumble of dissatisfaction escaped Luke’s throat and both Chloe and Dryden looked over at him. “Explain what that means as we walk.”

  Dryden began leading his wife down the path as Luke followed. “I just mean, he barely pays attention to her. He doesn’t provide for her. He promises her things and almost always rescinds them. Now, he’s assured her that this piece of ocean property is hers but I’m afraid he’ll take it away again. I know it doesn’t sound terrible but a lifetime of that has made it so hard for Annabelle to trust.”

  He grimaced. No, she didn’t have a physical wound like he did, but he understood. The emotional scars were the ones that still hurt. “I know precisely what you mean.” Then he looked at Dryden. “Send Chloe and Caroline home. We’ll take Annabelle in my carriage.”

  Dryden gave him a fierce look over his shoulder. “No.”

  Luke forced his face to soften. “Please. I want to check on her.”

  A muscle in Dryden’s cheek twitched.

  “You’ll be with us the entire time. I’ll see you home after we drop her.” When was the last time he’d begged another man for anything? He was begging now.

  Dryden stayed silent but Chloe answered, “Go with him. It’s important.”

  Luke straightened, satisfaction making his shoulders pull back. Did he have an ally?

  Chapter Nine

  Annabelle’s head felt as though she were spinning. Was she ill? Her pulse was racing, and her breath was short as her thoughts spun in circles.

  She placed her own hand on her forehead. Was she warm? But then she remembered. Another time she’d felt just this way, when her mother had died.

  “Lady Annabelle,” Luke said close to her ear. When had he arrived?

  “I’m all right,” she choked out. “It’s just a…” She tried to focus on his face. “It’s happened before. I get frightened and then I can’t control myself.” She waved her hand. “I’m not sure what brings them on. I just get overwhelmed and…”

  “Chloe and Caroline, help her out.” Luke gently touched her arm. “I’m going to get the carriages. I’ll meet you outside.”

  She gave a shaky nod. Her panic had begun when Chloe had mentioned marriage but somehow his voice soothed her. Why was that
? “Just say one more thing to me before you go,” she replied, her eyes finally focusing on his face.

  “What?” he asked as his brows crinkled in question.

  Her shoulders relaxed. He was so strong. Solid. “Anything. I just want…” She stopped, realizing how the words sounded.

  His eyebrows went up. “You want?”

  She drew in a long breath. “To hear your voice. That’s all.”

  For a moment he stared. Then a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Change of plans. We’ll all go out together.”

  He took her hand and pulled her from her seat, tucking her fingers into his elbow. “Did I ever tell you that my father died when I was eighteen?”

  The fog in her brain cleared a bit more. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Don’t be. I hadn’t seen my father since the age of twelve.” He pulled her a touch closer and she had the urge to press against his solid warmth. “We had a terrible relationship and in some respects it was a relief when he was gone.”

  Now that she could understand. “There are good fathers. I’m sure of it,” she whispered. “But I struggle to name one.”

  He cleared his throat. “Without a good example, I wonder how men learn such skills. I’m sure I don’t have them. I believe in my duty to my title so I will marry and produce an heir. I honestly thought I’d wait until I had one foot in the grave, however.”

  Now that got her attention. Any thoughts about herself disappeared. “The grave? Why in heaven’s name would you wait until then?”

  “To spare them from me,” he rumbled. “I doubt I’d be a good father. I suspect I’ll do far less damage that way.”

  Her heart ached. She both empathized and wanted to reject his assertion. “If you treat them the way you have me, I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  He stopped and spoke with the butler, requesting their carriages be brought round. “You don’t have to make me feel better. I’ve made peace with who he was and what parts of him reside in me.” He leaned down. “But I wanted you to know that you’re not alone. That I understand what it means to have my father’s actions shape my future. And if you ever want to talk, I’m here to listen.”