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“For a man who talks so much,” she whispered, “you don’tdoa great deal.”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?” he said lightly. “Is that so?”

In an instant, he caught her around the waist, pulling her hard against him, and pressed his lips to hers.

All things considered, it was not a good kiss.

Anna had, of course, never kissed anyone before, and had no idea how things worked. She kept her lips pressed to his for a couple of seconds, hardly daring to move, and then pulled away, dropping back onto her heels, breathless.

Theodore blinked down at her. “Well,” he said, at last. “That wasn’t very good, was it?”

She felt the color rush to her face. “I did my best.”

“Hm. Well, your best must be improved, don’t you think? Here. This is how it is done.”

Before she could protest or give a sharp retort, Theodore’s long, cool fingers curled around her chin, tilting up her face, and he smoothly leaned down to kiss her.

It wasdifferentthis time.

He angled his head so that their noses didn’t bump, and the pressure was much softer. His lips were oddly soft, too, a counterpoint to the stubble on his chin. Anna remembered to close her eyes, and as the darkness closed in, her senses were overwhelmed with the feel and smell and heat of him.

Her arms were around his shoulders before she knew what she was doing, her fingers grazing the soft hair on the back of his neck. His hands were on her waist, reminiscent of the way they’d waltzed together, butthiswas different. His hands were edging up her ribcage towards the swell of her breasts, and it had never occurred to Anna that he would touch her there, but she wanted him to do it so, so very badly, and it would feel?—

Something hard bumped against the back of her legs, and the spell was broken. Anna broke away from him with a squeak of alarm, grabbing at whatever it was to steady herself.

“Careful,” Theodore said, sounding a trifle breathless. “It’s your writing desk.”

She glanced up at him, but he looked as cool and unruffled as always. No doubt Anna looked hot and flustered and entirely wanton, which wasn’t the worst idea in the world, if only…

He glanced away from her, bending to pick something up.

“You dropped a letter, I think…” He paused, frowning down at the envelope.

Anna’s heart sank as she recognized the handwriting and the message on the front. It had not fallen out of her writing desk. It had fallen out of her sleeve, which had seemed to be the safest place to leave it, far from prying eyes.

Forgive me, Anna

“Henry’s letter,” he said flatly. “Why do you have a letter from my brother up your sleeve?”

CHAPTER 9

Theodore stared down at the letter, not entirely sure why he felt so much rage building up inside him.

He’d recognize Henry’s handwriting a mile off, and this seemed to be a long letter. He had it on good authority that Anna had received a note at the church, once it became clear she’d been jilted, so it made no sense for Henry to contact her again.

What was worse, it had come at the worst possible moment. His insides were knotted up, his desire building to a fever pitch, and he’d already decided that he was going to let it all go.

It was their wedding night, after all.

As well as that, he was almost—almost—sure that Anna felt the same. Her breath was coming hard, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark.

And now here was a letter from Henry, tucked up her sleeve. Ladies did that, didn’t they? They kept precious things close to their skin. Lockets with miniatures rested on their bosoms, locks of hair were shut up in rings and worn every day, and letters were carried around, read over and over again.

“I…” Anna began, but no excuse was forthcoming.

He crumpled the letter in his fist and let it fall. Her eyes tracked it to the ground. In a moment, he thought she would dive down and snatch it up.

She did, and she seemed guilty about it.