Page 35

“ M iss Lytton?” The young maid’s voice was barely above a whisper as she approached Annabelle’s writing desk. “This was left for you.”

Annabelle looked up from her half-finished letter to Emma and accepted the folded parchment with curiosity. The paper bore no external markings, no indication of its sender, though the quality of the stationery spoke of wealth and refinement.

“Who delivered this?” she inquired, already dreading the answer even as her fingers traced the expensive paper.

“A gentleman’s man, Miss. Said it was urgent.” The maid bobbed a quick curtsy before retreating, leaving Annabelle alone with the mysterious correspondence.

Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the note, though she could not say whether from anticipation or apprehension. The handwriting was unmistakable—the same bold, short strokes that seemed to command attention even from the page.

Meet me in the conservatory. Midnight. —H.

“Where does this man get the audacity ?” Annabelle breathed, though her pulse quickened traitorously at the sight of that single initial.

She crumpled the note between her palms.

To summon her like this, to assume she would simply comply with his imperious demand when she had spent the better part of a week avoiding him precisely because she could not trust herself around him was inconceivable.

The memory of his mouth on hers, of his hands worshipping her body with such consuming hunger, sent heat pooling low in her belly despite her best efforts to ignore it.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed eleven-thirty, and Annabelle found herself rising from her chair as though drawn by invisible strings. She told herself she would go merely to end this ridiculous charade and to inform His Grace that she would not be commanded.

The conservatory stood bathed in moonlight, its glass walls creating a cathedral of shadows and silver illumination.

Annabelle pushed open the door with trembling fingers and stepped into the humid warmth that smelled of jasmine and night-blooming flowers.

“You came.”

His voice emerged from the shadows near the fountain, low and satisfied in a way that made her spine stiffen with automatic defiance. Henry stepped into the moonlight. His usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled, and his dark hair caught the silvery light.

“Only to tell you that this behavior is absolutely ridiculous,” Annabelle declared, lifting the note to his view. “What if someone sees us? What if?—”

“I came through the back entrance,” Henry interrupted, moving closer with that predatory grace she had come to recognize. “The staff have been compensated handsomely for their discretion.”

“You bribed the servants?” Annabelle’s indignation flared higher. “The sheer presumption?—”

“I ensured their loyalty,” he corrected, his eyes never leaving her face. “There is a difference.”

“There is no difference!” She turned toward the door and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “To think that you are supposed to be a man who follows the rules of etiquette staunchly!” She sucked in a breath as her chest heaved. “You must leave. Now.”

But Henry’s large frame blocked her path to the door. His presence filled the space between them with an electric tension that made the air itself seem to crackle.

“You have been avoiding me, Annabelle,” he said, his voice carrying an edge that made her breath catch.

She did not want to feel that way. Not in this moment. So, she lashed out.

“So what if I have?” The words emerged more sharply than she had intended. “I told you before—I will not be some summer distraction.”

“And why are we still debating that?” His laugh was harsh and devoid of humor. “After everything I told you that night?”

“Words spoken in passion mean nothing,” Annabelle shot back, though something in his expression made her certainty waver. “Men say all manner of things when they’re?—”

“When they’re what?” His voice dropped to a breathy whisper as he stepped closer. “When they’re consumed by a woman who drives them to distraction? When they can think of nothing else?”

“Stop.” She lifted her chin even as her heart hammered against her ribs. “Your Grace, you have to stop. Please, just go. I can’t see you?—”

“I will not be ignored, Annabelle,” Henry said. His eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “You want this just as much as I do. Why are you running now?”

“Because I know what this leads to!” The confession burst from her lips before she could stop it. “I know how this ends, Henry. I’ve seen it before.”

“No, Annabelle. You do not.” His hands rose to frame her face, and his thumbs traced the line of her cheekbones with a tenderness that made her knees weak. “The only thing you’re doing right now is cowering.”

“I am not a coward.”

“Then admit your desires.”

Despite every rational thought screaming at her to pull away, Annabelle found herself leaning into his touch. Her eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of his palms against her skin.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want, darling,” he murmured, his breath warm against her forehead. “Let me give you what you deserve.”

Heavens…his voice was so deep and intense. How could she pretend? How could she draw back when he used her weakness against her?

“Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Please don’t make me admit how much I want you.”

“Why?” he asked hoarsely.

“Because it’s too much. Because I have never wanted something more in my life. Because it’s dangerous, because my desires could harm you, your reputation, your?—”

“Darling.”

“What?” She was breathless now.

He moved closer, and his thumb caressed her cheek.

“It’s alright,” he soothed. His voice spread over her chest like a warm blanket.

And before she knew it, his mouth found hers in a kiss that was both claiming and questioning, demanding and gentle. Her hands fisted in the lapels of his coat as she pulled him closer, even as her mind screamed warnings about the inevitable heartbreak that awaited.

When they finally broke apart, she was breathing hard. Her pulse raced with a mixture of desire and desperation.

“No,” she whispered, pushing against his chest with trembling hands. “No, you cannot make me believe in impossible things. It’s not fair.”

“What’s impossible about this?” Henry’s voice was rough with confusion and barely restrained desire.

“You know what,” Annabelle said, her voice breaking on the words.

“You’re the Duke of Marchwood. You have been frequenting my residence simply because my grandmother is giving etiquette lessons to your daughter.

She is the reason you’re here at all. And if…

if word were to get out that anything inappropriate is happening between us, then it would… ”

Henry’s expression was stubborn. “Let me worry about my reputation,” he said, and she groaned in frustration.

“My God, you aren’t listening to me!” She stomped her foot. “I’m not going to let you ruin your daughter’s debut and blame it on me afterwards because?—”

“Every single touch has been real,” Henry interrupted. His hands gripped her shoulders with a sense of urgency. “I spend every moment thinking about you, wanting you, and needing you until I can barely function. Do you understand what you’ve done to me, Annabelle?”

“Henry—”

“You’ve consumed me entirely,” he continued, his voice raw with confession. “I see you in everything—in the morning light, in the sound of music, in every breath I take. You’re everywhere, and I cannot… I will not let you disappear from my life because you are afraid.”

The moonlight painted his face in silver and shadow, highlighting the stark need in his eyes and the way his jaw clenched with barely leashed control. Annabelle felt her carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of his words.

“This is madness,” she whispered, even as she swayed toward him.

“Then let us be mad together,” he murmured, and when his mouth claimed hers again, she was utterly, completely lost.

She could no longer fight the need that had propelled her to meet him here, despite everything inside her that told her not to go. Her heart was a mess inside her chest, and she found herself clinging to him even harder than before.

“Annabelle, my Annabelle,” he was murmuring against her lips, over and over again, as his hands roamed greedily over her body.

“Henry—” she gasped, as the heat that had been brewing between her legs rose.

Henry’s gaze was sharp as his fingers slipped beneath her gown, trailing the slick evidence of her arousal with featherlight touches. Around them, the conservatory glowed silver with moonlight, the scent of blooming jasmine thickened the air, and glass walls fogged from the heat of their bodies.

“You little vixen,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “You’ve wanted me all along.” His mouth found her jaw, then slid lower. His teeth scraped down the delicate column of her neck and over the tops of her breasts as she gasped. “Look how wet and ready you are for me.”

Annabelle’s eyes flew wide. Her hips moved of their own accord as she ground her slick folds against his fingers in search of relief.

“Henry… please…” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for—only that the ache was unbearable.

“God, you beg so deliciously,” he muttered, dragging her gown down to bare her breasts. His mouth descended in reverence and hunger, lavishing her with wet kisses. “But I cannot wait either.”

His hands moved fast, unfastening the fall of his trousers with practiced urgency. The sound of the buttons popping free sent a fresh rush of heat through her.

“I’m going to take you here,” he growled, his voice rough against her skin as he freed himself, the hard, heated length of him pressing to her thigh. His breath fanned hot against her ear as he added, low and deliberate, “I’ll have you so undone you’ll beg me to never stop.”

Annabelle could only nod. She was too fevered to speak, so the movement was overly eager, earning a low, wicked chuckle from him.

That was her only warning before she felt the hot, insistent press of his member against her slick entrance. Her legs trembled, and she clutched at his shoulders for balance.

“H—Henry.” Her voice cracked as a gasp escaped her.

“Yes,” he hissed, guiding himself into her, inch by gloriously thick inch, until she could scarcely breathe. “Look how red you are in the face for me,” he murmured against her jaw. “But you can take it, can’t you, darling?”

“Oh…” The word left her on a broken moan, “yes. Please…”

She could barely think—could barely be . There was only the heat of him, the stretch, the way he filled her so completely she felt she might break apart.

He bit out a curse. The word was a harsh groan against her skin as he pushed the final inch of his member into her, claiming her utterly.

“Henry,” she gasped. Her inner walls clenched and unclenched around his length. She was utterly unable to control herself.

“You feel so warm,” he moaned, leaning down to capture her lips in a slow kiss even as he slowly started to thrust inside her. His hips pumped expertly, inside and out, inside and out, so slowly she finally thought she would go mad.

“You feel so perfect around me, Annabelle,” He grunted against her throat, “I want to feel you come around me.”

His manhood rubbed against that spot inside her that felt so good she was well on her way to paradise already.

“Yes!” She moaned aloud, her own hips moving along with his rhythm, “Right there?—!”

He swallowed the rest of her moans with a hard kiss, his arms tightening around her waist as he continued thrusting into her, making her head swim with the overwhelming pleasure.

And yet, even amidst that, she could feel the tenderness in the way his lips dusted her skin, in the way his arms held her up and close.

“I could do this forever,” he groaned into her ear. “I could make love to you like this forever?—”

Those words were her undoing, and her inner walls clamped down around him as her orgasm razed through her, wrecking her body as it went.

“Henry!” She screamed into his kiss. Her legs trembled so badly she knew she would lose all feeling in them afterwards.

“Yes, Annabelle!” He grunted, and his hips jerked once, twice, a third time before he pulled out of her so that his hot seed splattered across her stomach.

It was many moments later when they were able to come down from the high.

Henry looked down at her, gathering her in his arms. “Annabelle. My Annabelle.”

Annabelle didn’t know when he started to call her his, but she couldn’t deny that she liked it. Oh, she liked it very much.

“Henry.”

He leaned down and captured her mouth in a kiss that told her that this, what they’d just done, was something they weren’t going to be able to take back.

And she didn’t even want to take it back.