by Lucy Monroe
“Aye. ’Tis no secret you have no common sense where your cause is concerned.”
“I am not lacking in common sense.”
Suddenly Ian was furious again. “Not lacking in common sense?” He fairly roared the question. She involuntarily capped her gloved hand over his mouth.
“Hush. Do you wish to bring attention to our private discussion, Ian?” He pulled her hand from his mouth, but not before kissing it. The sensations that shot through her palm and up her arm made it difficult to make sense of his next words.
“I followed that blighter down to the stews before I lost him. Have you gone to meet him there? I have been tormented with images of your broken body floating in the Thames ever since this afternoon. How can you bloody well say that you have common sense?”
It struck her that Ian’s fury was fueled by concern and that gave her hope. Perhaps he would come to care for her as she cared for him. “I have not met him anywhere but Gunther’s”
Ian did not look as if he believed her.
“I give you my word.”
He nodded. “You will not meet him again.”
She bristled at the dictatorial statement. “I cannot promise that.”
“Aye. You will promise, or I will be forced to bring the matter to your brother’s attention.”
She gripped Ian’s arms and tried to shake him. The man was immovable. “You will not tell Robert anything. Promise me.”
“Promise me you will not meet the blighter again.”
“I can’t, Ian. You must believe me. If I could, I would.” Remembering Diana’s stricken face, she knew that she could not cease helping her friend. “Did you say you followed him?”
Ian nodded.
“But you lost him near the stews?”
“Aye.”
She chewed on her lower lip, lost in thought. Someone from the stews must know Thorn. There had to be a way of tracking him. Then perhaps they could find his lodging and search it for the remaining letters. The wicked man had only brought one to their meeting. He insisted on selling them one at a time. Poor Diana had grown nearly hysterical at the implication of a long and drawn out ordeal. She was terrified that Thorn would decide to make the letters public out of spite. Annabelle had tried to convince Diana that Thorn wanted money too much to risk losing his golden goose through any foolish action like making the letters or their contents public.
Ian had reversed the position of their arms and now he rubbed hers up and down in a soothing motion. “What is it, Belle? I am beginning to think there is more to this business than you throwing your money away on some sharp’s scheme.” She looked up into his face and was nearly undone by the concern she saw there. If only she could tell him, but she had promised Diana. She could not break her word.
Besides, her plan to find Thorn’s lodging was a sound one and soon the whole business would be over. She lifted her hand and caressed her finger along Ian’s jaw. “Everything will be fine.”
In a bold move that surprised herself as much as him, she stepped forward and softly kissed his lips. When she would have backed away, he reached out and caught her to him.
His mouth moved over hers in a sensual dance. The feelings she had experienced in the carriage came flooding back. Her knees turned to jelly.
He continued to kiss her with hungry passion. She sighed and parted her lips. His tongue swept her mouth. She felt as if her body was on fire. Of their own volition, her hands sought his broad back and the column of his neck. She restlessly rubbed her body against his, needing more of this incredible feeling. He groaned and ran his hands down her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her against his male hardness. Feelings exploded inside of Annabelle like firecrackers on Boxing Day. She moaned, pressing her body against his.
She felt him shift and realized that he had moved them further into the shrubbery.
The feeling of his hands caressing her breast through the thin silk of her gown took her breath away.
The knowledge that his kiss could affect her so easily terrified her. The fact that they were in a public place did not seem to affect her desire, or her body’s response to Ian’s touch. She tried to pull away.
“We must stop.” He ignored her and continued to kiss her down the side of her throat. “Please, Ian, someone will see.”
His instant withdrawal left her feeling bereft and confused. Her cheeks heated and she tried to cool them by touching her gloved hands to them. Ian’s mouth was set in a grim line. If only he would smile at her, she wouldn’t feel like such a wonton hussy. Had her forwardness disgusted him? Her heart beat a rapid rhythm, both from passion and from shame. She had no control.
“I’m sorry, Ian. I don’t know what came over me.” She realized that she had whispered the words, but it was hard to speak past the obstruction in her throat.
He reached his hand out and gently brushed her forehead. “’Tis nothing to be sorry for.”
“You’re angry with me.” She hated the weakness in her voice.
He groaned and pulled her toward him until her face rested against his waistcoat.
“I’m not angry, Belle.”
“You’re glowering at me.”
His harsh laugh surprised her. He thought this was amusing? She tried to pull away from him, but his arms had become like steel bands around her. He rubbed her back with one of his hands. “Hush.”
His caress was soothing and she relaxed against him. It felt so good to be held by him. She wished they could stay this way forever.
“It is not an easy thing for a gentleman to stop such a pleasurable pastime.” She heard the strain in his voice. He was a gentleman. He had not taken advantage of her in the carriage and he had been willing to stop now. Admiration for his strength and character welled up in Annabelle.
“I’m truly sorry, Ian.” At her words, he stiffened.
Pulling away from her, he spoke. “Why are you sorry, lass? You canna tell me you didna like it.”
She felt herself blushing again. “Yes, I liked it, but I shouldn’t have kissed you. It wasn’t ladylike.”
His laughter caught her unawares.
“I don’t know what you find amusing about this situation. No lady wishes to be caught behaving like a Cyprian.” She did not think it necessary to mention that she had been far more wanton in his carriage.
“Dinna worry, Belle. A Cyprian has a lot more experience and would have offered me more than her mouth.”
His words caught her on the raw. She would have struck him, but for the amusement still lurking in his eyes. “Ian, do you think to tease me?”
“Aye, Belle, I do.” He laughed aloud when she said a word that ladies never say.
Thinking a little of his own medicine wouldn’t be amiss, she said, “I see that I’ll need to gain more experience before I can truly shame myself with brazenness. One illicit evening in your carriage is not nearly enough.” His laughter died and his face took on a chilling quality. “Dinna try it, Belle. I’m not known for my even temper.”
She should be frightened by his intensity, but she wasn’t. His possessive tone exhilarated her. Still, he needn’t think she was so easily cowed. She did not agree with his demand.
“Oh there you two are. Annabelle, your aunt is looking for you. She is ready to go home.” Annabelle jumped away from Ian at the sound of Ceddy’s voice.
She turned to follow Ceddy to her aunt, but Ian pulled her back. “This conversation is not over, Belle.”
She did not reply. There was nothing to say.
The others joined them and she bid Ceddy and Vivian farewell before following her aunt to the carriage. Ian insisted on escorting her outside. He held her back in the shadows while Lady Beauford, Robert and Diana made haste to get in the carriage. A chilly wind had begun to blow and the fog clung damply to Annabelle’s dress.
“I must go.” She tried to disengage her arm from Ian’s grip.
“In a moment.”
He could not mean to finish their conversation now. The
man was stubborn, but this was ridiculous. She turned her head to tell him so. Ian claimed Annabelle’s lips in a short, passionate kiss that totally took her breath away. This was no tentative and gentle exploration, but the staking of a claim.
She sighed. “Good night, Ian.”
“Good night, Belle. I meant what I said. Your passion belongs to me now.” His voice did not encourage disagreement. She merely smiled. He pulled her forward and gave her another kiss that left her breathless. “Remember what I said.” When Ian was finished he led her to the carriage. He made short work of helping her in. Grasping her waist as he held her hand firmly, he lifted her until she had ducked her head into the interior and her satin-clad feet were firmly planted on the floor of the carriage.
Leaning in through the open carriage door, he met her eyes. “We will have our drive tomorrow.”
She nodded.
He left.
“Could you believe those draperies in the drawing room? And fires in every grate.
Unbelievable,” remarked Lady Beauford once the carriage was on its way, “You wouldn’t have seen anything like than when I was in residence.”
“Of course not.” Annabelle absently agreed with her aunt.
Across from her, Diana tried to smother a yawn.
“You need your sleep now, Diana. I do hope you plan to go directly to bed when you reach home,” said Lady Beauford, laying stress on the word now. Annabelle wondered at the significance, but her mind was too full of blackmail schemes and an intriguing laird to pay close attention.
She realized her aunt had asked her a question when the other occupants of the carriage stopped talking to stare at her. Even Diana looked curious. “What? Did you ask me something, Aunt Griselda?”
“No, my dear. I made the observation that although your engagement is imminent, it is not seemly to be seen carrying on a private discussion in a dark garden with your suitor.”
Annabelle’s head snapped up and all of her vagueness dissipated like fog in the noonday sun. “For the last time, my engagement is not imminent.” Lady Beauford turned to Robert. “I cannot imagine what is the matter with the gel.
She is acting all over strange about Lord Graenfrae. It is not as if this were her first season and she had suitors filling the drawing room of an at home day.” Annabelle might as well not even be there, for all the attention her aunt paid to what she said.
“Frankly, Aunt Griselda, I believe that Annabelle has finally met her match and she’s fighting it tooth and nail.” Robert’s words grated her conscience. If only he knew. She had met the one man who could inspire love. It was fate’s cruel joke that Ian thought love mere romantic drivel.
“Really, Robert. The expressions you use. You have spent far too much time in the wilds of the north. However, if I understand your meaning, I believe I concur. Perhaps Annabelle’s heart has finally been engaged.”
Aunt Griselda stopped talking to give Annabelle a quizzical look.
Annabelle remained mute. Let them continue their conversation without her input.
She definitely had no plans to admit to her feelings for Ian. It would only strengthen her brother’s arguments in favor of the marriage. He would not understand that far from reconciling her to the idea of marrying Ian, her love for him made it impossible until she was certain he returned the emotion.
“At any rate, I hope she is wise enough to realize that men like Ian do not come along every day in a woman’s life.”
She would have to be a fool not to realize that Ian was unique among men.
Annabelle was not a fool.
* * *
Throwing the glass of inexpensive port against the wall, William growled curses he had learned playing cards in the seedy hells his fortunes had forced him to. The sound of glass shattering did not abate his fury. The nerve of the chit! Once he was married to her, she would learn the folly of ignoring him for another man. How dare she wear some other man’s flowers when he had spent his precious blunt on a posy for her?
She had also allowed the laird to monopolize her time. William had struggled in vain to get near Lady Annabelle in the drawing room and join her party. When he had finally come within speaking distance, the upstart Scotsman had spirited her out to the garden.
The ignorant gel didn’t have the sense to stay out of dark gardens with gentlemen. If William was not careful, his prey would end up in a compromising position with Lord Graenfrae and all would be lost.
The almost empty port bottle joined his glass in a splintering explosion across the room. The smell of cheap wine mixed with his own sweat as he threw himself into his favorite chair. The only piece of furniture not covered with soiled garments. His disloyal valet had left. Could William help it if he was a little behind in the man’s wages? Surely a loyal servant would have stayed, but William had returned to his rooms to find his valet gone the day before.
Toying with the money he had left over from the Lady Hamilton’s first payment, William considered his options. He had over ninety pounds still left after buying the posy, a few bottles of port and dinner at his club. Ninety pounds wasn’t a bad stake in the games of chance to be found in the lower east side of London.
Mulling the idea over, he pulled off his sweat-stained shirt and dressed in garments more suitable to the stews. He headed out the door and hailed a passing hackney. If his luck continued, he would be a good deal richer in the morning.
Then he would rehire his valet. He discarded the idea. He would hire a new man.
Why reward the disloyalty of his old servant? William’s mood improved by the prospect of a night spent in his favorite pursuit. He smiled to himself.
Lady Annabelle would be his, and soon.
Chapter Eleven
Ian walked toward Rundell, Bridge and Rundell, surprised that such an unimposing building housed one of London’s most prestigious jewelers. Finchley had been insistent.
This jeweler serviced the needs of most of the polite world.
Ian’s grandfather’s resistance to England had not only cost his estates and his people, all of the family baubles had long since been sold off as well. His mother’s wedding ring had been a simple band of gold. He wanted to give Belle a ring to seal their betrothal.
Something that would declare to the world that she belonged to him.
He just had to convince her of that fact.
It would also do his nerves a world of good to convince her to leave off pursuing her causes. He grew cold at the thought of Annabelle in the clutches of a man like the one she had met with at Gunther’s.
Thinking back over his conversation with her in the garden, Ian was convinced that she was hiding something from him. He couldn’t begin to guess what. All he knew for certain was that the lass was in over her head with a man like that.
The door to the jeweler swung open and a lady came out. Her head was bent, so Ian did not at first recognize her. As she passed him, however, he noticed something familiar about the set of her shoulders and shape of her head.
It was Lady Hamilton.
“Good morning, Lady Hamilton.”
She walked past him as if he had not spoken and it was then that he noticed tears sliding down her cheeks. She rushed to her waiting carriage and stepped inside before Ian could form a question in his surprised brain.
Deciding he might find some answers for the lady’s strange behavior within, he stepped into the jewelers shop. It was empty save a wizened-looking man who stood behind the farthest display case appraising a strand of pearls. They looked remarkably like the ones Ian had seen on several occasions gracing Lady Hamilton’s neck.
Stepping forward, he decided to test the theory that had formed in his mind. He could not credit that Belle would countenance her friend selling her wedding pearls, even for Belle’s cause. “A lovely strand of pearls, that.” The jeweler looked up. “They are. They are. Just as lovely as the day I strung them.” Ian put his hand out to examine the necklace. “I might be in the market for something like this.�
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The jeweler shook his head sadly. “Can’t sell them to you yet. Promised the lady to keep them for at least two weeks. To tell the truth, once her lord finds out she’s sold ’em, I’m betting he’ll be here post haste to buy them back.”
“Did the lass who was just in here sell those to you?”
“Right you are. Gambling debts or some such thing, I’m bound. Thinks she’ll keep it from her husband, but things like this have a way of becoming known.” Ian nodded. They did indeed. “You promised to keep them at least two weeks?”
“Yes, but if you’re that interested in some pearls, I’ve got a nice set here in my display case.”
The jeweler leaned down and pulled out a beautiful strand of beads. They made a soft clicking noise as they rubbed together. When the jeweler named a price, Ian winced.
Several cottage roofs could be thatched for the money. When he pictured how the glistening pearls would look nestled around Belle’s slender throat, Ian was tempted to buy them anyway.
He shook his head, not without regret. “I’m looking for a betrothal ring.” The jeweler laid his finger alongside his nose and tugged on his ear. “Ah. It’s that way, is it?” He nodded again. “I think I have just the thing.” He pulled a display case from the cabinet and laid it before Ian. Pulling back the protective velvet, he exposed several rings of various stones and settings. Ian’s eye was drawn to a ring that resembled a rose. It held no gems like the others, but the artistry of the delicate rose could not be denied. Lifting the ring from the tray, Ian announced, “I’ll take this one.”
The jeweler offered him a keepsake box carved in the same rose motif to carry it in.
Ian agreed to buy that also. Belle, with her fondness for roses, would love it.
Now he just had to convince her to accept the gift.
Annabelle paced the drawing room. Ian had not said what time he would call today, but she knew in her heart he was coming. What would she say? He had told her she had until the end of the season to accustom herself to the notion of their marriage, but she felt as if time had run out. She knew that she could not go on rejecting a proud man like her Scottish suitor and expect him to continue calling.