by Dawn Brower
He shook his head slowly. “If I have you, then you’ll be mine. Do you understand what you’re asking of me?”
“I do,” she replied. “You’re the only man I want to touch me. Please…” She hoped that if she begged enough he’d give in. Lord Cinderbury was a gentleman first and foremost, but she needed the man to come out to play. The one who’d kissed her and desired her not more than an hour earlier. Something—she couldn’t be sure what—snapped, and he crushed her to him. His mouth was hot and unrelenting on hers, and the kiss burned hotter than it had earlier. She scraped her nails on his stomach and forgot how important breathing was. Lord Cinderbury scooped her into his arms and carried her into the sitting room. He set her down on a settee, then pulled his shirt off. She untied the black ribbon at her waist and loosened the ties. He stepped near her and pushed the bodice down until it reached her waist. She shimmied until the dress pooled at her feet. She stood before him in nothing but her shift.
“Lord Cinderbury,” she said when he didn’t move.
“I think we’ve moved past formalities.” He chuckled softly. “Call me Ryan.”
“Ryan,” she tested out his name. She liked the sound of it rolling off her tongue. “Touch me.”
“I intend to.” He lifted his hand and lightly touched her shoulder, then he leaned down and trailed kisses over her sensitive skin. Ryan pushed her shift down until it too pooled at her feet. He kissed her neck and then moved downward to her breasts. He cupped one in his left hand, swirling his thumb over her taut nipple. Her other breast, he sucked into his warm mouth. Annalise moaned with pleasure. She never knew it could be like this and nearly buckled under his attentions.
He helped her to lay down on the settee and continued to love her with his mouth. When he pressed his lips and tongue to her center between her thighs, she nearly jumped from the sensation, then he sucked and licked her there too, and before long she moaned from the pleasure.
Her mind was still reeling from the bliss when he finished undressing. He joined her on the settee. His hardness pressed into her. “I am going to go slow,” he whispered. “It’ll still hurt a little.”
He pushed in at an agonizingly deliberate pace until he filled her completely. It hadn’t hurt as he’d thought it would. Everything about him felt incredible and right. He was the person she was meant to be with. He kissed her slowly and started to move inside of her. That same build up she’d experienced when he kissed her core peaked again, and she screamed his name this time. He groaned as his own release hit, and in that moment, she knew she’d made the right decision. She belonged with Ryan, and she would fight to stay by his side. He rolled them to their side and pulled a nearby blanket over top of them. “Rest a bit,” he said. “We will talk after I catch my breath.”
She smiled softly and lost herself in the contentment of being held by the man she loved. It would all be fine. She had faith for the first time in her life.
Chapter Ten
Ryan stared down at Annalise as she slept peacefully in his arms. He still couldn’t believe the night had gone as it had. When he’d opened his door and found her there, he couldn’t have been more surprised. He had left the masquerade ball because he couldn’t stand the idea of hearing the official announcement that she’d been betrothed to an old man. He didn’t care what contracts had been signed. She was his now, and they’d marry as soon as he could arrange it.
They’d need help, of course. Her father would not allow their marriage to happen. He’d have to wake her soon so they could leave immediately. There were two choices left to them: elope to Scotland or obtain a special license from the archbishop. Both had dangers and pitfalls they’d have to overcome. He wasn’t sure which was the best option, and he needed advice. Ryan didn’t have a parental figure to ask since both of his parents were deceased. His stepmother was bloody awful, and his grandfather the Duke of Ashthrone wouldn’t be much help either.
Annalise’s eyelids fluttered open and she stretched, much like a kitten awaking from sleep. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss. “How long have you been watching me?”
“Not long,” he reassured her then kissed her forehead softly. “We need to dress.”
“My father will have noticed me missing by now.” She sat up and pushed the blanket off her, then grabbed her shift from the floor, slipping it over her head in one sweeping motion. “He won’t know I’m here.”
“I doubt that,” Ryan said as he pulled on his trousers. “I’m willing to bet your father knows every move you make. Some of the information might come to him late, but he is more than aware of your activity. He’ll show up here at some point.”
She stilled in the middle of tying the ribbons at the front of her dress. “What makes you say that?”
“He made a point of inviting me to dinner the other night. Why would he do so when he never has before?” Ryan lifted a brow. “That man hates me and has ever since I started fighting him for guardianship over Estella. He has a plan of some sort; I just don’t know what it could be.”
Annalise tied the ribbons on her dress quickly as he pulled his boots on. He’d leave his shirt hanging loose and go cravatless from the house. There were more important things they had to do. She slid her slippers onto her feet and pulled her hood over her tousled hair. “He’ll go to grandmother’s house looking too. Where do we go?”
“Your grandmother insisted you go to see her. Somehow, I think she knew this would happen or some version of it.” He didn’t want to consider the older lady had envisioning him making love to her granddaughter. That was too weird even for him. “She’ll have provisions in place. We will stop in to see her first and then journey from there.”
They stepped outside of his house and headed to his small stable. He considered a carriage, but decided it would take too long. Instead, he saddled Octavius and had Annalise ride in front of him. It was faster, and they’d arrive sooner. He could always leave his horse with Lady Shelburne and borrow one of her carriages if needed. He gestured Octavius into a gallop and closed the short distance between his home and the viscountess’s. When they arrived, he helped Annalise slide off the horse’s back and then he joined her. He quickly tied the reins to a nearby post, then headed to the front door and rapped on it. It opened immediately, but not by the butler. The Marquess of Sheffield answered it with a fretful expression on his face. He glanced from Ryan then to Annalise. “Thank God. Come in quickly.”
Annalise and Ryan walked inside. Lord Sheffield closed the door behind them and gestured for them to go to the sitting room. The viscountess was already seated in the room, pouring a cup of tea. “So good of you two to join us. I told Marrok you’d be fine.” She smiled up at Annalise. “Lord Cinderbury is taking wonderful care of you, isn’t he?” She lifted a brow.
“Uh, yes, of course,” Annalise agreed. “Grandmother, what’s going on?”
“Your wedding of course,” she replied nonchalantly as if that statement answered all of Annalise’s questions. “You two must leave at once.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Marrok said hastily. “I fear Lady Delilah saw me leaving. She tried to follow me, but I had to dissuade her of that idea.” Irritation reverberated in his voice as he spoke. “She’s been rather—persistent in her pursuit. I don’t know what father was thinking. I am not marrying one of those awful debutantes.”
Ryan couldn’t hold back his laughter at that statement. “My stepsisters are rather difficult to be around.”
“Your stepsisters?” Annalise tilted her head. “How? I…”
“It’s a long story.” And he was rather surprised none of them had mentioned their acquaintance at dinner. He didn’t trust them one bit. Lady Penelope must have something planned if she’d kept that tidbit to herself. “I haven’t actually spent any time in their company in years. My father married their mother and didn’t survive long after it. Lady Penelope and her daughters are the worst sort of females. Your father must truly
hate both of you. I have to wonder why.”
“Perhaps because he doesn’t believe they are actually his children,” the viscountess replied. “My daughter had trouble conceiving. He blamed her for the failed efforts for a number of years until she finally became with child. Marrok was the result of that. Then, several years after that, Annalise was born. Both of them resemble Sarah. The only difference is Marrok has blond hair and Annalise’s is black. She has more of the duke’s coloring, but he refuses to believe Sarah was faithful to him. I think that’s why he had her murdered.”
“Is that why he married Estella’s mother?” Marrok asked. “I always wondered why he’d bothered.”
Ryan stared at the viscountess, shocked by her words. How could one man be so bloody evil? He would disown his own children because he couldn’t find it in his heart to accept them? He hoped he never became that bitter with life himself. He’d come damn close to enduring a miserable existence. At least he had finally awoken from that and found a woman to love. With Annalise at his side, he had faith they’d find their way to true happiness.
“Yes,” the viscountess replied. “That, and Pippa had been the Marchioness of Cinderbury. Her husband left her a hefty inheritance that made her even more enticing. She already proved herself fertile. Estella was all the confirmation he needed that she could have children. But she died attempting to give him the heir he believed was his. Unfortunately, the child had been stillborn, and female. He hasn’t tried since. Instead, he has done his very best to make the two of you miserable.”
A lot of the words that the viscountess said made perfect sense. He never understood why the Duke of Wolfton treated his children so horribly. The way he’d discarded Estella hadn’t surprised Ryan as much. Some people never should have children, and the duke was one of them. “Why hasn’t he publicly disowned them?”
“Because he doesn’t have a true heir,” she answered. “Or, at least, one he believes is. Stupid man wouldn’t know what’s true if it smacked him in the face. My Sarah was never unfaithful. She came to me in tears often.”
A thought formed in his mind, and he asked, “Is that why he did his best to steal your son’s inheritance? Does he blame your family?”
She nodded. “My son was young and foolish. He learned a hard lesson, but he’s fully recovered. I stayed here to be close to the grandchildren that needed me. He offered me a home with him in Dorset, and maybe one day I’ll go there too, but for now, I’m content here.” The viscountess sighed. “We’re wasting time. The three of you must leave immediately. Scotland is too far to go—the archbishop won’t argue against two marquesses. Especially, when one of them is the lady’s brother.”
“I can’t go,” Marrok said. “Someone will have to stall father.”
“But…” Annalise stared at her brother. “You don’t know what he’ll do. You can’t stay. Please, come with us.”
Ryan wasn’t sure what he should do. Marrok was right. If he stayed behind, he could help delay the duke, but Annalise wouldn’t leave him behind. It was a conundrum—one he didn’t see any way to decipher, but that didn’t matter. Hell broke loose before any of them could make a decision. The door flew open and slammed against a nearby wall. The Duke of Wolfton stomped in, fury pouring off of him in waves. Red tinged his cheeks and spread through his face with each step he took. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Father,” Annalise started with feigned shock. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you ever visited grandmother.”
What’s she up to now? There was no escaping the duke’s anger, and he feared they’d not get the head start they would need. Pleading with the duke wouldn’t work. He was an evil man, and he didn’t want what was best for either of his children.
“Do sit down,” the viscountess said to the duke. She brought her hand up to her chest as if terrified, and she very well could be… “You’re quite rude.”
“I will not.” He nearly shouted the words, then turned to Annalise and Marrok. “You two get in the carriage. We’re returning home immediately.” Then he looked at Marrok. “And you can forget about choosing between the two girls. I’ve already made a decision for you.”
“I’m not marrying either of them.” Marrok stood tall and glared at his father. His eyes darkened, and his lips formed a thin line. He met his father’s gaze with hard determination etched across his face. “They’re both petty, mean girls, and I’ll not tie myself to a lady such as those two. If you like them so much, you marry one of them.”
“How dare you,” he spat out. The duke picked up a nearby vase and whipped it in Marrok’s direction. He ducked in time and the vase hit a nearby wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces. “You insolent pup—you will marry the one I chose, or I’ll disinherit you.”
“Go ahead,” Marrok replied, standing up tall and straightening his jacket. Those words were both a dare and a rebuff. Ryan respected him for finally defying the duke. It couldn’t have been easy for him. “I don’t need you, your title, or your bloody money. I have only put up with you this long because of Annalise, and I have faith Cinderbury will protect her.”
Marrok was correct there. Annalise would not return to the duke’s care. Ryan would do whatever was necessary to protect her. By the end of the day, she’d be his wife whether the duke liked it or not. He’d shout it from the rooftops that he’d taken her innocence if that furthered his cause. His heart beat heavily in his chest. He should help Marrok. The duke never lost before, and that made him capable of anything.
“You’d be wrong,” the duke said. “I’ll see you both dead before I let you walk away from me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. He pointed it at Marrok first. Ryan hated being right… He had no idea what he should do. “Are you prepared to die?”
Marrok didn’t look away from the duke. Instead, he took several slow steps until he stood directly in front of him and no more than an inch separated him from the pistol. Ryan silently applauded his courage. While Marrok occupied the duke’s attention, Ryan had gradually made his way to Annalise’s side. He’d step in front of her to protect her from the duke’s wrath if he had to.
“Go ahead and pull the trigger,” Marrok dared him. “You won’t be able to kill us both. You’ll never reload in time. Would you rather I die, or your daughter?” The marquess’s taunt echoed through the room. Ryan continued to shield Annalise. “It’s as I thought. You’re a coward and always have been.”
“Don’t think you can outsmart me. If I have to choose, then by all means I’d rather see you die then her. At least she has some use to me. Her marriage to Kildare will help my business interests. You’re not my blood, and at least your death will ensure my title doesn’t go to one of my wife’s bastards.”
The viscountess had been correct. Wolfton didn’t believe that Annalise and Marrok were his children. The duke didn’t deserve either of them. Ryan had to do something, or he’d kill Marrok. It would devastate Annalise if she lost her brother. “Do something,” she hissed from behind him. “He’ll do it. I know my father.”
“Darling,” he urged as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “It would make things worse if I got between them.” He had to try to keep her calm, but she was fast losing patience. If he didn’t keep her back, she could end up the one with a lead ball in her.
She glared at him and then turned her attention to Marrok and the duke. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Marrok,” Annalise said. “Be reasonable. You can’t let him shoot you.” She rose to her feet and headed toward him. Ryan reached out and circled his arms around her waist, holding her in place. She’d make things worse. “Let me go,” she demanded and scraped her nails over his shirt. If she reached his bare skin, there would be several bloody scratches where her nails scraped over him.
“Go by your grandmother,” he ordered.
Annalise moved to the countess’s side but didn’t seem too happy about his domineering command. He was fine with that as long as she remained safe. Ryan started towar
d the duke and Marrok. He’d acted too late though. As he turned to help, the two of them were already struggling over the pistol. Marrok twisted his father’s arm, and the duke twisted to his side, trying to wrench control back.
Marrok was younger and stronger though, and the duke didn’t stand a chance of winning. His face reddened even more than it had been, and he suddenly stilled. Then he yanked again at the pistol, trying one more time to pull it from Marrok’s grasp. Marrok pushed back and there was barely any distance between the two men. A shot echoed through the room, and Ryan rushed forward as both men fell to the ground. He wasn’t sure who had been hit, or if either one of them had.
Marrok rolled away from his father. Blood coated his waistcoat, but he appeared unharmed. The duke on the other hand was struggling to breathe. “You’ll…regret…this…” Wolfton barely managed to utter those words. Blood soaked his shirt and coat. His face had gone pale, and his eyes were glassy.
Marrok stood and stared down at the dying duke. “You left me no choice,” his voice hoarsened as he spoke. “You’re not a good man, Father. I wish this could have ended differently.”
Annalise rushed to her brother’s side and hugged him tight. “Thank God you’re safe.”
The viscountess rose to her feet and slowly walked over to join them. She stared down at the duke with pity radiating from her eyes. “He’s a sad man, and he’s dying without anyone who truly cares about him at his side.”
Ryan swallowed hard. The duke tried to suck in air, until he breathed no more. What little color that had been left on his face had disappeared and he turned as white as snow. The duke died as he lived—alone. “Is it over?” the viscountess asked.
“It is,” Ryan answered. He leaned down and pushed the duke’s eyelids downward, his expressionless eyes unnerved him. “We should perhaps call the magistrate.”
Marrok shook his head. “He was the magistrate for the county. It’s left to me to decide as his heir.”