by Kruger, Mary
“This and that.” She looked down at her glass. “I understand her a great deal more, now.”
Giles covered her hand with his free one. “Do you? I’m glad. Not that it would matter.”
Anne looked up at him, startled. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve let enough come between us, Annie. And we’ve both taken care of other peoples’ needs long enough. Isn’t it time we saw to our own?”
There was no pretense in Anne’s eyes, huge and deep blue, no evasion. Inside her was a growing sense of elation, overtaking her hard-won caution. “What does that mean, Giles?” she whispered, turning her hand to twine her fingers with his.
Giles twisted and set his glass down on the sofa table. “This morning, Annie, when Beth and Thomas were married, I felt like I was the one saying the vows.”
“Yes.”
“I felt—I don’t know. A connection between us that’s never been there before.”
“No, never.”
His fingers caressed her cheek. “Not even seven years ago.”
“Not even yesterday.”
“I’ve been blind, Annie. Blind, and stupid. When I first saw you again—but I thought it was a passing fancy. A summer folly.”
“I thought it was folly, too. But then I realized...”
“What?”
“We have a second chance.”
Giles gazed at her a moment, and then reached to take her glass from her, setting it down. “I know you had a rough time with Freddie, Anne,” he said, softly, still stroking her cheek. “I can understand how you feel about marriage. But we have time, sweetheart, now that we’ve found each other again.”
Anne turned and pressed a swift kiss on his palm, making his hand jerk. “I think it wasn’t meant to be.”
“What?”
“Our being together seven years ago. Oh, poor Giles, did you think I meant now?”
“You did give me rather a scare.”
“I am sorry.” Again she kissed his hand, imprisoning it in both of hers. “We’re different people than we were then. Better people, I think. I know I am.” She smiled brilliantly at him. “I would have led you a merry dance, Giles.”
“As if you didn’t, this summer,” he said, but he was smiling. “You turned my life upside down.”
“And mine.”
“Yes, I know. I meant what I said, Annie. We’ve time.”
Slowly, Anne lowered their linked hands. “But I don’t need time, Giles.”
“Annie—”
“Are you going to make me say it first?”
“What?”
“You know quite well, what.”
Giles leaned back, his arm stretched out across the back of the sofa. “Do you know, I think I just might? I’ve waited a long time to hear those words.”
“What words?”
“I love you.”
“Oh, Giles, I love you, too!” Anne said, and threw herself at him, laughing. “You did say it first.”
“You tricked me into it.” He grinned down at her, now in his arms, her face raised to him. Slowly, his smile faded. His Annie, in his arms again. “I do love you, Anne,” he said, his voice low. “I never stopped loving you. I tried, but I couldn’t.”
“I know.” She reached up and slipped her arm around his neck. “I tried to forget you, I really did, but then something would happen to remind me of you. I’d hear a jest I thought you’d enjoy, or Jamie would turn his head a certain way and look so like you, or I’d dream about you.”
“Oh?” His smile was teasing. “What kind of dreams?”
“Good dreams. Sad ones. I’d have to forget you all over again.”
Giles’s face was very close. “And all the time I was here, waiting.”
“For me?” she whispered, feathering her fingers through his hair.
“For you,” Giles said, and at last lowered his mouth to hers.
It was a long, slow kiss, a kiss of promise. Now that they had found each other again, there was no need to rush. They had been separated, true, but now they were together, and the future was theirs. Anne lazily ran her fingers through Giles’s hair, her lips parting as his came down on hers, again and again. His arms held her in a close, but not confining, embrace. Here was a man who would hold to her forever, but who, at last, understood how important it was to her that she remain herself and not become a part of him. And because of that giving, she very much wanted to be part of him.
It was Anne who surged up against Giles, pressing her breasts against his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. It was Anne who twisted her head, urgently seeking for ways to deepen the kiss, to prolong the intimacy. Giles grunted low in his throat, in passion or surprise, and caught her to him, his hands on her hips holding her fast. This was good, this was right. There was no fear of what might happen. Giles wouldn’t hurt her. Giles would love her, for herself.
“Annie.” Giles pulled back, and she followed, pressing kisses on his cheeks, his chin, his throat. “Annie, this has to stop.”
“Why?” she murmured, stretching to catch his lips with hers. He let himself be caught for just a moment, and then pulled away again.
“This isn’t the place, Anne.” Putting his hands on her waist, he lifted her and set her firmly away from him. “Not with servants just downstairs.”
“We could lock the door,” she suggested, smiling impishly.
“Annie.”
“Don’t you want me, Giles?”
He looked at her lower lip, thrust outward in a mock pout, and then down, to the low neckline of her gown. “Oh, yes. Very much. Too much. But when we make love, Annie, we’ll do it right. Not hurriedly on a sofa, afraid someone might come in at any moment, but properly—”
“Giles, Giles. Must everything be proper?”
“—in a bed, with candles lit all around and nothing between us, Annie. No nightgown, no nightshirt. And all the time in the world for me to love you.” Very slowly, giving her a secret smile, he trailed his fingertips along the neckline of her gown, making her shiver. “That’s properly, love.”
“Oh,” she said, inadequately.
“And it will be soon.”
Anne looped her arms around his neck; she very badly wanted to feel his hands on her again. “Why not now?” she murmured, her voice low.
“Annie.” He shook his head at her, smiling. “What of your reputation?”
“There are times, sir, when I consider a reputation to be a vastly overrated commodity.”
“I don’t agree. I won’t have people talking about my duchess.”
Anne went very still. “Your duchess?”
“Of course. You will marry me, Anne.”
“I will?” Delight tingled through her. “Have I any say in the matter?”
“Have—oh. Of course you do.” Suddenly he looked endearingly uncertain. “Annie, you do want to marry me, don’t you? I know you were unhappy with Freddie, but—”
“But he’s gone.” She placed a finger on his lips, stilling him. “Oh, Giles, of course I’ll marry you. How could you doubt it?”
A slow smile spread across Giles’s face. Anne expected him to take her into his arms; instead, to her surprise, he jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth. “Capital. Capital. I should have known this was coming from the first moment I saw you again, but I didn’t. But now we can make plans.” He bent to plant a kiss full on her lips, and then resumed pacing again. “There’s much we have to do.”
“Giles.” Anne laughed a little. “We have time.”
“Yes, yes, but we want to do this right. I’ve a duty, you know.”
“Duty?”
“Yes, to my title. A duke cannot just plan some hole and corner affair for a marriage.”
“No, of course not. I want a nice wedding, too, Giles, but—”
“It will be at Tremont, of course. Mother will probably want us to wait and marry at St. George’s in London, but—”
“But it’s not her wedding, Giles.”
“The chapel at Tremont is small,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. “We won’t be able to invite many to the wedding itself. We’ll ask the Prince of Wales, though, and hope he’ll honor us by his presence.”
“Yes, and my family.”
“Of course. Damn, being a duke, there are others I must ask, too. We’ll work that out with my mother.”
“Giles, not now.” Anne held out her hand as he wheeled to the door. “Surely there are other matters we can discuss between ourselves.” She smiled. “The honeymoon trip, for example. Oh, Giles, we should both go back to Jamaica. It would be perfect. You could see the plantation and help me decide how it should be run—”
“You don’t have to worry about the plantation,” he interrupted. “Obadiah will be the overseer, just as you wished.”
“But who is to manage it, if not me?”
“We’ll find someone.”
“Giles, it’s my son’s property—”
“And I’m Jamie’s guardian. Do you think he’ll mind, having me as a father?” He grinned at her. “He’ll be glad to stay in England—”
“He dislikes England.”
“—where he belongs. I’ll write to the headmaster at Eton. In the meantime I’ll arrange for a tutor for him.”
“Giles.” Anne was standing, all traces of a smile gone. “Am I to have no say in any of this?”
“Of course you will.” He grinned at her. “You’ll be my duchess.”
“Do you want a duchess, Giles, or a wife?”
“Both. Definitely, a wife.” He gave her what could only be called a leer, and she relaxed a little bit. “It’ll be a different life for you, Anne, than what you’re used to, but I know you’ll cope. You’ll make a magnificent duchess. You’ll have duties, of course—”
“No! No, Giles.”
He stopped and looked at her in surprise. “No? What do you mean, no?”
“Duties, Giles. Life is not all duty.”
“Annie.” His smile was at its most winning. “All the time you managed Hampshire Hall, was that not out of duty?”
“No. It was out of love, and choice.”
“Oh, well.” He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “It amounts to the same thing.”
“No, it doesn’t, Giles.” She stared at him, frustrated. Giles hadn’t changed. He was a man raised to do his duty, and he could not see that there was a difference between doing that duty willingly, out of love, and being coerced into it. He didn’t want a wife so much as he wanted a duchess, one that would do whatever he expected of her. Giles would be as much of a jailer, albeit a gentle one, as Freddie ever had been.
“Never mind.” He walked toward her, his hands outstretched. “We’ll be happy, Anne. I’ll make you happy.”
Anne eluded his grasp, slipping behind the sofa and leaving him staring at her in surprise. “Oh, Giles. Don’t you see? You can’t make me happy, as if it’s part of your duty. You have to let me be happy.”
“What?” He frowned at her. “Anne, what is this?”
She stared at him in dismay. “You really don’t understand, do you?”
“I understand only that you are coming up with some nonsensical objections, my love.”
“They’re not nonsense! Oh, Giles. I cannot do this. I cannot live the rest of my life allowing a man to order my life. I need more freedom than that.”
“Freedom!” Giles stared up at the ceiling, as if searching for control, and then looked back at her. “What the hell is freedom, Anne, but loneliness?”
“Self-respect, Giles.” She faced him calmly. Inside her was an aching, empty void, and yet she knew she could not give into him. Not on his terms. “Peace of mind. Independence. I’ve fought very hard for all of those things. I’m not about to give them up now.”
“For God’s sake, Anne! What do you need with those? You’re only a woman.”
Anne froze. “Who should be grateful for a man’s guidance? Is that what you’re saying, Giles?”
“Yes. No! Annie, for God’s sake, what is all this? I love you. You love me. Why isn’t that enough for you?”
“Because you don’t love me, Giles. Me.” She came around the sofa, pointing at her chest. “You love some idea of me that you have, of what you think I should be. You’d try to make me into that woman, Giles, you’d try very hard. And little by little, I’d turn into her, until you wouldn’t know who I was anymore. I wouldn’t know who I was. And anything I feel for you would die. Oh, Giles, please try to understand! I don’t want that to happen.”
“I’m trying to, Annie.” His brow wrinkled in a frown. “I’m trying to understand. I don’t want to coerce you into anything. I only want you to be happy.”
“I know that, Giles.”
“What more can I do, Annie? I’m offering you everything you could possibly want.”
“At a very high price, Giles. I’d have to stop being me. I won’t do that. Not for you, not for anyone.”
“Are you saying you won’t marry me?
Anne briefly closed her eyes. “Yes, Giles. I’m afraid that is what I’m saying.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Giles took a step toward her. “My God, Anne—”
“No!” Anne held out her hands to ward him off, and he stopped. “No, please, don’t come near me!”
“My God.” He stopped. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No, Giles.” It was herself she feared. If he came close, if he touched her, she would melt. She would dissolve in the nearness of him, and then she would truly be lost. And so would he.
Giles paced away. “You think I’m like Freddie, don’t you?” he accused.
“In some ways, yes.”
“By God, Anne, I am not like him! I would never lay a finger on you.”
“I know that.” Anne’s smile was sad. “But you would hurt me anyway, Giles. You wouldn’t mean to, you wouldn’t know you were, but you would. And I’d hurt you in return. I can’t do that to you, Giles.” She swallowed, hard. “I love you too much.”
“You won’t marry me because you love me?”
“I know it sounds strange, but, yes.”
“Women!” He thrust his hand into his hair again. “I will never understand women. I’m giving you my heart, Annie, my soul. What more do you want from me?”
“Your respect.” Giles opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. “I cannot marry you, Giles. I cannot lose myself again.”
“I see.” He straightened, suddenly very much the duke. Helplessly Anne watched as the light left his eyes, leaving them dark and opaque. She had thought he understood her, her desires, her needs. Now she knew he didn’t. There was no mending this situation. “What will you do, then?”
Anne lifted her chin. “Return to Jamaica, before the winter storms set in.”
“I see.”
“Jamie belongs there, with his people. However, I do agree with you that he needs an education. Do you think we could find a tutor to come back with us?”
Giles inclined his head. “We shall advertise for one.”
“Good. Then, when Jamie is old enough, he can return to attend university here.”
“As you wish, madam.” Giles turned away, and paused at the door. “You won’t change your mind?”
She almost gave in, then. She almost ran to him, almost threw her arms around him, begging him not to go, promising that she would be anything, everything, he wanted her to be, if he would only love her. Only pride held her still. “No, Giles.”
“So be it.” He opened the door. “I’ll make arrangements for passage for you,” he said, and went out.
“Thank you,” Anne said, but he was already gone. She was alone and, as she sank down onto the sofa, she thought about what had just transpired. She had won. She had got what she wanted, had done the right thing. Why, then, did it hurt so much?
Anne put her face in her hands, and stayed there for a very long time.
Summer was over. The Prince of Wales reluctantly
made arrangements to leave Brighton, where he was well liked, for London, where he was not. Many would be returning with him, for the Little Season, but most people were returning to their estates. There was the harvest to be got in, and after that was Christmas, when no right-thinking man would be from home. It was time to move onto other amusements, and duties.
A ship waited in Portsmouth harbor, ready to sail with the tide for Jamaica. On the shore Giles stood, watching as a long boat rowed out from the quay, carrying everything he held dear. Anne. He’d lost her. After finally finding her again he had lost her, and he didn’t really know why. Seven years ago, perhaps he hadn’t been as understanding as he should have been, as attentive, but surely he had made up for that now. Good God, he’d said he’d give her all the time she needed, and all she could do was spout some nonsense about respect and independence. Of course he respected her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t want to marry her. His feelings for her aside, he needed someone wise and intelligent to be his duchess. A man had his duties, after all. And she had dared to say he reminded her of Freddie? The memory still rankled. He was nothing like Freddie, damn it! If she couldn’t see that, then perhaps he was better off without her. But he didn’t really believe it. God, how could he ever let her go?
The long boat bumped against the ship’s hull, and a rope ladder was lowered down. Carefully Anne began to climb, blinking back the salt spray that threatened to blind her. It had to be spray; what else could it be? She would not cry for that man, not anymore. She had spent enough tears on him, and they had done her little good.
Safely on deck, she turned to help Jamie, who scrambled aboard like a little monkey. Standing sturdily on legs already braced against the sway of the ship, he glared at Anne. “I don’t want to go,” he declared.
“I know.” Anne put her hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away. “But, really, Jamie, once we’re back in Jamaica, you’ll be happy. It’s much better there than here.”
“No, it isn’t.” His lower lip thrust forward mutinously. “My pony’s not there.”
“Jamie, we’ll get you another pony.”