Only Mine

by Cheryl Holt

  Lord Wood and Bernard blustered and scolded Soloman, but they weren’t courageous enough to block his path. He was fearless and tough and boldly confident—he reminded Wesley of Benjamin—and his obvious bravado stopped her father and fiancé in their tracks.

  He marched out with her and vanished into the night.

  “That was the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen,” Michael said.

  “It wasn’t brilliant,” Wesley countered. “It was contemptible. She’s someone else’s betrothed.”

  “Not anymore!” Michael scoffed.

  “A fellow can’t steal another man’s bride. It’s despicable behavior.”

  “He didn’t think so.”

  “But...what will happen to them?” Wesley asked.

  “I suppose they’ll live happily ever after. Or not.”

  “I’m betting or not will be the more likely ending for them.”

  “Soloman Grey,” Michael mused. “Wasn’t that your cousin? Isn’t he the one who had that huge scandal over the missing baby?”

  Wesley nodded with grave dismay. “After this stunt, my mother will have an apoplexy.”

  ET ME IN.”

  Annabel heard Benjamin’s stern order, but she didn’t reply. The servants would have informed him she’d returned to Grey Manor, that she was in her bedchamber. She could cower in the corner and pretend the room was empty, but he wouldn’t believe it.

  “Let me in!” he said more vehemently, and he banged on the door with his fist, hard enough to bow the wood.

  Still, she didn’t respond.

  “Annabel,” he fumed, “unlock this bloody door or I will kick it in. And if you force me to kick it in, it will be a waste of a perfectly good door, and I will have a fit.”

  A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. Even when she didn’t want him to, he could charm her.

  “Annabel!”

  “All right, all right,” she muttered. “Hold your horses.”

  She fumbled with the key, her hands a tad shaky, his temper unnerving her. She’d left Lyndon Hall without an explanation and had stayed away all day.

  She was sad and tired, and she was simply anxious to head to London where she would figure out what to do with herself. She couldn’t continue living as she was. She didn’t like to be poor and alone, didn’t like to rely on her brother’s gambling winnings and deceits in order to put bread on the table.

  Michael was a delightful man, and he had friends everywhere. They went from house party to house party, glomming onto wealthy people, dining at their banquets, emptying their wine cellars, and pocketing their money when Michael was lucky—or cheated—at cards.

  She was twenty-four. Would she be carrying on in the same nomadic fashion when she was thirty? When she was fifty? The prospect exhausted her.

  She pulled the door wide and stepped back so he could burst inside. He was teeming with rage, his anger wafting out in front of him like a cloud.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded as he advanced on her.

  “Nice to see you again too, Captain.”

  “I’ve been worried sick. You told my footmen you’d be in the first village, but you weren’t there. We searched everywhere.”

  “Sorry,” she said, but she wasn’t.

  “Sorry! What is wrong with you? Your conduct was rude and inconsiderate.”

  “I know.”

  He kept coming, and she retreated until she bumped into the wall and could go no farther. He slapped his palms on the plaster on either side of her, locking her in so she couldn’t slip away.

  “We planned to ride together in my coach,” he said.

  “I didn’t want to do that.”

  “Why not? Have I upset you?”

  “No.”

  “Did I offend you—without even realizing I had?”

  “No,” she said again.

  He looked genuinely perplexed, and his bewilderment plucked at her conscience. As they’d frolicked at Lyndon Hall, he’d been funny and amiable and enchanting. He’d fed her and paid attention to her, and he’d held her in his arms when she’d been too scared of ghosts to remain in her own bed.

  He’d acted like the most devoted swain, had acted precisely how she had yearned for him to act.

  But it had all been too disconcerting. It was still disconcerting, and she simply had to escape from him so she could reflect on her choices, on how he’d changed her. Now that she’d met him, now that she loved him, she didn’t know how to go forward.

  Because she’d been a virgin, she hadn’t truly comprehended how gripping the aftereffects would be. She was incredibly distressed, wanting him for her own and ready to insist he bind himself. She was terrified to open her mouth lest a torrent of idiotic, possessive words fly out.

  “Explain this to me,” he said.

  “There’s nothing to explain.”

  “We had a wonderful time at Lyndon Hall. I thought we...” His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t settle on the correct sentiment.

  “You thought what, Captain?”

  “We came to an understanding.”

  “Don’t be absurd. You’re engaged to be married. Your wedding is in a few weeks. We had a fling, that’s all.”

  “A fling?”

  “Yes. I’m sure you’ve heard the term. Rich men constantly participate in them.”

  “It wasn’t a fling,” he irately spat. “Don’t pretend.”

  She sighed, hating that they would quarrel. Why would they? After she walked out his door, they’d never see each other again. She wasn’t about to cling or weep or plead with him not to part from her. She would make it easy and leave before their relationship grew awkward.

  “Fine, Captain,” she agreed, “it wasn’t a fling. It was more than that, but so what?”

  “You can’t be serious. It didn’t mean anything to you?”

  “It meant something, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “So...you just rolled around on a mattress with me for one night—and one night only—and it’s over? I’m supposed to accept that it is?”

  “Yes. Why are you so peeved about it? This is how men always behave. Why can’t I behave the same way?”

  “Because you’re acting deranged, and I don’t like it.”

  She scoffed. “It’s not deranged to want a clean break from you.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “It’s simple. We dallied in a manner we shouldn’t have, and I admit it was marvelous, but it’s over. We both need to move on. Starting now.”

  “Move on...” he mumbled. He studied her, his expression grim. “Is this your ruse? I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what it is. Are you feigning lack of interest so I’ll beg you to change your mind?”

  “I won’t change my mind, and you don’t have to beg.”

  “By any chance, would you be trying to entice me into proposals I don’t care to extend? I don’t imagine you and your scheming brother would ever contemplate such a thing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I learned you were a virgin, I suspected you might be playing a trick on me.”

  “A trick?” She was surprised she didn’t explode from outrage. “I would surrender my virtue in a game? Is that the kind of woman you think I am?”

  “I half-expected your brother to barge in and demand recompense for my ruining you.”

  “I was lying in your bed, having just experienced the most personal and intimate event I will ever experience, and you were wondering if I was running a scam?”

  He had the grace to look abashed. “That came out wrong.”

  “Really?”

  She shoved him, but he was solid as a block of marble.

  “Get away from me,” she seethed.

  “No. Now listen.”

  She shoved harder, and when she had no success, she slid under his arm and marched into the bedchamber, but of course he followed her. He was the domineering type who had to have the last word.

  S
he’d never been so insulted. She’d saved herself for years merely because she’d never met anyone who deserved to receive such a marvelous gift.

  Because of her unconventional upbringing, men viewed her as loose and pestered her to become their paramour. She’d always refused, but when she’d finally chosen to proceed, he thought she did it for money. Or perhaps he thought she’d extort favors or support from his majestic, imperious self. She was sick with disgust and wretched over what she’d just lost.

  Her virginity, yes, but also her staunch belief that he was different, that he gazed at her and saw someone remarkable, someone worth having.

  Her traveling trunk was open and propped on a chair, her belongings neatly folded inside. She’d planned to wait for Michael to return from London, had planned to beseech him to accompany her back to the city—and to stay there. She’d been determined to wrench them away from the Grey brothers, having sensed deep in her bones that it was madness to continue fraternizing with them.

  Well, her intuition had been spot on, and she didn’t need to wait for her brother.

  She slammed the lid and had started buckling the straps when he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

  “You’ve packed your things?” He was aghast.

  “Yes, I’m going to town. Immediately.”

  “You are not,” he huffed.

  “I am, Captain Grey. You are not my father or my brother or my husband. You have no right to boss me, and I won’t remain here another second.”

  She still hadn’t recovered the equilibrium that had fled ever since she’d crawled into his bed. She felt raw and abused, and her discomfort was exacerbated by her failing Harry, by her not being able to fix his life. She was just an aunt, an unwanted and disreputable one at that.

  She was Lord Roxbury’s granddaughter, but she had so little. Nothing really but the clothes on her back and a brother who was lovely and fun but also reckless and dangerous.

  She wished she could float off into the sky, that the wind could carry her far, far away to a place where she had plenty of money for a home of her own. She’d bring Harry and Michael to live with her, and she’d watch over them and keep them safe.

  But she’d never known how to wrangle that sort of ending.

  On witnessing her upset, his temper evaporated. “Annabel, what’s happened? Tell me.”

  “I’m so despondent,” she babbled, nearly on a sob.

  “Why are you despondent?” he asked. “I must have offended you, but I have no idea how. You have to apprise me so I can make amends.”

  “It’s not you.”

  “Yes, it is, and I won’t stop harassing you until you tell me what’s wrong. Where did you go when you left Lyndon Hall? I searched every inch of the road on the way to Grey Manor, but didn’t find a trace. I was so worried about you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’d like to meet the man who raised you to believe that. Was it your father who planted such a bizarre notion?”

  “I’ve always been on my own. I’ve always had to fend for myself.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. You’re much too independent. Why did you leave without me?”

  “I needed some time to think.”

  “About what?”

  “About myself. I was...overwhelmed.” She glared up at him. “There! Are you happy now? You overwhelmed me, and I was very distraught.”

  “I typically overwhelm others so I completely understand.”

  “Oh, be silent!” Tears fell down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. “I’m crying, and it’s all your fault.”

  “Why is it my fault?”

  “Because I never cry, but I’m crying over you! And you’re not worth it.”

  “I am not worth it!” he sarcastically said. “I beg to differ, Miss Fenwick.”

  “I gave myself to you. I chose you. After all these years of saving my virtue, I wanted you, and you have the gall to accuse me of...of...prostituting myself.”

  “I can’t deny it. I’m an ass, a fool.”

  “Yes, you are, you snake.”

  The fight drained out of her, and she sagged slightly, for a moment afraid she might simply collapse to the floor in a heap. She was so tired, of her life, of her brother, of their nomadic existence, of her sister, of her sister’s in-laws. Annabel stared down the road, but didn’t see anything changing, didn’t see anything improving.

  The burden of it suddenly seemed too great to bear.

  He reached for her so she was cradled to his chest. It was the sort of chest a woman could lean on when she was troubled or weary, and just then there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

  “I went to visit Harry,” she mumbled against his shirt. “When I left Lyndon Hall, that’s where I went. I told him I would, and I couldn’t disappoint him.”

  “I didn’t think to check there. How is he?”

  “He wasn’t there. My sister wrote to her father-in-law that I’d brought him home for the harvest holiday, and he came and took him back to school.”

  “But...why?”

  “Mr. Boswell doesn’t like Harry to be around her. He feels she’s a bad influence.”

  “Well, I can hardly disagree. I can’t imagine she’s much of a parent.”

  “I’m never to see him again. Mr. Boswell has informed the headmaster that I’m not to be allowed on the campus.”

  “Oh, Annabel, that had to hurt you very much. Could I help you with the situation? I’m about to have an enormous amount of power in this country. Would you like me to speak to Mr. Boswell? I’m certain I could soften his stance. What school is Harry attending?”

  After she apprised him, he nodded. “I know of it. It’s not a place where one would anticipate stellar results.”

  “Mr. Boswell pinches his pennies.”

  “Let me talk to him. If nothing else, perhaps I could persuade him to move Harry to somewhere with better academics.”

  She thought of stern, awful Mr. Boswell. He’d had the audacity to appear at her father’s funeral, and as he’d exited the church, he’d quoted a Bible verse about the wages of sin having to be paid, and her father having never paid them.

  She’d told him to sod off—right there in the doorway of the church—so she doubted there was any means by which Captain Grey could redeem her.

  “I don’t need any help with him,” she said.

  “You don’t have to be so tough. You don’t have to battle the whole world by yourself.”

  “I’ve always had to.”

  “You could rely on me for a bit. It wouldn’t kill you.”

  But she couldn’t rely on him. He was about to wed, and though she’d briefly shucked off her moral tendencies and lain with him when she shouldn’t have, she was finished with making mistakes over him.

  “I have to leave for London, Benjamin. Please let me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “There’s no reason for me to stay.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s every reason.”

  “Name one.”

  “I want you here. We’re just getting started. You can’t flit off when we’re at the beginning of everything.”

  “You sound deranged.”

  “Why? After last night, you can’t claim we don’t belong together.”

  “We don’t!”

  She pulled away and stepped behind a chair, using it as a barrier between them.

  “You’re being absurd,” he scoffed.

  “I am absurd? You’re the one who’s about to marry.”

  “So? Veronica doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.”

  She sucked in a shocked breath. “You can actually say that to my face?”

  “Yes. I’m marrying because I have to, because it’s expected of me, because I owe it to my family.”

  “What is it you owe your bride?”

  “Respect, esteem, financial support.”

  “How about fidelity? How about monogamy?”

  “Those too.”

&n
bsp; Her arrow had hit its mark. His cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t decide if it was from embarrassment or shame.

  “I’ll tell you a fact about myself,” she said. “You’re always pestering me to provide details so here’s one.”

  “What is it?”

  “I was raised in a very unconventional way.”

  “I realize that about you.”

  “My father was charismatic and dynamic.”

  “That must be where you and your brother come by your flamboyant traits.”

  “He had mistresses around every corner, and so did all his friends. I grew up watching men cheat on their wives and fritter away their money on doxies and bastard children. They kept second homes and had second families. It was disgraceful, and I told myself I would never hurt a wife by being the other woman.”

  He was silent, weighing various replies, and the one he picked was, “I’m not married yet, Annabel.”

  “No, you’re not, but in the past few hours I’ve recognized some important aspects of my character.”

  “What are they?”

  “I have a very tender heart, and I didn’t fully grasp how intimate our sexual relations would be. I want you for my very own now. I don’t want to share you with another woman.”

  He shrugged. “I have to wed. I don’t have a choice.”

  “I understand, but I’m already so attached to you, and if I continue our affair until you traipse off to your wedding, I really don’t know how I’d bear it. So I have to depart. Today.”

  “No.”

  “We need a clean and total split.”

  “No.”

  He rounded the chair, lifted her, and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could slither away, he stretched out, his heavy body pressing her down so it was impossible to escape.

  “I’m wild for you, Annabel.”

  “I feel the same about you, but it’s hopeless.”

  “No, it’s not. Not when we can be together—even if it’s for a short interval.”

  “But what’s the point?”

  “The point!” He scowled as if she was the stupidest person ever. “The point is that you make me happier than I’ve ever been. You can’t leave me. Not until I’m prepared to let you go.”

  BENJAMIN KISSED HER, AND for just a moment she refused to participate. Then, with a sigh that could have been resignation, disgust, or despair, she joined in and kissed him back.