Ducal Encounters 02 - With the Duke's Approval (28 page)

“I disagree.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I am perfectly satisfied with the arrangement.”

“Perfectly satisfied?” She stood up, arms akimbo, compelling him to stand also. “Is that all you have to say on the matter? Do you realise just how cold and unfeeling that sounds?”

“What is it that you want from me, Annalise?” he asked in a velvety smooth tone that made her feel weak at the knees, as did the darkly intense, slightly bewildered gaze searing into her profile. He really didn’t understand.

“I want a husband who has time for me. If that sounds selfish then I make no apology, but I have no wish to live my life in seclusion while you gallivant around solving the world’s problems. Let someone else do it.”

“I have all the time in the world for you.”

“You do not. You are married to your career, and it will always takes precedence.”

“Ah, so this is what this is about.” Hair cascaded over his brow as he slowly inclined his head. “I should have anticipated.”

“Then we are agreed? We should break our engagement at a suitable juncture?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

“But you just said—”

“What other objections do you have to the union?”

You don’t love me
. But she couldn’t say that. If she did, he might very well say the words, just to placate her. That would be worse than not hearing them at all. “We barely know one another.”

“Then we shall get to do so before the ceremony.”

“You make it all sound so reasonable,” she said sullenly.

“You do not wish to marry me?”

Now was the time to engage in an untruth. If she did, she was sure he would release her. She glanced at his face, noticed a hint of vulnerability in his normally resolute expression, and found she could not lie to the man she adored. He was watching her closely, and she was the first to look away. She said nothing at all.

“I thought as much,” he said softly, now looking infuriatingly pleased with himself. “Then what else can it possibly be?” He paced in front of the fire, no doubt thinking it through in his usual rational manner. Anna wanted to scream that not everything could be rationalised. Sometimes one simply had to listen to one’s heart. “I have it. My kisses do not excite your passions.”

“Be serious!”

“Oh, kissing is a pursuit I take exceedingly seriously. If that
is
the case, then I agree that a union between us would not work. One cannot live a lifetime with a person who does not excite one’s passions. That is simply too much to ask.”

“That is it,” Anna said, sounding a little desperate. “You have identified the problem precisely.”

“Liar!” He chuckled as he took a step towards her, a predatory gleam resident in his eye. Anna had never seen this side of Clarence before, didn’t know what to do to counter his very obvious intentions, and instinctively took a step backwards. If he laid so much as one finger on her, she would melt and all her protestations would have been a waste of breath. “If that is true, why are you afraid to let me touch you? Why did you come here alone, for that matter, knowing that I would?”

“I knew no such thing.” She took another backward step. “I thought you would be pouring over your stuffy papers.”

“I had an incentive to deal with them quickly. I was most anxious to call upon my intended, you see.”

“Oh.”

Another step backwards and her legs hit the side of a chair. She was trapped. There was nowhere else for her to go. Clarence pounced, swept her from the floor and into his arms.

“Put me down!”

“Certainly.”

He sat on the nearest settee and settled her on his lap. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but before she could do so, his lips covered hers in a firm, searing kiss that made all objections flee from her mind. To her mortification, her arms wound themselves around his neck with lightning speed, and a needy little moan slipped past their fused lips. She wanted to think it had come from him, but knew it had not. Clarence would
never
lose control to that extent, whereas she had no self-control to speak of whenever she was with him.

His large, capable hands swept down her back, coming to rest on her bottom for a moment or two, before moving upwards again. His thumbs gently brushed the outsides of her breasts, setting a fire lancing through her and making her truly yearn for him. The small part of her brain still capable of rational thought told her that by coming here, by allowing him to kiss her and more, and showing such enthusiasm for the occupation, she had made her position ten times worse. It was all his fault. He was the one with all the experience, and he knew precisely what he was doing to her.

But nothing had changed. She still could not marry him.

He broke the kiss, and she felt a deep, masculine chuckle echo through his chest. He had proven his point most effectively and was enjoying his moment of triumph. Exasperating man! She tried to wriggle out of his arms and regain a modicum of dignity, but his chuckle merely turned into a rumbling laugh, and her efforts made no discernible difference. His arms tightened around her like steel bands. She would never get away until he was ready to let her go.

“No more talk of breaking our engagement, Annalise. I have already told you once, if you don’t behave yourself, I shall have to spank you.”

She tossed her head. “And I have told you that you wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t provoke me, and we shall never find out.”

“Oh!”

His hands caressed one of her breasts through the fabric of her gown. Her nipple became hard and sensitive to his touch, sending more fiery sensations streaking through her. When he tweaked it, she felt as though she would explode with desire.

“Shush, sit still and take your punishment,” he said, bending his head to trail a line of damp kisses down the column of her throat. At the same time, his hand increased the pressure on her breast. “Tell me if you like that.”

Like it?
She was perfectly sure her reactions told him all he needed to know, but that did not mean her words should stoke his already overinflated ego. “It is…er, acceptable.”

“Acceptable!” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “We shall have to see if we can do better than that.”

“You have an appointment with the Foreign Secretary.”

“He can wait. This is more important.”

Anna blinked. “You think I am more important than the Foreign Secretary?”

“I believe I just said as much.”

“Oh,” Anna said for a second time, startled when she felt her bodice slide away. He had found the ties and loosened it, and was now gazing at her breasts covered just by the thin fabric of her chemise. Acutely embarrassed, and yet dizzy with passion, Anna glanced down and noticed her nipples pressing like raised pebbles against the cambric. Clarence bent his head and sucked one into his mouth through the thin material. Anna’s world exploded in a starburst of pleasure beyond her wildest imaginings. She wriggled about on Clarence’s lap as he continued to feast upon her breast, conscious of the hard length beneath her bottom.

“Sit still, my love, or I shall disgrace myself.” His voice was gravelly. “How could you ever imagine I would let you go?”

“I don’t know, but—”

“Shush, what was that?”

“A door closing.” Anna sat bolt upright, passion replaced by embarrassment at the prospect of being caught half-dressed on Clarence’s knee. “Pierce must be back.”

“Wait in there,” Clarence said urgently, all but pushing Anna into what proved to be his bedchamber.

He had only just closed the door when she heard voices and froze with fear. The stranger’s voice was not that of Clarence’s secretary.

It was von Hessel’s.

“Count von Hessel,” Clarence strolled into the hallway, the epitome of calm. “My apologies. I did not hear you knock.”

“Romsey.”

Von Hessel strutted the length of the hall, clearly discomposed by Clarence’s unruffled and courteous greeting. They both knew he had not knocked, but Clarence would never make such an obvious…well, observation. How the count had got past the porter—how Annalise had managed it for that matter—was not a subject Clarence intended to address at that juncture. He had learned long since not to ask questions he did not already know the answer to, or to which he would prefer not to hear the answer. It had been foolhardy to leave himself open to this unannounced visit by not even bolting his door after Sampson left. There had always been a possibility of von Hessel calling on him once he learned of the removal of Frankie’s papers from her country estate. He blamed Annalise for his laxity. She made him forget whom he was supposed to be, and he never seemed to act with rationality when she was anywhere near him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Clarence asked.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

Without waiting for a response, von Hessel pushed rudely past Clarence into the drawing room. That was precisely what Clarence had been hoping to avoid. He was confident of being able to get rid of von Hessel, but if Annalise made so much as a sound, or if von Hessel somehow detected her presence, it would leave Clarence in an impossible position.

“You have the advantage of me, von Hessel.”

“Let us not play games,” Von Hessel snapped. “You know what I want, and I know you have it.”

Clarence merely flexed a brow. “Would you care to be more specific?”

The Prussian sighed. “I have no quarrel with you, sir. I merely wish to see St. John’s papers. I know you are keeping Lady St. John out of my reach at Sheridan House, and I know you sent to Winchester for those papers.”

He folded his arms across his chest in a pose that was probably supposed to intimidate. Clarence was merely a diplomat and von Hessel a war hero, used to getting his own way. Unfortunately, von Hessel couldn’t know Clarence was not easily intimidated…unless—no he must not think about Annalise, his weakness, hiding on the other side of his bedroom door. He had imagined her visiting that room many times, but never under such circumstances.

“I know you are here alone,” he added when Clarence didn’t reply. “I saw your manservant and secretary leave together a short time ago, and you retain no other servants. It seemed like a good opportunity to pay you a visit.”

Thank God, he had not seen Annalise arrive. The man might be brave on a battlefield, but he didn’t know the first thing about negotiating. If he was aware of Annalise’s presence, he would have said so at once, and Clarence would have given him everything he wanted without equivocation. Except he could not, of course, because what he wanted was on its way to Whitehall. God alone knew how this unbalanced individual would react when he realised the game was up.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing amongst St. John’s papers that will serve your purpose.”

“And you suppose you know what that purpose is?”

Clarence inclined his head, but said nothing more to confirm it. “St. John’s papers are there, on the side of my desk,” he said instead. “You are perfectly welcome to look through them if you don’t believe me.”

“Pardon me, but I do not believe you. If something was there, you would not invite me to look.”

Clarence affected confusion. “I would not?”

“I mistakenly abducted your future wife, for which I apologise. The fools I hired could not follow simply orders, but I do understand you have every reason to bear me a grudge.”

“Then it is fortunate she escaped, since you would not have let her go.”

Von Hessel gaped, looking unsure of himself for the first time. “You think I would kill a woman?”

“You thought nothing of abducting one.”

“There is a very great difference between abduction and murder.”

“Oh, you would not have carried out the murder personally, but your orders were to
get rid of her.”
Clarence fixed him with a death glare.
“
Fortunately for you, Lady Annalise is very good at climbing trees.”

“I meant for those idiots to take her somewhere closer to her home and release her.” He strode about, clearly agitated. “I am not the ogre you appear to think I am.”

Clarence fixed him with a hard look. “Really?”

“Tell me what you found and where you have put it. I don’t have time to waste, and am not a patient man at the best of times.”

He exuded an air of desperation, which made him unpredictable and dangerous. Clarence wasn’t afraid for himself. Despite what his visitor thought, what most people thought, Clarence could defend himself if the need arose. The problem was he didn’t trust Annalise to remain hidden, should it come to that. She was far too reckless to allow Clarence to resolve the matter and would assume there was something she could do to help him.

There most emphatically was not—other than to remain safe and undetected behind his bedroom door.

“I have nothing that will help you, von Hessel.” Clarence sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just go home and think of another way to appease your uncle.”

“You don’t seem to understand the significance of St. Johns’ damned papers,” von Hessel thundered, shaking his head. “And they tell me you are quick-witted. My cousin is a miserable coward, but he knows how to intimidate. He is an expert at covering his tracks and at making himself indispensable to my uncle. If would be grossly unfair if he became his heir.”

“I know you served with distinction.”

“That I did. I know what people say about me, but unlike your fat prince, I earned the right to wear my uniform and do so with pride.”

Clarence nodded, conceding von Hessel had a point.

“I regret I cannot help you.”

“Oh, but you can, and one way or another, you will. You have not gone to all this trouble only to find nothing. You also fail to make allowance for the fact that if my cousin becomes my uncle’s heir, then I have nothing left to lose, and every reason in the world to seek revenge against those who have stood in my way.”

Von Hessel walked up to Clarence and slapped his face with considerable force. The sound was like a gunshot echoing through the room. Clarence’s head reeled, but he barely felt the pain.

“Let us deal with this like gentleman,” von Hessel said in a reasonable tone. “Don’t make me hurt you, Romsey.”