Kay Springsteen (23 page)

Jon suppressed a groan and sat back down.
“
And now, you can either make the best of it or… not.
”
He bit his pastry and took his time savoring the sticky tart-sweetness of the berries.

Scowling, Annabella flopped into her seat and plucked a scone from the platter.

Jon pushed the pots of cream and black
berry jam toward her.
“
Here you go. I remember how much you…
enjoy
your fruit and cream.
”

“
At least
one
of us remembers something,
”
she muttered
,
dipping
her knife into the pot of cream.

His conscience stung him again
,
but this time he brushed it off as he would a honeybee.
“
Pity you don
’
t recall our night together.
”
H
e
made a show of examining
his tart.
“
It was quite the memorable experience for me.
”

****

Annabella
’
s face flamed. The bite of scone in her mouth might have been coated with mud for all she
could taste the thing. How
dare
that intolerable ruffian mention their wicked night together as casually as an observation regarding the weather?

Smiling, he allowed his gaze to roam freely over her body.
Everywhere his eyes lingered heated
as though he
’
d reached out and stroked her.
“
I was rather looking forward to repeating the experience.
”

“
Repeating the experience?
”
she burst out, struggling to push away from the table. Her chair caught on the thick rug.
“
Have you gone completely mad?
”

He popped the las
t bite of his tart into his mouth and chewed.
“
No-o-o… I don
’
t believe
I
’
m
the one who
’
s gone mad.
”

Annabella shoved her plate aside, her scone only half eaten.
“
You have if you think I
’
ll ever let you touch me that way again.
”

A predatory smile crept over his face.
“
Which way would you be referring to, my darling wife?
”

“
I
’
m your wife because you forced me to be.
”

“
I beg your pardon. No one forced
you
into the marriage, either. Had you protested with any conviction, the matter would have been settled.
”
He
sipped his chocolate.
“
Now, what ways will you not let me touch you?
”

Rage bubbled along her veins. He was right, of course. She
’
d been so afraid of involving her mother that she
’
d gone along with the scheme.
“
You know very well to which way I am referring, sir.
”

“
So I shouldn
’
t take you in my arms?
”

“
No!
”
she snapped.
“
You should
not
.
”

“
I shouldn
’
t hold you close and lay my lips against yours?
”

Annabella
’
s lips tingled. Was that what he
’
d done?
“
No.
”

He took another sip and set the cup back on the saucer.
“
I shouldn
’
t nuzzle your neck and tickle your ears with my warm breath?
”

Annabella pushed a strand of hair from her face, grazing her ear as she did. Fiery wisps danced along the
outer
shell, and she quickly lowered her hand.
“
No.
”

A satisfied heat ignited in Seabrook
’
s eyes as he bent forward over the table again.
“
And I suppose I shouldn
’
t unfasten your gown and move it aside so I can taste your delectable neck and draw my fingers along the curve of your… shoulder.
”

She squirmed in her seat as her blood simmered.

He lowered his voice.
“
And I shouldn
’
t let your gown fall to the floor and encircle your waist with my hands. Shouldn
’
t caress you in all your most delicate places…
”

Annabella shook her head. Her blood pulsed in her ears. Her skin quivered and warmed in all those delicate places. It was positively wanton the way her breath came in short gasps. What was wrong with her? She simply couldn
’
t fill her lungs.

Then he leaned even closer.
“
And if I shouldn
’
t do those things, then I suppose I shouldn
’
t lay you across my bed… shouldn
’
t join you there and…
”
He dropped his voice and murmured a shocking, unspeakable suggestion.

Flames burst free in her middle, swelled, and then surged through her body like an outgoing tide of molten lava.
“
Please…
”
she whispered, unsure what she was pleading for, certain the thrumming in her veins meant her ultimate destiny would be met in the devil
’
s lair.

Seabrook stood, his movements measured, purposeful
. He was going to walk over to her and take her in his arms. He
’
d carry her to his bed and do everything he
’
d just mentioned and more. And — heaven
’
s angels help her — she
’
d enjoy it.

Annabella tensed as he drew near. His eyes glittered like black diamonds as they drifted from her face, wandered lower, then lower still. Never had she experienced such willful disregard for decency. She
’
d become a harlot… after one night she scarcely remembered. And now, she wanted him to—

“
I have some estate business to conduct,
”
he said, his voice suddenly chilled.
“
I thought you might do well to have a bit of a rest.
”
He nodded toward the bedchamber. Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and strode across the room. He didn
’
t so much as spare her a glance before he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

The muted
thud
of the
heavy door latching echoed in the thumping of Annabella
’
s heart. Trembling, she lifted her cup and took a sip of chocolate. It had grown as cold as her husband
’
s voice. She dropped the cup back on the saucer with a clatter.

Why would he express such intent
and then leave her? She fanned her face with one hand, trying to put out the flames as she stared at the door. Had she affected a misstep? Had she not done something she ought? Her heart raced, striking like a blacksmith
’
s hammer in her chest. Was somethi
ng wrong with him? With
her
?

Annabella shook hear head
and allowed rage to blo
ss
om
.
“
That twisted, immoral, depraved, black-hearted, rutting
beast
!
”
She had allowed him to speak to her, to look at her… to make her feel things only a strumpet would feel.

“
O
h!
”
she shrieked, picking up her cup and hurling it at the door through which he
’
d just vacated.
“
There
’
s what you can do with your refreshment, my
lord
!
”
The cup splintered, its pieces raining to the floor. The last of her chocolate rolled downward, stain
ing the dark wood, reminding her of blond tears. The half-eaten scone on her plate came to hand next.
“
Bring me here to your blooming castle and fill my head with your filthy words, your implications, your promises of… of…
”
She flung the flattened cake aft
er the chocolate.

The door pushed inward.
“
My lady? Lord Seabrook sent me to— Oh!
”

The scone smashed into the crisp black uniform worn by the soft-spoken maid. With deft motions, she captured
it before it dropped to the floor
and wiped at the smear of cream
from
the front of her dress.

Remorse filled Annabella, but it wasn
’
t enough to temper her fury.
“
What is it?
”
she snapped.

“
B-beggin
’
your pardon, m
’
lady. Lord Seabrook instructed me to help you lie down so you can… rest.
”

Annabella narrowed her eyes.
“
Oh, did he?
”
She swept her hand around, indicating the suite.
“
If he thinks he can bring me here and lock me in a tower—
”

The maid paled.
“
Oh, t
’
isn
’
t a tower you
’
re in, m
’
lady. The towers are closed off except for—
”

Her words abruptly ceased under
Annabella’s
quelling stare.

“
I
’
m sorry to disappoint his lordship, but I shan
’
t be lying down.
”
Annabella shot a glance at the luggage sitting discreetly just inside the door to the bedchamber.
“
In fact, I think I shall change into fresh clothing and then set about exploring my new home.
”
She marched across the cornflower blue carpet and picked up her small valise.

“
But, my lady…
”
protested the maid amid a flutter of hands.
“
Lord Seabrook instructed—
”

Annabella released an inpatient sigh.
“
My husband labors under the misapprehension that I require rest after traveling.
”
She paused
in the doorway
to the bedchamber.
“
So if you will please help me change gowns, I shall find my way around and save him the trouble of showing me.
”