Kay Springsteen (28 page)

Seabrook flicked his gaze over the damage and sighed.
“
Well, that
’
s ruined.
”

“
Oh!
”
she shrieked.

A miniature marble statue of a young wom
a
n swathed in a flowing gown stood on a matching pedestal near the armoire. On weighing it in her hand, she discovered it was heavy. Perfect for use it as a weapon.

“
Get. Out!
”
She sent it sailing in a
spectacular
arc heading directly for her intolerable husband
’
s head. It was heavier than she
’
d planned on, however, so it fell short of its mark and landed with a dull thud at his feet.

The candle on the dressing table flickered, revealing murderous intent in Seabrook
’
s eyes. Annabella made it to the door just before he did, and when he reached for her, she ducked beneath his grasp and whirled. He was still looking away from her, so she planted her hands firmly agai
nst his upper back
and shoved with all her might.

The move obviously surprised him. He stumbled forward but caught himself and turned. Annabella glimpsed shock in his eyes just before she slammed the door in his face and set the lock.

“
Open this door, Annabella!
”
Seabrook
’
s roar was followed by thunderous pounding on the door and jiggling of the handle.

“
No, you scurrilous, objectionable, insufferable, black-hearted man! I will
not
open this door!
”

The pounding grew even louder.
“
Annabella, we must talk. Let me in.
”

“
Ha!
”
She slapped at the door.
“
It wasn
’
t talking on your mind only a moment ago.
”

A muffled curse filtered through the door. Then the hammering abruptly
ceased
.

The sudden silence brought Annabella
’
s head up sharply. He was up to something. Heavens, maybe he
’
d decided she wasn
’
t worth it and had gone to fetch his grandmother
’
s pistol! Frantic, she glanced around the room for another weapon in case he broke through. Her gaze landed on a narrow door on the other side of the bedchamber. Where did that lead? Maybe she could use it to escape.

Or he can use it to get in!

She raced to the door
.
T
he bolt was old and rusted, apparently no longer used. After some effort, she managed to slide it into place just as the door handle rattled.

She backed away from the door, unable to tear her ga
ze from it.
Tears of frustration and anger
ran
down her cheeks and splattered onto her hands.
I can leave now. We don
’
t need to maintain this ridiculous
farce
. We needn
’
t have married in the first place.

Why didn
’
t the realization thrill her? In truth, she wasn
’
t even terribly angry. Not over that, at any rate. Of course, nothing could force her to allow that fool into her bed after his disclosure.

Even if his touch had brought her alive.

Even if just being near him made her body
buzz and tingle
with awareness and her heart thump like a hammer.

He
’
d had no right to force her into a marriage that—

“
No one forced you,
”
he
’
d
pointed out — quite truthfully
.

Had she simply refused both his offer and that of Vicar Hamilton, the scandal would have passed in due cou
rse.
H
ad she
…
wanted
to run off with Seabrook all along?
“
No…
”
she whispered, her knees buckling. She grabbed onto the bedpost to keep from dropping to the floor and gulped in several breaths.
“
No!
”
she repeated more firmly, irritated that she had even ent
ertained the thought
. Of course not. The notion was ludicrous. He just… intrigued her
,
was all.

Annabella worked her way around to the side of the bed and sank onto the edge. S
he should have known nothing happened.

Part of you did,
whispered her heart.
Deep inside you knew.
Hadn
’
t she and Juliet secreted themselves outside the servants
’
quarters at a tender age and listened to the scullery maids tittering about wedding nights?
Hadn
’
t they
stared at each other aghast at some of the things
the women
described
? Hadn
’
t both their
faces colored
at the bawdy
joking that a
“
proper
”
wedding night caused a girl to walk
gingerly
for a week
?

Yes, I knew. I knew nothing had changed but I chose to believe otherwise.
Why had she done it? And why had Seabrook let her think
such a thing?

“
Annie…
”
H
is
muffled
voice, calmer than before,
came
through the main door.
“
Annie, if you can hear me… I
’
m sorry. That
’
s what I came to tell you before we— It
’
s what I came to tell you.
”

She used the hem of her gown to dry her eyes but didn
’
t answer him.

“
I
’
ll not bother you tonight. We
’
ll talk things out in the morning. Just… please don
’
t do anything… impetuous. Don
’
t try to leave.
”

She held her silence and glared at the door, wishing he would just go away as she
’
d asked.

“
Right. I
’
ll see you in the morning then,
”
he said.

Stillness fell over the room.

Why had he lied? He couldn
’
t possibly have wanted
her
.
Why did he lie?

“
Did I?
”
Seabrook had
countered
to her
accusation
.

The candle burned down, but Annabella sat unmoving on the bed, mulling over her last days at Rose Cottage… in particular, since she
’
d awakened to find herself in Seabrook
’
s bed.

“
He never said so outright,
”
she whispered.
“
I accused him but he never admitted to anything. Not even when he talked to Vicar Hamilton…
”
Annabella sighed.
“
You chicken brain.
”

When he’d
returned her fan
, he had
said he wanted to talk. Annabella frowned.
They certainly hadn
’
t done much of
that.
What had happened to her fan? A quick glance about the room turned up nothing. She must have dropped it when
he—

She must have dropped it.

Her footfalls scarcely raised a whisper as she crept to the bedchamber door. If Seabrook was waiting on the other side… But when she opened the door, the room was empty.
You know you wish he
’
d been here.

Scowling at the intru
sive thought, Annabella retraced the path
he
must have taken when he
’
d carried her to the bed.
One slipper lay in the middle of the room. Her
fan was nowhere to be found. Dropping to her knees, she looked beneath the chair
but only found her other slipper.
Then
she scooted over to the drum table.
No fan.
Her gaze drifted to the hearth. Would he have…? Did he hate her enough to destroy something he
’
d taken such trouble to return?
And where
was
he?
He
’
d promised to leave her alone, but where had he gone? Shiv
ering, Annabella shuffled back to the bedchamber.

To the bed where she and Seabrook had almost—

What did it matter where he went, so long as he kept to himself? Tingles began in her fingers and toes and danced along her skin.

“
Liar,
”
she called herself in a harsh whisper. For suddenly it mattered very much.

****

Jon sat on the edge of the narrow bed in the dressing room and watched
narrow
fingers of blue-white moonlight play across the floor, poking their way into the sha
dows, pushing them back —
showing who was the master — and then moving on. He
’
d given up hope of sleeping as emotions churned and tumbled over one another like the crashing surf in wintertime.

Annabella
’
s fan opened easily at his hand. He had no notion as to why he
’
d snatched the confounded bit of silk and lace from the parlor floor where Annabella had dropped it. Tracing the lacy edge with one finger, he sighed. Once again, he
’
d handled the matter badly. He
’
d had every intention of telling her the truth of
their
situation and then perhaps sharing a bit about his own dilemma.

But her spark, her verve as she
’
d spoken her mind had distracted him from his mission. Merely being in her presence never failed to electrify his senses. He shouldn
’
t have kissed her. And when she
’
d kissed him back… He should have put a stop to it all until they
’
d talked.

Jon lifted his gaze and stared at the door connecting the dressing room to the bedchamber. She
’
d bolted it. He hadn
’
t known it was possible to move the bolt still, but she
’
d managed it. Driven by desperation to keep him at bay, she had set a lock that hadn
’
t been set for years. As if to pound home the thought, a ray of moonlight crept up along the doorjamb and caressed the iron hinges that held the door in place.

How could he make things right? Annabella could be the most maddening creature he
’
d ever known, but since meeting her, he
’
d felt more alive than he had since he
’
d been a boy at play. And he
’
d spoiled it all by not tempering his lascivious reaction to
a
lovely
woman
. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was more than his poor handling
of the matter
that rankled. His pride had taking a stunning blow.

To be chased from his own bedchamber, locked out by a reluctant wife. Gran would hear about it. The servants at Blackmoor were
fiercely
loyal to the dowager duchess
,
and she
’
d hear about the confrontation before the morning was out. To say the least, she wouldn
’
t be pleased.

Blast his ardent nature! Nay
!
He couldn
’
t cast the entire
blame
on
his nature. In truth, he
’
d never been with a woman who set molten fire racing through his veins as Annabella did. When she was near, he became ruddy unhinged.

Unhinged.

Jon sat bolt upright.
“
Unhinged, indeed.
”