Samantha James (5 page)

Yet more than a hint of guilt needled him. He wasn’t fit to be around decent people. His behavior was abominable. No less than churlish. And why? Because the very lovely Anne reminded him of things he’d rather not think of. A part of him wanted to shout at her to leave
him be. God, but he wished she’d stayed away!

But the moment she came near…he could not help it.

It was damned disconcerting. Goddamned annoying. The scent of her was—sweet Jesus!—intoxicating. There was no other word for it.

And now…now he watched as she licked her lips. A white-hot jolt bolted through him. Simon knew it for what it was. Desire. Deep and molten. He could not stop it.

He paused and looked at her. Really
looked
at her, the way he’d not looked at a woman in a very long time. Sweet Christ, the way he’d not looked at a woman for five long years. The way he’d once looked at Ellie.

It was a mistake.

Her evening gown was cut in a deep vee, so low it revealed the rounded swell of her breasts, the cleft between, the tremor of each as she breathed. The nakedness of her shoulders emphasized the fragile length of her neck—it had tempted him all evening! Like her brother, she was of more than average height, with long, elegant limbs to match. Her skin was satin and cream, skin that made a man want to…The thought stopped him cold.

But
she
didn’t stop him cold, he thought almost angrily. She made him feel hot inside. Hot and…oh, Christ. This was getting out of hand.

A scathing self-derision poured through him, even as a ravening heat coursed through his veins. Dear God, he was lusting after a woman with her entire family present just inside the house. What the hell was wrong with him?

A rending ache shot through him. She made him think of all he’d once had. Of all he’d lost.

In all the time since Ellie’s death, no woman had tempted him. No woman had touched him. He’d touched no woman. But this one—Lady Annabel McBride—made desire claw through his vitals like a sword. Desire that was almost painful in its intensity stole over him.

For until now, he’d almost forgotten that he was a man. And Annabel McBride’s presence was an unwelcome reminder that five years without a woman had fired his blood and made everything inside him collide.

Simon didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. Yet he couldn’t stop it either. He should have left. Gone off and hired a woman for the night to relieve the floodtide of desire searing his veins. Yet even as the notion possessed him, he knew there would have been no true satisfaction.

“You should run, Lady Anne. Run away now.”

And still his body betrayed him. Betrayed him most traitorously and most thoroughly! A familiar tightness gathered low in his belly, there between his thighs. God, he thought with a
black, silent gust of laughter. Did the chit even have any idea of the effect she was having on him?

Or perhaps she
did
know. She didn’t move. She just continued to stare at him, her head to the side, her hands twisting around the ends of her stole, those expressive eyes wide and dark, and faintly questioning.

A storm churned inside him. In his heart. His soul. And then everything came crashing down around him.

She was right, he thought hazily. He shouldn’t have drunk so much. If he hadn’t been drinking, he’d never have done what he was about to do next.

There was a low vibration of sound. A sound of need. A sound of anguish. It was her name. Muffled against her lips.
Her lips.

Strong hands closed around her waist. He caught her up against him; her breasts registered warmth and the hardness of his chest. She longed to reach up, to twine her arms around him in turn, burrowing her hands inside his jacket. But she didn’t quite dare, for this was her first real taste of desire. Lord, her first taste of a man.

It seemed so impossible, so improbable. Simon Blackwell was kissing her.
Her
.

Never before had she been kissed—Charles
Goodwin’s attempt certainly didn’t count. She’d managed to avoid it, thank heaven.

But Anne was no different from any other woman. She had dreamed of it. Imagined the thrill of a man’s lips warm upon her own…Wondered where it would be.
Who
it would be…

And her first kiss—
this
kiss—did not disappoint.

She felt as if she were tumbling. Floating. The sensations were incredible. Intense. Her hands came up to curl against his waistcoat. Instinct was her guide. Her feelings were her guide. It was as if some powerful force had taken over her body. Tilting her head back ever so slightly, she parted her lips, granting him license, unwittingly deepening the kiss.

When his tongue touched hers, a little shock zinged throughout her body. Did men kiss like that? A silly question, to be sure. Anne did not consider herself a missish schoolgirl. She was well traveled, well read, well spoken. Yet she’d never dreamed of such a thing. But it seemed so right, so natural. She wanted to cry out when his mouth left hers. She felt the flutter of his breath across her skin, the pressure of his lips against her cheek. But then his mouth returned. His hands, strong and warm, swept her stole from her shoulders. He caught her up against him. His lips ground against hers, harder, conveying
a sense of hunger she didn’t fully comprehend.

Nor did she care. God, it felt so good. The world seemed to cave in all around her.

So lost was she in the fever of the kiss that she failed to hear the gasp and flurry of movement that came from behind her.

And so did Simon.

The slam of a door was jarring. Anne felt him stiffen. Slowly he raised his head. Eyes narrowing, his gaze stabbed into the haze of lights that burned from the house.

“Good Christ,” he cursed.

Anne’s lips were still throbbing. Her head whirled dizzily. She stared up at him dumbly. “What?” she said faintly.

He yanked her stole up over her shoulders. His tone was grim. “There was someone here.”

Comprehension was slow to arrive—but her brother was not. By the time Anne had gathered her wits, Alec was there, with Lillith Kimball beside him—smirking! Anne knew then—knew that Lillith had done this on purpose, followed her and Simon on purpose…then run back to Alec.

Alec said something to Lillith. She gave a slight nod, pouting, then gathered up her skirts and headed back toward the house.

Alec’s gaze went from Anne’s flushed cheeks to Simon’s, and back again.

“What the devil is this?”

Anne stood as if frozen. Simon’s fingertips hovered almost protectively on the small of her back.

Alec’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll thank you to remove your hands from my sister.”

Silence descended, a silence like no other.

Simon’s hand fell away.

“Alec? Alec, what’s going on?”

It was her mother. And now Caro was here too.

Dear God, had Lillith told anyone else? The notion flashed through Anne’s head.

She shouldn’t have looked at them. Any of them. But she couldn’t help it. Yet when she did, her face grew scalding hot.

“Anne,” Vivian said faintly. “Oh, Anne.”

What little aplomb Anne possessed began to crumble. It took a supreme effort of will not to cry.

Alec was stony-faced. Caro and her mother were still stunned. All but Alec. He was scowling at Simon in thin-lipped disapproval.

Indeed, it almost appeared a contest as to which would break the stillness. It was Simon who said in a voice of deadly quiet, “I believe we should have a word, Your Grace.”

“And we shall. We shall indeed, sir. But this is a social occasion. Neither the place nor the time to discuss this…matter.”

“I quite agree. Tomorrow morning?”

Alec nodded. “My town house,” he said tersely. “I shall send my carriage round.”

“There’s no need.” Simon was just as curt. But he made no attempt to leave. Anne was aware the instant his gaze slid back to her.

He cleared his throat. “Lady Anne—”

Anne couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She certainly couldn’t look at him.

“I shall take care of my sister,” Alec cut in. “You need not concern yourself.”

She could have sworn she heard Simon’s jaw snap shut. She was distantly aware of the two men confronting each other. She had the oddest sensation they were only a hair away from blows.

Alec’s jaw locked. “If you please, sir.”

Finally Simon executed a low bow and was gone.

Alec bestowed on her a glare from icy blue eyes. He had laced his hands behind his back. Anne thought half hysterically that it was the only way he could stop them from curling around her neck.

She lifted tear-bright eyes to his. “Alec,” she said helplessly. “Mama—”

“I believe you’ve said enough, Anne. I believe you’ve
done
enough.” Alec glared at her.

Anne longed to sink through the earth and disappear into its depths forever. Red-hot shame consumed her.

It was Caro who stepped forward and took her hand. “Come, love,” she said gently. “I’ll help you to bed.”

In her room, Caro dismissed the maid and helped her from her clothing. Anne did not speak. But when she slipped into bed, the turmoil of the last hour caught up with her. “Caro,” she said desperately. “Oh, Caro—”

She did something she never expected, something she did but rarely.

She burst into tears.

Caro’s arms closed around her. “Hush, Annie,” she soothed. “It’ll be all right. It will.”

If only she could believe her. But all at once Anne wasn’t sure that
anything
would ever be right again.

It was early when a rap on the door sounded. Anne roused as Vivian stepped inside. Pink-cheeked, her hair tucked up beneath a cap, her mother looked surprisingly well-rested, Anne almost grudgingly decided. Anne, on the other hand, was bleary-eyed and exhausted. She’d slept barely a wink.

Vivian plumped a pillow behind her back. “Take your tea, pet, while it’s nice and hot. Oh, and I brought those croissants you’re so fond of.”

Anne accepted the cup, sipping from it gingerly. She didn’t want tea. The thought of food made her want to retch. How could her mother
act so normally? Would that the last evening had been a dream! Oh, how she longed to crawl beneath the covers, never to emerge.

Anne had never deemed herself a coward. But, oh, how she wished she could be numb.

Vivian flitted around the room, straightening the curtains, neatly folding her bath towel and summoning the maid for her bath.

Anne set aside her teacup. “Mama,” she said.

“Yes, poppet?” Vivian perched on the edge of the bed and reached for her hands.

Anne stared at her mother’s fingers, so slim and dainty and fine, curled firmly around her own. How was it possible there was such strength harbored in this small, tiny woman? She thought of her father, of the way her mother had bathed his brow and comforted and cheered him when his spirits were lowest. How had she remained so unfaltering and strong throughout the darkest days of his life…of
hers
? But hers was a resilience that could not be seen, Anne suddenly realized, a staunchness of spirit and faith…and dwelled solely within.

She swallowed. “Mama,” she said, her voice very low, “I should like to explain—”

“There is no need.” Vivian squeezed her hand. “I know what you’re going to say, dearest. Well, perhaps not to the letter, but I’ve an idea and…We can’t change what has happened, Anne. Yesterday is gone, and will be forever gone. We cannot reclaim it. We cannot
change
it. And so we must take heart that the days ahead will be better. We must trust that the days ahead will be brighter. We must do what we can to
make
it so.”

Anne bit her lip. In her mind, it wasn’t so simple to banish all doubt and summon such certainty. “Mama—” She stopped, unable to go on.

“Anne.
Anne
. Do not fret, dearest. Know that I love you. Know that Alec loves you, and Aidan as well. And know that nothing or no one will ever change that.”

A tremendous ache filled Anne’s throat.

“Now, pet, why don’t you get dressed? I expect your brother will wish to speak with you this morning.”

Anne gave a watery smile. “Mama,” she whispered, “I’m so very lucky to have you.”

“Ah, love,” came Vivian’s soft rejoinder, “I was about to say the same to you.”

Vivian was right. Even before she’d finished dressing, she received a summons that Alec wished to see her at ten o’clock. His town house was not so far that she could not easily walk the distance. But Helmsley, his coachman, stated that his master was most insistent that he deliver her safely. Anne was annoyed. What did Alec think? That she would bolt?

So it was that she was feeling rather rebellious when his butler ushered her into his study. Alec was already there, seated behind the great
mahogany desk that had once belonged to their father. He was busy signing some papers. He didn’t look up when she entered, but the quill continued to scratch across the surface.

At length he finished, setting aside the sheaf of paperwork.

Leather creaked as he leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. Anne and her brothers had always engaged in good-natured banter; it was rare that she was truly at odds with either of them. But in this moment, she envied Alec his ease. She envied him his station. It wasn’t fair, she thought resentfully, that she should be made to feel like an errant child simply because he was older. Because he was a duke. Because he was
male
.

She pretended to flick a thread from her gown. Tucking her feet beneath the chair, she raised her chin.

A dark brow arose. “Well, Anne,” he said smoothly, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

His superior, autocratic air seared her temper. He could be quite haughtily imposing when he chose, but Anne would not be cowed.

“Oh, bother!” she said irritably. “Who are you to talk to me so?”

“I am the man who is striving to keep his sister from a scandal that may well dash her reputation to bits.” His tone was as icy as his glare.

“Do not take that air with me!” she cried. “You are hardly a saint and I know it!”

“I am not the one under discussion here, Anne. You are.”

His glower was fierce. Anne hated being at odds with her brother. When they were young, she was always one step behind Alec and Aidan, always trying to keep up with them. But Alec’s sharpness stung.

She transferred her gaze to a point just beyond his ear and compressed her lips.

“Anne, are you listening?”

His censure cut deep. A part of her longed to clamp her hands over her ears. “Must I?” she muttered.

“Annie! I know you can be reckless. You’ve always been one to charge off into the unknown. But I never expected this from you! I thought I’d have to fend off countless marriage proposals. But this has put you beyond the pale!”

She set her chin. “I’m not a child, Alec. Pray don’t treat me like one. Besides, this only happened because Lillith has no liking for me.”

“No,” he said very quietly. “You’re not a child. But surely you understand the gravity of what happened last night. There are consequences to such behavior. You were careless. And you were caught. I’ve requested that Lillith maintain her silence, but I do not trust that she will comply. Indeed, it may be too late already.”

Anne fought a surge of dread. Lillith Kimball would delight in maligning her.

Alec paused. “Annie,” he said gently, “I can’t rescue you this time. I can’t make this disappear. This cannot be swept under the rug. It must be remedied before it becomes a full-blown scandal. Can you accept this? Can you accept
him
?”

Anne looked at him, her eyes huge. A half-formed suspicion winged through her mind. No, she thought dazedly. Surely it could not be. Surely he did not mean…

Her mouth opened, then closed. “Alec,” she said desperately, “I will not lie. I…we…I swear…it was but a kiss. No more than that…” Her head bowed low. She could look at him no more. She could
say
no more. Her chin began to wobble.

She was dimly aware of his rising. “Annie.” He dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, God, Annie, don’t cry. I take no pleasure in this, but there’s no other way! If there was, you know I’d move heaven and earth to see it done.”

There was a rap on the door. It opened a crack. “Your Grace, Mr. Blackwell has arrived.”

Oh, Lord. It was true then. Anne battled a surge of panic.

“Annie,” said Alec, “would you like to wait in the salon?”

There was no need for him to ask again. Anne
was already on her feet and bolting from the room.

The duke was civil when Simon entered his study. Simon hadn’t expected otherwise. Alec appeared relaxed, but Simon wasn’t fooled. The pleasantries they exchanged were forced, the tension in the air thick and ripe.

Simon had no desire to postpone the inescapable. He faced the duke squarely. “Let us be direct, Your Grace. My conduct with your sister last evening was most reprehensible.”

Alec leaned back in his chair. His expression was hard.

“You have my most sincere apologies,” he said.

“More than apologies are due, sir.” Alec’s tone was clipped.

Simon did not back down from his unrelenting regard. What could he say? What
was
there to say? Even now, he didn’t know why or how it had happened. It should
never
have happened. But it had, and there was no turning back. He’d dallied with a lady, an unmarried woman. Sweet Lord, the sister of a duke! And beneath the very roof of her home!