The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (37 page)

She’d been utterly enchanting: charming and witty and easy to converse with. Her laughter had come easily and had been authentic. She’d been sincere, not at all like the pretty, but empty shell that was most marriageable women he’d encountered. Annalise had been different and he’d been intoxicated by her.

It would seem he’d done such a convincing job that he was at the very height of propriety. Annalise was not interested in him in the least. Though he would have sworn that hadn’t always been the case.

Her full bottom pressed against his inner thigh stirring his desire. It would have been impossible for her to ride side-saddle, as was customary for ladies, so he’d snuggled her against him, her position mirroring his own. Annalise Petty was a desirable woman. It was why he’d sought her out at the Draper Ball. Why he’d first noticed her in that shop on Bond Street the day before when she’d turned her righteous anger on Lady Henwick and given the matron more than one afternoon’s worth of gossip. The woman had had it coming. She’d been ruthless towards Annalise’s younger sister. Still Annalise’s behaviour was shocking. She’d intrigued him, so different when compared to all the rest of London’s marriageable misses. So when he’d seen her the following evening at the ball, he’d been unable to resist crossing the ballroom to ask her to dance. Because of the ensuing scandal, he’d pursued her and had eventually asked her parents for her hand, but that initial attraction had not yet faded for him.

She was lovely, with her large brown eyes and wide mouth, her honey-coloured locks and rounded figure. Griffin loved her fuller curves. Though her modest dresses didn’t give too much away, he knew she had lush hips and shapely legs to match her bountiful breasts. Where some girls had to dampen their petticoats to pronounce their assets, Annalise’s figure demanded attention. And he’d imagined every inch of her, and precisely what he would do to her on their wedding night. She would be worth the wait, worth the sacrifice he’d made in not enjoying her company these past few weeks.

If Annalise didn’t marry him, his mother would select a bride for him. She’d given him a deadline and he knew, as wonderful as his mother could be, a bride of her choice would not match his own desires. She’d select someone pretty and sweet and demure, and he’d be in for a lifetime of boredom. Much the same as what Annalise clearly expected from him.

Clearly he had only one option. The highwayman who had just abducted Annalise would have to convince her to marry her bore of a fiancé. He wouldn’t take her to London at all. In fact their current location was rather perfect. There was a small cottage on the edge of his property that would give them safe shelter for the night. The cottage was empty this time of year, generally used as a hunting cottage in pheasant season. It was the perfect place for them to hide and rest until morning light when he could send her on her way to Kent. On her way to their wedding.

He had to convince her she was making a mistake running away. And he’d have to do all of that while keeping his identity hidden.

Half an hour later they pulled up to the cottage. It was dark, though Griffin knew it would be well stocked with candles and blankets.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Looks to be an abandoned cottage,” he said. He jumped down from the horse, then helped her to the ground. “We ’ll stay here for the night. It’s far too late to ride all the way back to London.”

“Is this your hiding place? Where you keep all your stolen goods?” she asked, her voice an odd mixture of intrigue and horror.

He led her to the front door, then made a show of breaking the lock to make it appear as if he didn’t already know there was a key concealed within the hanging fern. “I have no such hiding place,” he murmured.

“Well, I would think as a thief you would need some place such as that,” she said. “Unless you are not successful in your wicked endeavours.”

He quickly found two candles and lit them. A soft glow permeated the darkness and illuminated the lovely Annalise. He met her gaze. “I can assure you that when given the opportunity I can be appropriately wicked.” He’d imagined this very scenario, only on their wedding night, with her wearing a filmy robe, her golden hair cascading down her back, her feet bare.

Now though she stood before him fully clothed. Her travel gown was basic and brown, with matching boots. While her dress remained intact, her hair was windblown from the ride, the remaining pins still holding her curls but several tresses had escaped and now framed her face. He noted that she wore no cloak or outer garment. “You do not wear a cloak in this chill weather?”

She chewed at her lip and shrugged. “I must have left it in the carriage.”

He eyed her. He knew Annalise to be fiery and bold, but never impractical.

“Are you going to take that mask off?” she asked.

His heart thundered. Had she recognized him? He didn’t think so, but it was a possibility. The sound of his voice or perhaps his eyes? Any of that could clue her into his true identity. They hadn’t spent much time together, but she had certainly seen him, stood close to him, had heard him speak. He eyed her, searching her face for signs of recognition, but her blank expression gave him nothing.

“Unless you tell me your name, it is not as if I can lead authorities to you,” she reasoned.

So no, she did not recognize him. “No, I’m perfectly comfortable just as I am.”

She shrugged. “Very well.” She turned around slowly, surveying the cottage. They stood in the seating room, which consisted of three wooden chairs and a worn sofa. She rubbed her arms, obviously chilled.

He made quick work of getting a fire going in the hearth. The flames crackled to life and warmth began to spread through the small cottage.

She swallowed visibly. “And we are to sleep here? Together?”

Her eyes widened as she lowered herself to the worn green and brown sofa, as if the weight of the situation had just crashed down upon her. To her mind, she was alone in an abandoned cottage with a dangerous highwayman. Highwaymen had dreadful reputations as thieves who preyed upon carriages of the wealthy, stealing jewels and money and virtues as they prowled the countryside. Yet she hadn’t seemed afraid of the situation as she’d climbed down from the carriage, nor when she’d asked him to take her with him. And even now, although she seemed hesitant, perhaps cautious, he saw no actual fear lining her lovely face. Perhaps she feigned bravery.

But she
should
be afraid.

She was to be his wife. He certainly couldn’t allow her to ride through the countryside befriending miscreants and thieves. What if he hadn’t been the one to pull over her carriage? What if a true blackguard had taken her with him? Perhaps she needed to see the full weight of the situation, feel the repercussions of her reckless behaviour.

He took a step towards her. One finger at a time, he pulled his gloves off. “Yes, this is where we will sleep for the night.” He trailed a hand down her cheek. “I suspect we’ll find an appropriate bed in one of the rooms down that hall.”

Her eyes followed his nod to the darkened hallway.

“Rethinking your request to come along with me?” he asked.

She inhaled sharply and took a steadying breath. “I am merely coming to terms with my reputation.”

“You weren’t too worried about your reputation back on the road when you begged me to rescue you.”

Defiantly she crossed her arms over her chest. It did little to hide the curves of her breasts, but instead drew closer attention to their fullness. “Perhaps I was a measure too hasty in my request. But it is far too late now. My reputation is already in tatters.” She pushed out her chin. “I assume you intend to ravish me, then?”

He felt his lips twitch with humour. He turned away from her to hide his expression. He should be angry with her — hell, he
was
angry — but she made it damned difficult to stay that way. “I would not have to ravish you,” he said. “If I want you, I will have you.” He turned back to face her and met her gaze. Momentarily, it felt as if he was looking at her, Annalise, his fiancée and she was looking at him in return, seeing Griffin beneath the mask.

The masked man sat in a wooden chair and stretched out his long legs in front of him. His tan breeches moulded against his well-formed legs, his Hessian boots shone in the candlelight. He certainly did not dress like a highwayman.

She crossed her feet at the ankles and folded her hands in her lap. Her mama had always told her she was impetuous and headstrong, but she’d never done anything this foolhardy. But here she was, holed up in an abandoned cottage with a masked thief. Her family would wonder what Griffin would say when he discovered his would-be wife had been abducted. Hopefully Penny and Hildy had made it safely to Kent.

If I want you, I will have you.
His words rang in her head.
If.
Leave it to her to be so uninspiring to the opposite sex that even a ruthless highwayman could resist her charms. The fact that a thief didn’t want to ravish her should make her feel better about her current situation, instead she felt defeated. No wonder Griffin was indifferent to her.

“Tell me about this fiancé of yours,” he said.

“He’s a gentleman,” she began, not quite certain what else to add. She’d spoken so poorly of him earlier in the evening. But there was part of her, the part that was uneasy with her current situation, who wished he were here now. Not that he’d ever been particularly protective, in fact he’d mostly ignored her. But that first evening when they’d met, when he’d not been able to keep his eyes off her, when they’d danced again and again, he’d seemed, perhaps not protective, but most definitely interested. And she supposed he was an athletic sort and he might be able to fight this highwayman for her honour.

“A gentleman,” he repeated, clearly amused. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, which drew her eye to his lips. They were perfectly crafted, she couldn’t help but notice, sensual, almost pretty. The kinds of lips she’d heard other ladies talk about, the sort that would know how to kiss a woman to make her insides quiver.

She didn’t remember ever noticing Griffin’s mouth. Of course he didn’t speak to her very often. And, of course, he’d never so much as kissed her cheek. Annalise refolded her hands in her lap. “He’s kind and gentle.”

An eyebrow quirked over the domino mask. “You said he was boorish,” he reminded her.

She had said that. And she’d meant it. There was nothing romantic or exciting about her betrothed. He was a typical English gentleman, more interested in land and politics and drink than his intended. Being in the same room with Griffin was a constant reminder of how forgettable she was as a woman.

So much like the family she’d grown up in. Her father was always far more concerned with their coffers, and what the neighbours were doing. Her mother spent every last minute doting on Penny, the prettier daughter. Annalise had been ignored. Which had suited her perfectly since it allowed her plenty of uninterrupted reading time.

That was until Griffin had started to pay attention to her, then it was as if her parents had noticed her for the first time. He’d been the only man to show an interest in her and, initially, when they’d danced at the ball, she’d thought he wanted
her
— Annalise, the woman. But as time progressed and he more or less simply courted her parents, she’d realized he’d been attracted to nothing more than the land she provided.

“I did say that,” she said. Truth was, she didn’t have much to say about her future husband. She didn’t know him. She knew his name and she knew what his hand felt like in hers, the other resting on her lower back. She knew how she’d felt that first moment in his arms, the furious agitation in her stomach and the hope that had bloomed in her heart. And she knew the resulting disappointment when he’d come to call and spent the time discussing horses with her father.

“And you meant it,” he said.

“I did.” She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. What did it matter what she said here tonight? She did not know this man; he did not know her. And tomorrow everything in her life would be different. “He is awfully boring and polite. And terribly respectable.”

He feigned shock, his mouth fell open. “However do you bear it? Respectability is indeed a terrible thing.”

“I am quite serious,” she said, feeling the frown crease her brows.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” He sat quietly for several moments before he folded his hands across his abdomen. “So what shall you do now that you’ve left this dreadful man at the altar?”

Annalise allowed his words to sink in. No, it would never appear that way to Griffin, nor her family. They would see her as tarnished goods because of her fate at the hands of this highwayman. But she knew the truth. As did this man. She had walked away from Griffin. Jilted him. Indifference or not, he hadn’t deserved that, but what of Penny’s reputation? Annalise couldn’t have allowed her sister to be ruined alongside her.

“I never said he was dreadful,” Annalise said quietly.

“But a respectable boor,” he corrected.

She sighed. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

He was quiet for several moments before he said anything else. “So tell me, is leaving this fiancé of yours the only way in which you can acquire excitement? That is what you’re after, is it not? Some manner of adventure?”

She hadn’t left with this man to seek adventure, she’d done so to protect her sister. But she couldn’t tell him that, so she played along. “I am most disappointed as to how my life is turning out. It seems the only way,” she said. And it wasn’t as if any of that was a lie. She
was
disappointed.

“What of marrying this boring bloke, as planned, then finding your adventure elsewhere?” His head tilted as if he were truly curious about the matter. Or had that been an invitation … to dally with him? Certainly not. He’d said himself, if he wanted her, she would be his. Evidently he did not want her. And she was grateful for that. No woman wished to be ravished, regardless of how dashing the highwayman might be.