The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (38 page)

“It is practised quite heavily in society, as you must know. Perhaps a virtuous woman such as yourself has not heard of such a thing. But I can assure you it is most common.” Was that resentment she heard lining his voice?

“I would never do such a thing,” she said. “Infidelity is unthinkable. I do realize men find it palatable, but I could never participate.” She sat straighter. “And, of course, I have heard of liaisons outside of the marriage bed. Griffin might be boring, but he is a kind man and I would never be so disrespectful of him.”

He was quiet for a moment as if he were trying to make something of her admission.

Her eyes travelled the length of his legs and again she was struck by the shine of his Hessians. Simple thieves did not dress in such a refined manner. “It doesn’t appear as though infidelity is the only way to seek out adventure.” She inclined her head in his direction.

“To what are you referring, madam?” he asked.

“This.” She motioned her hand in his direction. “Your mask, your thievery. Kidnapping an innocent lady.”

He held up a finger. “At her request,” he added. “I did not don the mask for adventure.”

“Perhaps not, but you are no ordinary highwayman, are you?” she asked.

“I suppose you’ve met other thieves then, to compare me to? And I am somehow lacking in an area?” he asked.

She smiled in spite of herself. “No, I have met no others. But you are well born, I can see that much. In the way you handled the ride. The manner in which you speak, sit, hold yourself, your fine clothes.” She paused, then met his eyes. “The fact that you have not handled me inappropriately. You are a gentleman.”

A slow smile slid into place and he was so utterly handsome, so devastatingly dashing, she sucked in her breath. She would have sworn her heart paused for an entire minute before it beat again. As if the blood pumping through her veins stilled as she inhaled, stopped simply for his smile. “A well-born man,” she continued in an attempt to hide her reaction to him, “who becomes bored with society can traipse about the countryside playing at thievery. A wellborn lady has only gossip and shopping to entertain her.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But looks can certainly be deceiving.”

“Indeed. Regardless of who you are, you must acknowledge that women do not have the same opportunities men do when it comes to life choices, especially well-bred ladies. I may marry a man of my family’s choosing or I am doomed to spinsterhood, relying on the generosity of my family members.”

“Forgive me if I offer you no sympathy.” He leaned forwards, bracing his elbows on his knees. He shoved his shirtsleeves up, revealing well-muscled forearms. “Men do not always have choice in their marriage partners either.”

“More often than women do,” she argued, knowing it was childish to do so.

“Marriage to the right person could be an adventure. Have you considered that?” he asked.

“Of course.” And initially she had thought Griffin to be that very person. He’d been so charming, so funny, and then turned so cold. “Marriage for love,” she said quietly.

“So you do not love him?” he said. His words came out slowly.

“He does not love me,” she said vehemently, perhaps revealing too much of her disappointment. She paused before adding, “It was not a love match, but rather a business transaction between him and my father.”

“He has told you he does not love you?”

She frowned. “No, of course not. He would not be that cruel.”

“Then how do you know?” he asked.

“Because a woman can tell these things. In the way that he looks at me.” Or rather the way he never looked at her. “And the way that he speaks to me.” She didn’t owe this highwayman an explanation. “A woman knows when a man loves her.” She had thought she’d felt it with Griffin, felt the gentle bloom of love in his touch, his words. Then as suddenly as their relationship had begun his polite indifference had replaced his wooing.

“Women do not know everything.” He stood and paced the length of the small room. He stood in front of the tiny window, but made no move to push aside the faded curtain. He simply stood there staring at nothing.

“What does a highwayman know of love?” she tossed out.

He chuckled, but it did not seem to be a particularly humour-filled laugh. “Perhaps I know nothing about love.” He turned and slowly lowered himself on to the sofa next to her. Far too close. She could feel warmth emanating off his legs.

She swallowed hard and fisted material from her skirt, twisting it. Trying her best to ignore her fear, she raised her chin up a notch. This close to him she could smell his scent, woody and musky, complete masculinity. There was something oddly familiar about it.

“You are quite lovely,” he murmured.

“There is no need to taunt me. That is cruel,” she said.

“Taunt you?” He leaned forwards, twirled one of her stray curls around his finger. “I thought I was paying you a compliment.”

“I am not a beauty, everyone knows that,” she said defiantly.

“That is a foolish thing to say.” He ran a hand down her cheek. His fingers were warm as they trailed down her face. “I might not know love,” he said, bitterness seeped into his tone. “But I do know beauty and you are beautiful.”

Again he touched her. Shivers scattered over her flesh, but nothing touched her the way his words did. As much as she didn’t want to, she believed him. He thought her beautiful. Perhaps that said more about her than it did him, that a thief would find her appealing. But she didn’t care. In this moment she felt beautiful. And it nearly erased all of her nerves about being trapped in this cottage with a potentially dangerous man.

“Your complexion is exquisite, your skin so soft. And your hair — I want to pull those pins from it and run my hands through your golden locks.”

In that moment she wanted him to. Not to simply threaten it, but to do it, to pull those pins out and pull her to him, kiss her senseless. It was wrong, she knew that, still there was something so compelling about this masked man.

“You have lovely brown eyes,” he continued. “But more than all of those, you have a luscious mouth, lips so full and tender, I want very much to kiss them.” He was so very close now, she could smell the faint hint of liquor on his breath as well as cold.

Without a thought to the consequences, Annalise closed her eyes and leaned forwards ever so slightly. He chuckled lightly, then his lips brushed against hers. The first touch of his mouth warmed her entire body. He settled closer to her, placed one hand on her back as he pulled her to him. His other hand cupped her cheek.

His lips moved against hers, softly, slowly, seductively. Annalise opened her mouth to him. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue across her teeth, then into her mouth. Desire pooled through her body, blood tingled through her veins.

His fingers kneaded her back. And she still sat, ankles crossed, hands fisting her skirts. She wanted to touch him too, but did not know where to put her hands. This entire situation was wrong, she knew that, but what did it matter now? She was a ruined woman. Fated to life as a single woman, much like her Aunt Triny. Should she not simply enjoy this moment of desire for what it was?

He kissed her for several moments and she enjoyed every brush of his lips, every sweep of his tongue. Good heavens, what was he doing to her?

With both hands he pulled her towards him so her torso lay partially across his body. His warm, firm chest pressed against her and still he kissed her. She had heard other girls mention such embraces, usually found in the arms of blackguards who preyed on the virtue of innocent females. But none of that mattered any longer. She felt a pang of regret as an image of Griffin’s face formed in her mind. She’d imagined kissing him in such a fashion, passion overcoming them both. But he did not want her, not truly, she reminded herself.

His hand came up and cupped her breast, the touch so intimate, so unfamiliar, yet so utterly devilish, that she made no move to stop him. He kneaded her sensitive flesh and deepened the kiss. Tentatively she kissed him back, running her tongue against his.

“Annalise,” he whispered.

Her eyes flew open, and she leaned back. “I never told you my name.”

Without another thought, Annalise reached over and tugged on the black mask. The black silk fabric tore away from his face. She came to her feet and her eyes widened in shock. “Griffin!” she exclaimed. He gave her a mocking bow. “Sorry to disappoint you.” Several conflicting emotions flitted across her face. She stood stock-still, her hands fisted at her sides, and continued to gape at him. “But how? Why?” Her brow creased in a heavy frown.

“How did I come to be a highwayman?” he asked. He walked away from her then, casually making his way to one of the tiny windows. He stared outside and said nothing for several moments, then he slowly turned to face her. “It was a wager. A foolish wager with an idiot friend.” He shook his head. “I was only meant to steal one piece of jewellery and then be on my way. Harmless enough.”

“Harmless,” she repeated.

He’d seen Annalise’s wrath and he fully expected to be on the receiving end any moment, but after several moments of silence he began to wonder. Still she stood, but she no longer faced him, instead she looked in the opposite direction.

“Annalise,” he said, gripping her elbow.

She turned to face him, her expression flamed with indignation. “You deceived me, played me for a fool.” She shook her head. “I said things I never would have—” She choked on the rest of the sentence.

Was she looking to him for an apology? Yes, he’d deceived her, but she’d walked out on him. Chosen a thief over a fiancé who … who what? Who was mad with lust for her? These were not the romantic words of love that a lady longed to hear. Still, she didn’t seem to be longing for such words from him so what did it matter if he had tender feelings for her or not?

“There is nothing harmless about this night,” she said quietly. She pulled away from him and faced the sofa.

So she regretted that too, his touch, his kisses. It was a kick in his gut because he knew that had she not ripped his mask off, she would have allowed him to continue, to push their passion further. But with Griffin, it was all regret.

He watched Annalise now as she lay on the sofa. Then he made his way to the front door. He wouldn’t leave, not now, but he needed some air. And the cold night breeze. Already his blood heated for her, desire surging through his body.

“I need some air,” he said as he headed out the front door.

He shouldn’t have touched her. He’d known that all along about Annalise, that once he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. Wouldn’t want to. Despite her good breeding, she was a fiery woman, one with passion and pluck. She would never be the perfect wife who sat in the corner and nodded and smiled. No, not his Annalise. She would argue and fuss.

He knew that for a lot of men that would bring nothing but aggravation. And he’d be a fool not to admit that her feisty behaviour would bring its share of frustration. But he wouldn’t want her any other way.

With other women he’d always been bored. They all looked the same and they sounded the same. But Annalise had her sumptuous curves, her wide, easy smile, and her eyes shone with intelligence. Her father had even warned Griffin that the girl was too well read for her own good. “Those books put too many opinions in her head,” he’d said. Her parents had even tried to convince Griffin that Annalise’s younger sister, Penny, was a better choice for him. But prim and proper Penny did nothing for him.

Hell, he’d known he had to be careful with her. It was why he’d kept his distance. They were explosive together. And he didn’t want to give his mother any reason for sabotaging this union so she could marry him off to a girl of her choosing. But he’d kept his distance so much so that he’d convinced his would-be bride that he was indifferent to her.

He had betrayed her, that he could not deny. But she had abandoned him. Begged a stranger to kidnap her so she could escape their marriage. He’d be a liar if he said that didn’t anger him. Other men might be perfectly satisfied with marrying a woman who did not want to become their wife. But Griffin was not that man. He wanted Annalise, but only if she wanted him too.

Oh, she’d desired him. In those heated moments when he’d still worn his mask. Did that mean the fire in her burned so hot merely because of the adventure? Was it the danger of the unknown and the idea that a common thief had his hands and mouth on her body? He wanted to believe that somehow she’d known it was him, and that was why she’d been so wanton. But he was no fool and he was not given to silly boyish fantasies.

He knew what he had to do. He’d give her the choice. If she chose to walk away perhaps her reputation would not be too damaged.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Annalise asked the following morning. Her voice was shrill, she knew that, but it panicked her to think he’d leave her, not simply alone here in this cottage, but that he would walk away completely. He’d lied to her and betrayed her, she reminded herself. But hadn’t she left him first? Begged a strange man — a man, to her mind, who was a common thief — to take her away from him?

“I have an appointment in Kent,” he said calmly.

She opened her mouth to speak, then said nothing. He still intended to marry her? Or was he planning to merely make an appearance to show good faith to her parents? Preserve his own name while he watched hers sullied? “Penny and Hildy will have told everyone what happened to me,” she said quietly. “No one will blame you for deserting me.”

“I’m not deserting you. I’ve called a carriage and it will take you wherever you choose to go,” he said.

“And what of the wedding?”

He inclined his head, then looked at her. “I’m planning on being in the church as we planned. If you so choose, you can meet me there and we will be married.”