“Good. Then answer me. What are you doing here? You know very well what I could have done to you.”
Her glance scanned him. “You don’t have a weapon.”
He slid his hands to her throat, let his fingers lightly surround the smooth skin of her neck. “These are weapons enough.”
“Stop.” A shudder racked her, and he instantly removed his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to frighten her.
“Why are you here? I was not having a bad dream,” he whispered. “Come to play at seduction again?” The question slipped free, an unbidden taunt, an unspoken desire.
Bright color fired her cheeks. “No!” She squirmed beneath him, and he tightened his jaw against the sweet sensation.
She continued heatedly, “I did not know how else to have a word with you but to seek you out myself. You prove ever elusive, my lord.”
Her words hit their mark. A hot flash of guilt washed through him. “About yesterday—”
“No need to explain—”
“I want to explain. I—”
“Forgive me, my lord, but it’s not necessary.” She angled her head on the bed beneath her.
He stared down at her for a full minute. She cared. The fire in her cheeks was not solely from embarrassment. He knew that at once.
“My brother—”
“Your brother surprised you with a visit. Mrs. Kirkpatrick told me.” She released a heavy breath. “But you owe me no explanation. You owe me nothing at all.” She blinked those amazing eyes of hers. “You’ve done more than enough for me. You’ve seen to my care. I’m fit and hale once again. Thank you for that.” She uttered these words so properly, so very primly, that he felt some primitive urge to shake her well up inside him. “It’s time for me to go. It was unfair of me to exact a promise from you for more than you’ve already done for me.”
“Unfair?” Her words sank into his stomach like heavy stones. “ ‘Fair’ doesn’t come into play here, Anna. Something terrible happened to you and that wasn’t fair, was it?”
War . . . the deeds he’d committed in India . . . none of that had been fair. What made her think fairness was to be expected in this life? It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t forget their kiss. Her taste. It wasn’t fair that he was in anguish to experience it again.
He pulled back farther and his gaze roamed her. She had dressed for the day in a modest gown of robin’s egg blue. Even so, the fabric was snug across her br**sts. Wherever his housekeeper had unearthed the gown, it was meant for a female far less endowed.
She looked away, again confirming that she remembered far more of the events that led him to find her on that riverbank. For whatever reason, she didn’t trust him enough to confide in him. “I would not know about that.”
He sighed. “I promised to instruct you—”
“It’s clear I’m unwanted here.” Her long lashes blinked slowly over her eyes, as if she was fighting some unwanted emotion. “Let’s just be done with this . . . and each other.”
Her words rattled about his head. She was giving him a way out. He could simply say yes and let her go.
“That’s what you want?” He paused to swallow. “To go?”
She nodded jerkily, sending her brown hair tossing around her shoulders. The top half of it was pulled back with a pair of combs, leaving the rest to fall all around her shoulders. She looked young and fresh. He wished she had taken the time to arrange her hair. The temptation to touch that unruly mane, to run his fingers through the rich mass, was far too tempting. It took her a while to reply. “I think we can both agree that I’ve outstayed my welcome.”
He inhaled a sharp breath. Again he needn’t say anything. He only had to rise and let her go. Give her the money he promised to help her get settled somewhere and turn his back on her.
He glanced down at himself, recalling his lack of clothing. Lifting his gaze, he caught her observing him in turn. Her eyes skimmed over his bare shoulders and chest. When she lifted her gaze to his face, the color deepened in her cheeks.
Again he recalled her in her bath . . . after her bath. Of course she could not have forgotten that either. Did she regret her behavior that night? Did it torment her as much as it tormented him?
“If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll dress myself and meet you in the gardens. We should be able to begin your lesson there.”
Her gaze snapped back to his face. “What?”
“I made a promise to you. I apologize for putting it off . . . for failing you last night. You shan’t leave here until I’ve made good on my word to help you.”
He told himself it was the honorable thing to do. That was the only reason he refused to let her go. He wanted to cling to what small scrap of honor he still possessed.
She studied him for a long moment, her expression bewildered, her fine eyebrows knitted close. Doubtless, she wondered why he should care to keep her here any longer when she was so agreeable to leaving.
He was equally bewildered.
“Have you eaten yet? We should not begin until you’re properly fed. You’ll need your energy.”
After a long moment she nodded, but uncertainty still lurked in her wide eyes.
He slid his hands along her arms, trying not to enjoy the feel of her in his hands too much. He firmly set her from him.
Flipping back the counterpane, he rose in one smooth motion. If possible, her eyes grew even larger. Her gaze scanned his length before jerking elsewhere, darting wildly around his room. “Y-You are unclothed!”
He smiled, enjoying her discomfort as he strolled n**ed toward his wardrobe. After the torment of finding her in her bath in a similar state, he thought it sweet justice. “Speaking of clothes, we really need to find you some garments that are tailored to you.”
She glanced down, brushing a hand over her bodice as she got to her feet.
“Not,” he added, “that I don’t appreciate the cut of your bodice. You have lovely br**sts, Anna. I’m just not certain you want to flaunt them so much.”
“Oh!” Her fist came down to strike her skirts. “I shall see you downstairs,” she called, whirling around.
Chuckling, he watched her flee, impressed with how deft and quickly her feet moved beneath her skirts. She had made a miraculous recovery.
The door clicked shut behind her as he dressed himself.
It was only moments later that he realized he was still smiling.
Chapter Fifteen
She was waiting for him when he arrived in the dining room not half an hour later. The curtains were drawn and some rare morning sunshine spilled into the narrow room. He blinked as if his eyes were sensitive to light. She tried to school her features and not devour him with her gaze. The image of him naked, however, was burned into her eyes. She’d seen him without his shirt on, but he looked even better fully naked. Every inch of him exuded power and strength.
She straightened her spine, focusing on presenting a composed air in her chair. The only outward sign of her nervousness was her right hand. It twitched madly in her lap, safely out of sight, so she allowed herself the weakness.
He offered her a slight smile and inclined his golden dark head in a bare nod before turning to the sideboard a maid had laid out only moments before, the bounty of which made her feel rather guilty. The amount of food available could feed an entire household and not simply the two of them. She had seen such largesse in Town the last year but still had not grown accustomed to the sight of it all.
She took advantage of the moment to study his back, which even beneath his jacket was obviously strong, his shoulder blades shifting beneath the fabric. Unlike other ton gentlemen, his garments weren’t padded in the shoulders. He was lean and muscled. Her gaze caught on his broad wrist as he spooned eggs onto his plate. Her throat thickened and she fought to swallow.
Tearing her gaze from him, she lowered her spoon into her poached egg and continued to watch from beneath lowered lids as he sat down across from her, his plate piled high with eggs and kippers and various breads. Perhaps such largesse was appropriate, after all.
“Is that all you intend to eat?” He nodded toward her plate just as she took a bite of toast.
She chewed before answering. “Ever since I broke my leg I feel as though I have been pelted with food.”
“For a week you were out of your head with fever and did not eat at all. It was everything we could do to get water down you.”
Her spoon stilled and she looked up at him across the table, trying to picture him tending her alongside Mirela, although she knew he had been there. Mirela told her as much. Still . . . since she opened her eyes he had been maddeningly elusive.
“Even after you woke, your appetite was hardly recovered,” he said. “You should be eating now.”
“I’m well. Hardly wasting away. Fortunately, I could afford to lose a stone or two before.”
The sound of his knife on his plate stilled, the silence filling the space between them. She looked up, bewildered at what she had said.
His eyes pinned her, the dark blue penetrating.
She moistened her lips uncertainly.
“When are you going to admit you remember more about your past than you’re telling me?” Even his lips looked hard, pressed into a grim line.
Her pulse hammered at her neck. She suspected he had always thought as much—that she knew more, that she was lying—though he never demanded the truth from her. Until now.
“What are you saying?” she hedged, reaching for her tea, groping for time to recover, to decide what she needed to say other than the truth. Because she could not touch the truth. Not with him. Dread gnawed at her at the mere idea of telling him she was another man’s wife.
She believed him to be an honorable man, and honorable men did what they thought was right and just. They followed the law. Just as he had followed orders he might not have believed in or wanted to obey.
Returning a wife to her husband, a fellow peer of the realm, would surely seem the right thing to do. Or he could turn her over to the local constabulary, thinking they would do the right and just thing. She could not fault him if he chose such a course. But she had no doubt that Bloodsworth’s name and power would persuade the authorities to release her back into his care.
She couldn’t count on Jack to help her, either. His motivation had been clear from the start. She was to marry well. She had done that. She had given him a duke for a son-in-law.
An image of Bloodsworth rose up in her mind, and she couldn’t breathe. She could not go back to him. She could not risk anyone discovering her identity. Not even the man who had saved her life.
“You know my meaning, Anna. I’d like the truth.”
For some reason, she wanted to snap out that her name wasn’t Anna. She was Annalise. Annalise. Just once she would like to hear the sound of her real name on his lips.
Instead, she merely said, “I am sure I do not.”
“You’re lying.”
Her face warmed. She set her tea cup down with a soft click, one finger lightly tracing the delicate rim.
He pressed on, his deep voice cutting, “Why are you lying? I can help you if you tell me the truth.”
An ache pulled at her chest. It would be so easy to tell him, to confess everything. She wanted him to help her, to take care of everything, to save her and make her life easy. Only he couldn’t do that. No one could.
“What are you afraid of?”
Her gaze snapped back to his face. “I’m not afraid.”
It was as though he had said the magic word. It brought an almost a visceral reaction. No more being afraid. No more fear ever again. She had made that promise to herself and she would keep it.
A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth. “You’re lying again.”
She angled her head. Her hand in her lap clenched into a fist. “Stop saying that.” This time I’m not lying. I’m not afraid. I’m not.