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An Unconventional Widow Page 7
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Annabell smiled and wondered why this quick affinity between them seemed so right. ‘Only if you will call me Annabell.’
‘Most certainly.’ Juliet cast a conspiratorial glance at Annabell. ‘Shall I play a waltz? It is all the craze.’
Annabell shrugged. ‘If you wish. You are, after all, the musician. The rest of us are at your mercy.’
‘Fie,’ Susan said, coming to a breathless stop by the two women. ‘Do not be so ungracious, Annabell.’
There were times when she wondered why she tolerated Susan. Immediately she regretted the spurt of irritation. She tolerated her companion because she loved her. They had been together a long time and had gone through a lot of things together. And she had been churlish. The thought of Sir Hugo waltzing with Miss Melissa Childs had not been a pleasant one, no matter how she had tried to mislead herself. Which only made her feelings that much more unacceptable.
‘You are right, Susan.’ She smiled down at Juliet. ‘Please, give us the pleasure of a waltz.’
Juliet smiled back. ‘Do you waltz?’
Before she could reply, Susan answered for her. ‘She will not learn it. I have implored her to do so, for it is vastly entertaining. Like flying free. But she refuses.’
‘Perhaps I can persuade her,’ Sir Hugo’s deep, honey-rich voice said from too close to Annabell’s back.
She willed herself to calmness and pivoted to face him. ‘Better men and…’ she cast a glance at Susan ‘…women than you have tried, Sir Hugo.’
‘A challenge?’ He raised one mahogany brow.
‘No, a refusal. Nothing more.’ She forced herself to laugh lightly. ‘But I am sure you can find a willing partner, even from so limited a supply.’
He made her a mocking bow. ‘I would ask Juliet, but she must play the tune—unless you also play the pianoforte.’
‘Unfortunately, Sir Hugo, that is not one of my accomplishments.’
Only after the words were out did she realise how defensive she had sounded. He seemed to bring out the worst in her.
He gave her a knowing look before turning to the governess. ‘I fear you must do me the honour once more, Miss Childs.’
She smiled timidly at him before her gaze dropped. ‘I should look in on the children, sir.’
‘No, no, Melissa,’ Juliet Fitzsimmon said. ‘You deserve to have some fun. Dance with Hugo, for I swear he is very graceful.’
Miss Childs blushed to the roots of her ash-brown hair. ‘I don’t know how to waltz.’
‘Is that all?’ Sir Hugo held out his hand. ‘I will teach you.’
‘Oh, dear. I could not.’
He smiled. ‘Yes, you can. You are light on your feet and have a good sense of rhythm. You will learn quickly. Juliet, if you will.’
Juliet turned back to the keyboard, flexed her fingers like a maestro and began with a flourish. Music filled the room.
Mr Tatterly bowed to Miss Pennyworth, who laughed delightedly as she moved into the stiff and very proper circle of his arms. They waltzed away.
Annabell watched from the side and told herself it did not matter if Sir Hugo’s arm was around another woman’s waist. It did not matter at all. Absolutely not.
But she knew better.
He moved with consummate skill, leading his faltering partner with grace. One would never know he had suffered a war injury in his left leg. He bent down to say something to Miss Childs, who smiled and blushed wildly. He was charming the girl.
Annabell gritted her teeth against the urge to offer herself for the next waltz, if there was one. Better judgement said the less she had to do with her host, the better off she would be. Still, she was sorely tempted.
To distract herself, she watched Susan and Mr Tatterly. They made a very disparate couple. She was tall and lean while he was just barely her height and solid, although not fat. Yet, each wore a look on their face that spoke of wonder, as though neither had thought they would ever find someone to care for and who would care for them in return.
Annabell smiled wistfully. Her oldest brother had found that happiness with Felicia. There were times she envied him, but, for the most part, she was content going on as she was.
The music stopped with a flourish, drawing her back to the picture of Miss Childs in Sir Hugo’s arms. He escorted her back to the pianoforte, his attention on her heart-shaped, upturned face. The young woman was besotted. Annabell found herself feeling sorry for the governess. Sir Hugo would break the girl’s heart and not even realise it.
‘Perhaps,’ Juliet said, a worried look on her face, ‘you would do me a favour, Annabell, and dance with Hugo next. While I know he has no designs on my governess, I do not wish to see the chit hurt.’
‘I agree, Juliet. That would not be fair to her.’ Annabell sighed. ‘Perhaps we should stop for the night?’
‘Never say so,’ Susan said, hurrying over and pulling Mr Tatterly with her. ‘We are having so much fun, aren’t we, Mr Tatterly?’ She turned adoring eyes on her escort, who reddened with pleasure.
He returned her look. ‘I do not generally enjoy dancing, Miss Pennyworth, but tonight is an exception.’ He smiled, a tiny thing, but one that lit his brown eyes. ‘I would be sorry to have it end so soon.’
Annabell shifted so she did not look at the couple. If she left, the gathering would likely break up. If she stayed, she had to save Miss Childs from Sir Hugo’s unconscious charm, which would end with the chit sitting or standing by herself, and her in Sir Hugo’s arms. Neither was ideal. Nor was the flush of heated anticipation that seared her senses from just the thought of having Sir Hugo holding her. She was behaving like a ninnyhammer, instead of the independent woman she had worked so hard to become.
Sir Hugo and his partner reached them. The warmth that had plagued Annabell just seconds before intensified. She scowled at her nemesis, wondering what it was about him that aroused her so. He flashed a rakish smile that showed strong white teeth and hinted of things done in the dark. Her pulse jumped, and she knew this was still another thing about him that appealed to her. He was a rebel who went his own way. His path was hedonistic pleasure. Hers was independence, but neither of them played by society’s rules.
‘Changed your mind?’ His voice, so deep and enticing, made her decision easier than she would have liked.
‘Yes, Sir Hugo, I have.’ She looked at Miss Childs. ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to learn to waltz as you are doing. You seemed to enjoy doing it and to have learned rapidly. I find myself curious to experience it.’
The girl blushed so her face mottled. ‘I am not very good.’ She cast a surreptitious glance at her partner. ‘And I stepped on Sir Hugo’s feet more times than the floor, but I enjoyed it immensely. It is…’ she paused, searching for the right word ‘…it is exhilarating.’
Sir Hugo made Miss Childs an elegant leg. ‘For your first time, you did very well. It was my pleasure to teach you, and I will be delighted to do so again.’
Annabell watched with sardonic amusement as the young woman’s blush deepened to a shade closely resembling the flames in the nearby fireplace. She was more susceptible to Sir Hugo’s charms than a puppy to a kind word.
‘Well, Juliet,’ Annabell said firmly, ‘I am ready when you are.’ Juliet gave her a startled look, and Annabell realised she had sounded like a martyr going to the stake. ‘I am truly not a good dancer,’ she added in an effort to lighten her words.
Juliet gave her one last considering look before starting. Sir Hugo stepped toward her and smiled his predatory smile that did nothing to ease the butterflies beginning to flutter in Annabell’s stomach. Dimly she was aware of Mr Tatterly asking Miss Childs to dance and Susan sitting in the chair beside the pianoforte. But only vaguely did she notice what the others were doing because Sir Hugo chose that moment to encircle her waist with his arm.
Her mouth was suddenly dry.
‘It is customary for the woman to put her left hand on the man’s shoulder,’ he murmured with just a hint of amusemen
t.
‘Yes.’
She did as he instructed and nearly recoiled. Even through the fine kid of her gloves and the weave of his jacket she felt his muscles. There was a casual dissoluteness about him that had misled her into thinking he was soft. She had been vastly wrong.
He took her right hand in his left. ‘By the time we are through positioning our hands and arms, the music will be over.’
He was needling her, but he was right. She was behaving strangely, even to herself. And why? He had already kissed her and invited her to his bedchamber. She should be immune to his nearness. But she was not. The waltz would be much longer than the kiss. They would be farther apart, but he would still be touching her.
She took a deep breath and he whirled her away.
She did her best to follow his lead, but she was so focused on his closeness that she found it hard to concentrate on her steps. He radiated heat and the scent of cinnamon and male muskiness. The muscles under her left hand flexed with a strength she found exciting.
‘You must relax in order to waltz well.’ His deep voice penetrated to her core.
Instead of answering, she concentrated on ignoring her reaction to him. This is just a dance, she told herself. He is not going to kiss you. He is not going to seduce you. He is merely holding you at arm’s length and twirling you around the floor. Nothing more. This means nothing.
She swallowed a groan at her inability to discipline herself. She might as well be inebriated on the brandy he drank so liberally for all the good her will-power was doing.
He swung and dipped her in one smooth motion. Annabell gasped and would have stumbled if not for the iron band of his arm around her waist. He steadied her.
‘You did that on purpose.’
His dangerous smile was firmly in place. ‘If you would relax, you would enjoy it when I do that to you.’
She grimaced. ‘I am sure I would enjoy any number of things better if I relaxed. Unfortunately, it is not in me.’
He moved back, drawing her with him. ‘Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. If you concentrate on that, you won’t be so aware of dancing.’
She laughed a short burst of sarcasm. ‘I doubt that. It is very difficult to ignore your arm around my waist and your hand at the small of my back.’
He raised one brow. ‘Really?’
She bit her lip. Why had she said that? It was true, for his hand felt like a hot brand that seared through clothing, skin and bone and into a part of her she had never known existed before now.
When he inched her slightly closer, she went. She told herself she did so because resisting him would make it even more difficult to learn the dance. In truth, she did it because his warmth, his masculinity, called to that part of her that was uniquely female.
He bent his head down to whisper in her ear, ‘You smell of honeysuckle and mystery.’
Her short, abrupt laugh, meant to cover her embarrassment at his unexpected compliment, failed. She felt breathless and titillated, as though she balanced precariously on the edge of a precipice and to fall would be the end of everything she had worked so hard to achieve. Her susceptibility to the man was frightening.
He twirled her around, his face intense as though he put his entire being into this dance. Somehow she managed to follow him. He was very skilled at this, just as Juliet had said.
He pulled her still closer. She went.
Her breasts grazed his chest and lightning shot through her. She looked up to see if she was alone in this storm. She was not.
His eyes were like twin green flames. They caught her gaze and threatened to burn her to ashes in his passion. He no longer smiled. His beautiful mouth was the only soft thing in his face. His cheeks and jaw were razor slashes.
‘I want you,’ he said softly.
She stared, not sure she had heard correctly, or that he had even spoken, for she could not imagine him saying what she thought he had. Even for him the words were brazen. He had implied as much when he invited her to his room, but she had been able to tell herself the offer was something easily ignored. This blatant statement was so much more.
‘I want to do things to you in the dark.’
She gulped hard. ‘You should not be saying things like that to me.’
‘I know, but if I don’t, how will you know I desire you?’
She forced herself not to look away from his green eyes. They were filled with a hunger that quickened her pulse. But she would not succumb to temptation.
‘If you don’t stop talking such nonsense this instant, I will be forced by your rudeness to stop right now, calling attention to us that neither of us wishes.’
If only she hadn’t sounded so much like Susan, she would have been proud of her defiance. He did that to her intelligence. He banished it beneath a desire so hot and thick it threatened to smother her.
‘For the moment, but only for the moment,’ he murmured, a satisfied look on his face.
He swung her into a circle that took her breath away and she was glad for it. She closed her eyes to the invitation he made no effort to hide and focused on her steps. Only then was she able to ease some of the tension from her shoulders and—other areas. For the moment.
To her chagrin, Annabell did not hear the music end. She had been too caught up in the spell Sir Hugo had wrapped around them. When he stopped, she staggered.
His arm tightened until she rested against his chest, their mouths inches from each other. Her pulse beat painfully at the base of her throat. She fought to take in air.
He stared down at her. ‘If I kiss you, will you slap me?’
Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Come to my room.’ The words were low and spoken in a husky whisper no one else could hear.
Unable to answer for fear she would accept without realising it, Annabell shook her head.
He released her and stepped back.
She swayed, but managed not to wobble. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She felt vulnerable and raw.
‘Hugo,’ Juliet Fitzsimmon’s voice intruded. ‘Stop flirting with poor Annabell and bring her over here. We are taking a vote to see if we continue or if we stop for the evening.’
Annabell flinched. She had completely forgotten there were other people in the room. Somehow she managed to walk to the pianoforte, although she didn’t remember doing so. She was too conscious of Sir Hugo moving at her side.
‘I say we stop,’ she said, angry at herself because her voice was breathy and weak. ‘I need to get up early to finish uncovering a mosaic. The longer I dally, the longer I will be obliged to impose on Sir Hugo’s hospitality.’
‘Come, Annabell,’ Susan said. ‘Just one more.’
Annabell looked at her companion. Susan’s cheeks glowed with happiness and her eyes sparkled. She had rarely seen her friend like this. But she had to leave. Another dance with Sir Hugo would put her very being in jeopardy. The man called to her like a siren called to unwary sailors. He was everything she did not need or want in her life.
‘No, Susan, I am sorry, but I must get some sleep.’ She pasted a smile on her face and looked around at everyone, skimming over Sir Hugo. ‘Surely the rest of you can continue without me. After all, you will be two couples to dance and Juliet to play the music.’
There was grudging acceptance. Miss Childs had a wishful look on her face, and Annabell realised the young woman wanted very much to dance again with Sir Hugo. For a moment jealousy raised its ugly head once more, but she would not let that awful emotion keep her from escaping. She just hoped Sir Hugo didn’t break the girl’s heart.
Susan said, ‘I will be up early to go with you. I imagine you will want the mosaic sketched as you uncover it.’
Annabell smiled. ‘That would be perfect. I will see you then.’ She looked at everyone else. ‘And thank you, Juliet. I enjoyed myself very much.’
‘I am glad to hear that, Annabell. For a moment, when you first stood up with Hugo, I thought you were going to c
hange your mind.’
Annabell kept the smile on her face. ‘I am made of stronger stuff than that, Juliet.’
Juliet laughed. ‘Go to bed.’
Annabell did not wait any longer. The way her good-nights were going, she would be here for ever if she didn’t leave. To her chagrin, she sensed Sir Hugo close behind her.
She reached the door and paused. ‘I am perfectly capable of going to my room alone.’
‘Fleeing?’ Sir Hugo’s tone was sardonic in the extreme.
‘You?’ She lifted her chin. ‘I think not.’
‘The waltz. You found it to be much more intoxicating than you had anticipated.’
She glared at him. ‘Only a prude would not enjoy the dance, Sir Hugo. I am many things, but I am not a prude.’
He smiled, but it was not amusement that shone in his eyes. ‘I imagine you aren’t.’
She caught her breath, conscious of the other people who still grouped around Juliet and the pianoforte some distance away. ‘If you will leave me alone, I am going to bed.’
His eyes narrowed, his jaw sharpened, but he said nothing. Instead, he made her a mocking half-bow.
She snapped her mouth shut, heard her teeth click in irritation, and whirled around. She could not get to her room any second too soon. She was fit to explode from irritation and something she refused to name.
Instead of going directly to bed, she paced the spacious room, her speed increasing until she fairly whirled around. When she finally burnt off some of her energy, she started undressing. She left the clothes where they landed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to put them away.
She fell into bed and an unrestful sleep, where her host twirled her around a massive ballroom that looked suspiciously like an inferno. No doubt, she had succumbed to him and they were in Hades.
The next morning, Annabell walked to the excavation. She needed the fresh, cold air to clear her head. She was becoming strange and unfamiliar to herself. It was all because of Sir Hugo. She kicked at a rock, her harem pants billowing out around her legs.
Birds twittered and she caught a glimpse of a russet tail. The foxes were coming out of hibernation. Then there were the wild flowers poking up from the ground and the pale green shoots of new grass. She stopped and gazed at the beauty. This was a rich, verdant land, something the Romans had known or they would not have settled here.