Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 (6 page)

His arrogance angered her. She wanted to scream, to hit him, to leave the coach and go home, but she squared her shoulders and said nothing. It was the only way she could show him that he hadn’t affected her.

The trouble was he
had
affected her, very deeply. Some dark part of her wanted his mouth back on her fingers, and other places. She blushed, never more thankful he couldn’t see her shame.

“Are you pleased to be dining with Emily tonight?” Cedric asked, as though he hadn’t just made her speechless a minute before with that very mouth of his.

It also did not fail to stir her jealousy that he and Emily were so close. Despite their bond of friendship, it still hurt to think Emily knew Cedric better than she did. Though Anne had never encouraged his attentions before the accident, a part of her had hoped he would not give up. That he wanted her enough to continue to fight for her.

And Anne secretly wondered whether all of the men who’d abducted Emily had fallen in love with her to some degree. Their devotion to her was unshakeable, and rakes never devoted themselves to anyone without reason.

Cedric misinterpreted her silence. “You are not pleased then?”

“I’m sorry. I was woolgathering. Of course I am happy to see Emily. I am just worried that she won’t approve of my casting aside my mourning clothes for her dinner tonight.” It was a lie. She wasn’t worried about that at all, but he could never know her true reasons. Silly nonsense, to be jealous of her dear friend.

Cedric sat up straighter, as though her admission caught his attention. “You’re not wearing black?”

“No. Somehow I felt it would make my father sad. He never approved of wearing mourning clothes for very long. He knows, wherever he is, that I…”

For a moment she could not speak; her throat constricted and her eyes burned.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I am not weak
. She repeated the mantra that had kept her from showing any strong emotion since her father died.

“That you miss him,” Cedric finished for her.

“Yes.” Anne wondered at the fact that he completed her sentence. Did he understand her so well? Or was she merely so transparent that even a blind man could see the depth of her grief?

“So, if you are not wearing black, what
are
you wearing, my dear?” Cedric grinned wickedly, but the affect put her strangely at ease, dispelling the tension of her heavy sadness.

“It is a simple satin gown, russet brown with a bit of an autumnal orange hue to it under the right light.”

Cedric reached out, his hand settling on her thigh as he explored the feel of the satin beneath his fingers.

“I am glad you aren’t wearing that awful black crepe anymore. I despised the way it felt when I touched you. A woman’s clothes should create pleasure when sliding against one’s skin. It should entice her lover’s touch.”

Anne was bewitched by the spell his hand wove over her thigh, the slow exploring caress. So light that it did not disturb the satin, yet she still felt the heat of his skin sink through her gown, creating a heady anticipation deep in her womb.

His touch reminded her of her father’s stable master, Harvey, as he worked with wild unbroken geldings. Harvey always gentled the wildest of the young horses with his soft whispers and feather-light touch.

Suspicion suddenly flooded Anne. Was Cedric planning to lull her into thinking she was safe and then pounce? Surely that was his plan. Just as she steeled herself to demand he cease touching her, he stopped of his own accord and set his hand back on his lap as though nothing had happened.

“I do not think Emily will mind you casting off your mourning blacks. Emily is a most understanding little creature. Sometimes I think she understands
too
much
.” This last sentence was delivered in such a disgruntled mutter that Anne couldn’t help but wonder what he meant, not that she would dare ask.

“I hope you are right,” she murmured instead.

“You’ll soon find out that I am often right. Do not be shocked by it.” His tone was imperious, but she sensed the faintest hint of teasing behind it.

“I can’t help it if I am shocked, my lord. Your arrogance is limitless after all,” Anne retorted.

“As it should be,” Cedric replied. Part of her wanted a nice vicious fight with him for his cheeky tone, but he wouldn’t even give her that, the insufferable cad.

The coach came to a stop, and a footman dressed in the midnight blue and silver livery of the Duke of Essex opened the coach door on Cedric’s side. Cedric took his cane, reached for the edges of the coach and felt for the step.

Anne noted that he was far more hesitant getting out than getting in. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d suffered a nasty fall from a coach recently. She could only image how painful that must have been, not to mention humiliating.

Anne’s stomach twisted in unease. How often had he hurt himself since last December? The memory of finding him in his gardens, hands bloodied, was one that haunted her. Even as he tormented her with his kisses and caresses, she could not hold her usual indifference or fury at him like she could other men. Cedric had suffered like she had, and that fact bound them together now as kindred spirits.

“Are you coming?” Cedric called out, offering his hand.

She took it and let him help her down. Lifting her skirts, she walked with him toward the steps of the St. Laurent townhouse. To her dismay, he did not release her hand. It seemed he wished to embarrass her by such an obvious display of ownership of her person.

“My lord, you must release my hand,” she whispered, tugging to free herself.

“Ashamed of me already, Anne?” Cedric replied rather loudly as the footman opened the door to the foyer for them. He did that so often, murmuring her name at the end of a question or a sentence, as though getting her used to the sound of him saying it. It had riled her before, but now she was growing accustomed to the honeyed way it rolled off his lips.

“You know I am not. A gentleman would let me take his elbow, and I could assist in guiding you to the door,” she replied icily, but Cedric merely chuckled, as though her tone did not concern him at all.

“I’ll not trip.” He waved his cave in front of them, tapping the stones. “Relax, love. No one here tonight will judge us if we show outward affection for each other.”

“Is that what you call this? I would call it enforced imprisonment of my hand,” Anne hissed. But before she or Cedric could continue this line of conversation, Emily came out of the nearest room and hurried over with her husband, Godric, on her heels.

“Anne!” Emily hugged her tightly, her young face shining with excitement.

“It’s so good to see you, Emily. Your Grace.” Anne dipped into a slight curtsy in Godric’s direction, even though one of her hands was still firmly clasped in Cedric’s. Godric beamed at her and nodded in greeting.

“We are so glad that you could attend. Please, come this way.” Godric took Emily’s arm and proceeded with Anne and Cedric back into the room from which they’d come.

From the multitude of bodies and voices, she realized that she and Cedric had arrived last. The Earl of Lonsdale was leaning against the mantel of the fireplace speaking to Godric’s half brother, Jonathan St. Laurent. Lord Lennox sat on a couch conversing with Horatia, Viscountess of Rochester. Her husband, Lucien, stood behind the couch, hands resting on his wife’s shoulders in a gesture both affectionate and protective. The intimacy they displayed made Anne’s heart stir with envy and sadness.

Emily and Godric moved into the room, leaving Anne and Cedric standing in the doorway, exposed to the others. Anne moved instinctively closer to Cedric, her left arm brushing his, fingers tightening around his hand. She felt embarrassed and awkward being here in what was so obviously a strange sort of family built upon love, loyalty and friendship, none of which she had a claim to other than with Emily.

“What’s the matter?” Cedric whispered, his concern touching her heart.

“I just… What if they don’t like me? Your friends, I mean. They barely know me,” Anne whispered back.

“You have Emily’s friendship and approval, and what’s more you have mine. If they don’t treat you kindly, then they will answer to me.”

“I didn’t mean…” She didn’t want to sound like she expected him to choose her over his friends, should it come to that. She would never want him to make that choice.

“Please relax and lead me to a chair, will you?”

Anne got Cedric seated and then took a chair next to his.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Lord Ashton said. He smiled at her and the rest of the room followed suit in offering their excitement over the upcoming marriage.

Anne’s fears about being found wanting by Cedric’s friends seemed to be ill-founded. She finally relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief. Cedric must have heard this and put his arm around the back of her chair, cupping the nape of her neck. She was about to protest when his thumb and forefinger began to rub up and down the sides, massaging the tense knot of muscles there. The sensation was divine, and it seemed to melt every bone in her body.

“All will be well,” he said, continuing to stroke her neck. Anne blushed when she noticed Emily watching her and Cedric with avid interest.

Emily led the group in the sitting room through polite small talk until the dinner bell rang. Everyone rose and headed for the dining room. Cedric offered his arm to Anne and she took it. It never ceased to amaze her how often they touched now. It seemed his body and hers were dancing in a slow spin around each other, and someday soon they would collide and never again be fully separate in some mysterious and primal way.

Anne’s breath hitched in her throat at the thought. Even blind, Cedric was still a powerful, masculine force that could easily dominate and possess her. She blushed deeply as she was reminded all that power and handsome perfection was hers now. But as much as the prospect thrilled her, it also frightened her out of her wits. What if he found her wanting? What if he found no pleasure in her bed and sought it in the arms of another?

How am I to keep him if I cannot trust myself to surrender to him?

Chapter Five

Cedric was ignorant of his fiancée’s thoughts as he walked with her to dinner. He let her body guide his, feeling the faint pull of her when he needed to alter his path. It was a skill he’d worked on when Ashton led him about while he first learned to survive with his condition. Fortunately, he was decently familiar with Godric’s townhouse, but the nervousness that held his body made him more hesitant than usual.

He wanted to show Anne that he could still play the English gentleman, that he was not as helpless and hopeless as he felt. He sagged into his seat at the table with relief. His body seemed to naturally tense when he was up and about, as though some part of him expected to be injured somehow. Feeling more like himself, he reached out boldly to find his wine goblet…

Splunk!

His hand collided with the thin stem of the goblet, toppling it onto its side. He heard wine sluice over the table and the chatter around the table halted. Cedric, even blind, could sense every eye in the room fixed upon him. It was mortifying. The only relief was that he couldn’t see the pity in their faces.

It was too much. He hated eating in front of others and this was why. Cedric shoved his seat back, which happened to hit a footman. The footman stumbled, dropping a replacement goblet, which shattered on the wooden floor close by. Cedric got to his feet and felt about for his cane, but it wasn’t there.

“Cedric…” Godric said somewhere near his right, but Cedric shrugged off his friend’s coaxing tone. With as much pride as he could muster, he walked in the direction of the door to leave the dining room. He didn’t want to apologize; he didn’t want to hear the pity in their voices. He needed solitude.

Charles called after him, “Cedric, really, it’s fine,” but Cedric had already reached the door and propelled himself out into the hall. Hands outstretched, he summoned a map of Godric’s house in his head and made for the library—at least he hoped he was heading in that direction. Facing his friends was hard enough when he wasn’t breaking costly crystal goblets. He’d been able to accept their help the first few months, but by now he should have mastered his hands and legs, no longer creating such accidents. It was shameful and he couldn’t stand to receive any aid, not when he shouldn’t need it any longer.

Cedric muttered a curse when he tripped over the threshold of the library. He knew it was the library by the thick, musty scent of a multitude of books. He’d never been one for reading, but he’d grown fond of libraries since he’d lost his sight. With a library he always knew where he was. Their unique aroma gave them away, and he felt comforted knowing exactly where he was in a house for a change.

“I wish I had my cane,” he said to the book-filled room. He usually kept it close to him, but he’d been more preoccupied with Anne and had forgotten where he’d placed it. It took him a few minutes of blundering about before he stopped hitting bookshelves and found a deep-backed settee to slump into. He lay back and rubbed his eyes. A useless gesture, but it was a habit he couldn’t break. Cedric took a few deep, measured breaths, but his hands were still shaking.

“Pull yourself together!” he hissed at himself.

There was a soft rap on the library door. Cedric didn’t move. He heard slippered footsteps approaching him. The scent that teased his nose was flowery, but not the scent of wild orchids. It wasn’t Anne.

“Cedric.” Horatia sat down by him on the settee and laid her head on his shoulder as she used to do when she was a child. Brotherly instinct took over, and he wrapped his arms about her, pulling her close to him in a tight hug.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I have nothing much to say, my dear. I’m a pathetic creature who can’t even dine with my friends. I’m sure Emily is devastated that I broke her fine crystal.”

Horatia laughed. “She declared you did her a favor. She detested that crystal, and you gave her an excuse to dispose of the rest. She ordered the butler to have some footman take it all away after the meal is over. She seemed quite gleeful about it.” Horatia’s soft tone was full of amusement, and Cedric heard only truth in her voice. Still, Emily could just as easily have been putting on a show for his comfort when he later heard of it.

“And the others? How did they react?” he asked.

“They don’t mind at all. We have all adjusted to what happened to you. Everyone but you, that is. What they mind is the way you think they won’t accept you as you are now. None of us are perfect and none of us expect you to be either. You have to stop pitying yourself or I will get cross with you, and I do not want to be cross with my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother,” he cut in with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“A triviality,” Horatia teased and kissed his cheek.

“Horatia…”

“Yes?”

“About your condition…”

“The baby?” Horatia’s tone held a hint of embarrassed surprise.

“I just wanted to say, well, that I am overjoyed to be an uncle. And what’s more, I am glad that you and Lucien are happy. I’ve been such a fool. I nearly got all of us killed because I could not believe that people could change. But we can. I know that now. I’ve changed, Anne has changed. It seems we’ve always been changing, but have never been aware of it until now.”

“Is it true that Anne asked you to propose to her?”

He patted his sister’s shoulder, a smile on his lips. “Yes. It was an odd surprise, but not an unwelcome one.”

“Well, I certainly like her, as does Emily. But are you sure you will be happy with her? I thought she had no interest in you.”

How he loved his sister. She was always thinking of him, even when she shouldn’t have to.

“I thought so too at first. But something is different. She’s become vulnerable since her father’s death, and I couldn’t refuse to play her white knight when she asked me to.”

“But will she make you
happy
? Lucien worries she is too guarded to love anyone, but you deserve love, not just companionship.”

It was the second time someone had told him that today, and he felt strangely warm inside and yet guilty. He didn’t
deserve
love, none of the League did, but if it came and he could grasp it, he’d hold tight and never let go.

“Don’t worry, Horatia. I have ways of melting her icy walls.” Cedric grinned. “In fact, if you could tell Emily that I am still dreadfully embarrassed and would like to take my meal in here, could you see to it that Anne brings my food?”

“I doubt that Anne would go along with a request more suited to a footman,” Horatia cautioned.

“Tell Emily that I
insist
Anne brings it.”

“And just what, dearest brother mine, are you planning to do when she does?”

“You are married to Lucien, sweetheart. I am sure that you have some idea how much fun sharing a meal can be.”

“You devil!” His sister’s indignant tone was marred by a smothered giggle. “Just do not rush her.” Horatia rose from the settee. She placed a kiss on his forehead and departed. Cedric grinned. The evening could still be salvaged with a bit of help from edible seduction.

* * * * *

Anne squirmed in her seat as Horatia returned to the dining room.

“Is everything well with him?” Ashton asked. All eyes fixed on her. Anne did not envy Cedric’s sister having the attention of the room.

“He is a little embarrassed. He needs time to compose himself.” Horatia took her seat next to Lucien before turning to Emily. “Would it be possible to send him a plate of food and someone for company? I think he isn’t ready to face everyone, but I believe he does not wish to be alone either.”

“Oh, certainly. I’d be happy to…” Emily started to rise, but Charles stopped her with an intense look. She plopped back down into her seat, her sweet face a picture of confusion.

“Why doesn’t Miss Chessley go? I mean, it seems with the upcoming wedding that perhaps the affianced couple would enjoy some private time together. Unless, of course, the lady does not wish to be burdened with the company of an ill-tempered blind man.”

It was a flat-out challenge. Anne frowned at those suddenly serious gray eyes. Now she saw the rogue in him, the seductive and dangerous man she’d had the fortune of avoiding since her coming out five years ago. It would take a strong woman to survive being the prey of that particular predator.

“I would be happy to share a private meal with Lord Sheridan.” Anne rose from the table, causing all the men to jump to their feet. She followed a stunned Emily out of the dining room, who instructed a waiting footman to bring two plates to the library before she turned to Anne, hands on her hips and violet eyes filled with concern.

“You don’t have to dine with him, really, Anne. Charles is being an imbecile.”

“It’s perfectly fine. I believe Lord Lonsdale is testing me. Despite the manner in which he delivered his opinion, I am honored to be the subject of his challenge because he demonstrated such loyalty to Lord Sheridan. I would not wish to marry a man who did not have good taste in friends.”

She meant every word. As much as it irked her to have to prove herself, she was glad to think Cedric had so many people watching over him. The two fell in step, walking leisurely to the library in order to give the staff time to prepare and catch up.

“But still, Charles was far too rude, and I will not allow such impertinent behavior inside my house.” Emily raised her chin angrily.

How far she has come,
Anne thought with pride. To be such a young debutante and then a duchess half a year later, she played the part well and would only get better at it.

“Please don’t trouble yourself on my account. I would much rather prove Lord Lonsdale wrong by showing my dedication to my fiancé.”

“I still cannot believe you are marrying Cedric. I had my hopes, of course…” Emily trailed off when Anne stopped short beside her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for as long as I have known Cedric, he’s asked me about you. Heavens, he
never
stopped until…” There was no need to finish the sentence.
Until the accident
.

“He…talked about me?” Anne whispered, her throat tight.

“He was so frustrated over your constant refusals to see him, to even speak to him, that he was going mad. You were always on his mind, and still are, it would seem.” Emily’s soft voice was full of mystery, even knowledge about things Anne, even older than Emily, had yet to grasp.

Anne had the sudden urge to tell Emily everything, to spill out the secret she’d been keeping inside her guarded heart for so long, but she couldn’t trust herself not to falter. Emily had so much to handle as a duchess that Anne did not want to burden her friend with her own emotional nonsense. She must find her own way to persevere.

Before the silence between them could stretch any further, Anne and Emily reached the library.

“He is in there?” she asked. Emily nodded just as the footman arrived with a silver tray and two plates of food.

“I left out any entrees that might pose problems for Lord Sheridan, such as the peas,” the footman said discreetly to Emily.

“Thank you, Jim, I appreciate your consideration. Please take the meals inside and set up the main table.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Jim bowed his head and entered the library. When the footman had left, Emily turned her attention back to Anne. “You really mean to marry him?”

“Yes.” How many times would she have to defend her choice? Was it so impossible to think she actually wanted to marry Cedric?

“But will you be happy with him? Don’t marry him unless you can promise me that you will be happy.”

“I will be happy. It may not be a happiness like yours, but I believe that marriage to Lord Sheridan will give me a sense of contentment I have not found before now.”

Emily snorted. “Contentment? Oh, Anne, I do not think you know Cedric as well as you think. He won’t be satisfied until he’s seduced you to the point that you won’t remember your name. He loves a challenge. It is what keeps him going, especially these days.”

Anne smiled. “I am well aware of his love of challenges. I mean to give him one.” With that she stepped into the library to find her fiancé.

Cedric was leaning back against a scarlet velvet settee with a dismal look on his face. Anne motioned for Jim to leave once he finished setting up the table.

“Is that you, Anne?” Cedric cocked his head to the side. Anne had the strangest feeling that he’d recognized her by her scent.

“Yes, my lord. I’ve had dinner brought for us.” He seemed to hear her approach and held up a hand to stay her.

“I’m blind, not an invalid,” he snapped as he got to his feet. He was lucky he could not see the hurt those words had caused her. Cedric reached the nearest chair and pulled it out for her. He couldn’t see his error. Her plate was a good few feet away from that seat, but she reached over the table and slid her plate toward the seat he offered.

“Please sit,” he said a little more cordially.

“Thank you.” Anne slid into the seat offered. He pushed her in a few inches before he pulled his own chair back with caution and seated himself next to her. Anne watched as he slid his hands along the table’s surface until his fingertips bumped into the edge of his own plate.

“Ahh, there we are,” he said to himself and drew the plate toward himself before hunting for the silverware.

It struck Anne then that Cedric’s loss of sight affected more than his vision. Every move he made was slow, measured, calculated to prevent injury to himself or damage to things around him. His muscles tensed and remained unbearably taut. His face seemed perpetually strained at the effort of reining in his movements.

She couldn’t forget the man he used to be. A man of power and strength with a fearless swagger in his steps that was entirely gone now. His natural physical grace had been erased, like a stallion lamed. He would never regain the beautiful gait she’d once loved when she’d seen him dance. The fear of falling or striking something would forever mar his movements. Even now his face tightened with frustration as he floundered about for his silverware.