The Scoundrel's Lover (10 page)

She gasped, and Marcus caught the sound with his lips, kissing her deeply, tasting her like she was a fine wine and he was dying of thirst. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly as he ground against her.

His lips moved from hers, sliding across her jaw and her neck. She tilted her head for greater access as she whispered, “Marcus.”

He froze, and in the darkness she heard his breath hitch. Then, unexpectedly, he set her back on her feet and took a long step away.

“Marcus?” she whispered, watching his shadow in the dimness. “Did I—did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He sounded like he was clenching his teeth. “Not at all, Annabelle. I only fear that if I don’t stop I’m going to do something that cannot be undone. And that you would likely regret.”

She blinked. He meant he would take her.
Claim
her. And while there was a wild moment where she considered hurtling herself at him to force him to do just that, a tiny voice in her head told her that if she allowed it, her future would be over. No respectable man would want to marry her if she had surrendered herself to a scoundrel in the hallway of a sex club. And even though she could hide the truth for a while, she had read enough to know that she wouldn’t be able to pretend she was untouched on her wedding night.

“Marcus,” she whispered.

He held up a shadowy hand. “You should go, Annabelle. Leave now. I’ll be certain to keep a close eye on Crispin and protect him if he needs me to do so. But if you stay even a moment longer, I can’t guarantee I would be able to make the same promise to protect you. So
go
.”

His voice lifted on the last word, the strain obvious. Annabelle turned and all but ran down the hall away from him. Away from the desire it seemed neither of them could control. Away from the heat in his voice that told her he was in danger of losing himself. And away from the need that made her body ache and her heart throb only for this man who could never be what she needed.

Another Society party was in full swing, and once again Annabelle stood on the sidelines, watching the others dance and laugh. Georgina spun by in the arms of an earl or a viscount or some such rot, grinning as if she had won a bet in the club.

Annabelle turned and clenched her fist. Ladies did not bet in clubs. Ladies did not
go
to clubs. Ladies did not watch other people make love to each other in clubs while wicked club owners did magnificent things with their big, strong hands.

“Stop,” she said out loud, in the hopes she could clear her mind of the thoughts that had been tormenting her for two days, since she last saw Marcus.

“Miss Flynn, are you quite well?”

She froze at the voice behind her. The voice that had apparently heard her talking to herself. She slowly turned to face the man and gasped when she realized it was the Earl of Claybrook who had approached her.

She forced a smile. “My lord, I did not see you there.”

He tilted his head and his kind eyes flickered over her. “I would say not. You seemed quite engrossed in your thoughts.”

Annabelle let out a nervous laugh that was just a touch too loud. If only he knew.

“Yes, my thoughts,” she said with a shake of her head. “But what can we do—we cannot control them, can we?”

He wrinkled his brow now, concern clear on his face. “I suppose not. But perhaps I can distract you from them.”

Annabelle smiled, even though it felt very false. “That would be very kind of you.”

“Perhaps a walk would do you good.”

She frowned. No one had asked her to dance yet. And as Georgina had pointed out not an hour before, the longer that denial went on, the less likely it was that anyone would do so. Which meant her Season would be an abysmal failure.

But they’d had formulated a plan for this. One Annabelle abhorred, but she put it into motion regardless with a pretty pout. “Oh, I did so hope to dance this evening. I do
adore
dancing.”

She saw Claybrook’s gaze shift to the dance floor ever so slightly, and the expression on his face told her he was reluctant to be the first to grant her a little acceptance. He seemed to battle internally for a moment, but then he offered her his arm.

“I could not deny you this greatest wish, of course,” he said.

She almost sagged in relief as they entered the dance floor. The spinning couples stared as they began to join in the steps, and Annabelle wished her cheeks didn’t darken with a blush. She hated for them to see that weakness.

“Your dark thoughts, would you care to share them?” Claybrook asked. “Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

Annabelle faltered in her steps. The man did not know what he was asking, that was for certain. If he did, he would likely shove her from his arms with cries of “Jezebel!” on his very proper lips.

“I only had an unexpected encounter with a person,” she explained slowly. “Nothing for you to trouble yourself with, my lord.”

He shook his head. “It must have been very unpleasant.”

“Far less than it should have been,” she whispered, once again mobbed by thoughts of Marcus and his hands and mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” Claybrook asked.

She cursed herself for these thoughts and smiled. “I will survive, I assure you.”

“I-I recognize this must be difficult for you,” he said. “But you are holding yourself with nothing but dignity. It will get easier, I’m sure.”

She jerked her face toward his at the unexpected words. He really was quite handsome, despite being nearly fifteen years her senior. He wasn’t Marcus, of course, with his strong jaw and big hands and casual certainty in all he did and said.

But Marcus was something she could never, ever have.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Would you mind very much if I requested your brother’s permission to call on you in the near future?” Claybrook asked.

Her breath stuck in her throat. A call! That was exactly what she had come to Society to gain, the attention of a very proper man like this one. And he was certainly not the worst of the bunch.

She nodded. “I would like that. I hope you will.”

The music ended and Claybrook released her with a proper bow that distanced them again. “Thank you, Miss Flynn. And a very good evening to you.”

She curtseyed and took a path back to Georgina, who was now waiting for her on the edge of the dance floor with a wide grin on her face. But even though she smiled back to her friend, inside there was a part of her that was screaming. After all, she had what she wanted—the attention of a proper gentleman.

And yet the only thing she could think of was the most improper man she had ever met.

Marcus stared at the ledger before him, but he couldn’t concentrate on the numbers. Not when Annabelle’s swirling handwriting filled the margins of the document. Not when he swore he could still smell her on the papers, on his jacket, on his skin. For two days, he had thought of nothing else but seeing her, talking to her, having her. And while he could give himself some relief with his own hand, that was temporary at best and within half an hour of finding release the tormenting thoughts always returned.

It was a sickness. That was the only way he could describe his obsession.

There was a light knock on the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal Vale. Since the older servant very rarely visited him in his office during open hours and especially so late on a very busy Saturday night, there was no doubt something had happened.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is everything well?”

“Yes, sir. I believe so. But you have a visitor.” The butler frowned. “Miss Jasmine has returned.”

“Jasmine,” Marcus repeated in disbelief.

He’d honestly thought he’d frightened Annabelle away permanently with his ardor in the viewing hallway. It would have been better if that were true. And yet his entire spirit lifted at the knowledge she was so unexpectedly there.

“Should I allow her entry or send her away since we did not expect her?”

“Have her brought to me,” Marcus said, unable to keep the thrill from his tone. “I will see her.”

Vale nodded and stepped from the room. Once he was gone, Marcus jumped to his feet. Why would she come here tonight? Crispin was not in attendance, he had heard nothing of his friend being in trouble…why would she be here, especially after his behavior two nights before?

He didn’t have a chance to ponder further, for at that moment Vale reappeared, only this time with a masked Annabelle at his side.

“Sir,” he said, motioning her inside.

She hesitated at the entryway, her dark brown eyes flitting across the chamber and finally settling on Marcus to reveal questions, desire and torment that somehow matched his own.

“You may go, Vale,” he said softly, and the servant seemed eager to do so, leaving Annabelle in the doorway without another word.

She stepped past the threshold and reached behind her, dragging the door shut slowly and then leaning back against the barrier. She did not speak, even as she lifted her hands to remove the same pretty peacock mask she had worn here two nights before.

“Annabelle,” he said after clearing his throat. “Why are you here?”

She shook her head rather than answer and paced into the chamber, past him to the window that looked out over his debauched empire. Her fists clenched against the wide sill and her breath left her lungs in a shuddering sigh.

“Annabelle,” he repeated.

She stared down at the writhing crowd below, tears bright in her eyes, ready to fall down her pink cheeks. Marcus stared, uncertain of what had upset her so much but desperate to help her.

“What is wrong?” he asked. “Is it Crispin?”

She shook her head, and finally she spoke. “My brother, no. No. Is he here?”

“Not tonight. I would have sent word to you if he had come.” He moved forward, hesitating to touch her because it seemed whenever he did so, he lost all sense of control. “Annabelle, tell me what is wrong.”

“I don’t want to want these things,” she whispered, a desperate confession she seemed to make to herself more than to him. “I don’t want to feel these things. I’m trying to be better, I’m trying to be proper and yet I can’t stop…wanting
this
.”

His eyes went wide as her trembling hand lifted ever so slightly to point at the scene below. “These dark thoughts torment me when I am here,” she continued, “but also in my bed at home. I can’t stop them, Marcus. I can’t even keep them from intruding upon my normal day.”

He drew back, suddenly understanding. “Are you talking about
desire
?”

She swallowed a sob. “Yes.” She spun on him suddenly. “How do you control it, Marcus? Surrounded as you are by all these…things…these people surrendering to their most base needs. I’ve heard them whisper below that I am the first woman you’ve taken to your office in years. And when we walked through the hall two nights ago, you hardly looked at those engaging in such wicked acts. Somehow you are able to control your lust. How do you do it?”

Marcus could hardly breathe. Annabelle was staring up at him, eyes wide and misty, hands shaking with what he now realized was need she couldn’t control. Knowing her body was on the edge, knowing she was likely wet with desire…those things made his body hard and hot.

“I don’t know if I’m the best person with whom to discuss control, Annabelle,” he ground out. “Because when it comes to you, it is nearly impossible for me to exercise it.”

Her wild stare cleared for a moment, comprehension dawning on her face. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me,” he growled. “I want you, Annabelle, I have wanted you for years. And whenever I am within arm’s reach of you, I ache to snatch you against me and claim you in every way my wicked mind can conjure.”

Her breath shortened, her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Marcus almost groaned with the fire she stoked in him. At some point that inferno would explode and he feared he would destroy them both with it.

Which was why her being here was such a terrible, terrible mistake. One he had no intention of rectifying.

“But you don’t claim me,” she whispered and to his surprise, she moved closer in the face of his finally voiced need. “Even when you kiss me, you don’t overpower when you could so easily do so. Tell me how so I that I won’t want to…want to…”

She trailed off with a hitch of breath and a reddening of her cheeks.

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. What he
should
tell her was that she should run away and never come back. That she should forget their arrangement, forget they had kissed, that the only way to end the spiraling heat between them was to never see each other again.

And yet he didn’t. Instead, he took the one small step that separated them and caught her elbow. Slowly, he dragged her against him until her breasts were flat against his chest, until his cock pushed against her belly, until he could feel her breath on his face.

“What if the solution to our problem is not to resist or control ourselves at all? What if the only way to save ourselves is to give in?”