She rolled her eyes. “You looked like you were about to down the whole glass.”

  Roderick spared a glance in Anne’s direction. She was watching him too.

  “Just one sip.” He took a sip under Bernie and Anne’s supervision.

  “Where’s your keeper?” he asked Bernie.

  Bernie shrugged, her expression troubled.

  Roderick looked down the table where Chester sat between Willa and Lunette. Chester’s expression matched Bernie’s.

  “Did you two fight?”

  “No.”

  “You usually sit together, don’t you?”

  “No.” She frowned at him. “Why must everyone act like we’re a pair? He is he and I am me. We can do as we please. Not. Together.

  Roderick half smiled. This was not good. Bernie and Chester fighting was like the dog cornering the cat. It looked ugly, but you knew they secretly adored each other, and the bickering was foreplay. Roderick wondered what would happen when they finally realized their fates were entwined. He lifted his glass to Bernie in a silent toast, and she put her nose in the air.

  These Marsden women were spirited. God help the men at his table. This house party was sure to be life altering for many of them.

  He returned his thoughts to what he’d said to Georgie about being a friend first. It made sense. Love was terrifying, but friendship? Roderick could befriend just about anything, even the surly bull on Mr. Kettle’s farm.

  What would happen if he tried to be Anne’s friend? He didn’t like the idea. He wanted to cut through the work and just have her to himself, but he knew that wouldn’t work either. His mind had become clearer in the last week. His poetry had come more easily, and he even thought he might like to publish a book of it.

  Anne was part of the obstacle that stood in their way. For years he’d helped build up her walls against him with taunts and pranks. It would take more than just declaring himself to bring them down. He sighed, took another drink of his wine, and then set to eating the delicious food in front of him while the other guests chattered around him.

  Being her friend was going to be difficult.

  But he could do it. Because he would do anything for her. He brought his glass to his lips again, but she caught his eye and he set it down. He smiled his thanks. She gave him a small smile in return and triumph lit him up from the inside like a firework.

  He took a deep breath and waved over a footman and asked for the cooled tea he’d been drinking throughout the day. He’d grown to like the taste of Sonam’s strange blend of herbs and berries. He’d be sure to thank the man if he ever returned to visit. Who knew how beneficial it would be to have an exiled monk as an acquaintance of one’s brother?

  Dinner passed with pleasant conversation and excellent food. The gentlemen would stay for port while the ladies returned to the drawing room, but Roderick excused himself. Port was too rich for him now. The sweetness reminded him of the smell of his own sweat in those first few days when he’d been ill. Instead he went to the back of the house and out into the cool evening air. He stood facing the water, his hands in his trouser pockets. The breeze was heavy with moisture and touched his skin with a fine salty mist. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and thinking of Anne.

  “Roderick?”

  He opened his eyes. Had he summoned her from his thoughts? He turned and there she stood, achingly beautiful in the twilight shadows. He drank in the sight of her, forgetting what words to use that would seem friendly and not soaked in the need that surely radiated from him in waves.

  “Do you wish to be alone?”

  With you? Always.

  “You may join me, but you might get cold.”

  “I came out here because I’m overly warm.” She stepped out of the shelter of the doorway and into the chill air. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief.

  “The drawing room is overly warm?”

  “It is for me.” She stepped past him and leaned on the balustrade that bordered the terrace.

  He adored the way her neck flared to her shoulders and fought the urge to step close and kiss her nape.

  “Did you enjoy dinner?” he asked.

  She looked over her shoulder at him, and he saw a trace of uncertainty in her expression.

  Be her friend first.

  It felt impossible to go backward when all he wanted to do was leap into the future with her.

  “I did,” she said. “The food was excellent.”

  He couldn’t remember the food now that he was looking at her. “Yes, it was. I shall compliment the cook on your behalf.”

  “I see Monsieur Gerald at the butcher all the time. I can tell him myself.”

  Is that a rebuff? “Then I will thank him for my own delightful experience. He never tires of hearing compliments.”

  She smiled politely and faced the ocean again.

  Friendly, be friendly.

  “Luckfeld once had two mistresses, you know,” he said.

  Dammit, jealousy is not being friendly.

  She raised both brows but remained staring at the ocean. “Is that so? I suppose that is typical for a gentleman like him.”

  Roderick bristled. “He certainly doesn’t qualify as a good man by your standards.”

  “Then why did you invite him?”

  Roderick cursed himself. Slandering Luckfeld could easily turn around on him in a bad way.

  “I said once had. He’s matured since then.”

  “Oh, that’s good to know. Do you consider him a good man now?”

  “I don’t think my standards are as exacting as yours.”

  “What are your standards then?” she asked and then twisted toward him, resting her elbows on the balustrade. She’d provided a tempting view of her breasts, but he made himself look away.

  “He’s honorable, he has a good income that he doesn’t squander, and he has a sense of humor.”

  “That is all?”

  “What more would you want?” He met her gaze, refusing to look lower than her mouth, which meant it was an effort to not stare at her mouth.

  She bit her bottom lip and looked sideways in thought. “Those are good qualities, but what about compassion and intelligence?”

  “He hasn’t squandered his fortune, so I’d consider that intelligence,” Roderick remarked.

  Dear god, being friendly was actually working. They’d never held a conversation this long without him saying something stupid, and she throwing insults at his head.

  She nodded. “I have to agree.”

  “Does it hurt—agreeing with me, I mean?”

  She laughed, a full rich sound that struck him with euphoric lightning all the way to the soles of his boots.

  He chuckled, more baffled than humored that he’d been able to inspire genuine laughter from her.

  She wiped her eyes and grinned at him. “Not drinking suits you. You’re different than before.”

  He wasn’t, in his opinion. The drink had dulled him. Without it he was sharper, his ideas and thoughts more detailed than before. It was marvelous having all his faculties at his disposal.

  “I’m seeing myself a bit clearer now, and others.”

  Her expression changed a little, her amusement fading.

  “And what have you seen?”

  You.

  He shrugged. “I recognize the simple pleasures in life now. I spend more of my time with my mother and brother. Violet is helping to civilize me.”

  “I see.”

  You don’t. But you will.

  He wanted to take her hand, to pull her close, and kiss her like she was the last breath of air before drowning, but he didn’t. He never knew he had such self-control. Before he just did things and damned the consequences.

  “You should return to the drawing room before you catch a chill.”

  “How gallant of you,” she muttered.

  Did she want to stay? Did she want him to kiss her?

  “I’m trying to be better behaved than I usually am. Gallantry is one of my new talents.”

  He thought he may have heard a snort, but she was facing into the wind now.

  She pivoted to face him, her gaze penetrating. “Have you really changed? It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “Anything is possible if you want it enough,” he answered, his pulse kicking up as he held her stare, trying to read what she wanted from him. If she wanted to be kissed, he’d be more than happy to oblige, but why? She’d seemed comfortable enough flirting with Luckfeld. Why was she here now?

  Damn it. Why would he question it?

  Because if I kiss her, I prove I haven’t changed. But if I don’t, I risk an opportunity to kiss her.

  Chapter 19

  Why won’t he kiss me?

  Anne cursed herself for wanting it, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her body was on fire with a thirst she knew only he could quench. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, like looking into the eyes of a tiger at the royal menagerie. One knew he was dangerous, but the golden eyes invited, and the thick silky fur begged to be touched. She wanted to touch Roderick, but she was afraid to make a move. She needed him to do it, even though it made her a coward.

  They’d crossed a threshold already, but only she knew how far they’d gone. But he still knew she enjoyed his kisses. Why else would she have stayed out here?

  Just kiss me, please.

  She held his stare, knowing the skin over her breasts had prickled with bumps in the cold wind. Her bodice scarcely courted the realm of decency with her fuller figure, and she knew it, she’d used it to her advantage with Luckfeld. But there was nothing she wanted more than for Roderick to look at her, to flirt with her as Luckfeld had, to caress her with his gaze as Luckfeld had.

  Dammit, she didn’t want Luckfeld. She wanted him. None of these men held a candle to him in wit and handsomeness. This was not the same man as before. He was more dangerous, his energy more vibrant. Drunken Roderick had been an assault to her heart, even when she despised him, but this newer version would slay her head and her heart. She’d be unable to resist him and where would that leave her?

  Still pregnant with a child he didn’t remember creating with her.

  What if he didn’t believe her?

  Now she felt the cold. That single thought cooled her blood just enough to see a little clearer. What if she told him the truth, and he thought she was trying to trick him? Whoever she married, she would have to tell. She’d already decided she could not enter into a marriage with such deceit. But with him, it wouldn’t be a lie.

  Only he may not believe her because he didn’t remember, and she had no proof. Nothing but her own bittersweet memories of that fateful night.

  She faced the ocean again, looking out over the gray water that mirrored the clouds overhead. The sun had set, but there was enough light to see his features clearly. His hands touched hers and the feeling zinged straight to her heart. She sighed. She was in far deeper trouble than she thought.

  “What is it you want, Anne?”

  “Too many things. I want to go back in time and change a moment.”

  “So do I.”

  They turned to each other at the same time.

  The door opened, and Bernie stepped out. “There you both are. We’re waiting for you, so we can begin to play the games.”

  Anne turned toward her sister. “I’m coming.” She paused, titling her head toward him. “Are you?”

  He offered his arm. “I must, or Violet will kill me.”

  They returned to the drawing room, and Anne pretended to look over a shelf of books to gather her thoughts.

  He’d said he wanted her, but if he knew the truth, would that change? What if he went back to the way he was before? None of these men stirred her heart as he did, and that somehow felt safer and easier than trusting in Roderick. For so long he’d been one person, but the man he presented now was totally different. How could that be?

  Chester came to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “Don’t draw attention to me,” she warned, “but I’m fine.”

  “You shouldn’t bother with any of this. Even if you draw the admiration of any of these men, they—well, it’s—”

  “Stop,” Anne hissed. “I know what you are alluding to. We can’t speak of this here.”

  “No man wants another man’s horse before his own.”

  Anne glared at him. “And you are different how?”

  “I know you. You wouldn’t have…bought a horse lightly.”

  “And I know you, Chester. You’re not a man to take his duties lightly. Your father would not allow you to buy my horse.” Anne rolled her eyes. “This analogy is ridiculous.”

  “I don’t care what my father wants. He’ll bluster and threaten my inheritance, but the fact of the matter is he loves me, and he would love all of you once you are family.”

  “That’s very nice to say but I can’t do it.”

  “Why?”

  She met his gaze. “Because I think you love her.”

  He tensed, his nostrils flaring. “What?”

  “I think you love her, and she loves you, and if the two of you stopped bickering long enough to kiss, then you would both see. So save your chivalry and bravado for that conversation with your father because you’ll need it then.”

  He didn’t say a word. His jaw tightened and he turned away, walking to the other side of the room.

  Anne faced the room, determined to act like herself, but her courage faltered as soon as she saw Roderick speaking with his mother and Violet.

  Her knees grew weak. He intoxicated her. Just like he was drawn to spirits, he was her vice, no matter how good or bad he made her feel, she wanted more.

  And now his power over her was stronger. Being with him was suddenly a possibility, if only her secret wasn’t hanging over her head.

  She accepted a cup of tea from a maid and sipped as she considered all the men in the room. She joined her sisters, Jeanette and Lunette, on the sofa and listened with half an ear while she reviewed her choices.

  It was the first night and Luckfeld had taken a different interest in her, but Anne felt nothing. She shouldn’t expect to, given the hold Roderick had on her heart, but she expected to feel something more than...

  Amused.

  Luckfeld’s attention had been amusing at the very least. She’d never been flirted with before, except for Roderick. But Roderick shamelessly flirted with everyone.

  She was a fool. Time would prove that, she was sure. She needed a new plan. A realistic plan. She was acting like her father, thinking her hope could turn her desires to a reality. She needed to stop hoping with her heart and use her head.

  And her head stated unequivocally that none of these men would marry her. Deflated, she claimed to be tired and retired from the drawing room early before the games started. Bernie assured her she’d come up with a plausible excuse for her.

  Anne retreated to her room and her empty bed. She and all of her sisters would have the luxury of not sharing a bed for this trip, and while it sounded good in theory, Anne thought she might not be able to sleep alone. Sleep had become elusive of late, and without Bernie’s presence, it may be even more difficult. Especially when Roderick’s change so thoroughly confused her.

  Could a man be so altered simply by not indulging in spirits? Had his drinking affected him that much? The memory of the wildflowers he’d tried to give her for her sixteenth birthday came to mind. There was something about the moment that had sparked a persistent longing in her, even after years of his boyish pranks. A seed of hope that had grown inside her.

  She wanted to believe he could be that young man again, but that was only her foolish heart again. The next few days would reveal if he had truly changed. With his old friends surrounding him, he’d be challenged in his ability to abstain from drinking.

  Anne would wait and see.

  For if he was changed, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. He wanted her, and something about him now, though he was more reserved, convinced her he still did. But did wanting her mean he would marry her, pregnant with a child he may not believe was his?

  Time. Time is what she needed. She’d remain close to him, help him maintain his goal in reducing his consumption of alcohol, and use the precious commodity of time to learn if Roderick was indeed the only man who could save her from ruin, and a life of marriage empty of affection. For better or for worse, she would always love him, and for the first time ever she could believe he was worthy of that love.

  Chapter 20

  Four days.

  Four goddamn days.

  Roderick wanted to rip out his hair one strand at a time.

  Friendly.

  He hated the word.

  He’d been an excellent friend to everyone, especially Anne. He’d made her laugh numerous times, danced with every Marsden sister, read aloud, played the piano forte, carried wraps, parasols, sketch books, picnic baskets. He’d tended to every request from Violet and studiously avoided the billiard room where his friends would retreat for hours to drink and play.

  It wasn’t like him. Cage had said as much, and Luckfeld called him a lady’s maid, but it was all worth it, worth the constant state of arousal, if he was close to Anne.

  It was almost as if their tortured past had never happened, he’d never tossed a salamander on her head, or poured ink in her tea.

  She smiled at him, but more than that, she watched him. She studied him whenever he wasn’t looking directly at her, and her expression was always so serious, as if she was trying to see inside him.

  There had been a change between them, and Roderick couldn’t wait any longer to find out what that change was. She was different, he was different, perhaps this was how it was supposed to be all along, at odds for most of their lives until suddenly not, like fruit ripening. When it was right, it was right.

  Then he better pluck fast. Luckfeld had also been paying close attention to her. Roderick wasn’t worried since Anne spent most of her time with her sisters and him.

  The women had retired, and Roderick had done so as well. His brother had only left him a moment ago after their ritual nightly drink to return to Violet in the ducal suite. The house was dark and quiet, except for the billiard room, he’d guess.