Could he love her in return? Would this change in him be everlasting? Could the boy she once loved and loathed be the man that could fulfill her every wish?

  He laid her on the bed, one hand cradling her face as he untied her robe. He broke the kiss. “I want to kiss you all over.”

  Anne was nodding before he finished speaking. Kisses all over? That sounded divine.

  “Open your eyes,” he ordered gently.

  “I can’t. If I do, you might disappear.”

  He chuckled. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because this is a dream.”

  He kissed her lips softly. “Open your eyes.”

  She did, slowly, seeing him through her lashes first and then clearer than she’d ever seen him before. He was so beautiful he made her heart ache. She touched his face, her fingers tracing the lines bracketing his mouth as she smiled, and then moving up to the fine lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes.

  He’d grown so much, become so much more than the boy he’d been. She hadn’t wanted to see it before, because she’d been afraid, and there was still so much of him that was mischievous and devilish. It’s what drew women to him, but he’d softened in many ways, caring for his mother while his brother was gone and fighting to keep his brother from leaving again once he’d returned.

  He was a man now, and he was going to be a father, if she could bring herself to tell him.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, studying her face.

  She bit her lip. “How much you’ve changed.”

  “Have I?”

  “You have. I can see it now.”

  “I’m not sure I see it yet, but I’m trying, Anne. I want to be the man you want.”

  Her heart fluttered with bittersweet longing. Oh, how she wanted to believe in him, to give him everything, including her heart and the truth she held there. But it terrified her.

  She closed her eyes. “Just kiss me.”

  This time he kissed her neck, and the fire of his lips and tongue painted her skin like a canvas. He loosened the neck of her nightgown, trailing kisses to the curves of her breasts and into the valley between them. He cupped her breast, and Anne bit her lip to keep from crying out, but she tensed at the sharp pain.

  He lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes, they…they’re sensitive.”

  He moved his hand away. “I’m so sorry.”

  She giggled nervously. “It’s all right. Please don’t stop.”

  He held her gaze as he lifted her night rail. Anne shivered, her nerve endings stretching in anticipation.

  She thought back to the dawn they’d lain together, how frantic they had both been. His movements where steadier, slower even, as he lifted her dress to her waist and then higher, exposing her bottom half all the way to her midriff. He kissed the sensitive skin beneath her breasts and goosebumps sprouted over her flesh. Anne couldn’t breathe as he continued to fan kisses across her skin, inching lower and lower. She was melting, a curling wisp of pleasure moving down her body as he did, anchoring itself in a heated pool of desire low inside her, anxiously waiting for whatever pleasure he would bring her. She couldn’t stop her legs from squirming, her heels sliding on the silky soft cotton sheets beneath her. He paused at her navel, dipping his tongue inside, and her hips bucked. She tossed her head back. She couldn’t bear to watch him anymore as he moved lower toward her curls. Her cheeks flamed, heat filling her limbs as if she were on fire from the inside. He paused, and she could feel the huff of his breath on her delicate flesh.

  He was in no hurry as he ran his hands over her thighs, parting them until he could fit his shoulders in between. She peeked at him once, and he was engrossed in his exploration of her, his gaze intent as he caressed the skin on the inside of her thighs, his hands meeting at her core and his thumbs parting her slick folds. And then he kissed her there, his tongue firm and skilled. Anne let her head fall back again, her body taking control, and her mind turning into a mushy bread pudding.

  She spread her thighs wider for him, her body shameless in its search for satisfaction. She’d been tossing and turning nightly with this need, and it was clear only he could fill it, with his wicked tongue and his skilled hands. She moaned his name, her breathing erratic as her pulse pounded in her ears and her body felt coiled tight enough to spring from the bed.

  His tongue continued its decadent torture while his hands curled under her bottom. He held her hips still while he feasted, growling into her, the vibration sending her into an oblivion of acute pleasure and sparkling bliss that filled her limbs and weighed her down while he lapped at her core, humming, drawing out every ripple of sweet heaven from her body. She was shaking now and opened her eyes, feeling as though she’d just returned from a wicked dream, but there he was, between her thighs, nuzzling the overly sensitive skin with his stubbled cheek. She felt raw from his touch. Physically but emotionally, her heart throbbed for him.

  He sat up and met her gaze, licking his lips, and appearing utterly satisfied with his work.

  Job well done.

  She was ruined. And not just because she was carrying his baby, but because it was now clear that no matter what she did, she would always want him, and no other man would be able to give her half the happiness just being near him brought. As children, they could have never known their angst toward each other could become desire, but Anne knew that for the rest of her life she could never give herself to someone else. It was Roderick or no one.

  She prayed it would be him, if they only got over one more mountain of an obstacle.

  She had to tell him the truth of their one wild dawn and hope he would believe her, or better yet, remember it. That part still rankled her but seeing how different he was without the effects of his drinking gripping him, she understood a little better.

  He sat back on his heels, and Anne’s attention was snagged by the blatant evidence of his arousal. She hadn’t seen him when they’d lain together, and now she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

  It startled her when his hand reached for the buttons and he slipped one free. She tore her gaze up to his face, and he raised a brow.

  “You look curious.”

  Her mouth fell open. Dear God, I most certainly am.

  “Tasting you makes me harder than a hundred-year-old oak. Would you like to see?”

  Damn him, he knew she did. She nodded, just the tiniest bit, and licked her lips.

  “These four days have been difficult. I’ve been in near constant pain, being around you and not able to touch you the way I wanted to.”

  Her mouth had gone dry as he slipped another button free. “You have?” She didn’t recognize her own voice. It was deeper and raspier than she’d ever heard it. She needed water to wet her throat and put out this fire inside her that wanted to see him and touch him.

  He slid another button free. “I confess, when I’m lying in my bed thinking of you”—he slipped his hand inside the opening and grabbed himself—“I touch myself like this.”

  Anne sat up, afraid of the wave of heat that washed through her, and her private flesh growing wetter as she watched him. Her gaze was glued to the bulge in his trousers where he stroked himself.

  “Do you want to see how I do it?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Say it louder and then come closer,” he said, his tone daring her.

  “Yes,” she said firmly, and then came up to her knees before him.

  He slipped all the buttons free and lowered his trousers. Anne didn’t hide her fascination as his long thick manhood jutted out from a nest of dark brown curls, the smooth head glistening with pearly fluid.

  “Oh!” she gasped

  He stroked his hand up and down, and Anne had to shift her hips to appease the growing ache between her thighs.

  “You can touch me if you’d like,” his husky voice said.

  Anne met his gaze, afraid of her own desire to touch him and give him the pleasure he’d given her, but she wanted it more than she wanted to be afraid. There was no going back. Loving him meant being as wicked as he was. What did she have to be afraid of? She was safe with him, able to explore these desires now without condemnation.

  He took her hand and wrapped it around his staff. Anne was shocked by the heat of his skin, and the slippery softness of it as he wrapped his hand around hers and moved up and down along his length.

  “Oh, god.” He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. They were both on their knees now, and as they watched together, he showed her how to grip him tightly and moaned as she pumped him up and down until he shuttered, and his release overtook him. His hot seed spurted onto her nightgown and then they both fell to their haunches, breathing hard.

  “I want you to marry me, Anne. Don’t make me suffer any more than I have. I can’t go on like this without you.”

  Stunned, Anne had nothing to say. She couldn’t fathom his words when her mind was still jellied from their intimacies.

  “What—”

  “Don’t deny me yet, please. Think on it. I know you said you would never marry a man like me, but I’ve changed. I need you, Anne. I want to take care of you and your family, I want to worship you for the rest of our days.”

  “I need to think,” Anne said. She wanted to say yes more than anything, but she had to tell him about their baby and someway—somehow—he needed to remember that fateful night. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? What will happen tomorrow that can’t happen right now?”

  She took his hand. “I have my own confession to make, but it will have to happen tomorrow. It’s too big to say tonight. I don’t want to ruin tonight.”

  He nodded as he redressed. “I suppose that makes sense.” He climbed off the bed. “Did you kill someone by chance?”

  Anne shook her head. “Do I look like someone who could take a life?”

  “You haven’t wanted to kill me?” he teased.

  Anne rolled her eyes. “But I didn’t.”

  His expression grew serious.

  Anne slipped off the bed.

  Roderick stood in front of her and touched her chin. “Will this confession change my mind about wanting to marry you?”

  Anne swallowed. “It might.”

  Chapter 22

  It might.

  It might? What could she have possible done that would turn him away? Not even murder—as long as it was justified, like in defense of herself or someone else, would alter his regard for her.

  He loved her.

  Why else would he have proposed after spilling his seed all over her nightgown if he wasn’t foolishly, cut-his-own-heart-out-and-gift-it-to-her in love with her? He was probably making a huge mistake proposing so soon, but there was something strange happening between them. She didn’t laugh in his face, she didn’t slap him—no, she’d let him worship her with his mouth, crying out his name with her release, and then stroked him to completion without batting an eyelash. She wanted him as much as he wanted her and more importantly.

  She hadn’t said no.

  She hadn’t said yes—not yet, but the absence of that no was a gift in and of itself. So, what more need be said?

  Or rather, confessed?

  That question had kept him up most of the night. Thank god there hadn’t been any whiskey in his room, or he would have been tempted.

  Come morning, he was frustrated and tired, but a strong cup of coffee and Sonam’s herbal tea had him feeling better by midday. All Roderick wanted to do was pull Anne away and hear her confession, but Violet had a full afternoon and evening of activities planned for everyone.

  He ground his teeth and smiled as she led him down the hill to the stables where their guests had gathered for some riding and a picnic. A cart and horse were also present to carry more supplies, and Anne was sitting on the bench holding the reins.

  “You don’t wish to ride?” These were their first words today, and it felt surreal. There were so many more important things to say. He’d proposed, dammit. He wouldn’t be able to think of anything else until he had an answer, and she wouldn’t answer until she’d made her confession.

  “I haven’t ridden in years. We only keep a horse and cart at home.”

  “Permit me to drive you?” he asked.

  She gripped the reins. “I can drive myself, thank you.”

  “Excellent, then you can drive me, and I’ll twirl my parasol and bat my lashes at you. Remember to take the turns fast so our legs press together.”

  “Roderick!” Both Violet and Anne scolded him, but they were also smiling so Roderick grinned in return. Anne was now blushing because of him and his mood instantly lifted.

  “Let’s be off,” he bid.

  His brother came to his side. “Take the fork east and leave the cart on the bluff.”

  “We’re picnicking on the beach?” Roderick asked, his mind working quickly to estimate how much time he and Anne would have alone on the road while the others rode over the hills to the cove.

  “The tide will be low, and we can hunt for shells,” Violet replied.

  “Not the kind of hunting I was promised,” Mr. Cage said as he trotted past.

  Georgie was right behind him and grinned at them as she trailed him. “He’s only bitter because he fears for his boots.”

  “Georgie, you’ve ridden even less than I have. Take care!” Anne called out.

  “Cage, you better take care of her!” Roderick added.

  Cage reined his horse, twisted to grin back at them, and waved his hat. Georgie looked back and winked. The two rode off together.

  “Should we be concerned?” Violet asked.

  “If anything untoward happens he’ll marry her, which is the point of the party,” Weirick said.

  “Yes, but I don’t want our house parties to garner a reputation.”

  Weirick snorted. “It’s too late. I and my brother came to blows in front of the last guests, and you said yes to his proposal but married me.”

  “Oh, right. But that was meant to anger you,” Violet said.

  “I beg your pardon, Roderick proposed to you?” Anne broke in.

  Roderick tensed and cursed himself. “Only to spur my brother into action.”

  She met his gaze, her glare throwing sparks. “Do you often propose to women?”

  “Of course not.”

  “We’ll see you at the cove,” Violet said with false cheeriness, and she and Weirick left them. All the riders had dispersed, and Anne and Roderick were alone.

  Roderick climbed into the cart before Anne could have a chance to leave him there.

  “It was to force Weirick’s hand, nothing more. He needed to face the chance of losing her.”

  Anne flicked the reins. “To you.”

  “To anyone. He had to realize what he was about to lose. Violet knew what I was doing and why I was doing it.”

  “I didn’t hear about this.”

  “It was after the ball. I’m a bit surprised Bernie didn’t tell you.”

  “She doesn’t tell me everything nor I her.”

  Roderick studied her resolute profile. Is she jealous? He hid a grin. If she was, it meant she felt proprietary over him and that gave him immense satisfaction and a bit of relief.

  “I’m glad we have this time alone, so we can talk.”

  He saw her throat move with a swallow.

  “We can’t have that conversation here.”

  “Then where do you suggest we have it?”

  She remained silent.

  Roderick ignored the twisting panic in his gut. “I’ll remind you that it was you who insisted on this conversation before agreeing to marry me.”

  “I—” She paused.

  His heart stopped. Was she about to say she wasn’t going to agree but then stopped?

  “I can’t imagine you doing anything so terrible that I’d not want you, Anne. Your heart is too pure.”

  She shook her head and looked away. “We’ll join the others for a little while, and then I’ll say I don’t feel well. You will drive me back to the castle and we will talk. Think of a place where we will have absolute privacy. Where no one will hear us.”

  Roderick’s first instinct was to make a remark about having catalogued all such places already for trysts. But his heart and head warned him not to. This was serious.

  They arrived at the bluff overlooking the cove where the others had gathered. The gentlemen collected the blankets from the cart, and Roderick sat next to Anne as a small feast was unpacked from the baskets. He tried to be jovial, but he couldn’t keep himself from counting the minutes until Anne would make her excuses to leave. Once the meal was finished, the ladies wanted to investigate the shallow pools now that the tide was out. Roderick assisted Anne and Bernie joined them as they picked their way across the slippery rocks around the pools.

  Anne and Bernie bent to inspect a tentacled creature attached to the rock face, and Roderick looked out over the water, stewing over his thoughts. His patience had worn thin. What could she possibly have to tell him? Chester had joined Bernie and Anne, and from the corner of his eye he could see Bernie and Chester squaring off like two cats on opposite sides of a glass-paned door. He rolled his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to mediate the two, but it appeared Anne was, because she moved to step between them. Roderick turned, catching sight of the slippery green seaweed that covered the rock.

  “Be care—”

  Down she went. Her feet whooshed forward, and she landed on her bottom with a yelp and then bent forward in pain. Roderick leapt toward her as Bernie and Chester bent over her.

  “Anne!” Bernie cried.

  “Are you hurt?” Chester said repeatedly. Roderick reached them, kneeling beside them.

  “Do you feel something strange?” Bernie asked as Anne gasped for air.

  “Ohhh! It hurts!” Anne said, clutching her belly.

  Bernie and Chester placed their hands on her belly.

  “Is it the baby?” Bernie said in a panicked whisper.