“This is you and Miss Pringle,” she added, pointing to the two figures standing among the sunflowers, apparently holding hands.
Annis flushed when he raised his eyebrows at this, and she thought crossly, so much for no awkwardness.
“At first I was going to make it Mama, but then I thought it was better if I made it Miss Pringle, because she is here, and Mama isn’t.” Elizabeth’s mouth turned down and Annis’s heart contracted.Gosh, if anything happens to me, the children will miss me. I didn’t think of that...
The viscount cleared his throat and seemed to be groping for another topic of conversation when the welcome interruption of afternoon tea being served saved the situation. Leaving the children to their afternoon feast, she left the nursery with his lordship.
She should leave him, as well, but found herself completely unable to do so, walking with him to the stairs down to the next floor and the next. If she had been thinking about it, she might have assumed he was heading to the drawing room where she anticipated afternoon tea for the adults was being served. But she wasn’t thinking much except that she wanted to remain in his company as long as possible. And when they reached a door on the first floor, he pushed it open, holding it for her.
It was the library, she registered stupidly. Her heart accelerated when she realized he had shut the door and was moving toward her.Oh, no! He is going to kiss me again!
I should stop him, but . . . if this is my last opportunity . . .
He stopped before her and his eyes told her everything she needed to know about his intentions. They positively smoldered.
“Miss Pringle—Annis! I have been wholly unable to stop thinking of you since yesterday.”
She gasped as he put his arm round her. “I know this is wretchedly unfair of me,” he said thickly, “but I cannot resist you!” He pulled her tight against him and kissed her.
It was a rough, devouring kiss that completely decimated any defense she might have tried to raise. In any case, this was perhaps her last chance to experience the delight of his embrace. She surrendered, returning his kisses with fervid ones of her own, parting her lips for him and even using her tongue to taste and devour him as much as he was her.
She molded her body to his in wanton abandon, feeling the heat and hardness of him through the layers of their clothing, tingling wet heat gathering between her thighs. Her arms crept round his neck, her fingers pushing into his long hair, cupping his scalp, her breasts squashed flat against his chest. He was wearing more clothes than usual today, including a jacket and neckcloth, to her regret.
“Annis,” he murmured, breaking the kiss, his breath hot and rapid in her face as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Annis, will you marry me?”
Her eyes widened in shock, her heart turning over in her breast. She pulled back and stared at him, bereft of speech.
“The children already love you, I can tell, and they need a mother. A nanny alone won’t do. I think you’re fond of them, could love them in time? Hm?” He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “And God help me, but I want you. I don’t understand it. There has been no one but Caro for me for over ten years, and suddenly you’re all I can think about.”
Oh, God!Her heart clenched with anguish.How can this be happening?She could never marry him. Even if he never found out she was baseborn, she was still only a governess and no fit bride for a viscount.And with what I plan to do tonight...
Tears, never very far from the surface, stung her lids and she swallowed with difficulty.
“I cannot, my lord! I’m so sorry!” She tore herself from his embrace and fled the room, racing up two flights of stairs as if the hounds of hell were after her. Reaching her room, she unlocked the door with shaking hands, barely able to see through her tears. Getting the door open she flung herself through it, then slammed it and locked it. Leaning against it, she slid slowly to the floor sobbing.
*
Emrys, left standingin the library alone, suppressed the urge to go after her, they couldn’t have an argument in the middle of the hallway or stairs. He had taken her by surprise.Hell, I surprised myself!He had not intended to propose marriage—the words had just burst from him. With her unbridled response to his kisses, he had lost all sense, and suddenly it had seemed the perfect solution to all his woes.
The childrendidneed a mother, and a nanny alone wouldnotdo. And she was perfect for the role. It was obvious the children loved her, and she was fond of them at the very least. And in his fevered state, he thought he would do anything to have her.
He had not expected her to refuse him. Her physical response told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He acquitted her of fakery in that regard. Annis Pringle was no seductress. Her emotional responses were pure and without artifice, he would swear to it.
She was no young miss either, but a mature woman. A virtuous one all the same, he’d stake his balls on that. For all her honest passion, she was not experienced, he was certain. Something in the way she had hesitated yesterday told him she was not accustomed to kisses. She was no flirt, no coquette. Shedressed plainly with no adornment, her dresses so modest they drove him mad wondering what was underneath.
I did surprise her, he reiterated to himself. He would give her time to consider all the benefits of his proposal.Then I will ask again, for her refusal has done nothing to assuage my longing for her. In fact, it’s made it worse.
Chapter Twelve
Annis remained inher room for the rest of the evening, claiming a headache and having a tray brought to her room, which she was unable to touch. Her state of turmoil was such that food was the last thing she could think about.
The viscount’s proposal was a bittersweet thing in the face of what she had to accomplish tonight, and should she survive the night, she would deal with it tomorrow. She wasn’t entirely sure how or in what fashion, but first and foremost she needed to ensure her own survival. Once she had dealt with that, she could consider what to do about the viscount.
Time dragged interminably toward midnight. At half past eleven, she left her room, dressed in a cloak and stout boots, with a small sharp knife in her reticule and determination in her heart. She was never gladder of her lessons in knife fighting than now.
She crept down the servants’ stairs to the rear entrance and made her way around the house toward the ruins. There was intermittent moonlight between the scudding clouds to light her way. The air was cool and damp, the wind tugging at her cloak.
Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she approached the black outline of the ruins. Terror stiffened her limbs and threatened to make her teeth chatter. Everything in her willed her to turn tail and flee.I should go to the duke, throw myself on his mercy, and hope that he will not dismiss me for lyingabout my birth and my past. Or the viscount? Can I... no, I cannot! The man has enough troubles. Embroiling him in mine is unthinkable.
