AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Reluctantly, he snatched his gaze from her to see to what she referred. “This? No.” He caressed the indentation of her spine unhurried. “A little accident when I was running around with my brothers as a boy.”
“Didier is so congenial, by the way.” She played with the hair that peppered his forearm, a tiny peaceful smile on her kiss-swollen lips.
No smile when he looked at her with so much focus. He did not think he would be able to top staring. “He has always been.” The rasp merely audible. “He has inherited the most of my mother’s Gallicism.”
“It shows.” She placed a kiss on the top of his chest and it had the usual effect. “I wish I had met her.” She lifted her head to him.
He nodded. “She would have liked you on the spot.” And wiped a strand of hair from her face.
“And I would have reciprocated it, I am sure.” She strolled lower on his chest.
Her hand joined in. “Annabel?”
“Yes.” She murmured on his skin.
“What are you doing?” His fingers lowered along her spine.
“I thought it was obvious.” She did not stop.
“You cannot continue this unpunished.” He moaned when she found his nipple.
“I was counting on it.” She smiled on his warmth.
He pulled her to him and they took all the time in the world.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The stairs to Lord Wingfield’s office were deserted when Annabel climbed them a couple of mornings later. She wondered what kind of mission would be in store for her, since they summoned her here with haste. She came by hackney, as the busy streets would make it difficult to have her carriage wait.
These last days had been a shocking whirlwind. Romulus and she could not seem to disentangle from each other. They met at his house, or at hers, in the dead of the night, to spend it with excruciating urgency and greed. She started being a tad worried with this overwhelming need she displayed towards him. It was a precipice of difference compared to her debutante’s time. She had been naïve then. Now? It burned her whole body, mind and soul so completely, she was at a loss what to think. And she did not want to. She wanted to feel, to explore this, to lose herself in it, even if they had no future. They could not have. He was a Duke and had possibly to marry a pedigreed debutante to continue the line. Not a Viscount’s daughter who was a widow on top of it. This being another thing she did not want to cogitate about this moment.
The end of the flight saved her from further musings. At the office door, she knocked before her superior admitted her in there.
In the essentially masculine room, two men stood talking as they were old friends. Lord Wingfield acted like a proud parrot, preening beside the blasted Duke. What the darn was he doing here? No matter, her entire being reacted to the man as if it would implode, though they parted mere hours ago. Inevitable flushing surfaced on her cheeks as she tried her best to keep her composure.
“Lady Winchester.” Lord Wingfield bowed over her hand. “I am sure you have heard of the Duke of Blackthorne.” He introduced.
Heard? His deep caressing voice, yes. And seen his magnificent figure. And touched his muscled body. And taken him in her…. Dear me!
She curtsied to the man, his murky depths pinning her where she planted her feet to steady herself. “Your Grace.”
“My lady.” Came his bone-melting greeting, as he bowed, his eyes never leaving her.
“Lord Blackthorne has come to me with an unexpected request.” He smiled at the top of his vanity.
“Indeed, my lord.” She replied pleasantly as suspicion took over her. The man did not miss a trick.
Naturally, she told him for whom she worked, but she had no doubt he would discover the information if he put his mind to it.
“His Grace requires your services to be transferred to his operations.” The older man adjusted his suit coat as if this was the height of his career.
What the blast did he plan? She wondered, none too trustful. Done without even consulting her. Vexation originated in her insides. “I am happy working for you, my lord.” She cast him a murderous stare. How dare he?
Blasted Romulus stared back, the picture of amenity, hands behind his back, impeccable attire, hair in a queue.
“And you will be even happier working for the Duke.” He said oblivious to the charge in the room.
She would be happier strangling his neck, more like it.
