“No,” she blurted. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
“I’m sorry. I’m confused. You do, or donotwish to avail yourself of one or two of her dresses?”
“I do. You do not think she will mind, overly?” she asked in a remarkably un-Annabelle-like manner.
“No, Annabelle,” he murmured.
“Then I accept. Thank you.”
Her cheek—the one he could see from her aside-seated position--glowed pink. Pink and inches from his mouth. He knew,knew,her skin would be hot. Salty. Pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart. Everything in him yearned to press his lips to that tender flesh to feel it for himself.
Imagining doing so had him going hard. He shifted in the saddle, seeking a more comfortable position to accommodate his inconvenient, but increasingly familiar arousal.
In the not-far distance, Stoneford Castle loomed, tall and statuesque, glowing in the fading sun like a beacon in a beautifully desolate land. He’d meant to be returning to it, alone. Why then was a smile playing at his mouth, like he was the cat who stole the cream?
He opted not to expend any effort working out the conundrum.
Chapter 15
Dusk had fallen as Sterling started Zeus up the graveled drive toward Stoneford Castle.
Sterling.She frowned to herself. When had she begun to think of him by his Christian name? She supposed when he’d taken the liberty of calling her Annabelle.
Face frozen with cold, she gazed upon the stalwart fortress, an odd sense of coming home pervading her as they made their way across the castle’s graveled forecourt. Then, without a word of warning,Sterlinghalted Zeus at the base of the stone ramp. He dismounted and lifted her from the saddle, depositing her on her feet.
She expected him to release her immediately. Instead, they stood there, the domed dusk sky fanning above them like infinity. An unreasonable awareness of his large hands, still wrapped around her waist, of the stillness surrounding them as neither spoke, and their breaths, white puffs of air, mingled. The moment felt unbearably intimate and intoxicatingly good.
And then, Babette came shooting out of the castle’s front door. Her squeal of delight as she dashed down the ramp elicited a snort of amusement from Lord Randall.
“I’ll leave you to Babette’s care,” he said, already turning in the direction of the stables, reins in hand.
Paying him no notice, Babette ushered her inside, taking charge of her cloak and gloves, before seeing her up the stairs to what she now thought of as her chamber.
“Here now, you sit,” the maid said, urging her into the armchair positioned before the hearth. She stoked the flames as Annabelle bent forward to begin the process of removing her boots.
“Have you eaten, milady?”
Annabelle shook her head. “There wasn’t time, what with the shifting tides.”
Tutting, the maid disappeared, returning minutes later, bearing a most welcome tea tray and a selection of finger sandwiches.
She poured a steaming cup and pressed it into Annabelle’s hands, then smiled down at her with indulgent affection. “I knew milady would return.”
“So you did,” Annabelle confirmed. She had not been so pampered since…she could not remember when. It felt quite foreign, and very nice.
A knock sounded on her door.
“Come,” Annabelle replied, breathless for no good reason.
The door opened to reveal Chip and Mr. Cogsworth. The two men appeared to be laboring over the delivery of…
“A bath?” she asked in wonder, eyeing the large, claw-foot copper tub.
“Aye,” Mr. Cogsworth replied, moving aside for Nell to pour the first of many buckets of fragrant water into the tub.
A half hour later, Annabelle gazed out the window of her cozy, grate and candlelit chamber and sank deeper into the cooling, but still-warm water. She didn’t know what to make of the unexpected luxury.
Had Lord Randall requested it on her behalf? Though the notion filled her with a secret, effervescent delight, she decided it was more likely Babette who had done so. The maid fawned over her, unabashedly. And, too, the viscount had made no mention of any such intention.
