Page 83 of When the Scoundrel Sins

“You’re wrong, Quinton,” she said softly. “Without love there’s nothing.” She ached with a sorrow for him so intense that she couldn’t stop trembling, with so much grief that each breath burned in her chest. The breathless whisper fell from her lips. “Those hours of grief and pain can never add up to all the years of happiness and love.”

“Annabelle.” Her name was a plea as he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rested his forehead against hers.

A sob choked from her, and despite herself, her arms went around his shoulders, to press herself close. One final time. “Can’t you…” she breathed out, so softly that she could barely hear her own voice over her pounding heartbeat, “can’t you find a way to…” She couldn’t stop the hot tears from spilling down her cheeks. “Do you think…someday…”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, so softly that it was barely a sound at all.

But she heard it, and it ripped all the way down to her soul. Every breath emerged as a blinding pain, and every pounding beat of her heart was agony.

“I care about you, Annabelle, and I want to spend the rest of my life protecting you and laughing with you, holding you close every night.” All of him shook as he dragged in a jerking breath. “Needing and caring, friendship and respect…we have all that,” he rasped out, each word a tickling warmth against her lips. “Let that be enough.”

But it would never be enough. Not without his love.

Her heart began to crack, like a thousand fingers splintering through glass. She felt each one slice through her, a thousand tiny cuts, each one more painful than the last.

He tipped up her face, to make her look at him, but she closed her eyes, unable to bear it. “Marry me, Annabelle,” he urged her one last time.

“No,” she breathed, and her heart shattered completely.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Quinton sat in one of the leather reading chairs in the library and stared at the walls of books surrounding him. Through the tall windows, the morning sun inched higher over the mountains in the distance, lighting the large room that Belle loved so much.

Books…books…everywhere he looked. And not one answer to be found in any of them.

Blowing out a hard breath, he leaned forward in the chair, knees on elbows. The confusion that had clawed at his insides since he left Belle’s room last night pulsed inside him as fiercely as ever.

Good Lord. The Bluebelllovedhim.

She was mistaken, that was all. Confused. God knewhe’dbeen plagued with enough confusion of his own since the moment she’d shattered in his arms. No—since long before that. Since the moment he first kissed her six years ago.

She drew him the way no other woman ever had. Nor most likely ever would again. One of her smiles sent his heart racing, and her needling criticisms only made him want her even more. And would he ever be able to enter a library again without thinking of her and all the things about men and women she’d learned by reading? The alluring, delectable way she looked, whether in silk gowns or men’s work clothes, had him half-hard right now just thinking about how that caramel hair of hers fell around her shoulders, how those honey-amber eyes melted into him.Neverhad he wanted a woman as much as he did Annabelle.

Yet his attraction wasn’t only lust. Which was the most bewildering of all.

He’d found himself enjoying her company and looking forward to spending time with her, even if only to argue over the newspaper at breakfast or to battle over a chess game. Her laughter was like music, and whenever she looked at him, her eyes shining, a warmth filled his chest. Happy. Energized. He cared about her and liked spending time with her, he would admit to that. He’d been happier here in the borderlands with her in the last few weeks than he’d been in the last several years.

But she wanted love. Would he ever be ready for that?

So he’d come here, to the one place she loved most in all the world, in a desperate attempt to understand her. He stared at the room around him as if it were a puzzle to be solved. But he couldn’t find the answer.

“What on earth are you doing in here?” his aunt asked, dumbfounded, as she stopped short in the doorway.

Quinn glanced up quickly, only to be struck by a pang of disappointment that Belle wasn’t with her. “Why shouldn’t I be here?”

“Because it’s the library,” she explained as she came forward into the room.

He rolled his eyes as he grumbled beneath his breath, “I studied at Oxford, you know.” Why wouldn’t anyone believe that?

She added quietly, “It’s also Annabelle’s favorite room.” She paused. “Were you hoping to find her here?”

Exactly that.In more ways than his aunt realized. But admitting that would make him sound exactly like the kind of lovesick pup he wasn’t.

He shoved himself out of the chair and stalked across the room to the shelf that held the Bibles and reached behind them for the Bowmore. He held up the bottle in silent offer.

“Awfully early for a drink,” she commented. When Quinn arched a brow at that, she added, “Well, someone had to say it, for propriety’s sake.” She pointed at the row of hymnals on the next shelf. “We keep the glasses there. Don’t be stingy on my pour.”

“Of course.” He splashed the golden liquid into two glasses and carried one to her.