AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He caught something in her voice that sounded like tears. That twinge in his chest stabbed once more.
“Meet me tomorrow,” he said urgently, standing but not approaching. He realized his breeches flapped open. Fumbling he fastened them. Something in her vibrating tension told him the instant when she might have surrendered had passed. “I’ll be here.”
His fists closed at his sides as he struggled against compelling her to stay. He wanted more than she’d given, but the promise of tomorrow would tide him over.
Ranelaw, you are in a bad, bad way.
It was another sign of his bad, bad way that he didn’t experience his usual yen to flee difficulties or complications. Even though Antonia Smith with her thorny, barricaded soul was the personification of difficulty and complication.
“I can’t.” Already she backed away. He had a horrible, eerie feeling that if he let her go, he wouldn’t find her again. “Don’t ask me.”
“I have to.” He swallowed and told himself he couldn’t steal her like so much contraband and rush off somewhere they’d never be disturbed. Such places only existed in fairy tales. “I’ll wait for you.”
She shook her head. “Don’t. Please don’t.” Her voice cracked. He wasn’t mistaken about the tears.
“We have so much more to discover.”
Was this really he? Notorious, heartless Ranelaw? He didn’t deserve either description right now. He felt miserable and starved for some sign that Antonia wasn’t leaving him forever.
Even worse for his amour propre, he starved for some sign that what had happened meant something to her. She was upset, but he needed to know she felt more than regret.
“Good night, Nicholas,” she whispered, and turned in a swirl of pale skirts.
He could chase her. If he caught her, she wouldn’t fight.
Nonetheless he let her go. As he listened to the rapid patter of her feet along the path, he slumped onto the bench that had witnessed such incomparable passion.
Chapter Thirteen
Antonia managed to slip unnoticed into her darkened room.
Trembling she sagged against the closed door. She was a mass of bruises. Physical satisfaction throbbed hot and slow in her blood. Ranelaw’s musky scent was all over her. Between her legs, she ached. Every movement was an uncomfortable reminder that tonight she’d done something she hadn’t done in a long time.
What on earth had she been thinking?
The problem was she hadn’t thought. Pure instinct had overwhelmed her. Her body still hummed from the astonishing climax. Her skin yearned for Ranelaw’s caresses. Low in her belly gaped an emptiness that only he could fill as he’d filled her tonight. In those burning, blinding moments, she’d become a different woman.
Yes, a sour voice remarked, she’d become like every other woman Ranelaw had seduced.
A poisonous mixture of confusion, desire, and self-castigation threatened to choke her. She bit her lip and told herself she wouldn’t cry. Crying hadn’t helped last time she was ruined. It wouldn’t help now.
One searing tear squeezed its way beneath her eyelid and trickled down her cheek. A cheek that still tingled from Ranelaw’s tender touch.
Ranelaw’s lying, tender touch.
He was a large man, much larger than Johnny. She’d always remember how she’d stretched to accommodate him. He’d seated himself deep, then paused as if staking possession. For one quaking, brilliant instant, he forged a connection stronger than steel. She’d believed nothing would sunder them.
That odd conviction of union had persisted, enriching every detail of their lovemaking. And after.
Tonight he’d sounded sincere, almost yearning. It was a trick. She was just another body sacrificed at the altar of his appetites. Yet when he joined his body with hers, he’d felt like her other half, the man she’d sought all her life.
Stupid, stupid, stupid sentimental rot.
Dangerous sentimental rot.
At the height of his passion, she’d braced for him to pour his seed into her. In that incendiary moment, she’d wanted him to claim her as his.
But he’d kept her safe.
