“Come for me, Anne.” He pulled on her nipple and swept into her with a persistent rhythm, his own release building as pleasure suffused him.
She cried out, turning her head into the pillow to muffle the sound as her muscles squeezed his cock. He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting as he spent himself inside her.
Several minutes later, after he’d left her body, she turned and snuggled against his side as he lay on his back, his breathing returning to normal. “That wasn’t particularly restful.”
“It was the best I could do,” he said. “I look forward to showing you just how much I can exert myself in bed.”
She cupped his cheek and drew his head toward hers so she could kiss him. “I look forward to that too, among many other things.”
“I still can’t believe you want to marry me after everything you’ve learned.” He stared into her eyes as if he could look long enough to see that she’d changed her mind.
“You’re a good man. You’ve been a victim of tragic circumstances.”
He looked up at the ceiling, a familiar anger simmering inside him. “I don’t like being a victim. I’ve worked hard to take charge and be in control. I hate feeling helpless.”
“We all do.” She kissed his shoulder and flattened her palm on his chest. “I hated that I felt like I had to marry Gilbert. I wanted you. And I didn’t even know who you were. I regretted that anonymity pact we made more than anything.”
He heard the scorn in her voice and held her more tightly. “I do too. There are many things I regret. My association with your former betrothed is near the top of the list. Not telling you about him is right there beside it.”
“I am not without blame. I should have told you my godfather was thinking of contesting your claim. I love you both, and I wanted so badly for you to forge a relationship. He’d been a second father to me my whole life. I hoped he could be the same for you, especially after we became betrothed.”
Rafe tensed at the mention of his uncle. “Do you love him still?”
“I don’t know.” Her hand pressed down on his chest. “I don’t trust him. Nor do I like him.”
Despite everything that had gone on between them, the secrets revealed, the wrongs confessed, Rafe hesitated to tell her what he knew he must. “I’ve been reluctant to share something with you. Something that will forever change your feelings for him.”
She came up on her elbow and looked down at him. The blonde curtain of her hair fell on his shoulder and arm, the silken strands tickling his flesh. “This doesn’t sound good at all.”
“It’s not. It is perhaps the worst thing you can imagine.” He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs wouldn’t quite cooperate. Instead, his ribs shuddered, and ice coated his veins. “Selina and I visited our nurse a week ago. She was ill, on her deathbed, in fact, but she confirmed that she and her brother, the footman who worked at Stonehaven, were responsible for the fire and for ensuring that my father died. However, they were also supposed to see that I died too.”
Anne froze above him, her eyes fixed on his, her lips parted, but no breath escaped her mouth.
Rafe continued, “The nurse couldn’t bring herself to murder a child, so she took me and my sister and gave us to her brother. He brought us to London.”
“What does my godfather have to do with this?” The question was a bare whisper, a dark fear she didn’t want to voice or face, and he couldn’t blame her.
He cupped her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He paid them to start the fire and ensure my father and I died in it. He wanted my mother to live, but she refused to leave without saving my father. It may be that Mallory wanted her for himself. He’d loved her too, but she chose my father.”
Anne breathed, but shallowly. Other than that, she still didn’t move.
“Anne? I know this is too much to bear—”
“It’s insane.” She fell back onto the bed, shaking.
Did she not believe him? Rafe steeled himself, for he had no proof beyond the words of the now deceased nurse. He rose up on his hand so he could see her face. “It is true, however,” he said quietly.
Silent tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and into her hair. She opened her mouth but didn’t speak, instead just gently shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry, Anne.” He itched to wipe her tears away, but he still wasn’t sure what she was thinking. “Should I go?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “No. Why would you ask that? And don’t apologize to me. None of this is your fault—I’ll keep saying that until we are quite old and gray. But it also wasn’t the whim of fate. My God, your uncle did this?” Her voice diminished as she spoke until the last word was merely a breath.
“He did, and the worst of it is that I have no evidence.”
She pushed herself to sit up and he did the same. “What about your nurse?”
He grimaced as his frustration boiled. “She died.”
“And her brother is also dead?” At his nod, she narrowed her eyes, her features tightening with determination. “There has to be something.”
“Harry is looking. He sent someone to Stonehaven who interviewed everyone who worked on the estate when the fire happened. They recounted details that support the nurse’s story—they didn’t find my or Selina’s bodies, and the nurse and her brother, a footman, disappeared after the fire.”
“Well, that is something.”
He slumped back against the headboard. “It’s not enough. Not when Mallory has submitted a counter claim detailing my crimes and unworthiness to hold the title. It’s not as if he’s lying about that.”
“Perhaps not, but he is lying. And I’m going to prove it. He trusts me. I’ll get him to confess.”
Rafe sat up straight and clasped her shoulders. “Absolutely not. He’s a dangerous man. If he doesn’t personally commit murder, he is not above hiring it to be done.”
“He’s not going to murder me,” she said with a certainty he would never possess. “But maybe he’d murder you. He meant to when you were, God, five?” Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes once more.
Rafe put his arms around her and drew her against him. “Shhh. That was a lifetime ago. I’m here. I’m alive.”
She hugged him back fiercely, squeezing him so that he could barely breathe, and he did not care in the slightest. “And I need you to stay that way.” Pulling back, she tucked her wild curls behind her ears. “We need a plan. Tomorrow is the ball at Brixton Park. I can arrange to go with my godfather and—”
He took her hands. “Absolutely not. If you’re going to try to get him to confess, you need witnesses. In any case, you will not be alone with him. Ever. Do you understand?”
“I understand. But you can’t be there, at least not with me. I have to convince him that I’m ending our betrothal and that I hate you now, that he was right.” She made a face. “I will have to work very hard not to toss up my accounts saying that.”
“Please, Anne, you don’t need to do this. I won’t put you in danger.”
“We’ll plan everything perfectly.” She looked away from him, her mind clearly working. “We’ll need Harry and Anthony, perhaps Rockbourne too.”