“Fine, then I will not,” she replied through clenched teeth, the pained expression still on her face.
“If you don’t want me, say it,” he demanded.
“I do want you, David,” she murmured, “more than you know.”
He scrubbed both hands frantically through his hair. “You’re speaking in riddles. It makes no sense.”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, David. I don’t want to hurt you.”
David pulled a piece of hay from his hair and flung it to the ground. “No, I’m the sorry one, Annabelle.” He pushed open the stable door and stalked away into the darkness.
Annabelle watched him go with a lump in her throat. She spent the next several minutes combing hay from her hair with her fingers and smoothing her skirts. There was no way she could return to the dance now. She would have to sneak back to the house and have Cara help her right her clothing first.
Annabelle let out a long groan. Should she even return at all? She clearly wasn’t making the best choices tonight. Why had she followed David here? Why had she kissed him? Why had she allowed him to touch her that way?
But she already knew why. The answer to all those questions was the same…she couldn’t stop herself. Her mind told her to stay far away from him, but her body traipsed after him, wanting more. And she did want more. Even now. She wanted him badly. The release she’d just experienced had done nothing to slake her desire for him. If she’d been unable to forget his kiss, she would never forget the way he’d touched her tonight. She never wanted to forget. And she wanted to touch him too. Make him feel the same way.
At least she had her answer. He did want to court her. She’d suspected that, of course. Though they were already well beyond courting. They should be talking about marriage after what they’d just done. She’d handled her reaction poorly. Instead of simply saying she would not marry, she should have told him that if she ever considered marrying any man it would be him. But what did that matter? That wouldn’t satisfy him. She wanted him, but she couldn’t marry him. So she’d rejected him.
A desperate idea flashed through her mind. Could she spend the night with him, and have the strength to leave him afterward? Was she that brave?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
David spent the next day torn between misery every time he thought about how much he wanted Annabelle, and anger at allowing himself to become embroiled in this situation. Why had he thought it was a good idea to spend time in the company of the most notoriously unattainable spinster in London? Oh, yes. Earl Lessons.
He didn’t want to want Annabelle. He didn’t want to love her. But with each passing moment he was more certain it was too late.
There was one thing he was clear on, however. He wanted Annabelle for Annabelle, not because she was a prize to be won. Spending time with her, talking to her, he’d learned that she wasn’t the vain princess he’d first thought her to be: Lady Presumptuous. Instead, she was funny and witty and wise. She was bold and passionate. She truly cared about others and loved her family deeply. She was someone who would do a large favor for a near stranger. And she was kind. She’d readily accepted Marianne in her family, hadn’t she? Annabelle just wanted to be seen and heard. She wanted someone to look past her beauty and realize what a treasure of a person she was. And he had. He had. But for some reason that she would not discuss, she refused to marry.
He had no one to blame but himself for his misery. Annabelle had made it clear from the moment they’d begun their lessons that she wasn’t looking for a husband. And David had been the idiot who’d gone and…fallen in love with her.
The partygoers were having a quiet, light supper this evening in expectation of the large wedding feast and ball that would be held tomorrow night after the morning wedding, but David had sent down his regrets to the dinner table tonight. He simply hadn’t been able to stand being in the same room with Annabelle, especially if she was at the side of that horse’s arse, Murdock. David wanted to kick the man (in defense of the dog) every time he saw him.
Now, David was in his bed, tossing and turning, completely unable to sleep. A slight knock on his bedchamber door caught his attention. Shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his breeches, he threw back the covers and strode to the door. Who could it be? Hopefully not his sister having second thoughts about marrying into such an illustrious family. He’d never seen a couple more in love than Marianne and Beau, and his sister was more than good enough to be a marchioness. He was hardly able to recount all the reasons why Marianne would make an excellent marchioness. He only hoped she knew it because David was still having difficulty thinking of himself as an earl. There were still days he wanted to grab his sister’s hand and take the first mail coach back to Brighton, renouncing the title the same way their father had.
But when the door swung open, it wasn’t Marianne, it was Annabelle. She stood there with a glass of champagne in her hand, an inscrutable expression on her face. She was wearing a lavender gown with a gauze overskirt and a white sash around her middle. Her hair was swept up in a chignon and diamonds dangled from her ears. His mouth went dry just looking at her. But why was she here? After she’d rejected him soundly last night, he was determined not to see her again, and this time he meant it.
“Annabelle,” he muttered, knowing what a useless thing to say that was. If anyone saw her standing outside his bedchamber door, she’d be ruined.
“May I come in?” she asked in a sultry voice, arching a blond brow.
He bit his bottom lip. “You know, we never precisely covered this in our lessons, but I don’t think it’s proper for a lady to come alone to a man’s bedchamber in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. There’s nothing proper about this visit.”
David gulped. He stuck his head out of the door to quickly look both ways to ensure no one was watching before standing back to allow her entrance to his room. The moment she stepped in, he closed the door behind her.
David lit a candle on the table next to the bed, then turned back to face her.
“Your shirt is off,” she said.
He couldn’t help but smile at that. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one saying obvious things tonight.
“I don’t sleep with it on,” he informed her. “Too many nights in camp when it was wet and too cold to wear.”
Her gaze traced his naked chest. “I, ahem.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t say it’s an unwelcome sight.”
He laughed outright at that. “I’m certainly glad to hear it. Would it make you more comfortable if I put on a shirt?”
“No!” she nearly shouted, before clearing her throat and saying. “I mean, if you like. Whatever you prefer.”
He grinned at her and remained shirtless.
Annabelle held up her champagne glass, studying the bubbly liquid inside. “Do you know my brother doesn’t drink? Ever. Not even on the eve of his wedding.”
“I do know that,” David replied, nodding. He’d never seen so much as a sip of alcohol pass Bell’s lips. Had she truly come to his room in the middle of the night, risking ruination, to inform him that her brother didn’t drink? “But you do drink, I see.”