“I know,” she replied, just before lowering her lips over him again.
“Holy Christ,” David breathed.
She was already sucking him again, and stroking him, too. Damn. Such. A. Quick. Learner. His bollocks tightened. His jaw locked. God. He hoped she wouldn’t regret this afterward. But when she pulled her wet lips off him and sucked his tip, before stroking down the entire length of him again, David knew it was too late. He moved one hand to the back of her head and gently grabbed a handful of her luxurious hair.
“Damn it, Annabelle,” he growled, grinding his teeth together as she slid down on him once more. “It’s too good.” He pumped himself into her mouth for the final time, his back arching, a tremendous groan ripped from his chest.
In the aftermath, he laid there, stunned. In his entire life he’d never had a climax grip him so hard. He’d wanted this woman for so long, and now that he’d had her, he only wanted more. And she was going to be his wife.
He waited for his breathing to set back to rights, while Annabelle snuggled against his chest with a grin on her face. He glanced at her twice. She didn’t look appalled. She looked…proud.
He pulled her toward him in the crook of his arm and kissed the top of her head. “That was…amazing.”
“Funny. That is the same word I would use to describe what you did to me,” she agreed. “I hope I wasn’t talking too much.”
He cracked a grin. “Love, when you touch me like that, you can talk as much as you want.”
She pushed herself up on one arm and leaned down to kiss his lips once, hard.
“I’m glad we did that,” she said, already sliding off the bed. “I’ll remember it forever.”
Warning bells sounded in the back of David’s skull as Annabelle pulled on her chemise.
He pushed himself off the bed, pulling the sheet with him to cover his hips. “The next time will be even better,” he said, watching her face carefully.
Her head snapped to face him. “Oh, no. David. This can never happen again, and of course, you mustn’t tell anyone.” She turned to stare at the bed. “Which reminds me. We should probably do something with the sheets, so the maids don’t—”
Dread poured through David’s veins like ice water. “I’ll take care of the sheets, Annabelle.” He couldn’t keep the desperation from his tone. “What do you mean ‘it can’t happen again’? You asked me to make you mine.”
“Yes, and it was…” She sighed and stretched her arms far above her head. “Lovely. But I think you’d agree that if we continue as lovers, it would only end in pain.”
He cocked his head to the side and stared at her as if she didn’t understand what she was saying. “‘Lovers’? ‘End’? I thought you’d changed your mind. I thought you wanted to marry me.”
Annabelle’s mouth snapped shut and horror doused her features. “Oh, no, David.” She shook her head so vigorously her hair flew over her shoulders. “I thought I was clear last night. I’ll never marry.”
“You only wanted me for one night?” he ground out, narrowing his eyes on her. “That’s what you meant when you said, ‘make me yours’?”
Annabelle reached out to cup his cheek, regret etched on her face. “Anything more would be too much of a risk.”
Letting the blasted bedsheet drop to the carpet, David grabbed his breeches from the floor, and pulled them on. Then he stalked over to the sideboard and poured a brandy. He downed nearly half the glass, guzzling it, before turning back to face her. “No, Annabelle. This time it’s not so simple. You’re not leaving here without telling me why. Why won’t you allow yourself to try?”
“You’re drinking?” she intoned, staring at the glass in his hand as if it were a poisonous snake.
David was so incensed by her sudden change of attitude he barely registered her words. She was trying to change the subject again and he had no intention of allowing it. He raised his voice. “Why are you so unwilling to commit to a man? Why are you so afraid of marriage?”
Annabelle’s face turned to stone. Her nostrils flared. “Just because I don’t fall at the feet of the first man who comes courting doesn’t mean I’m afraid.” Her eyes flashed ice-blue fire.
He tossed a hand in the air, and the rest of the drink down his throat. He set the glass back on the sideboard with a thud. “Oh, that’s right, you won’t fall at the feet of any man who comes courting! You just want to collect them all around your skirts.”
The moment the words passed his lips, he regretted them. But it was too late, and he was too angry to take them back.
“How dare you!” She leaned over and scooped her gown from the floor, pulling it over her head.
David came around the bed and towered over her. He was still incensed, but he didn’t want her to leave her like this, and there was still the issue of her getting back to her own bedchamber without being seen. He had to put aside his anger and help her dress at least. “Damn it, Annabelle,” he ground out as he flung up his arm to retrieve her errant stocking from the canopy.
A small cry issued from her throat and Annabelle ducked and crouched into a low ball on the floor.
David’s eyes went wide. He lowered his arm and stared down at her in disbelief. “Oh, God, Annabelle. You didn’t think—” He quickly crouched beside her, studying her face. “Please tell me you didn’t think I was going to strike you.”
“No.” Her voice shook. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No, of course not.” She pushed herself to her feet again and took the stocking from him. He watched helplessly as she pulled on the rest of her clothing the best she could. The last few seconds played over and over in his mind. She’d denied it, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of terror in her eyes when she’d ducked. She had thought he was going to strike her. He was certain of it. He was horrified.
“Annabelle.” He reached for her, but she quickly moved away from him toward the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She couldn’t leave like this. He’d never be able to live with himself. He’d scared her. He’d truly scared her. He’d seen the fear in her eyes.
Her clothes were askew. Her hair was a mess. Her gown wasn’t buttoned, and her sash wasn’t tied. But apparently, she intended to sneak back to her own room that way.
She opened the door a crack and peeked out.
“Annabelle, wait—” David called, in a last desperate attempt to get her to talk to him.
“Good-bye,” she whispered, before slipping out the door.
Chapter Thirty
The weddings were lovely. Three brides. Three grooms. Three sets of vows and three couples promising to love each other for all eternity. As the bishop performed the ceremony the next morning, David couldn’t help but glance toward Annabelle. He’d glanced at her a hundred times already and she’d never once been glancing back.
Annabelle sat between her mother and Lord Murdock, who wore an obviously false grin on his face, especially during the parts of the ceremony when Lady Julianna declared her love for Lord Worthington. Annabelle’s countenance didn’t change, however, as she watched the couples declare themselves. She sat ramrod straight in her chair and stared directly ahead with a perfectly proper look on her face.