didn’t. “We should return now.” She turned to leave.
“Wait. It wasn’t good enough, was it,” he said blatantly.
Anabelle faced him again.
“You can be honest, Anabelle. You were quite honest about what you want.”
“It wasn’t what I was hoping to feel.”
He nodded. “I suppose some things just can’t be feigned.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I enjoyed your company and I hope you find what you are looking for.” He smiled kindly.
“You are such a good man, Thomas. Your future wife is a very lucky woman,” Anabelle said sincerely.
He looked down at her intensely. “But that wife won’t be you.”
“I don’t think so.”
He took her arms and stepped closer to her, his chest brushing her bodice. “I’d like to try again. One last time.”
Anabelle sucked in her breath and nodded. What did she have to lose? He kissed her with more passion this time, his lips firm and eager. She opened her mouth, because from somewhere deep inside, she thought maybe she might feel that elusive something if he kissed her the way Draven had.
His tongue slipped into her mouth and she resisted the urge to kiss him back. She didn’t want him to know that she was no longer a novice in that regard. He explored her mouth, alternating between deep caresses and gentle sucking of her lips. It was actually very nice in Anabelle’s opinion, but it was still lacking. Her wits were firmly in place. She had no fevered urge to feel more and give more of herself. He finally pulled away. And she wiped at her mouth with her gloved fingertips.
“Well?” he asked. He sounded out of breath.
“That was much more exciting.” She tried to sound as affected as he.
His face fell. “But?”
Anabelle shook her head.
“Well, then, I will escort you back to the ball,” he mumbled.
“Thomas.” Anabelle put a hand on his chest. “Your wife will melt from your kisses. I say that with absolute certainty.”
He brightened at that. “Melt, you say?”
“Like butter over a hot roll.” Anabelle laughed.
He laughed too, and the tension eased. They snuck back to the garden and into the ballroom, parting ways as friends.
Chapter 7
Draven kept his back to the wall and watched the terrace doors. In they strolled together—and then they parted ways? Draven analyzed her face for signs of a thorough kiss. That was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Just not from him. He knew Lord Marcus and could even say he liked the chap, but presently, he felt like burying his fist in his gut. What he could not figure out was why they had suddenly parted. There wasn’t any warmth in the parting. Draven knew from personal experience how warm one could feel after an embrace with Lady Anabelle Darling.
Should he investigate? If there were an angel on his shoulder, it would be screaming no, but luckily, he was standing beside the devil.
“Rigsby, what do you make of the relationship between Lady Anabelle and Lord Marcus?”
Rigsby gave him a side-eyed glance and shrugged. “They seem to be doing the usual rounds together. Chatting, dancing, you know how early courtship goes.”
“They just returned together from the terrace,” Draven replied.
“Things must be progressing. She is hard to ignore in that dress.”
He had no idea . “She doesn’t look ravished.”
“That dress aside, I’m not sure she inspires one to ravish.”
Draven could have ardently disagreed. He wanted nothing more than to peel her mermaid costume from her creamy skin. He kept his thoughts firmly to himself. “I see someone I need to speak with.”
Rigsby turned to look at him. “I see an angel who is on her third glass of champagne and a shepherdess who needs help finding her sheep. Stay out of trouble, Draven.” Rigsby paused and shook his head. “Between you and Lucy, I feel like a nursemaid.”
Draven clapped him on the back. “I can take care of myself. I will see you later.”
Rigsby and Draven parted in different
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