Lady Anne's Lover (The London List) by Maggie Robinson Page B

“Anne. Annie. That suits you. What was it before? Was there ever a Mr. Mont?”
    She avoided the questions. “I think I’ve been hasty.” She waved an arm between them over the crumpled sheets. “Never mind about all this.”
    “Now, you cannot dangle a fortune and a beautiful bride in front of a poor man and then yank them back.”
    The man looked amused, but none of this was a laughing matter.
    “I’m not beautiful. And you probably would not want to marry me if you found out who I am anyway.”
    “I realize you have no reason to trust me, but I used to be a somewhat honorable man. Is there a price on your head?”
    “No, of course not. I’ve said I’m not a murderer.”
    “Nor am I. Who is the father who frightens you so that you had to run all the way to Wales?”
    She leaped from the bed. She couldn’t tell him—he would be disgusted. “Really, I’ve been foolish. I always am. Let’s forget I made this silly proposition. We’ll find another way for you to keep your home.”
    “Annie.”
    Just the one word. A name that wasn’t really hers, but the way he said it caused her heart to kick. She could imagine him whispering it in her ear right in this bed.
    If she washed the sheets first.
    The heat traveled up her throat to her cheeks. What on earth was wrong with her? She had no intention of being under any man’s control. Being under any man.
    He held out his hand as she skittered up against the open window. “I can’t forget. And I actually think I can persuade the good reverend to bend the truth enough. Let me talk to him and see what he says.”
    “I don’t want a real marriage!” she burst out.
    “So you’ve said. I would never force my attentions on an unwilling woman.”
    Gareth seemed sober. Sincere. She took a step toward him. “If you were my husband, you’d have every right to.”
    “That’s true. And you are a very appealing woman. Tempting. It would be hard to resist you.”
    Anne glanced down at her battered black dress. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Who has hurt you, Annie?” he asked softly.
    “N-no one.” She wouldn’t, couldn’t tell him. It was one thing confessing to Evangeline. After all, she’d held a gun on the poor woman—it was the least she could do to explain the reason for her very odd behavior.
    “All right.” He sighed, rose from the bed, and met her in the middle of the room. “Get dressed. We’ll go down to the village and talk to Ian Morgan. If you need privacy to divulge your secrets, you’ll have it. We’ll have three weeks to get to know each other better. Maybe by then you’ll feel more comfortable with me and tell me what is troubling you so.”
    “I’m not troubled, not at all.”
    He gave her a wry grin. “You may not drown your troubles in spirits like I do, Annie, but I recognize a fellow traveler.”
    “Will you stop drinking?”
    Gareth towered over her. The cut on his cheek was healing, but he hadn’t shaved again today. Dark bristles edged his jaw, and she held her hands together so she wouldn’t touch them. When he looked down at her like that with those blazing blue eyes, she almost forgot what her true name was.
    “I promise I’ll try.”
    She allowed herself a small smile. “I guess that’s the best you can do.”
    “You’ll have to help me. Keep me busy so I won’t be idle.” Anne flinched as he laid a teasing calloused finger on her cheek. He noticed and dropped his hand to his side.
    “I did tell you to do the laundry.”
    “So you did. I’ll get right to it once we come home. Now I’ll have to make myself decent so fire and brimstone won’t rain down upon us. Will you be ready to leave in half an hour?”
    Anne took a deep breath. “Fifteen minutes.”
    “I need a button sewed on my coat. Can you manage that?”
    “I-I think so.” She had spent years poking needles through linen, going mad with chain stitches and French knots as she worked on the insipid embroidery which society deemed was so