If the Slipper Fits (29 page)

She shook her head in a panic. “We can’t …
I
can’t.”

“Listen, my love.” He gently tilted her face to look at him. “This isn’t merely an afternoon’s romp. You mean far too much to me. I want you with me always.”

Uncertainty softened her expression. “Always?”

“Yes. I’ll be true to you for as long as you desire. You have my word on that.”

“For as long as I…?” She paused, her gaze searching his. “What exactly are you saying, my lord?”

“Simon,” he corrected huskily, running his fingertip over her lips. “I won’t have you addressing me so formally now that we’ll be sharing a bed.”

Talking was a waste of time when his heart’s desire sat so tantalizingly close. Wanting to drown himself in her taste and scent, he leaned forward to kiss her, but Annabelle turned her head to the side so that his mouth grazed her ear.

She scooted backward, her arms still covering her breasts. “I want the truth, Simon. Are you suggesting I become … your mistress?”

Her big blue eyes were stark with accusation, and Simon realized through his lusty haze that she didn’t appear exactly pleased by the prospect. Despite her lack of family, Annabelle had been raised to be a proper lady, and now that she could think clearly, she must be appalled by the notion of physical intimacy with a man who was not her husband.

He silently cursed his lack of finesse in allowing the question to arise. But now that it had, there was no sidestepping the answer.

“Yes, I do want you to be my mistress, Annabelle,” he said in his most persuasive tone. “I promise to take care of you, to give you a fine house of your own, so you can lead the life of leisure that you deserve.”

“And just when were you intending to ask me?” she said in a taut voice. “Apparently
after
you’d ruined me.”

He clenched his jaw. Damn it, he couldn’t deny that. Nor could he tell her a glib lie. “You know perfectly well I didn’t plan to meet you like this today. It simply … happened. I was carried away by my feelings just as you were.” In a desperate effort to renew her desires, he feathered his fingers over her bare breasts. “Please, my love, don’t deny me.”

She jerked herself away and scrambled off the mattress.
“No.
Never again. I must have been mad to let you touch me at all.”

Gorgeously naked, she stormed into the dressing room.

Simon found himself alone on the canopied bed.
Never again?
She couldn’t mean that. Not when he sat here in a state of rampant frustration. Then he realized he was in grave danger of losing more than just an afternoon of bliss with the woman who had tied him into knots. He might lose Annabelle forever.

The harsh reality of that clutched at his chest.

He sprang to his feet, intending to rush after her, but his trousers were sagging and he had to stop to button them. By the time he made it into the dressing room, Annabelle already had her shift on. She stepped into her gown and slipped her arms into the short sleeves.

He couldn’t let her go. There had to be some way to get back into her good graces. Struggling to think, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Annabelle, I’m sorry. I’ve handled this badly—”

“Yes, you have. Did you ever stop to consider that you might get me with child?” She flashed a glower at him. “I know what it’s like to be born a bastard. How could you expect me to inflict that pain on my own son or daughter?”

Her revelation startled him. “I only knew you were an orphan.”

“Whatever the case, you regard me as beneath you.” While reaching behind to fasten the gown, she gave him a look of stern reproach. “I don’t know how you
ever
thought I’d agree to such a scheme. What a cozy arrangement you had planned, with me as your mistress and Lady Louisa as your wife.”

“I’m not marrying Louisa. Where the devil did you come by such a notion?”

“It’s plain to see. You’re always flirting with her, visiting her, taking her for carriage rides.”

Was Annabelle jealous? God, he hoped so. At least that would prove she felt possessive of him. But he couldn’t let her falsely believe he wanted to be involved with two women at once. Nothing could be more abhorrent to him.

Seeing her struggle with the buttons, Simon stepped behind her to lend his assistance. “Sweetheart, I’ve no interest in Louisa, I swear it.
She’s
been chasing
me
. I can hardly be rude to her since her parents are old family friends. In fact, the day I saw you in the village, Lady Danville had talked me into taking Louisa out in the carriage.”

Annabelle uttered a huff of disbelief. “That isn’t the worst part. I’d like to know just what you were intending to tell Nicholas.”

“Nicholas? What does he have to do with anything?”

“He’s come to trust me, to love me like a mother. Yet if I were your mistress, I couldn’t possibly remain his governess. It would be too scandalous. I’d have to move away from here and never see him again.”

The catch in her voice affected Simon deeply. “I could bring him to visit you from time to time.”

“And taint him with my notoriety? No! Meanwhile, he would feel abandoned by me—and that I could never bear.” She glared over her shoulder at Simon. “But I don’t suppose you stopped to think of the effect your selfish plan would have on him.”

“Selfish.”
Rejecting the sting of guilt, Simon fastened the last button and then turned her around to face him. “By God, you’ll find me a most generous man. I’ll buy you whatever you like. A house, a carriage, jewels. You’ll want for nothing.”

“Nothing but my self-respect—and the little boy I’ve come to love like my own son.”

Despite her forceful tone, her eyes held a watery sheen. The realization that he’d driven her to tears shocked Simon to the core. He had wanted to give her happiness, not cause her pain. “Annabelle…”

She ignored his entreaty. Brushing past him, she snatched up her garnet slippers from the floor and walked out of the room without looking back.

Chapter 21

Just after luncheon the following afternoon, Annabelle was giving Nicholas an art lesson in the schoolroom when the sound of shuffling footsteps emanated from the outer corridor. A few moments later, Ludlow appeared in the doorway.

The stooped old retainer inched his way past the assortment of small tables and chairs. It was so odd to see him here in the nursery that Annabelle set down her pencil at once and went to greet him.

He handed a parcel to her. “For you, Miss Quinn.”

Mystified, she took it. It was slightly larger than a book. The brown paper wrapping held no name or address. “Did this arrive by post?”

“Nay, but perchance you might guess the sender.” Much to Annabelle’s astonishment, Ludlow winked one rheumy blue eye at her.

As he turned around and retraced his steps, a blush suffused her entire body. Of course. Ludlow was Simon’s personal manservant.

Lord
Simon. She must not allow herself to think of him in so familiar a fashion. He was her employer, nothing more.

But no matter how many times she’d repeated that to herself, Annabelle could not erase the memory of what had happened between them. Once she had succumbed to that fateful kiss, their relationship had altered forever. She had relived their intimate encounter a hundred times since leaving Simon in the guest bedchamber …

Nicholas trotted to her side, his eyes agog. “Is it your birthday, Miss Quinn?”

She gave him a distracted smile. “No, not until December. Perhaps this is from the school where I used to teach. I may have forgotten something there when I moved to Castle Kevern.”

Nicholas accepted the explanation. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Later. For now, I’m more anxious to see how your sketch is progressing.”

She placed the parcel on the low bookcase nearest to her bedchamber, then went to view his drawing of horses in a pasture. She made some suggestions for improvement, adding shading in certain areas. All the while, her gaze kept straying to the parcel.

What lay inside it?

The light weight of the package gave a clue to its contents.
I’ll buy you whatever you like. A house, a carriage, jewels.

Well, it couldn’t be a house or a carriage, so perhaps Simon had sent jewels as a bribe to entice her into yielding. The very notion was insulting to the extreme. How could he believe her so shallow, so greedy, so unprincipled that she would sell her body for a few precious stones?

In the midst of her anger, she felt the bone-deep ache of loss. When he had drawn her into his arms and kissed her for the first time, nothing could have prepared her for the intense pleasure of their closeness. A storm of desire had swept away her morals and reason. She had become a creature of sensuality, so susceptible to his persuasion that she had allowed him to disrobe her, to caress her in the most shockingly intimate manner. Now, in the cold light of day, she understood the origin of her weakness for him. She had lulled herself into believing he felt the same depth of emotion as she did. Because his whispered words had been a siren call to her lonely heart.
You are so very beautiful … We belong together, my love.

But he didn’t love her. Those tender phrases had been lies designed to deceive Annabelle into surrendering to him. She despised him for duping her—even as she yearned to experience the madness all over again.

No. She must never again succumb to temptation. It would mean the ruination of her. Gentlemen could carry on discreet affairs, but a woman in her reduced circumstances would suffer severe consequences. Annabelle would lose her position and no decent family would ever hire her again.

Dear God, she should have refused the parcel, sent it back with Ludlow. She really ought to take it downstairs unopened and leave it in Simon’s study. Yet her intense curiosity persisted.

What had he given her? Surely there could be no harm in knowing.

When Elowen brought the tea tray, Annabelle used the opportunity to take the parcel into the privacy of her bedchamber. With trembling fingers, she untied the string. The paper fell away to reveal a pretty, enameled box. She slowly lifted the lid. Instead of jewels, a length of fine, cream-colored merino lay inside.

Unbidden, her fingers stroked the exquisitely soft fabric. It was the shawl she had admired in the village shop. Simon must have seen her holding it when he and Nicholas had come to take her back to the castle.

As she picked up the shawl, a card fell out of the folds. It was embossed with the gold Kevern seal. A single sentence was scrawled boldly across the front:
My love, I hope you can forgive me.

In lieu of his name, he had signed a heavy black
S.

Annabelle stared down at the card in her hand. Against her will, the dangerous allure of yearning filled her heart.
My love …

How desperately she wanted to believe Simon loved her. But those were the same two words he’d spoken so ardently in the midst of her seduction. He hadn’t meant them then, and he didn’t mean them now. His sole purpose was to coax her into his bed. Because if he truly had deep, abiding feelings for her, he would not have dishonored her with his loathsome proposition.

A wild anger flared inside her. How dare he try to wheedle her with pretty gifts and false endearments! She would tell him so to his face, refuse him once and for all.

Snatching up the shawl, she left the bedchamber. She bade Elowen stay with Nicholas and then hurried downstairs to the study. But Simon wasn’t there. The chair behind the mahogany desk was empty.

Of course, it was only mid-afternoon and he must still be digging at the Celtic site on the hillside. So much the better. She needed a brisk walk to clear her head. It would give her time to plan exactly what she would say to the scoundrel.

Annabelle hastened back out into the corridor. Upon reaching the landing overlooking the great hall, she glanced down and spied a couple standing in the shadows beneath the grand staircase. Their heads close together, they appeared to be deep in conversation. The woman had her hand on his arm in a distinctly intimate gesture. With a jolt, Annabelle recognized the two of them.

Mrs. Wickett and Mr. Bunting.

What was
he
doing here? For that matter, why were they whispering together?

In her agitated state, Annabelle didn’t really care to find out. She had no wish to encounter either of them. But she could see the door to the courtyard and this was the quickest route to it.

She marched down the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the housekeeper cast a furtive glance upward. The woman swiftly dropped her hand from the vicar’s arm and took a step backward.

Pretending not to see them, Annabelle walked past a medieval suit of armor on display and headed toward the massive oak door. Her footsteps tapped sharply on the flagstones.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Wickett called out.

Drat
. Annabelle stopped and turned, feigning a look of surprise. “Oh, Mrs. Wickett, Mr. Bunting. I didn’t see you there. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going for a walk.”

The vicar stepped out of the shadows. Clad in black except for his white clerical collar, he watched her with those foxlike features, his lips slightly curled. “Neglecting the young duke, are you?” he said. “I wonder what Lord Simon will have to say about that.”

“I’ll ask him. I was just going to visit Lord Simon on the hillside to check on his progress.”

Bunting exchanged a glance with Mrs. Wickett. The two of them seemed to share a wordless communication.

“Then I shall accompany you,” the vicar said. “I have been wanting to take a look at this much-vaunted Druid site.”

Annabelle’s fingers tightened around the shawl. Oh, for pity’s sake! How was she to confront Simon with the vicar present? But she could hardly refuse the man’s company when she’d already stated her destination.

Caught in a trap of her own making, she reluctantly led the way out into the courtyard with its merrily splashing dolphin fountain. The air was brisk, but she refused to put on the shawl, preferring to carry it over her arm lest Simon see her wearing it. The heat of her anger would have to keep her warm.