He saw the darkness inside himself as a warning, but for her it was a draw. She’d never wondered what lay behind the light; she had never marvelled at the beauty of the sun. Always, always it was the night sky that held her attention—and she knew that the night had to be dark in order for the stars to shine.
She would be his stars if he would let her.
“And if I don’t want to marry another?”
His eyes were tar, sucking her under. “We had a deal.”
“The deal was if you cannot find me another husband before the summer is out, you will marry me yourself.”
He rose suddenly, crossing to her in two steps and taking her wrist in his hands. He looked down at the contact, his strong fingers against her slim bones. “Look at you. Look atme. I agreed to help you, but I cannot marry you.” He exerted pressure and she gasped at the almost-pain of it. Any more and— “Do you see?” he said, his voice too low, throbbing with intensity, his eyes tortured and fiercely angry. “I could snap you like a twig. I could break you, and you would throw yourself on my mercy anyway?”
“You would not hurt me,” she said, making no move to pull away.
He was carved in marble before her; she wasn’t even certain she saw him breathe. “If you think that, you do not know me at all,” he said with a bitter laugh “My own family despised me. My brother wished I were someone different, and he died because of me—just like Madeline.” His lip curled and she could feel the pain underneath his words. He was hers, and she felt him. Sheachedwith him. “He always had a weak heart. I suppose I was just the thing that broke it.”
“Jacob, you are not what you think you are.”
“I’mexactlywhat I think I am. Yes, that’s right, look at me with that disappointment in your eyes. Remember why you ever hated me. I’m a scoundrel, a rake. I ruin everything I touch. That has been my curse since the day I was born.”
“I don’t hate you.” Her voice was a whisper.
“You should,” he said, bending so she was drowning in the black fire of his eyes. Only the very rim of the gold-streaked brown iris remained, and she watched the faint glint of it, mesmerised. It would be all too easy to fall into him, to release the last of her inhibitions to the wind.
Maybe he would not marry her as she had hoped, but he wanted her, she was certain of that now, and that would be enough. She would take all she could, even if it was just for tonight.
Even if she would leave London with Nathanial and Theo and never see him again.
The thought was freeing, absolving her of guilt. If she was to leave here and have no one else, at least she would have this. It was not a sin if she loved him.
“I hurt everyone I’m close to,” he said, and it sounded like a plea. “Iamruination.”
She placed her hand on his chest. “You are Jacob. I see you. And I want you.”
His eyes searched hers, and she twisted her other hand in his grip—it was loose enough to do so now—so she could link her fingers through his.
“Forget our deal,” she said forcefully. “Forget about tomorrow. I want you now.”
His fingers were feather-soft as they brushed her cheek. “I can’t marry you.” His voice cracked on the last word.
“Then don’t,” she said even as her heart cracked. “Just want me. Just for now.”
Still he hesitated, and she thought he would never give in.
Then, with a curse, he tugged her face to his, claiming her mouth with his own. There was nothing tender about this kiss—it was bruising in its intensity, his need a feral thing that fought against her own. His other hand found her waist, sliding along to the small of her back, then down to her backside. He squeezed, pressing her against him, his arousal evident even though her skirts. She was dizzy with want.
So this was what it felt like to fall. When contemplated in isolation, it had seemed somewhat terrifying, but now she knew better: it was spectacular. Because he was falling too, and to be united in this was a delightful thing, like holding hands before taking the jump and knowing the same wind that exhilarated her also stole his breath.
He picked her up, carrying her to the couch before the fire, and deposited her on his lap. Her legs fell on either side of his hips and he dragged her skirts up and away as he continued to kiss her.
Time was suspended.
The only thing that existed in Annabelle’s world was Jacob’s mouth, his hands, the ridge between her legs that she did her best to rock against. His breath was hot against her neck, and the emptiness inside her grew and grew until she knew nothing but Jacob. He became her world, and she knew with barely honed instinct that only he could sate her. Even if she did marry someone else, no other man would make her feel just as she felt now.
“Annabelle,” Jacob said, breaking the kiss and groaning. His eyes were half crazed, dark as the clouded night sky. “We should stop.”
“I don’t want to.” She had never been more certain of anything in her life.
“You deserve better than this. God. There isn’t even a bed.”
