“What does it matter to you?” Annoyingly, tears stung her nose, and she scowled to ward them away. “The last time we met, you told me you would not marry me, and I accepted that. I ended our engagement, and—”
“I waswrong.” He dashed a hand through his hair, looking wicked and debauched and everything she had ever wanted. Her heart twisted and pounded and she forced herself to look away before her hopes could rise. “For weeks, I have been able to think of nothing but you, Annabelle,” he said, his voice quiet like the eye of a storm. “I thought it would be the greatest mistake of your life if you married me, but now I know it would be the greatest mistake of mine if you did not.”
Annabelle’s mouth dropped open, but she found herself at a loss for words. Jacob gave a crooked smile that rent her heart entirely in two.
“I thought that might get your attention, darling.”
Her hands shook and she looked at him more closely, realising there was the ghost of a bruise on his cheek. She raised a shaking hand to touch it and he held perfectly still, his eyes devouring her.
“What happened?”
“I caught your brother by surprise.” His mouth quirked in a wry half-smile. “It transpires he doesn’t like me.”
“Are you all right?”
He caught her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the tips of her fingers. “I am now I know you’re safe.”
She remembered that Madeline had died when she had fled Cecil, and her chest squeezed.
“You may think I am wicked,” he murmured against her fingers, “but I am nothing compared to the cruelty of the world.”
“I didn’t think you cared,” she whispered, and her breath shattered at the thought. She had been running from Henry and his threat, but perhaps she had been running to escape the terrible hurt that had followed her after leaving Jacob.
He rested his forehead against hers. “I always cared, Annabelle. Even before I wanted to. I did my best to convince myself to leave you alone, but that was a futile effort.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Because I woke up and I realised that my life means nothing without you in it.” His hands found her waist, holding her closer. “And because, little bird, I am madly in love with you. If you are foolish enough to want me, then I am sensible enough to never let you go.”
His gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth, and lingered. His eyes darkened still more until they were almost wholly black.
The colour of the devil.
The colour of desire.
She had to grip his arms so she didn’t fall.
“Annabelle,” he said, her name music from his lips. “Annabelle. Be mine. Be my wife. Make demands of me and I shall endeavour to fulfil them. If you want books, you can have them. I will buy you a whole library so long as I never have to lose you again.”
Annabelle meant to tell him he was the only gentleman she could ever marry. Shewantedto tell him that she loved and hated him in equal measure, and her heart was his in its entirety.
Instead, she burst into tears.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jacob held Annabelle close, cradling her head against his shoulder, his stomach coiling into helpless, desperate knots. She fisted her hand in his waistcoat, gripping so tightly the fabric would be forever ruined, and he pressed his mouth to the side of her head.
“Annabelle,” he said against her hair. “Annabelle, tell me how I can make it better. What will make you stop crying?”
If anything, she merely cried harder. He could feel her tears soaking through his waistcoat, and he wished he could transport them away from this dingy, awful tavern with its straw-lined floor and bawdy dining room filled with drunken patrons. Once, he might have revelled in the quiet, underlying threat of violence, but as soon as he had stepped inside and heard that there was a young, fair-haired lady staying there, his stomach had sank.
So long as she consented to go with him, he would order a post-chaise and four to take them back to Kent tonight, or at least as far as a more salubrious establishment. And if she did not consent to marry him, he would do his best to at least persuade her to leave with him.
The thought he had done too much damage for her to still love him would not leave him. He was a creature of pain, but he had never, never wanted to hurt her. But she was crying over him again. Again. The sight and sound of it flayed him inside out. Seared through him. She could brand him with her tears—but as long as she needed him to hold her, he would be there.
“There has not been a moment since I first met you when I have not wanted you,” he said, because he needed to fill this space between them. Her body was flush against his, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the distance grew further with every shaky breath she took. “I may have been born wicked, but you make me want to be good, Annabelle. You make me want to find a way to deserve you. You make me want to fight for the one thing in my life that is worth having.” He tightened his hand in her hair, wishing he could reach through her and whisper his words directly against her heart. “I don’t care that my father beat me or that I bear his name, or that if you marry me, our children will bear his name. Because they will have your eyes and your kind heart, and God, Annabelle, I haven’t wanted anything in my life the way I want to be with you. Losing you almost killed me. I can’t do it again.” He found her ear with his mouth. “So if you make me work to win you back, I will. I am here to stay.” His arms tightened of their own accord. “Tell me you hate me if you must. Tell me you never want to marry me. Tell me whatever is on your heart, and give me the chance to learn how to make you love me.”
Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs, but she said nothing, and the silence disturbed him more than anything else ever could.
