He chuckled again, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Avoid you? No, Annette. You could not have been more mistaken. What you mistook for displeasure was a fight for restraint. A fight within myself to ignore my attraction and appreciation of your spirit.” He removed his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pocket before reaching up and extracting a pin from my hair. Red strands cascaded over my shoulder. He proceeded to free them all, speaking as he did so, and each touch hindered my ability to take a full breath. “I thought such things had no place in my life, that they were a distraction from my cause. But no matter how much I fight, you fill my thoughts from the mornings when I wake and well into the night—into my dreams. You, not the proper lady I met in London, but the one who rides bareback and swims in ponds.”
He placed the pins in his coat pocket. “The one whose kiss I cannot forget.”
His gaze fell to my lips, and my tongue ran over them in anticipation. Would he kiss me? I wanted him to, and the thought no longer frightened me.
“My maid will demand to know what happened to those pins,” I said when, to my disappointment, Edward maintained his distance.
“And what shall you tell her? That they were stolen by a man who desperately wanted to see this fire free of its confines.” He ran his fingers through my hair, then tucked a piece behind my ears.
My heart hammered. “That is sure to raise suspicions.”
“Perhaps, but it is the truth.”
“You are a thief, Lieutenant Paget.”
A lopsided smirk tugged at his mouth. He leaned closer, the movement slight but enough that his nose brushed mine. “No more than you, Miss Apsley. You’ve stolen my focus, among other things.”
Other things? My breath caught. I understood his fight for restraint—his efforts to ignore the pull between us. I had tried in vain myself to abandon the feelings, the memories. But they remained. They grew. Each moment spent in Edward’s company was another mark of change, an alteration to my plans.
And I had never felt more confident in allowing my resolve to transform.
He lifted his hand to cup my cheek. “Tell me I am not alone in my inability to forget. That you think about that day in the alley as much as I do.”
“Yes,” I confessed in a whisper. “I cannot forget it. Neither the kiss nor the desire to experience it again.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my lips, and his thumb slid over my cheek so tenderly I could not stop myself from closing my eyes and leaning into his touch.
“Is that permission to kiss you again?” His breath caressed my lips. His cologne, that scent that was so uniquely him—a mixture of sea and land—filled my senses. I dug my fingers into the wall behind me. It was all I could do to keep myself grounded and upright.
“You have it. My permission.”
His lips claimed mine in an instant, those few words like a broken dam, allowing him to pour every ounce of his longing and desire into the exchange. And I returned it all with equal zeal, each press of his lips to mine deeper than the last. My hands left the wall and moved to his chest, gripping his coat. Edward wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me to him, his hand splayed over the small of my back. The other found its way into my hair.
If the first kiss had not proven Edward’s ability for passion, this one certainly did, and I feared it would be even more haunting. With every kiss, every touch, my longing to be with him grew. Independence was not something I would relinquish, but if I could have both—if I could have freedom and Edward—then I would never lack for happiness. I would never be alone.
Edward trailed kisses along my jaw, then pressed one against the hollow of my neck. These were softer, tender, and just as unraveling. I sighed with contentment, lost to the euphoria of it all.
“Annette,” he whispered before pressing his lips again to my neck. “I wish to court you.”
Chapter twenty-one
Edward
Annettestiffenedinmyarms, and I pulled back enough to take in her frightened expression. Lord Paxton had been correct in his assumptions that she feared to marry, and now I knew the cause. She had witnessed firsthand the manipulation that often accompanied courtships. I could not deny that many men viewed it as a game, one in which they needed to secure the highest fortune or social rank to win. Clearly, Mr. Wilcot was the type of man willing to tie himself to a woman merely for the benefits she would provide him, excusing all reason to involve his heart in the matter.
Inwardly, I cringed. Was I so dissimilar? My plan had been to court and marry Annette without involving either of our hearts, the difference being my intent to be honest in the reasons for my pursuit of her. Even in this, I hadn’t succeeded, for I kept her father’s offer a secret. Annette would reject me outright if she knew of it.
I longed to tell her, but I also feared it. Never mind that I had made Lord Paxton a promise to keep it a secret, I could not risk being honest about what prompted my attempts to woo her. She would surely react poorly to the information, and I…I would lose her.
The mere thought sent a pang radiating through my chest. My intention to keep my heart out of this had been shredded. It was involved, quite heavily, and that kiss had rendered me unable to deny my affections for this woman. I needed the money from Lord Paxton to save Adda and bring Hollinsby to justice—needed it to help the thousands sold into slavery each year.
But I also needed Annette. Not because marrying her came with a fortune, but because she brought light to my soul. She understood my passion for abolition and had not teased or berated me for it. Instead, she’d offered to support me in the endeavor. Offered me a partnership. That one declaration had removed the veil over my eyes, and with it gone, every feeling I had attempted to bury rose swiftly to the surface.
Yes, I needed Annette. Her support and passion would be an aid to my cause. But even if I stripped that away, I was left with one, undeniable truth: I wanted her. No, Iyearnedfor her—her touch, her kiss, her heart. I wanted all of it, all of her. She could never be my wife in name only, not when I so desperately desired more. After the way she had returned my kisses, I held hope that she wished for the same. That some part of her cared for me as well.
My thumb caressed her cheek, and the fear in her bright eyes dimmed a little. Could I convince her that my intentions were pure? That my proposed courtship had nothing to do with money? Even without Lord Paxton’s offer, I wanted this woman at my side. I would give up every pound and still pursue her heart, work to gain her affections.
Because Annette did not deserve to be treated as an item for purchase. A conversation with Lord Paxton needed to be had. I could not—would not—accept that money.
