When she said his name, he jolted and then shook his head. “I don’t belong here.”
She pushed to her feet and marked the way he sucked in a breath as she moved toward him. The way he never looked away from her face. The way he wavered like he wanted to lean into her. Bend into her. What would happen if he did?
His presence was at once disconcerting and comforting, but she had no intention of sending him away. Instead she reached out and took his hand. She was wearing no gloves, neither was he. His skin was rough and warm, and God, how she wanted to feel those hands all over her.
“I need you here,” she whispered. “Please.”
“I’m a servant,” he said, his voice shaking. “Your servant.”
“Not for much longer,” she said. “We both knowhe’lltake you from me once I get where I’m going. This is all we have left.”
There was no need to clarify that she meant the new Duke of Sedgewick when she saidhe. Oliver’s jaw set, anger and pain in a potent mix that matched her own. His eyes fluttered shut and he tightened his hand against hers. “If you need me, you know I’ll be here.”
She nodded. “You always have been.”
He opened his eyes and edged a little closer. Just a fraction closer than that and she would be in his arms. The tension that had bubbled between them in the bedchamber returned, perhaps even stronger now because they couldn’t pretend it away. Their proximity wasn’t because of some duty she had asked him to perform. He was near her because he wanted to be. Because she needed him like she needed breath.
“Oh good, you found your way,” Ezra said as he entered the room.
Anna gasped out a breath as she pivoted away from Oliver and moved back toward her place at the table. A servant entered and laid another plate for Oliver, and Ezra motioned them to sit. They all did so, and Anna shifted as she realized she was between the men, their individual presences powerful and so very different.
There was some hustle and bustle as Ezra’s staff brought out the first course and poured drinks for all. At last, the three of them were alone again.
There was a rather uncomfortable silence as they each began to eat. As if no one really knew how to proceed. Anna sighed and fell into her role as hostess, even though this wasn’t her home. “Tell us about yourself, Mr. Pembroke.”
Pembroke lifted his gaze and snagged her with it. She faltered with her spoon halfway to her mouth. Those really were the most remarkable eyes. Such a bright blue that they almost shone in the candlelight. So focused and intense that she felt speared into her place by him.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his tone low.
Anna glanced toward Oliver and found him staring at her, waiting just as their host was, for her to guide the conversation. She forced a smile. “Well, you said you were the grandson of the Earl of Barrowfield, but as I thought about you, I realized you have not been much in Society these last few years.”
Pembroke arched a brow and leaned back a little, a tiny smirk tilting the corner of his lips. “I’m vastly flattered by the idea you were thinking about me, Your Grace.”
At that Oliver set his spoon down and made a soft noise in his throat. Almost a tiny growl, and Anna jerked her face toward him. He looked positively…untamed. Like he was only just controlling his emotions as he gripped his fists on the tabletop. She had never seen him like this before and she was shocked how arousing it was to her.
Pembroke was also watching him and inclined his head. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I suppose my time away from polite company has made me a bit more forward than Mr. Wynn would like.”
Oliver’s cheek twitched, but he didn’t respond. He just continued to stare at Pembroke like he would tear him apart if he moved wrong. If he threatened Anna. She reached out and gently covered Oliver’s hand with her own.
“Please,” she said softly.
Oliver’s fingers fluttered beneath hers and he glanced down at her hand over his. His cheeks flamed red for a moment and then he nodded. “Forgive me.” He cleared his throat and looked at Pembroke. “Forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, you fascinating creature,” Pembroke said with another half-smile. “As for the question, Your Grace, you are correct. I had a…break with my family a few years ago.” There was brief pain to his expression. “A break with the world, really. And I retreated here to my estate and to the places in London where a man who wants to disappear might go.”
“I’m sorry,” Anna said gently, and meant it.
His expression softened slightly, but he shrugged. “You needn’t be. After all, it led to positive things in the end. It had to or else it would be too horrible to endure. So I worked.”
“Worked?” Anna asked. “What kind of work?”
There was a brief pause as the servants brought the next course of supper. When they had departed, Pembroke tilted his head. “Painting, Your Grace. I am a painter.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and beside her Oliver said, “That’s why there was paint on your forearm when we arrived.”
“I’m equally flattered by your attention…Oliver,” Pembroke said.
Oliver shifted in his seat and Anna observed him closely, watching for the flare of anger again that might need to be eased. Only this time, he didn’t appear angry. No, there was something else that had lit up in his gaze. Something…heated. And she swallowed hard at the unexpected sight of it. It seemed Ezra Pembroke could affect them both in ways that were entirely unpredictable.
