Page 47 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

It was dangerous as hell. He’d been all right these past years when he hadn’t seen her; memories could be locked away and love appeared to fade. But seeing her once again—that little dimple in her cheek and the light of laughter in her eyes, the petal-smooth skin and luxuriant hair—had been like a crack in a dam. Through it, memories had come rushing, long-dead feelings had tingled, growing stronger and tearing down the barriers Sloane had carefully constructed.

Though, however much Sloane might want her, there could never be anything more between them. Annabeth was engaged to Nathan, and in any case, she thoroughly disliked him now. Even if Sloane could win her back, he would be wicked to do so, knowing that the ending would be the same. It would still be a tremendous scandal for her to marry a man such as him.

But he could not deny himself of these few days, the chance to spend time with her, to look at her and listen to her and simply enjoy her presence. He would be circumspect, as gentlemanly as Nathan, and make no effort to woo her or dissuade her from marrying Nathan. Whatever pain it might bring him later, it would be worth it.

“Anna,” he whispered, and reached down to stroke his thumb across her cheek. “Anna, I’m here. It’s time to go.”

He held his other hand ready to cover a scream if she was startled upon waking and finding him looming over her. But when her eyes opened, she only smiled at him, her eyes lambent. “Sloane.”

He could see when reality overrode the unthinking pleasure in her. Her face stiffened, the light in her eyes turning cool, and she sat up straighter, saying, “I’m sorry, I fell asleep. Is it too late?”

“Four o’clock,” he replied. “We’ve plenty of time.”

She stood up and went to the chair to pick up the cloak she had laid across it. She turned toward the window. “Are we going out that way?”

“I am. If you run into anyone, it’s no great matter as long as I’m not with you. The servants are going to learn you aren’t here soon enough, anyway. The important thing is that they not know you’re with me. Close and lock this window behind me.”

He went out the window and retraced his earlier steps. Glancing back up at her window, he saw that she had extinguished the faint light in her room, and he returned to the garden as silently and swiftly as he had come.

Standing in the shadows, Sloane watched Annabeth emerge from the house. She wore her cape and she pulled up the hood as she started across the terrace, instinctively going down the side steps, where the shrubbery cast shadows.

She came up beside him. She looked more awake now, and her eyes were bright with excitement and a tinge of something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Even though he had been in far more dangerous situations many times, Sloane felt excitement rising in him, too. He couldn’t help but remember waiting for her in the garden or slipping away from a party, making their way to some secluded spot, heat and hunger rising, the risk of being caught setting their pulses even higher.

Annabeth had always been up to any adventure; her tomboy nature had been a stone of contention with her mother when they were boisterous kids running through the woods of their countryside estates. And however quiet and demure she might seem, she never lacked for courage, never pulled away in an attack of nerves. She had always put her faith in Sloane, certain he would never bring her harm, sure that they could get out of any tangle. Looking back, he knew that she had been unwise to trust him so. He would never have done anything he thought would put her at risk, it was true, but he had not been as capable as they both believed. Sloane had learned over the years that distrust was a better place to begin.

Once out of sight of the house, they returned to the path, making their way to the bottom of the garden. After a quick look around, Sloane started across the bare stretch of land to the woods beyond, taking Annabeth’s hand to guide her. They were almost to the trees before he realized that the gesture was too familiar; it had simply been ingrained in him. But he made no move to drop her hand.

It was dark inside the trees, but he had left a lantern there, and he lit it, shielded so that it threw only a small glow before their feet. Annabeth whispered, “How do you know where to go? It’s been years since you visited here.”

“There’s a bit of a path, and I left marks as I came.” He pointed to a small branch broken and hanging. He glanced at her with a little grin. “I think I could have found my way anyway, but I prefer not to leave anything to chance.”

“Then you have certainly changed.”

“Yes, I suppose I have.”

They reached a clearing where a dilapidated cabin stood. A horse was tied to one of its porch posts, patiently waiting.

“We’re both going to ride him?” Annabeth asked doubtfully.

“It won’t be for long, just to the house where my curricle will be waiting. I had one of my grooms bring it here, and I came on horseback. It would have been more conspicuous to have been leading a riderless horse.”

“You think someone followed you?”

“Not that I saw.” He shrugged and untied his horse, leading it to the steps. “But—”

“You prefer not to leave anything to chance,” she finished.

“Exactly,” he replied, flashing a grin at her.

Without having to say anything, Annabeth went to the top of the steps; they had ridden this way often enough in the past. Sloane mounted the horse and reached down to Annabeth. She took his arm and he pulled her up as she jumped, scrambling onto the horse behind him. She rode astride, her arms wrapped around his waist, her body flush behind his.

It was achingly familiar and devastating to his senses. And he would not have given up this moment, this feeling, for any amount of peace.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EVER SINCE SLOANE had awakened Annabeth, warring emotions had been battling inside her. Excitement about the adventure she was going on with the man she’d once loved mingled with bitter sadness.

Annabeth hated the way things had ended with Nathan. She could no longer tell herself that she would make up for any hurt she’d caused him. That wasn’t a possibility now. For all she knew, Nathan would cease to want to have anything to do with her after they caught the person behind the attacks. The thought of him not coming by for tea every day made her ache a little inside.