Page 62 of Her Wicked Duke
But a voice in the back of her head whispered,Alexander has kept many secrets from you. This is just another one. Simply because he draws you quite finely does not mean he didn’t write the letters that have caused you so much fear.
She was lost in her tumultuous thoughts when the door opened and Alexander entered the study. His face was tight with shock at finding her looking through his sketchbook. His hair was slicked back, wet from his bath, and he was only wearing a velvet robe.
“Anne,” he said, his voice low. “Anne, I can explain.”
“You havea lotto explain,” she answered, still lost in thought. “Like why you have ignored my letters. Like why you rejected me after making me—well, after you made me see stars. Like why you started the rumors that have utterly ruined my reputation because, after all,youwerethe one who warned me about my friends.” She met his gaze. “What else have you warned me about, Alexander? Other men, perhaps? In letters?”
Realization dawned on him slowly. “Anne.” His tone was anxious, sharp. “You cannot think I sent those letters!”
She snapped his sketchbook shut. “How long have you been infatuated with me, Alexander?”
“Anne,please¸please just listen to me,” he begged, coming closer, but she held up her hand as if to ward him off. “I can explain everything, but Icannotexplain the letters. They weren’t from me!”
“I do not believe you!”
“Please,” he begged. “I know how this looks, how far those drawings go back, but they were innocently done. They were not done with obsessive intent. I swear to you, Anne, it was never like that. Like infatuation.”
“Everything else suggests otherwise,” she told him flatly. “What it looks like is a wealthy man taking advantage of a desperate girl’s need for protection and using it to make his fantasies come true. Poor, silly Anne, who needed a man to protect her from a stalker. However, the stalkercouldbe that very man who swore to protect her! And even if he is not, you had me right there, at your side, demanding payment for everything I asked of you. I wasscared, Alexander, and yes, I agreed to your demands and rewards, but that was because I had feelings for you! To you, I was merely a conquest.” The accusation spilled out of her breathlessly. “No wonder you were not interested in marrying me! You admitted it yourself—your desires do not exceed the intimacies of the bedroom.”
She shook her head, tears threatening to fall. They were tears of anger, of hurt. She lifted her chin stubbornly. But Alexander… he looked broken.
“Anne, please?—”
“You have kept so many secrets from me,” she said quietly. “You have had the upper hand this whole time, letting me think I was special and forget you were only there under an agreement that you used to satisfy your own desires.”
She walked around his desk to stand in front of him, holding every inch of confidence she could muster.
“Anne, I beg that you believe me. You were not merely a conquest, you have become everythi?—”
“That day in the art gallery,” she cut in, not wanting to hear false, empty promises of what she might mean to him. “I struck a sensitive nerve by claiming that perhaps I shall decide when you deserve a reward. Tell me why.”
He jerked back, surprised at her demand. But then, that same flinching sadness came over him, and he shook his head. “I cannot, Anne. I?—”
“Then if you refuse to tell me any more, I am done here.” She moved past him. He caught her wrist, but she yanked it free, even though her heart yearned for his touch again. “I never want to see you again, Alexander.”
Alexander watched her go, one hundred things to say dying on his tongue.
Come back. Please, just come back.
But Anne was already gone in a swish of skirts and anger. Not once had she cried. She was a strong woman, stronger than many women he’d known, and he knew her tears would not be wasted on a man like him.
His chest ached as he yearned to follow her, but she had already fled Haverdshire Castle by the time he stumbled through the doorway and into the hall.
It’s truly not what you think, he should have said.
He should have told her the truth in the carriage after he’d brought her to her climax for the first time. He should have told her that he had feelings for her, as she did for him. That he was heartless and dangerous and a terrible man, but if she could love him in spite of all that, then he wanted her just as much.
Yet, why hadn’t he?
He was too proud, too scarred by his past, too worried about becoming just like his father, who had driven his mother tosuicide after he’d had a public affair. His mother couldn’t stand the humiliation.
That was why he had pulled back from Anne each time.
How can I force her into marriage, the way I am?
He should be confident in his decision, but all he felt was his heart shattering as he relived Anne’s parting remarks to him.
I never want to see you again, Alexander.
