Page 61 of If the Slipper Fits
Gathering his strength, he lifted his head to stare into amber eyes filled with so much hurt and confusion it took everything in him not to gather her close and kiss her again.
He clenched his jaw against the wave of temptation, and showed his hand. “I can’t make love to you and leave you to your current circumstances. Hear me out,” he said, rapid-fire, when he saw stubborn resolve fill her eyes.
He must convince her to accept his help. That alone would free him to make love to her ’til neither of them could walk out of this room.
And after that?
Afterwas where the terror came in.One step at a time, Thurgood.
“I spoke to Hardasher.”
Her eyes went wide and she jolted to a sitting position despite his best efforts to stay her.
“But I asked…You promised.” She stared at him as if he were the very devil. As if he’d betrayed her.
He wanted to shake her. He would never hurt her, damn it.
He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, beyond frustrated. With Anna, with himself, and with the clamoring needs of his heavily aroused body.
“Hear me out, please?” He stared at her over his shoulder, unblinking.
When she gave a single nod, he rose, tightened the sash of his robe, and paced.
“To clarify, I did not ask Hardasher about you, nor did I mention your name.Hebroachedthe subject of…you.”
The color drained from her face. Jesus, she was that worried about losing a post? He could take care of her if it came to that.
The thought brought him up short. He truly was getting ahead of himself.
“What did he say?”
Caden sent her what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile and moved back to the bed, propping his hip on the edge of the mattress. He reached for her hand, which she gave him with evident reluctance.
Brushing his thumb over her knuckles he said, “He didn’t recognize you, darling. You caught his eye because you look similar to some poor wench who had the misfortune to marry one of the most detestable members of the British nobility to walk this earth.”
“Dear heaven.”
“Precisely. Evidently, on this vile creature’s wedding night, he lost his bride to an abduction or some such thing. According to Hardasher, an ad ran for some time asking for any information—what the devil?”
She jerked her hand free of his and flung herself off the bed to land on her feet. She looked not the least relieved. More like a cornered, wild animal.
Doubt whispered through him. He rose, and with measured steps, circled the mattress to stand before her.
“Anna, do you have something to tell me?”
She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. “He’s not dead. Thank God.”
Chapter Thirteen
The fairytale setting of Caden’s candlelit bedchamber faded. Her mind raced. She felt as if she stood at the entrance to a very large, very dark tunnel. Her ears echoed with the sound of her breathing and her own pounding heart.
Baron Bolton, the man whom she had been forced to marry, then summarily killed, was not dead. She would neither go to prison, nor face execution. The proverbial noose had been lifted from ‘round her neck.
But freedom from retribution took second place to the realization she had not taken another’s life.
It was like a boulder had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Anna, for the love of everything holy, explain yourself.” Caden’s large hands gripped her shoulders.
