that. Nor would I ever wish to take her place.”
“You could never.” He repeated the words she’d said to him earlier, but they carried an entirely different meaning, one that closed a door rather than opened one.
When her waistcoat was buttoned, she slid off the bed and plucked up the cravat. A small mirror hung near the door. She went to it and tied the cloth around her neck. The knot was far simpler than what she’d done earlier, and frankly terrible, but it was the best she could manage at the moment.
Her hair was an absolute disaster. On its best day, the locks did as they pleased, but today, with the certain thrashing she’d done on the bed, she looked as if a bird had plucked every curl free in an attempt to find the makings for a nest. “You could have just used my hair as the nest,” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
She turned from the mirror to see he’d also pivoted and was now looking at her. “I was remarking on the state of my hair. It’s a good thing I’m merely trying to hide it under a hat.”
Returning to the bed, she found the pins that had been dislodged and set about securing it back atop her head in the most severe style possible.
He came to the bed and picked up his coat, drawing it on with ease. Pity, she liked looking at him in his shirtsleeves. His dark red waistcoat had stretched taught across his shoulder blades, accentuating the muscles beneath. She wanted to see them bare. She wanted to see all of him that way.
Tucking the last pin into her hair, she snagged his hand and held it up to her chest. She looked into his eyes. “Is there no part of you that you can share with me?”
His nostrils flared. “I have shared all that I can.”
“I’m not sure I believe you. I would take any part of you. I lo—”
He pressed his hand against her mouth. “Don’t. Please.”
There was a scent on his fingers. She nodded, and he removed his hand. “Is that how I…smell?”
His eyes darkened, the orange spot smoldering. “I wanted to put my mouth on you and nearly lost that battle. If there was ever going to be a next time, that’s what I would do.” He leaned forward, whispering, “Then I would kiss you, and you would taste yourself.”
Heat shot through her and settled in her sex, renewing her desire. “Well, that’s not fair to tease me like that.”
“Christ, Anne.” He ran his hand through his hair and pivoted so that he was once again in profile. “How the hell am I supposed to keep myself from you when you are so damned tempting?”
Joy bloomed in her chest. “I’d rather you didn’t.” She moved to stand in front of him. “There is no one else I want. I can be very patient. I tried to move on before, to do what I should instead of what I wanted. I’m not going to do that this time.”
He touched her cheek, his lips lifting briefly in a sad smile. “You deserve far better than me. I have nothing to offer you—nothing you truly want. I am trying to be the gentleman you think I am.”
“Then I’m right about that at least. Perhaps I’ll be right about more.” She winked at him and went to fetch her hat. “I suppose we should be getting back to Mayfair.” There was no point disguising the disappointment she felt.
He stared at her before going to pick up his own hat. Setting it atop his crown, he shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Anything you like. Just name the day and the place, and I will be there. In the meantime, I’ll be waiting.”
She left the room, knowing he followed her close behind, and hoped that wasn’t the last time they would be alone together. If it was, she at least had a memory that would make her smile.
But that wasn’t enough. She was going to fight for him. Not because she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything, but because she believed he wanted her too.
He just had to see it for himself.
Chapter 9
The following morning, Rafe climbed into his coach and headed to Cavendish Square to pick up his sister. They were traveling to Redhill, to the Golden Eagle, to visit the younger sister of their nurse, Pauline Blaylock.
A nervous energy thrummed through him, but he wasn’t entirely