The Young and the Ruined - Annabelle Anders Page 0,3

It was wrong of her to curse, but why did he still have to be so attractive? With his hair as black as midnight, blue eyes that were brighter than a kingfisher’s feathers, and those perfect patrician features, he was difficult to ignore. Nor was it easy to forget that he was a viral, potent specimen of a man. He could have been the model for Michelangelo’s David. The high cheekbones and wide soft lips didn’t help matters. She groaned softly.

“Nell,” he said in a voice designed for seduction.

She closed her eyes, and suddenly it was eight years earlier when they’d attended a picnic at this very same house.

“Nell, I want you,” he said softly. They were hidden behind a majestic oak, far away from the others. He pressed his lips against hers. “Marry me.” He flicked his tongue against her lips.

God help her, she opened to him.

He deepened the kiss, then drew back. “Marry me,” he pleaded.

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

“Nell.”

Her name on his lips still possessed the power to bring her to her knees.

“I don’t want to argue or make things awkward between us.” A smile, one that bespoke a truce, broke across those full lips.

She recognized a great piece of acting when it was played in front of her. Yet, she continued to stare at his mouth. It should be a royal edict that no man alive could possess such sinfully full lips, ones perfectly designed for nibbling, licking, sucking, and not to mention, kissing.

“But it is,” she said softly, then shook her head to knock away her daydream. “Awkward, I mean.” She took another step away, then turned to gaze out the window where it was safer.

“Why are you traveling this way?” he asked.

A fair enough question. Without turning, she swallowed the unease that lingered, then answered, “Christa is being courted by the Marquess of Mounthaven. I picked her up from my Aunt Blanche’s and am bringing her home with me. The marquess will visit next week.”

“I see.”

His whiskey-dark voice seemed to surround her, and she shivered in response. If she didn’t get ahold of herself quickly, she’d make a fool out of herself.

“Another marquess,” he added, his dismay apparent in the lingering way he said the words. “It stands to reason that your younger sister would follow in your steps.”

Nell clutched her fist and whirled around. “And what does that mean?”

“You prefer marriages that come with money and a lofty title.” He smirked slightly.

“That’s not true.” She sounded defensive to her own ears, but she couldn’t let his accusation stand.

“It’s perfectly understandable since you’re the daughter of a viscount,” he said sarcastically. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I haven’t. Though I was practically penniless, I had employment. I wasn’t too proud to be an assistant land steward here at Redmond Hall. You accepted my proposal, then one whiff of a rich marquess, and I was discarded like an old shoe.”

Nell’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, this is rich,” she scoffed. “You, who have a houseful of eligible women. How will you discern the perfect duchess for you? A little squeeze here or a little sample there? Just like a cook at the market. You can shop until you find the best that matches your qualifications.”

A glimmer of amusement flashed in his eyes, but it was the roguish smile that made her traitorous heart pound against her ribs.

“There’s a world of difference between you and me.” He glanced at her through half-hooded eyes. “You taught me a very important lesson long ago.” The smile faded from his lips. “Never entrust your heart to a woman who hasn’t the ability to love.”

His softly spoken words stabbed her directly in the chest. Over her dead body would she let him see the pain he’d inflicted. “James, you haven’t changed.”

He stared at her, not acknowledging the truth between them.

She cleared her throat and studied her clasped hands. It was water under the bridge. He’d hated her for her actions, but there was nothing else she could have done. Her father had been on the brink of insolvency. Her mother had been convinced that they’d all be ruined, even possibly thrown on the streets unless Nell married the Marquess of Whitton. She had no choice if her sister was to have any chance for a life of happiness. Thankfully, Whitton had been a kind and considerate husband. She let out a silent sigh.

“I didn’t marry...” She clenched one fist against the middle of her stomach. Though it might appear she’d married