Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 31

Anne did not miss his sigh of relief. She wished she could tell Cedric how she really felt. How seeing him nearly strangle Crispin over her honor had made her eyes sting with tears and her heart tighten with affection. She didn't want Cedric to hurt anyone, but it had made her feel a little better seeing the man who'd caused her so many sleepless nights suffer. Anne opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but as she looked out on the gallery below she caught sight of someone she recognized.

"Oh, there is Lord Lonsdale." Anne watched the golden-haired earl chase a pretty Cyprian in a scarlet gown through a row of empty seats. The woman squealed as she fled from the lusty earl's pursuit, in full sight of the growing audience.

"Do I even wish to know what Charles is up to?" Cedric's voice was more relaxed and a little bemused.

"He seems to be pursuing a lady about the gallery. And there they go...behind the green baize curtains of the stage." Anne found herself giggling as Charles and his latest lady love were promptly shoved back off the stage and into the rowdy masses milling about in the bottom part of the theater. Rather than run off, he simply put the woman on his lap and started to kiss her. Good heavens, that man was incorrigible.

She smiled, unable to contain how happy she was in that moment. To sit with Cedric and discuss his friends, from a place of intimacy rather than as the outsider she'd always been.

This might work between us after all...

Cedric listened to the crowds gathering in the theater, the aroma of beer, bodies and oranges permeating his senses. He could picture the way the candles fringed the stage's edge like fairy lights, dancing attendance upon the performers who would fill the stage. People would still talk, even as the candles and lamps in the gallery were snuffed out and the orchestra stirred to life. Cedric remembered what a sensual joy it was to share the experience in a beautiful woman's company.

"Anne," he whispered as he held his left hand palm up.

He expected her to ask him what he wanted. But she never said a word. The warm weight of her hand, fine-boned but strong as her fingers curled around his made Cedric's heartbeat jolt into a quick canter. Was he pathetic for enjoying this simple touch, this strangely peaceful moment? In the past he had taken women to his opera box, seduced and pleasured them in the midst of mighty arias. Why did those moments seem less erotic now than the mere weight of Anne's palm in the darkness? Cedric savored the anticipation, the intake of breath before the first note sounded and the opera began.

Even afterward, he'd only found a momentary respite from his desire for Anne. His eyes sought her out in the dancing hall but he dared not speak to her, dared not acknowledge what his body wanted from hers.

I wanted you then. Now I want you more than ever, he thought, not chancing a pointless blind gaze in her direction. He had kept away from her, but the acquisition of the Arabians had changed things. It gave him a reason to pursue her, and so he had.

But how cold she'd been! Mocking smiles and a body that did not respond to his heated looks or suggestive words. He'd all but given up, resigned to a life without this woman who fascinated him like no other.

And then she'd come to him, begged him to rescue her. He no longer cared that she was in need of his name, not his heart. He would take Anne any way he could have her. Even if he could only hold her hand right now, just like this.