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Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 41

Summary for Chapter 41: Her Wicked Proposal

Summary of Chapter 41 – A turning point in Her Wicked Proposal by Lauren Smith

Chapter 41 immerses the reader in an emotional journey within the world of Her Wicked Proposal, written by Lauren Smith. With the hallmarks of Internet literature, this chapter balances emotion, tension, and revelation. Perfect for readers seeking narrative depth and authentic human connections.

Anne withheld a gasp as his fingers dug deep into her hips, barring escape or retreat.

"Did you now?" His tone was dark, sarcastic, cutting. "You are a fine one to judge such things, Dearest Anne." Her name was so cold on his tongue, like a gypsy's curse, rather than a soft lover's murmur. She half expected to see Cedric's eyes crystallize into ice as he stared hard at her.

"Tell me, Anne, did you let Crispin have you? Is that your dirty little secret you've been keeping from me? The man you supposedly despised dared to send you a letter of congratulations. Called you his dearest Anne and said that you and he have much to plan. Tell me, what are you planning, wife?" Such cruelty hung in his words that Anne barely recognized him as the man she'd married only the day before.

Anne bit her tongue, tasting blood. He grimaced at her silence.

"Speak, damn you! Tell me my suspicions aren't true. That nothing ever happened between you!" The hurt in his eyes filled her with a choking fear and dread. He'd somehow uncovered the truth, at least part of it. She had to tell him, explain everything about that night.

"He was the only man before you-"

"All this time you've played the sensitive virgin. But Crispin had you that night and now you're only telling me when it's too late to undo this disaster. So, was that your plan? You've ensnared a wealthy, titled man in matrimony, and he can't escape. Bravo. Is he waiting to drink champagne with you at some cozy little inn after you abandon me in my darkest hour?"

Without a hint of warning, Cedric flung her off his lap. Anne hit the ground with a hard thump.

She reached for his knee, wanting to touch him, but he slapped her hand away. The brief contact stung as much as if he'd slapped her in the face.

"That's not what happened! Please, let me explain! I had no choice!" Anne's eyes were burning, and barely restrained hysteria rattled her senses.

"There is nothing to explain. I thought I could ask you for the truth and not become upset. But blood and hellfire, I'm not all right with any of this! Using me as a front while you and your lover make your plans!"

"No!"

"My name will not be dragged through the mud. Get out! For the love of God, get the bloody hell out of here!" he bellowed. Anne stumbled to her feet, limping as her bruised hip throbbed in protest.

"You have to understand about Crispin. He made me-" Foolishly she reached for him again, and the second her hands made contact with his calf he kicked out, narrowly missing her as she lunged away from him.

"Get out or I will make you."

Anne had never heard a clearer threat. His brown eyes had become dead, and his fists were clenched at his sides. Waves of anger rolled off him, warning Anne that she was in danger if she stayed. But still she was desperate to reach him through that fog of pain at her betrayal.

"A man who seeks justice. And revenge." Moonlight glinted off his teeth as he smiled. There was a hint of an accent in his voice, barely there, but one she didn't recognize.

Every instinct in Anne screamed at her to move. Scrambling to her feet, she tried to run, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her face-first into the nearest tree. She flung herself back trying to break free, knocking the man off balance as she turned to face him. She couldn't make out his features in the darkness, except for the glint of his awful, knowing smile.

"I'd planned only to watch you tonight," he said with a laugh, "but who am I to resist what fate offers me."

She swung a fist at him, but the blow only glanced off his cheek.

"My lady?" A nearby shout brought the man up short. Someone was calling for her, searching for her. She nearly wept with relief. It was the footman, Hartley.

"Over here!" she shouted, but the shadow of a man lunged for her once more. He blocked her path back to the house, which left her few options of escape. Running fast, she headed toward the lake behind the house.

A hand curled around her shoulder, halting her. "Got you, little English bitch-"

There was a sharp crack and a burst of searing agony in her head just as they reached the top of a hill. Below her rocks and tree roots scattered the ground. There was nothing to break her fall. A soft grunt came from behind her and another blow, then stars fell behind her eyelids.

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