Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 45

"And just who might you be, kitten?" he teased.

Anne's body fairly burst into flames at the way his sensual voice poured over her. She was aware that he was being far too forward with her, but she was helpless to resist the subtle quirk of his full lips when he smiled again.

"I'm Anne Chessley." She was lucky she didn't stutter.

"Baron Chessley's daughter?"

"Yes." She continued to gaze at him, completely enraptured.

"It's a pleasure, Anne, darling." He stole her Christian name and adorned it with a seductive endearment like he had every right in the world to do so. Cedric's smile was wide, like a cat eyeing a bowl of crème. He scooped up her right hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a faint but heated kiss to her knuckles, and all the while his gaze was fixed on hers.

"I am Viscount Sheridan." The name sent her reeling. This was the young viscount she'd studied fervently in Debrett's? The one whose name she'd heard mentioned in whispers by other young ladies. How he kissed like a dream and danced like a prince. She'd convinced herself he must be a fair-haired, fine-boned aristocrat prone to meticulous studies in a cozy library. She'd never been more wrong. Cedric was all vitality, all masculinity, and pure raw seduction.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord," she answered, notably breathless. The men flanking Cedric exchanged secret smiles, as though her reaction was something they were all too familiar with.

Cedric shouldered his friends out of the way to ease her shyness. "Are you enjoying the season, Anne?"

"Oh yes, my lord. It is my first. Tonight I am debuting." All her hope and eagerness for a wonderful first night out filled her face and voice. At this announcement, Cedric's gaze darkened. Somehow her answer had changed him.

"Are you indeed?" The sudden coolness of his words confused her. Was it wrong to have admitted such a thing?

The red-haired man nudged Cedric encouragingly. "Ask her to dance. Go on, she's a sweet little creature, there's no harm in dancing with her."

Cedric flashed an impatient look at his friend before returning his focus to her.

"Would you like..." Cedric began, but Anne's father joined them with another man at his side.

"Anne, sweetheart, I've brought Mr. Andrews. You remember... Oh, why good evening, Lord Sheridan." Her father smiled warmly at Cedric, who returned it with equal affection.

"I've just had the pleasure of meeting your daughter."

"Excellent!" Baron Chessley turned to Mr. Andrews, a fair-haired young man a few years older than Anne.

"My lord, may I present Mr. Crispin Andrews? He is the son of a business associate of mine."

Cedric inclined his head toward Crispin, but Anne was already feeling the ebb of his passion. Something had ruined the seductive flirtation he had begun only moments before.

"I understand you've been given permission to waltz, Miss Chessley? Your father gave his consent that I should have the privilege and honor of escorting you." The admittedly attractive Mr. Andrews was already sweeping her away from Cedric and his friends. One of Cedric's friends bent to whisper in his ear, but Cedric brushed him away and stalked off. Anne lost sight of him as the crowds swirled around her preparing for a waltz.

"Lovely night," Crispin commented.

Anne smiled. It was too much to hope that she'd have a moment alone with Cedric. Here was a perfectly suitable gentleman who seemed genuinely interested in her, and she would be impolite to refuse him her attention. Unfortunately, she found him polite but rather conceited. He was attractive, she knew, but neither his features nor his voice could move her the way Cedric Sheridan's had.

"Yes," she answered, distracted as she found Cedric again. But now he wasn't alone. A lovely woman with fiery hair leaned provocatively on Cedric's arm as he whispered against her neck in a secluded alcove. Regret and hurt dueled for supremacy as she watched the man she hungered for leave the assembly rooms with another woman.

He isn't yours, she reminded herself.

But I want him to be.

"Do not waste your time on a man like Sheridan, Miss Chessley. He's only interested in experienced women such as Mrs. Thornton." Crispin's comment brought her attention back to her dancing partner.

Crispin Andrews emerged from the doorway. His eyes glowed like mercury. "He would never respect you. He would never realize the beauty of a woman like you. But I do."

Crispin was upon her before she could properly react. Their bodies fell to the floor. Anne's cry of pain was swallowed by Crispin's mouth. He seemed to have grown six pairs of hands, because her skirts were suddenly around her waist and his body was descending on hers.

"Mr. Andrews! No!" She put her hands on his chest, pushing ineffectively.

"Yes, touch me," he encouraged gruffly as he dragged her drawers down and released himself.

"Stop! Please!"

"Just give me a few minutes and I swear to you you'll change your mind." Crispin forced his mouth down on her and Anne couldn't stop him, he was too strong. Crispin thrust into her without warning, and pain sliced through her lower body.

The moment barely lasted beyond a few thrusts of his hips. Afterward Crispin stumbled to his feet, fixed his trousers, and then walked off, leaving Anne disheveled, confused and hurting. Blood coated her inner thighs and Anne nearly screamed.

Why is there blood? Deep between her thighs, everything felt tender, bruised, torn.

Had Crispin wounded something inside her? Anne tried to rein in her panic, comparing her moment with Mrs. Thornton's. Mrs. Thornton seemed to have enjoyed the intimacy, crying out and moaning. But Anne? She'd only had pain and the steady friction between her legs that had left her ashamed, disgusted and hurting. She had felt no pleasure at all.

Perhaps it wasn't in her to love. Maybe she had no heart for physical passion. The sobering thought chilled her very soul. Perhaps she wasn't made for lovemaking...

Am I a woman made of ice? she wondered in her daze. No, I am not. But I won't ever know what it feels to be loved as that other woman had tonight...

Anne got to her feet, fixed her gown with trembling fingers and fought off a new wave of tears. Something precious had been lost tonight, and it was more than just the innocence of her body. She'd been robbed of the innocence of her heart.