Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 51

Anne put a hand to her lips. The taste and feel of Cedric's mouth still lingered pleasantly. She was torn between running after him and running far away. Although she could not remember him, or anything about herself, she was positive that she desired him. Her body responded with liquid fire to his touch, his kiss, even his voice. Cedric's every action toward her screamed of the primal mating of bodies and souls. Would it be so bad to give in to her desires? They were husband and wife, after all.

She could give in, but she decided that she would not let him be aware of such an intention. Not yet. Anne had her pride like anyone else, and Cedric's story had raised some questions she needed answered first. She was, however, fascinated with the idea of Cedric fully dominating her with that tender but exciting passion.

"My lady?" A voice broke through her thoughts. It was the young footman, Sean Hartley. He waited patiently at the edge of the doorway.

"Come in, Hartley. I am told that I owe you my life. I wanted to offer my gratitude to you."

Hartley blushed and cast his eyes to the ground. "'Twas no trouble, my lady. I am glad you are recovering."

"I seem to have no memory, except for tiny flashes, but beyond that I feel much better. My shoulder only aches a little."

Hartley looked mildly concerned at her words, his brows knitting together. Then he began to fish about his trouser pockets before withdrawing something. It was a beautiful garnet stone surrounded by tiny diamonds. Rather than being affixed to a chain, it was threaded through a black satin ribbon.

"I had to remove it when the doctor was seeing to your shoulder. I wanted to give it back to you in person because of what it means to you."

Anne drew closer, curiosity and bewilderment filling her at the sight of the lovely gem. "What is it?"

"I am told it was your wedding present from his lordship."

"A necklace?" Something about that stirred a longing inside her. Light caught the red garnet, and ruby spots of light danced on the wall behind her.

"I heard from your lady's maid that his lordship believed you would often take off the ring he gave you while riding so that it would not ruin your gloves. He wished for you to have this to wear in its place."

Anne felt the briefest flash, the pang of wanting to return such thoughtfulness. Had she given him something in return for such a beautiful gift? With a sinking feeling, she sensed she hadn't, and the thought filled her with shame. A man like Cedric deserved something wonderful. While she was recovering, she would put her mind toward that.

"Hartley, would you be so kind as to help me put it on?"

Hartley fixed the clasp at the ends of the ribbon and the garnet fell against Anne's collarbone as it if had always belonged there.

"Is Brighton very far from here?"

"About half an hour by coach." Hartley kept his head bowed in respect, eyes fixed on the floor.

"You need not look down when speaking to me, Hartley." Her voice was gentle as she tried to coax him out of his determined shyness.

"You are my mistress and the Viscountess Sheridan." His tone implied that was all there was to the matter.

Anne frowned with mild irritation. She didn't want her servants refusing to meet her gaze.

"It's not my place to say, my lady."

One more mystery about my life, Anne thought. She tried to remember, shutting her eyes and focusing on Cedric and his sightless brown eyes. But nothing happened, except twinges of pain right behind her temples.

"Is the lake very far? The one where my husband is fishing?"

"Only a quarter mile." Hartley's eagerness showed his relief to discuss something else.

"Then take me there at once."

Hartley blinked in shock. "You wish to fish?"

"Heavens no. I would, however, like to swim." Her arm was still in a sling, but she'd practiced moving it this morning, and the pain had been surprisingly limited. A bit of light exercise might assist her recovery, if she took care to do it gently.

Anne stifled a laugh at Hartley's sputtering protests as she had him lead the way. He scrambled forward, knowing, as any man in his position, that she would not be deterred from this mission. Anne caught up with him in the hallway and marched alongside him, not at all like a well-bred genteel creature she knew she ought to be. Her father had always told her to move with purpose, even if one had no purpose at all.

The sudden recollection caught her breath in her chest. Her father. That brief memory seared her heart. She bit her lip. It was as though memories of him were hiding behind a thin gossamer veil, one she could make out faint shapes behind, but not fully see.

I mustn't push myself. I should take it slow. She breathed out and put her mind to those few memories which were coming back, the ones of her father, the way he would offer advice over warmed brandy glasses in the evening before the fire in their drawing room. The way Cedric would call her Anne, darling. And his kisses. Those burned through the barriers in her mind. A man who did that to her was no stranger; it was why she trusted him whenever he told her anything of her past. She had trusted him then, and she would continue to do so. Her body wouldn't lie to her, she knew it.