A Forbidden Love (14 page)

Fingering the scrap of fabric, he clutched it in his hand and brought it closer to his face. Sabrina’s scent drifted all around him and he closed his eyes.

He had failed her.

Cramming the kerchief into his pocket, he spun on his heels, prepared to tear the entire house apart in his quest to find his gypsy.

“I’m still here.”

Her voice, though faint, had the power to bring all his senses back to life. The dull ache in his heart vanished the moment he’d heard her words, and he scanned the dark chamber in search of her.

With only the moon glimmering through the windows, all objects in the room were cast in a milky hue, and it was hard to tell where the voice had come from. But then he saw her, curled in an armchair by one of the windows. She appeared to be part of the furniture, until he noticed her body shift and she rose from her seat.

Anthony released such a breath of relief, he was sure she had heard the exhale from across the room. He weaved through the maze of armchairs to stand by her side.

“I thought something dreadful had happened to you,” he said gruffly, then added in a stern tone, “Why was the door unlocked? Someone could have found you.”

“I forgot to lock it.”

Her voice was flat, her features dormant, and he felt his earlier apprehension stalk him once more. He also noticed that she was fully dressed.

He gripped her shoulders. “Has something happened?”

She stiffened at his touch and he recalled the fright he’d given her the night before, loosening his grip, and finally slipping his hands away from her altogether.

“Sabrina, what’s the matter?”

Though her face was composed to appear indifferent, even cold, she could not hide the hurt in her voice. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you home just as soon as you’re well enough to—”

“I want to go home
now
.”

He murmured roughly, “Has someone hurt you?”

“I couldn’t find my way out,” was her shaky response. “I was lost. Someone chased me, but I disappeared in here before he could catch me.”

He listened to her, bemused, unable to comprehend if what she was rambling about was real or a dream. “Sabrina, what’s going on? Who’s been chasing you? Did you dream of your attackers again? They can’t hurt you anymore, you know?”

“I wasn’t dreaming,” she snapped. “I wanted to leave before you came back, but I got lost in those rotten halls and couldn’t find the stairs. And then I heard voices and had to hide on the balcony, and I caught you whispering to that woman, and…and…” She made some noise of frustration, then her arms slumped at her sides.

He dismissed the “caught” bit, as if he’d actually done anything to warrant a capture, to demand darkly, “You left this room?” She moved to turn away from him, but he grabbed her arms and this time he didn’t let her go. “Why?”

“I’m not welcome here.”

He could think of no reason, save one, why she would believe such a thing. “Did Ashley ask you to leave?”

“No, she doesn’t have to say anything. I can sense what she’s really feeling. And you can’t stand the sight of me anymore.” Her voice cracked. Some life sprung back into her arms and she crossed them under her breasts. “And you can’t have a tryst with your mistress if
I’m
in your bed, so—”

“Enough.” This time he cut her off, needing a moment of silence to gather his thoughts. “First of all, I don’t have a mistress. And second, why do you believe I can’t stand the sight of you?” His hands still firmly locked on her upper arms, he gave her a gentle shake when her silence persisted. “Sabrina, tell me why.”

“You’ve ignored me all day.”

“I wanted you to recover in peace.”

“You wanted me gone from your sight!”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes it is. You haven’t been able to look at me since the kiss…since you opened your eyes and found your lips on mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think?” Her blue eyes were like liquid silver under the moon, so reflective, so luminous. He was entranced by the pair. “You want to forget all about kissing me…a gypsy.”

It was unintelligible to his ears. She actually thought he felt nothing for her, was averse to ever having kissed her because of her bloodline? It was all he could do to keep his hands off the girl, and she thought his restraint out of loathing?

He shook his head in disbelief. “Sabrina, you don’t understand.”

Her lips trembled. “Yes, I do.” She tried to wriggle free of his hold. “I know you feel some sense of duty to take care of me, but I feel fine, and I want to go home. I don’t want to be in this house anymore. I don’t want to be with you!”

He released her abruptly.

She looked up at him in a slight daze, as though surprised that he’d given in so quickly, but therein lay the deception, for Anthony had not given in. He wasn’t about to let her go with such flagrant misconceptions.

Lightly, he grazed his thumb over her flushed features.

She gasped when his hands cupped her face and drew her near.

Planting her fists securely on his chest to brace herself, she demanded in a panicked whisper, “What are you doing?”

His voice was gruff. “I’m going to set things right.” And then he pressed his lips over hers.

She squirmed, but he held her face firmly between his palms, the kiss slow, deep and thorough, leaving her in no doubt as to his true desires.

It wasn’t long before her muffled protests dwindled, and her body limped and sagged into his. The feel of those full breasts, pressing harder and harder into his chest as her need rose, incited chaos in his soul.

With some reserve, she hooked her arms around his neck, clinging to him, her fingers slowly digging and twisting into his hair.

He savored every exhilarating moment of it. But he was careful not to get too swept up in his own desire. He didn’t want to unleash the full force of his passion, to frighten her into an early retreat. Little by little, with deliberate ease and control, he convinced himself. Be patient.

His arms circled her waist. He caressed her spine in slow, sensual motions, his fingers skimming the low curve of her back, just short of touching her posterior, before withdrawing and gliding up the ridges of her backbone. His hands kept swirling, dipping low on her back, then lifting to tangle through the thick fleece of her ebony hair.

A shudder ripped through her. A violent tremor, full of energy and excitement. And he felt every thrilling vibration.

The kiss deepened when he sensed she was eager, keen to feel more. His tongue skipped lightly over her lips again and again, knocking to gain entrance, and at last, she opened her mouth to the warm thrust of his tongue, inhaling sharply at the intrusion.

Pure, sweet heaven was all he could think of. And when she dared to engage in a lambent duel, her own tongue dipping and retreating, he felt the blood pool to his groin, the hardness beginning to build, and his next thought was that he’d soon be reduced to a pile of cinder.

“So this is where you hurried off to?”

The kiss was broken. Anthony and Sabrina split apart, both gasping for air, their bodies reeling in the aftermath of such an intense embrace.

Anthony pinned his eyes to the intruder under the doorway and detected the scent of perfume. He noticed the plume perched on the shadowed figure’s head and gnashed his teeth. “Cassandra.”

He cursed mentally for having forgotten to lock the blasted door. In his determination to locate Sabrina, such a triviality seemed inconsequential. Now it was anything but.

Sabrina backed away even further, likely anticipating a rather nasty confrontation was about to ensue. And his own guilt at his carelessness kept him from reaching out and drawing her back into his arms, since he doubted there was much comfort he could offer her at that point anyway. With that disagreeable thought on his mind, he faced the vengeful wrath of a slighted Cassandra Livingston, his own anger dangerously mounting.

Now that the other woman was aware of Sabrina’s presence, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the household, never mind the
ton,
was privy to it as well. And when Cecelia and his mother heard about his clandestine “affair” on such an important night, pandemonium would be the unfortunate result.

And there was no hoping to avoid such commotion. Anthony knew Cassandra far too well for that. She wouldn’t be so translucent as to admit she’d personally witnessed the embrace, for that would lead to a series of additional questions, such as what the marchioness was doing in Anthony’s room in the first place? And contrary to expectation, it wouldn’t be Cassandra’s reputation at stake, but her sexual appeal. If word spread that Anthony didn’t find her desirable enough to become his mistress, her enigmatic veil of seduction would flitter away. Too shrewd to allow such a disaster to befall her, and too vindictive to keep the encounter under wraps, Cassandra would find some sure way to sabotage his supposed liaison. The only question was how. And that question would be readily answered in time.

The marchioness stepped boldly into the room. Her eyes were deceptively stoic, like a dormant dragon awaiting the precise moment to unhinge its jaw and spurt forth a rush of fire. She raked her disdainful gaze thoroughly over Sabrina before returning her attention to the viscount.

“She’s an uncultivated, rather wild-looking creature, Anthony. Your taste in a mistress has considerably declined.”

“That’s enough,” he admonished darkly.

Cassandra lifted her slender shoulders in an indifferent shrug. “It is your misfortune if you prefer the company of a boorish peasant to that of a noble lady.”

And with that incisive slander, Cassandra swept up the side of her gown and sashayed out of the room, her pride intact and Sabrina’s in pieces.

Anthony hastened to the door and locked it after the conniving woman. He leaned against the barrier, regarding his gypsy’s shadowed figure with remorse. He had failed to protect her after all. Now, with her presence known, they would have to leave before she could fully recover. He simply couldn’t risk any further meddlers exposing her identity.

“Sabrina, I’m afraid we’re going to have to make a run for it.”

Anthony’s words flitted in the air around her before dissolving into the darkness. The emotions battling inside her were making it impossible for any other sentiment to break through her thoughts.

Sabrina had trespassed into the land of the aristocracy, and she was neither welcomed nor tolerated in such a place. The inhabitants considered her nothing more than a wild creature. Uncultivated. Boorish. She did not belong here. She did not belong with Anthony. When had she forgotten her proper place in the world? When had she forgotten her duty to her people? When had she become such a fool, yearning for the touch of a man she had no hope of ever being with?

Her throat braided at the pending onslaught of tears. She choked on the obstruction and willfully maintained her stiff composure.

Anthony moved away from the door and lit the candle by the nightstand. “We have to get out of this house before Cassandra finds a way to inform the entire
ton
of your presence.”

Her sentiments precisely. Only she would have omitted the “we” part. Voice flat and hollow, she said, “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I most certainly do.”

Her nerves clattered. She couldn’t bear to be with him any longer. Their kiss had ripped through her being with frightening intensity. Once she realized he had no dream to blame for his conduct, that he
wanted
to kiss her, all other reasonable thoughts had flickered away. She didn’t trust herself alone with the man. She didn’t trust him very much either. He had promised to protect her from her attackers, but who would protect her from him?

Her voice quivered. “And what will your family think with you gone?”

He was back by the door, peeking into the corridor, determining if it was deserted, she assumed.

“Don’t trouble yourself with my family. I will explain everything to them once I return to London.”

“Everything?”

He closed the door and faced her. “A reasonable account of some sort.”

“So you’ll lie.”

“Most definitely. Now fetch your things.”

Anthony scrambled through his chamber, gathering together a few articles of clothing and stuffing them into a small carrying case of some sort. His methodic movements rattled her senses. He seemed intent on accompanying her, regardless of anything she said to discourage him.

“But you have a ball to attend,” she tried desperately to reason with him.

“The ball will go on without me. My obligation is to your safety.”

“But a gypsy walking alongside a gent?”

“Walking? I’m afraid not. You’re in no condition to travel on foot.”

“Well, then, riding alongside—”

“Riding together,” he corrected and stuffed another garment into his bag. “I can’t manage two horses once you’re gone.”

Her palms were sweating at the thought of the two of them riding snugly together for days. “We’ll only draw attention to ourselves. I’d be safer on my own. Those men are still out there—”