She had been floating in a thick haze of sexual desire all day long, and when she found Garrett wandering the corridors outside her bedchamber a short while ago, she’d wondered if he might have come to steal a few more secret intimacies. She had experienced a thrill like no other and was perversely disappointed to discover he was only searching for a ghost.
But now he was here, in her bedchamber, like a beautiful masculine dream figure, and she didn’t want their time together to end.
“I appreciate your concern for my basic comforts,” he replied, his voice pleasantly sensual.
As he approached her slowly, he reminded her of a hungry lion, carefully creeping closer so as not to frighten off its prey.
She was completely spellbound. Ready to be devoured. If she had any sense, she would steel herself immediately and suggest that he leave this very instant, but any hope for responsible behavior was fading fast with each step he took closer to the bed.
If only she could forget about the soft touch of his lips the night before. If only she could shut her eyes to the captivating sight of his strong, muscular form.
What would he do if she let him stay? How far would he take this, and more importantly, how far would she allow it to go? She didn’t want to be the sort of woman who lived up to her notorious reputation, but this was so very difficult.
He reached the bed and paused at the foot of it. “May I join you?”
“Yes,” she impulsively replied, than made one last effort to behave somewhat respectably. “But only if you promise to remember that we are not yet married. Can I trust you?”
A lazy grin touched his lips and he squinted at her. “I’m not sure. Should I leave?”
Damn him. Her body was on fire. She could no more tell him to leave than she could stop herself from breathing.
Though she gave no reply, she supposed her expression was enough, for he leisurely moved around the bed and slid under the covers beside her.
Determined to cling to the safe haven of their earlier conversation—which was far less risky than the wild attraction presently firing her blood—Anne rolled to face Garrett and rested her cheek on her palm.
“In the corridor you asked me how much I knew about you and your father, but you revealed nothing after that. Now I am curious to know why the two of you were not close.”
Garrett rolled to face her. “Now I feel foolish,” he said. “I thought you invited me in here to seduce me.”
She should have been unsettled by the suggestion, but instead, she was wickedly aroused.
“Garrett,” she whispered. “You promised.”
“Did I?” His tone was playful, teasing, enthralling.
“It was implied,” she said, “and my curiosity must be satisfied.” She struggled to keep the conversation going, not to let her passions take over. “There seem to be many secrets at Pembroke. What happened between you and your father? Why did you leave here all those years ago and not return for seven years?”
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy. The firelight danced on the walls and the flames crackled noisily in the hearth. “I will be blunt, Anne, because you should know the truth. Charlotte and I are not true Sinclairs. Not by blood at least. The duke is not our true father.”
Surprised, Anne leaned up on an elbow. “Does he know?”
Garrett turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “Yes. He’s always known. I don’t know how, exactly. Perhaps Mother simply told him, or he recognized that we looked nothing like him. All I know is that it was never a happy marriage and he despised me quite openly, for I represented all that he could not control. My mother, specifically.” Garrett paused and studied Anne’s face. She nodded and he continued.
“He treated me like dirt under his boot. If he was not shouting at me or punishing me for something I hadn’t done, he was simply ignoring me, treating me as if I were invisible. On the day I left, he had spotted me in the garden with a very highborn young lady with a blood connection to the Queen. He called me inside and told me I should stay away from her, that if one of his sons should have her, it would be Devon. It was the last straw. I told him to go choke on his opinions, and that I would court whomever I damn well pleased. He knocked me around a bit, gave me a bloody lip, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I fought back and swung a chair at him.”
“Good heavens.”
“I swore it would be the last time he would ever raise a hand to me, and it was.”
Anne digested all of this. “Were you in love with that girl?”
Garrett shook his head. “No, we were just friends, but it was a matter of principle. I left for Greece the very next day. Father provided me with an allowance under the condition that I stay away, but informed me that upon his death, I would not receive any inheritance. It was no great surprise. I always knew I would never inherit the title, even if something happened to my older brothers. He made that very clear to me early on.” Garrett looked at her. “So if you thought you were marrying a man who is fourth in line to a dukedom, that will never be the case.”