Chapter Twenty-Eight

The innkeeper frowned, and Jacob waved a dismissive hand. "My sister," he explained, giving Annabelle a distinctly unbrotherly smile. "No doubt she neglected to tell you she had run away from home. Never mind. I'm here to collect her."

Annabelle's spine stiffened. So he had come after her, but not for her. It was just so he could drag her back home and Henry could walk her down the aisle to a gentleman who would restore her reputation.

Well, if Jacob wasn't willing to marry her himself, he could hardly expect her to go along with his ridiculous plot to keep her from ruination.

It was a little late for that.

She glowered at him, and he waited as though he knew she would be forced to claim the relationship. The innkeeper's frown was deepening, and this was not a place where she wanted to draw attraction to herself or cause a scene.

"That's right," she said as he gave a satisfied smile. "He's my brother."

"Thank you," Jacob said, tossing a careless coin to the innkeeper and striding towards Annabelle. Before she could even attempt to shut the door in his face or turn him away, he was inside, looking around the small space, his gaze landing on the folded newspaper, the letter, and the book of sonnets. An unreadable emotion flashed across his face.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, folding her arms and forcing herself not to be swayed by the dangerous glint in his eyes, or the stubble that marked his chin, or the worn quality of his face, as though he had aged five years in the month they had been apart.

Her heart gave a traitorous leap.

"Did my brother send you? Did he think that I might be more likely to return home with you than him?"

Jacob gave a short, hard laugh. "Your brother was ardently against me finding you, little bird."

"Then why are you here? And how did you find me?"

"Why do you think?" He stepped up to her, closer, closer, too close, until her nose was level with his chin and his scent wrapped around her. Horses and leather and that amber scent she always associated with him. "Because you ran away from home and could be in any amount of danger. Do you suppose I would sit indifferent in London when I discovered you were missing?"

"But how?"

"Louisa," he said shortly. "As for how I found you—that was a challenge, I'll admit, but a lady travelling alone is somewhat singular. And you are pretty enough that people remembered your face." He reached out to tug at one of her curls. "Then it was merely a matter of checking the inns along your route until I found the one you were staying at." His jaw clenched and he looked abruptly away. "What were you thinking?" he asked in a quiet, intense voice that made her skin prickle. "Coming out here alone? Anything could have happened to you."

"I can take care of myself." As she had admirably proven thus far.

"Can you now?" He gave a harsh laugh. "So long as no one takes advantage of you. What of your future plans?"

"I have been accepted to a very respectable position."

His eyes narrowed. "A position?"

"As a governess."

"And you think working as a drudge in someone else's house would be preferable to marriage?" He cursed, the sound so explosive she flinched. "Do you think you would be safe and cared for there? Did you truly believe you would have the life you always wanted while subservient to others' children?"

"What does it matter to you?" Annoyingly, tears stung her nose, and she scowled to ward them away. "The last time we met, you told me you would not marry me, and I accepted that. I ended our engagement, and—"

"I was wrong." He dashed a hand through his hair, looking wicked and debauched and everything she had ever wanted. Her heart twisted and pounded and she forced herself to look away before her hopes could rise. "For weeks, I have been able to think of nothing but you, Annabelle," he said, his voice quiet like the eye of a storm. "I thought it would be the greatest mistake of your life if you married me, but now I know it would be the greatest mistake of mine if you did not."

Annabelle's mouth dropped open, but she found herself at a loss for words. Jacob gave a crooked smile that rent her heart entirely in two.

"I thought that might get your attention, darling."

Her hands shook and she looked at him more closely, realising there was the ghost of a bruise on his cheek. She raised a shaking hand to touch it and he held perfectly still, his eyes devouring her.

"What happened?"

"I caught your brother by surprise." His mouth quirked in a wry half-smile. "It transpires he doesn't like me."

"Are you all right?"

He caught her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the tips of her fingers. "I am now I know you're safe."

She remembered that Madeline had died when she had fled Cecil, and her chest squeezed.

"You may think I am wicked," he murmured against her fingers, "but I am nothing compared to the cruelty of the world."

"I didn't think you cared," she whispered, and her breath shattered at the thought. She had been running from Henry and his threat, but perhaps she had been running to escape the terrible hurt that had followed her after leaving Jacob.

He rested his forehead against hers. "I always cared, Annabelle. Even before I wanted to. I did my best to convince myself to leave you alone, but that was a futile effort."

"What changed your mind?"

"Because I woke up and I realised that my life means nothing without you in it." His hands found her waist, holding her closer. "And because, little bird, I am madly in love with you. If you are foolish enough to want me, then I am sensible enough to never let you go."

His gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth, and lingered. His eyes darkened still more until they were almost wholly black.

The colour of the devil.

The colour of desire.

She had to grip his arms so she didn't fall.

"Annabelle," he said, her name music from his lips. "Annabelle. Be mine. Be my wife. Make demands of me and I shall endeavour to fulfil them. If you want books, you can have them. I will buy you a whole library so long as I never have to lose you again."

Annabelle meant to tell him he was the only gentleman she could ever marry. She wanted to tell him that she loved and hated him in equal measure, and her heart was his in its entirety.

Instead, she burst into tears.