If the Slipper Fits (34 page)

At the end of the dance, he leaned close to whisper to her. “I’ll fetch a plate. Go upstairs to the nursery and wait for me. We shouldn’t be seen leaving together or your reputation may be tarnished.”

Annabelle suspected her character was already in question with many of those present. And when they both went missing, wouldn’t people put two and two together, anyway?

Yet his protectiveness made her feel cherished. As he headed to the supper room and she went toward the main door, Annabelle was too happy to pay heed to anyone who might be gazing askance at her. She was betrothed to the finest, most gallant man in all of England. A man who loved her enough to acknowledge his mistakes and correct them. A man who freely admitted his love for her. The reality of that still seemed like a wonderful dream.

She couldn’t resist glancing down at the sapphire ring. How heavy it felt on her finger, yet how perfect. As a token of Simon’s affection, it was more precious to her than the crown jewels. When she looked up again, the milling crowd parted and she found herself gazing straight at Lady Danville.

She
was staring at Annabelle’s hand, too.

Lady Danville raised her chin and gave Annabelle a look so malevolent it could have curdled milk. She said something to the stout matron beside her, who shook her head disapprovingly.

As much as she disliked Lady Danville, Annabelle actually felt sorry for the woman. It must be a bitter blow for her to see her plans for her daughter put to ruin by a mere governess.

But charity only went so far. Annabelle maintained a serene countenance until she left the ballroom. Then her buoyant spirits brought a smile to her lips as she proceeded through the dim corridors and up to the nursery.

The schoolroom was dark, and she lit a candle from the embers of the fire. Walking toward Nicholas’s chamber, she decided it might be wise to warn the nursemaid that Simon would be coming.

She peeked into the smaller bedroom, but the cot was empty, the covers undisturbed. Where was Elowen?

Opening the opposite door, Annabelle saw Nicholas fast asleep in the big canopied bed. The fire on the hearth had burned down to glowing embers. The nursemaid didn’t occupy the rocking chair in the corner. She wasn’t in the bedchamber at all.

The woman must have stolen outside to the Samhain party.

Irked, Annabelle wondered if there was time to go and find her, but as she left the schoolroom, she met Simon coming up the stairs with a plate and two glasses of champagne. Annabelle told him what had happened. “I don’t like for the duke to be here all alone,” she said. “What if he has a nightmare and cries out?”

“He has nightmares?” Simon asked with a frown.

“No, but he might and I wouldn’t want him to be frightened.”

His eyes searched hers, and for a moment she thought he might lecture her on coddling Nicholas. Instead, he surprised her by asking, “Did that happen to you as a child?”

Biting her lip, she nodded. “I remember someone motherly when I was very young, a woman who rocked me to sleep and comforted me. But she died when I was not quite five. After that, I slept by myself in a little room off the kitchen.”

He tenderly brushed back a stray curl. “My sweet Cinderella. If it makes you feel better, we’ll send a maid up here when we leave.”

She
did
feel better, but that was purely due to his presence. It felt good to share her troubles with him. Someday, they would be discussing their own children this way. The notion filled her with such hope and joy that she blinked back tears.

Upon entering the duke’s chamber, Annabelle placed the candlestick on the bedside table. She settled onto the edge of the mattress and gently stroked Nicholas’s cheek. He stirred a little and blinked at her. Then he sat up straight and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

“Miss Quinn! You came! And you brought Uncle Simon!”

Simon chuckled. “She brought more than that. Here is the midnight treat you were promised, Your Grace. But I warn you, it’s for all of us to share.”

Into the boy’s lap he placed a large china plate heaped with a vast array of delicacies. There was so much Annabelle hardly knew what to try first. A slice of raspberry cake. Petite rolls of paper-thin ham stuffed with cheese. Bacon-wrapped oysters. A little pastry oozing with lobster salad. Sugared almonds that sparkled in the candlelight.

Nicholas went straight for the chocolate éclair. In between big bites, he asked, “Is it really midnight?”

“A bit later,” Annabelle said, selecting a tiny lemon tart. “But close enough.”

Simon handed the boy a folded handkerchief to wipe his mouth. “At the stroke of twelve, I was waiting for the fairy godmother to turn Miss Quinn into a pumpkin, but it never happened.”

Finding that hilarious, Nicholas went into a fit of the giggles. “It’s the
coach
that turns into a pumpkin. And Miss Quinn isn’t Cinderella, anyway.”

“Hmm. I daresay she isn’t, at least not anymore.”

Annabelle glanced over her shoulder at him and they shared a heart-melting smile. He had seated himself directly behind her, and she leaned back into the cradle of his chest while she nibbled on her tart. His hand rested casually at her waist, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her midsection. Rather than stir her desires, the arrangement made her feel warm and cozy, as if they were truly a family.

A family.
All of her life she had felt alone. Even so, she had not really known what she was missing. It was
this,
a sense of belonging, of having people to love who would be a part of her life forever. The notion brought a lump to her throat.

Simon reached for the two glasses of champagne he’d placed on the bedside table, handing one to Annabelle. “This celebration calls for a toast. To the most beautiful bride-to-be in England.”

As Simon clinked glasses with her, and they smiled giddily at each other, Annabelle noticed that Nicholas was watching them in confusion, his forehead puckered.

She reached out to gather his small, sticky hand in hers. “Sweetheart, your uncle has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted. That means I’ll soon be your aunt.”

“Your aunt Annabelle,” Simon clarified. “Or Aunt Cinderella, whichever name you prefer.”

Nicholas’s eyes widened as big as saucers. He looked from her to Simon and back again. “Does that mean you’ll stay with us, Miss Quinn? You won’t go away even when I’m at school?”

She drew him into her arms, treasuring the smallness of him and his little-boy scent. “No, I’m not going away. Not ever. I’ll always be here waiting for you.”

“But … won’t you go to London all the time now? Like Mama and Papa used to do?”

The wistful note in his voice hurt her heart. No wonder he looked worried. His parents must have left him here in the care of servants for much of the time.

Before she could reassure him, Simon leaned over her to address the boy. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I vow that if we travel to the city we’ll take you with us.” He grasped the boy’s hand and solemnly shook it. “There, that makes it official. And remember, a gentleman never breaks his promise.”

Nicholas looked delighted now, beaming at them both. “But who will be my governess now? Will it still be you … Aunt Annabelle?”

“Yes, most certainly. I would not have it otherwise.”

As she brushed a lock of hair from his brow, Nicholas abruptly gave a big yawn. Simon bore away the plate from the boy’s lap while Annabelle tucked him in. The instant Nicholas laid his head on the pillow, his eyes closed, and just like that, he fell fast asleep again.

Simon took the candle and they tiptoed out of the bedchamber, closing the door. As they walked through the shadowed schoolroom and went down the stairs, he wove his fingers through hers.

“You needn’t feel obliged to remain his governess,” he murmured. “We can hire someone else. You deserve to lead a life of leisure for once.”

She shook her head. “I’ve no wish to spend my days paying calls and fretting over what to wear. And I certainly wouldn’t be content if I was separated from Nicholas.” The wonder of it all washed over her again. “Oh, Simon, he’s going to be my nephew now, too. I couldn’t be happier.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Simon stopped to look at her. In the glow of the candle, the profound love in his expression made her heart beat faster. “Well, then,” he said. “I’m agreeable under one condition.”

“And what might that be?”

“You’ll have to arrange time in your busy schedule for your husband.”

Annabelle slid her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his. “I have time right now.”

His chuckle sounded strained. He took a deep breath as if to clear his head. “
Not
in the middle of a party when I’m the host. When we make love for the first time, Annabelle, I intend to spend all night at it.”

“But I want you … please, my darling.”

She whispered the words against his lips. Keen to convince him, she brushed kisses over his face while stroking his hair. The scent and taste of him fed the rich flow of desire throughout her body. How she adored this man, how she wanted to make him as happy as he made her. Without conscious thought, she undulated her hips against his, seeking the wild pleasure he had given her once before.

She sensed the resistance in him as he waged a battle against his own base urges. Then abruptly he muttered, “Oh,
hell.
Let’s do it.”

Chapter 25

Hand in hand, they made haste through a maze of dim passageways. Within moments, Simon pulled her into a shadowed bedchamber and turned to lock the door. She had a glimpse of a large four-poster bed and masculine furnishings. Then there was no time to think, for he took her into his arms and subjected her to a deep, blatantly sensual kiss.

She reveled in the stroke of his tongue, the slide of his hands over her body. Her fingers sought the hard contours of muscles that were so different from her own softness. By the time he drew back slightly to nuzzle her cheek, they were both panting and fevered. Driven by the desire to touch his bare flesh, Annabelle pushed the coat from his shoulders. Simon helped her, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor as they continued to kiss and caress.

He turned her around and swiftly undid the buttons down the back of her gown. Then he loosened the strings of her corset, bending to feather his lips along her exposed skin. The warmth of his breath along her spine sent delicious tingles throughout her body. When the bodice hung loose, he paused, his fingers sliding partway inside to toy with the sides of her bare bosom.

“No pins this time?” he asked dryly.

Annabelle laughed a little at the memory, glancing over her shoulder at him. “None. Now do touch me, lest I die of impatience.”

He obliged by reaching fully inside the corset to play with her breasts. He weighed them in his palms and lightly rubbed the tips, causing a delicious heat that fed the hunger in her womb. She held her breath as he slid one hand downward over her belly until he brushed her privates. Much to her frustration, however, he stopped short of delving inside where she wanted him.

A moan rose from deep within her. Caught in the grip of a powerful yearning, she undulated her bottom against the placket of his trousers. A tremor ran through him as if he struggled to keep his passion in check. But she didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted him to immerse her in mindless bliss, and this time, to join her in that irresistible joy.

Shimmying out of her gown and undergarments, Annabelle peeled down her stockings and stepped out of her shoes. Simon stripped his shirt over his head and gave her a magnificent view of a broad chest dusted with dark hairs and the rippling muscles in his arms. Unable to resist, she rubbed her cheek against the bare expanse of his torso. His skin was hot and salty to her lips. All the while, he worked at the buttons of his trousers, uttering a low curse when one refused to open.

“Allow me…” Annabelle reached down to finish the task for him. As he shed the garment, she found herself transfixed by the sight of his engorged manhood. What little she knew of the act of lovemaking had come from eavesdropping on the sometimes ribald chatter of the servants. Simon was so large, though, it didn’t seem possible that he could fit inside her. Yet the very thought of allowing him to try caused a deep pulse of longing in her.

She melted in his arms while they engaged in another heated bout of kissing. It seemed perfectly natural for them to stand naked together, his member nestled against the peak of her thighs. She and Simon were meant for each other, and her desire for him flourished and grew until it became almost impossible to bear.

She moved her hips in open invitation. Against his mouth, she murmured, “Please … I’m ready. Don’t make me wait.”

With a guttural groan, he swept her up in his arms and laid her down on the bed. It was then that she saw the long, puckered scar on his left thigh. She lightly ran her fingertips over it, realizing the pain he must have suffered. “Oh, Simon! You’ve never told me what happened.”

“An unfortunate encounter with a Pashtun tribesman.”

“Does it ache often?”

“At times.” His eyes dark, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “The best remedy is vigorous physical activity … like this.”

He settled himself beside her, took her in his arms, and proceeded to show how much he wanted her. She could not get enough of him; every taste, every touch only made her want him more. With his hand, he traced her curves up over her hips to her breasts and then cupped her face. “You are truly a gift from heaven,” he whispered.

He pressed her against the pillows and nuzzled her throat, his head moving down to commence a delightful exploration of her breasts. At the same time, his fingers strayed lower and he began to stroke her in the way that made her wild with passion. She gave herself up to the wanton sensations, her body straining to reach the tantalizing promise of rapture.

Just when she found the tension intolerable, he came over her and she felt the pressure of his entry. There was a brief moment of discomfort as her body adjusted to his. He held himself still, his rigid arms braced on either side of her, his breathing deep and fast. She sighed his name as a marvelous sense of fullness washed through her. How astonishing it was to be one with him. In all her life, she had not felt complete until this moment.