catch him. You deserve better than that, Annie.”
It was the use of her Christian name that brought the unexpected tears to Annie’s eyes. She swallowed hard and looked up at him; their gazes met. A spark leaped between them.
But just as quickly, the mood was shattered. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” he said. “And I’m attempting to do you a favor. If you weren’t so stubborn and sure of yourself, you’d realize that.”
Making a spectacle of herself? Annie splayed a hand across her middle. An awful sinking feeling had begun in the pit of her stomach. An awful sinking feeling that Lord Ashbourne was actually right. But she couldn’t let go of her argument so easily. Lord Ashbourne was perfectly right. She’d always been stubborn. “You are just like Lily,” she threw at him. “Completely predictable. Every time one of you meddlers tries to control another person, you use the same old excuse that you’re doing it for my own good. Of course you know better. You know best. You know everything!” She stalked past him, intent on leaving him alone in the library.
Lord Ashbourne’s hand shot out. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. “Damn it. Why do you refuse to listen to me? You’re making me insane. By God, you’re more sure of yourself than … I am.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How can I make you see reason? You make me want to yell. You make me want to pound my fist through the wall. You make me want to…”
“What?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes still shooting fire at him. “I make you want to what?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “If you weren’t so damn stubborn you’d have let me finish what I was trying to say earlier. I know a spectacle when I see one because the exact same thing happened to me, an age ago. I made a complete fool of myself, if you must know. If I could do it over again, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m older than you and I’ve seen more than you, so in this case, yes, I do know better and I do know best. As for being predictable—”
He tugged her into his arms and kissed her.
* * *
It was anything but predictable. Annie’s hair nearly caught fire. His lips swooped down to capture hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed of their own volition. She clung to him. His mouth, which had begun demanding, softened into an insistent invasion. His thumb brushed across her cheek. His fingertips skimmed her hairline. The taste of him, like heat and hazelnuts and spice, flooded her senses. She never wanted it to stop.
She’d made him angry, she knew. Angry enough to … kiss her? It made no sense, but at the moment she didn’t care. His hot, insistent mouth probed at her lips and she opened to him, allowing his tongue to brush inside, own her, possess her. The man had a way of making her feel all melty. Like molasses and caramel and chocolate. She shuddered. He shouldn’t be doing this but neither should she. If she could summon just an ounce of resistance, she would push him away, but the strong, hard heat of him was intoxicating and all she wanted to do was keep kissing him forever.
Endless moments later, Lord Ashbourne shuddered and pulled away. Annie breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made her feel as if her heart might beat out of her chest. His face was harsh and handsome in the glow of the candles. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was breathing heavily too.
He set her away from himself. His eyes shone like molten silver. “Now, if you’d stop acting like a brat, you might just realize what is good for you. And that is to take my advice.”
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Annie turned her head away and pressed her fingertips to her burning lips.
The Earl of Ashbourne had just called her a brat.
But even more shockingly he’d just kissed her again for no good reason.
No good reason
It was the use of her Christian name that brought the unexpected tears to Annie’s eyes. She swallowed hard and looked up at him; their gazes met. A spark leaped between them.
But just as quickly, the mood was shattered. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” he said. “And I’m attempting to do you a favor. If you weren’t so stubborn and sure of yourself, you’d realize that.”
Making a spectacle of herself? Annie splayed a hand across her middle. An awful sinking feeling had begun in the pit of her stomach. An awful sinking feeling that Lord Ashbourne was actually right. But she couldn’t let go of her argument so easily. Lord Ashbourne was perfectly right. She’d always been stubborn. “You are just like Lily,” she threw at him. “Completely predictable. Every time one of you meddlers tries to control another person, you use the same old excuse that you’re doing it for my own good. Of course you know better. You know best. You know everything!” She stalked past him, intent on leaving him alone in the library.
Lord Ashbourne’s hand shot out. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. “Damn it. Why do you refuse to listen to me? You’re making me insane. By God, you’re more sure of yourself than … I am.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How can I make you see reason? You make me want to yell. You make me want to pound my fist through the wall. You make me want to…”
“What?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes still shooting fire at him. “I make you want to what?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “If you weren’t so damn stubborn you’d have let me finish what I was trying to say earlier. I know a spectacle when I see one because the exact same thing happened to me, an age ago. I made a complete fool of myself, if you must know. If I could do it over again, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m older than you and I’ve seen more than you, so in this case, yes, I do know better and I do know best. As for being predictable—”
He tugged her into his arms and kissed her.
* * *
It was anything but predictable. Annie’s hair nearly caught fire. His lips swooped down to capture hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed of their own volition. She clung to him. His mouth, which had begun demanding, softened into an insistent invasion. His thumb brushed across her cheek. His fingertips skimmed her hairline. The taste of him, like heat and hazelnuts and spice, flooded her senses. She never wanted it to stop.
She’d made him angry, she knew. Angry enough to … kiss her? It made no sense, but at the moment she didn’t care. His hot, insistent mouth probed at her lips and she opened to him, allowing his tongue to brush inside, own her, possess her. The man had a way of making her feel all melty. Like molasses and caramel and chocolate. She shuddered. He shouldn’t be doing this but neither should she. If she could summon just an ounce of resistance, she would push him away, but the strong, hard heat of him was intoxicating and all she wanted to do was keep kissing him forever.
Endless moments later, Lord Ashbourne shuddered and pulled away. Annie breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made her feel as if her heart might beat out of her chest. His face was harsh and handsome in the glow of the candles. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was breathing heavily too.
He set her away from himself. His eyes shone like molten silver. “Now, if you’d stop acting like a brat, you might just realize what is good for you. And that is to take my advice.”
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Annie turned her head away and pressed her fingertips to her burning lips.
The Earl of Ashbourne had just called her a brat.
But even more shockingly he’d just kissed her again for no good reason.
No good reason
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