Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers, #1)

by Lisa Kleypas

“I mean that I will afflict the most acute kind of pain, mental, physical, and financial, on the first man who dares to trespass on my territory. And the next person who repeats any unsubstantiated rumors about Miss Peyton in my hearing will find it shoved right back in his throat—along with my fist.” Simon’s smile contained a tigerish menace as he beheld Burdick’s stunned face. “Tell that to anyone who may find it of interest,” he advised, and strode away from the pompous, gape-jawed little runt.

“Lovely,” she murmured, her face gleaming in the shadow cast by the canopy of ancient, interlaced branches. “Yes.” But Hunt was looking at her.

“How sweet,” Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. “Every woman dreams of being told that she’s preferable to a dead cow.”

“I never lie for the sake of kindness,” he murmured, smiling. “One of my many flaws.”

“You’re determined to humble me completely, aren’t you? You won’t allow me to retain one particle of dignity—” “I, humble you?” He raised one brow in a sardonic slant. “After two years of receiving cuts and slights every time I asked you to dance—” “Oh, all right,” she said balefully, beginning to shake all over. “I’ll admit it—I want you. There, are you satisfied? I want you.” “In what capacity? Lover, or husband?” Annabelle stared at him in shock. “What?” His arms slid around her, holding her quivering frame securely against his. He said nothing, only watched her intently as she tried to grasp the implications of the question. “But you’re not the marrying kind,” she managed to say weakly. He touched her ear, his fingertip tracing the fragile outer curve. “I’ve discovered that I am when it comes to you.”

“But marry me anyway, Annabelle. As I see things, it would solve most of your problems . . . and more than a few of mine.” His big hand slid gently down her spine, calming her tremors. “Let me spoil you,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you. You’ve never had anyone to lean on, have you? I’ve got strong shoulders, Annabelle.” A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “And I may possibly be the only man of your acquaintance who’ll be able to afford you.”

“Why offer to marry me when you might have me as your mistress?” He nuzzled her throat gently. “Because I realized during the past few days that I can’t leave doubt in anyone’s mind about to whom you belong. Especially not yours.”

“Every time I see you,” he murmured, “I think you couldn’t possibly become any more beautiful—and you always prove me wrong.”

“What you did yesterday was unforgivable,” he finally muttered. She gave him a startled glance. “What?” “Lying there in that hell-pit, I made what I thought would be the last request of my life. And you refused.” “As things turned out, it wasn’t your last request,” Annabelle replied warily. “You survived, and so did I, and now everything is fine—” “It is not fine,” Simon snapped, his face darkening with rising fury. “For the rest of my life I will remember how it felt to know that you were going to die along with me, while I couldn’t do a damned thing to stop you.” He averted his face as his breath turned harsh with unwanted emotion. Annabelle reached for him, then checked herself, her hands suspended in the air between them. “How could you ask me to leave you there, hurt and alone? I couldn’t.” “You should have done as I told you!” Annabelle didn’t flinch, understanding the fear that seethed beneath his anger. “You wouldn’t have left had it been me on the foundry floor—” “I knew you were going to say that,” he said in savage disgust. “Of course I wouldn’t have left you. I’m the man. A man is supposed to protect his wife.” “And a wife is supposed to be a helpmate,” Annabelle countered. “You were not helping me,” Simon bit out. “You were putting me through agony. Dammit, Annabelle, why didn’t you obey me?” She took a deep breath before replying. “Because I love you.” Simon continued to look away from her, while the soft words sent a visible shock through him. His large hand...

“I would rather have died in your arms, Simon, than face a lifetime without you. All those endless years . . . all those winters, summers . . . a hundred seasons of wanting you and never having you. Growing old, while you stayed eternally young in my memories.” She bit her lip and shook her head, while her eyes flooded. “I was wrong when I told you that I didn’t know where I belonged. I do. With you, Simon. Nothing matters except being with you. You’re stuck with me forever, and I’ll never listen when you tell me to go.”

“My God, I can’t stand this! I can’t let you go out every day, fearing every minute that something might happen to you, knowing that every ounce of sanity I’ve got left is hinged on your well-being. I can’t feel this way . . . it’s too strong . . . oh, hell. I’ll turn into a raving lunatic. I’ll never be of use to anyone again. If I could just reduce it somehow . . . love you only half this much . . . I might be able to live with it.” Annabelle laughed shakily at his rough confession, while a hot rush of joy spilled through her. “But I want all your love,” she said. As Simon drew his head back to look at her, his expression knocked the breath from her lungs. It took her several seconds to recover. “All your heart and mind,” she continued with a crooked smile, and lowered her voice provocatively. “All your body, too.”

“If you ever risk your life again, for any reason, I’m going to strangle you. Come here.” Gripping his hand behind her head, Simon pulled her forward. When their noses were nearly touching, he took a deep breath, and said, “I love you, dammit.” She brushed her lips teasingly against his. “How much?” He made a slight sound, as if the soft kiss had affected him intensely. “Without limit. Beyond forever.” “I love you more,” Annabelle said, and brought her mouth to his. She felt a surge of exquisite pleasure, accompanied by the elusive sense of completeness, of perfect fulfillment, that they had never quite reached before. She was floating in warmth, as if her soul was bathed in light. Drawing back, she saw from the stunned brilliance in Simon’s gaze that he had felt it, too.