Page 12 of Beware A Wallflower's Wrath
From the cups on the table, it appeared she had enjoyed tea with someone. A man? he wondered.
Sitting at the table across from Annis, he drew in a steadying breath. He had planned his speech, practiced it on the way to Glasgow. “You look as beautiful as ever,” he blurted instead.
She snorted. “Aye, right. Fifteen years and I havena changed a bit.”
“You… I’m sure we’ve both changed.” He drummed his finger on the tabletop, racking his brain for any of the words he’d committed to memory.
“I’m a widow too,” he said lamely. Deuced tongue! He was making an arse of himself.
“Congratulations?” Her sardonic tone made his stomach clench. “Why are ye here, Rabbie? To reminisce about old times?”
“Yes, no. I?—”
“I’m sorry if I’m not overjoyed to see the man who proposed, then left me. Forgive me for not understanding yer sudden appearance at my door.” She sighed, a sad and tired sound. “I’ve gone on without ye, Lord Robert. Made a life for myself and I’m content. Please dinna stir up the pot when the stew is already finished.”
He smiled, remembering her odd analogies. “That’s not my intention. I’ve done my duty, my wife is dead, and I wanted to know how you fared. I tucked the memory of you safely away in my heart. I thought you would always be just that—a memory. But fate seems to have offered me another chance.”
“At what? Us?” Her plump lips were pressed in a thin line.
The deep amber curls framing her face beckoned his fingers. Was her hair as soft? Would his palm still fit perfectly along the side of her neck?
“Rabbie!”
“I-I don’t know. I only know I had to come, regardless of the outcome. I needed to tell you what happened when I went home—after the betrothal—what unfolded over the past years and find out what happened to you.” He reached out and touched her hand. She flinched but did not pull it back. “If we cannot find a way forward or I do not receive your forgiveness, I at least want you to have closure, a better ending than what I gave you.”
Then the words spilled forth, of his longing, his regret. How young and reckless he had been. How the man he had become couldn’t reconcile his deed to just selfish youth. He needed to make things right between them.
She sat, not moving, not speaking. Her eyes bore into him, as if judging every syllable that came from his mouth. Robert couldn’t read her expression.
“I want you to know I love you. I never stopped, Annis.” Then he ceased talking and waited.
And waited.
The ticking of the clock emphasized her silence. But her eyes still held his. Her hand still lay in his. Then her sweet voice washed over him, and it took all his reserve not to rush forward and take her in his arms.
“Ye loved me before. Yet here we are, talking as strangers, two separate people.” She stood, smoothed out her pale-blue skirt. “I dinna think I can do it again.”
“Is there someone else?” he asked, feeling the hope rush from his chest, his shoulders slumping.
“Nay, there’s never been anyone but ye, Rabbie. But I was never able to mend my broken heart the first time. Ye would destroy it a second.” She smiled, a bittersweet turn of her mouth. “So, I’m afraid ye’ve come for nothing.”
He nodded and stood beside her, collecting his hat from the table. “Well… I suppose I’ve accomplished my goal if… we may part as friends?”
“Aye, of course.” Annis moved past him, ending their conversation. He followed her to the kitchen entry. When she turned suddenly, they collided, her body against his, her warmth seeping into him, no longer a memory.
She peered up at him, her hands on his chest, about to push him away. He clasped her fingers and shook his head. The touch sent a jolt through him. Her eyes darkened with desire, and he lost the battle not to touch her.
Bloody hell.
CHAPTER 5
As he followed her from the kitchen, she turned to explain they would go back through the shop. She didn’t want him to run into her son, who generally used the apartment entrance. But she ran into a brick wall—a warm, inviting brick wall with more muscle than she remembered.
Her fingers curled against his chest, longing to trace the new lines that had appeared on his handsome face since she’d last seen him. It had taken all the strength within her not to fling herself at this man when she’d opened the door. Her Rabbie, come back. How many times had she dreamed of such a thing? What would he think if he knew of Fin? But it could never be, for then Fin would know she had lied about their past.
Looking up at those brown- and gold-flecked eyes, his breath brushed her cheeks, his familiar scent assaulting her memory. A cologne with rosemary and mint and something else—she couldn’t remember what he’d called it. But when her gaze caught on his mouth, she recalled their kisses and more, flooding her with a passion she’d almost forgotten. She reached up a finger and traced his lips. The heat roaring to life frightened her and brought her to her senses. She tried to push away, knowing she was on dangerous ground, but he clasped her hands tightly against him.
He dipped his head, brushed his lips across hers, and she knew she was lost. A tremor of yearning shook her to the core. Her hands went around his neck, remembering the silky curls at the base, as his mouth claimed hers. No gentle caresses now. The pent-up desire of fifteen years erupted between them. It was a clash of tongue and teeth, her fingers sliding up the back of his head, fingers entwining his hair, pulling his head closer. His hands moved along her sides, brushing her breasts, then glided up and down her back. The same yet different. Wonderful yet terrifying.
