Aylesbury exhaled. “Indeed it does.”
“Can we assume you had a reason for that behavior?” North asked. “You were kidnapped, were you not?”
“We were. Our nurse’s brother was a footman at Stonehaven. My uncle enlisted him to start the fire. The nurse was to save Selina but leave me to die. She took us both and gave us to her brother. She was afraid because she hadn’t followed my uncle’s instructions. Her brother brought us to London, where he used us to steal and swindle. After a few years, he sold us to a man who ran a number of gangs.”
Both men stared at him, their expressions full of first shock and then sympathy.
“I am not proud of my past but I am proud I survived it,” Rafe said. “I did what I had to do with what was available to me.”
Aylesbury clenched his jaw. “Harry will find the proof you need.”
“He’s running out of time,” North said, earning an angry glare from his father.
“Well, you have my vote.” Aylesbury clapped Rafe’s upper arm. “You’re part of the family, and we won’t turn our backs on you.”
“Thank you.” It was all Rafe could think to say. He was incredibly humbled by this man’s acceptance. It gave him hope that there was perhaps a small chance Anne would forgive him.
As he walked toward Upper Brook Street, his thoughts turned completely to her. He’d barely slept last night, wondering if she’d been able to find her rest.
Would she give him the chance to apologize? To explain?
He didn’t know how long he could wait to find out. It seemed the more time passed, the less likely he would be able to win her back.
Be patient.
He wanted to scream the word no, that he was done being patient. If he waited for Harry to find proof of Mallory’s crimes, justice might never be done. And if he waited for Anne to summon him, he might lose her forever.
Rafe wasn’t going to let either of those things happen.
Moonlight spilled through the opening in the drapes in Anne’s room. Lying on her side, she forced herself to close her eyes and try to sleep. Though why she expected this time would be any different from her other attempts over the past two hours was a mystery.
Because you’re a bloody optimist.
And because she couldn’t stop thinking of Rafe. Of how much she loved him. Of how she missed him. Of how hurt she’d felt.
She’d thought of little else all day, choosing to remain in her bedchamber and sitting room in order to brood by herself. Jane had visited a couple of times, but Anne hadn’t felt like talking.
Except she did feel like talking—just not to her sister. Anne wanted to say many things…to Rafe. She’d held the conversation several times in her head.
Stop. Sleep.
She closed her eyes more tightly and willed her body to relax. This shouldn’t be difficult. She was exhausted.
Clearing her mind, she focused on the weight of her limbs, the softness of the bed, the scent of lavender from her pillow. Yes, this was better. She was so tired…
The sudden press of a hand over her mouth and the weight of a large, warm body against her back filled her with a desperate panic. She tried to breathe but couldn’t. Terror streaked through her veins as her eyes flew open.
“Shh. It’s me.” Rafe’s voice was soft and deep beside her ear, sending a shiver of longing down her spine. Her fear receded and was instantly replaced with an equally strong emotion—lust.
“Will you be quiet, or do I have to tie something around your mouth so you’ll listen to me? Nod if you’ll be quiet.”
She nodded, and he eased her to her back. Keeping his hand against her mouth, he threw his leg over her and straddled her thighs. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from moaning. She was an absolute wanton. After he’d lied to her, she wanted him more than ever.
He slid his hand down her neck and kept his palm pressed against the base of her throat. He wasn’t wearing gloves, so his flesh was bare against hers above the edge of her night rail.
Anne gulped air, her chest moving rapidly as her lungs filled and emptied. She stared up at him, her eyes wide so she could drink in the shadowed planes of his face, only partially illuminated by the moonlight.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand moving down between her breasts over her heart. His pinky finger stretched over her right breast. Her nipple tingled, aching for his touch.
“How did you steal into my room?”
He gave her a lopsided smile that would have made her sigh. But that was before. As aroused as she currently was, as much as she wanted him physically, she was still angry.
“I’m a thief, remember? I’m quite good at stealing into places I shouldn’t be, though I haven’t done so in quite some time.”
“Yes, I remember. It seems, however, you forgot to tell me.” She kept her hands at her sides, but considered pushing him off her. Except she doubted she’d be able to. “Do you plan to sit on me all night?”
“No, just while I explain.”
“I’m still angry with you.”
“I can tell. You’ve every right to be.” He pulled his hand from her, and her body rose slightly off the bed, following the appendage as a disappointing cold washed over her. “I’m so sorry, Anne.”
“I want to be angry.”
“Do you want to rail at me? I would only ask that you not wake the household. Unless you want company. I would prefer to suffer your verbal flaying in private. Or would you rather have an audience?”
“No.” Nor did she want to castigate him. “Damn you.” She pushed at his chest.
He grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms on either side of her head. “Yes. I am and have been quite damned.”
He had. More than anyone should have to endure. Gritting her teeth, she glared up at him. “I
