Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 40

Anne glanced at the young footman lingering in the doorway, his eyes on Cedric, who was sitting stiffly in his chair by the fire, an odd look on his face. The footman, Thomas he'd been called, was auburn-haired and around her age. He realized she was looking at him and dropped his head, smiling shyly as he ducked out of the room.

"How are you able to do that? Tell the difference between Hartley and Thomas?" Anne poured two glasses of red wine and placed one in Cedric's hand.

"How do I do what?"

"Know which person you are addressing when they haven't spoken. I could understand if you recognized the voices, but Hartley did not even say a word when we got out of the coach. How did you know it wasn't Thomas?"

"Ahh, well that's simple. I just started calling them all Hartley. Simplifies things you know." Cedric chuckled, the tension in his shoulders seeming to relax. Whatever had been worrying him before seemed to have faded somewhat. He was chasing shadows, nothing more.

"You're joking!" Anne gasped.

"I am." He laughed, but there was genuine pride in his tone as he leaned back in his chair. Anne followed the movement, admiring the fine legs that stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Cedric was simply beautiful to behold.

"With women I can often identify them by scent. With men it's either their voices or their movements. Sean Hartley has a slight limp from a horse kicking him a year ago. I can detect the difference in his movement."

"And how do you recognize me?" Anne asked, her heart stilling as she waited for his answer.

"Come over and I will tell you." Cedric cut a mocking leer at her, and she couldn't help but laugh at his teasing. She did as he asked and allowed him to settle her on his lap. She was still unaccustomed to his touch.

Cedric stroked her lower back in a soft circular pattern, like a father soothing a troubled child. "Do I frighten you, Anne?"

"I'm not afraid." It was a lie, and they both knew it.

"You sit there so still, barely breathing, like a rabbit in the underbrush. I don't wish to startle you and send you running." The earnest look on his face was heartrending.

"Is that how you truly see me?" Anne's voice shook as he traced an intricate pattern along the line of her collarbone. Heat flooded her body at such a feather-light caress.

"Are you asking if I see you as a frightened rabbit?" There was a sweet amusement in his tone. "Anne, Anne, my lovely but perplexing bride. I see you as so many things, but a frightened rabbit isn't one of them. You are more like a skittish colt, yet to learn its master's touch."

"A skittish colt?" Anne stifled a laugh. His sense of humor had always been so like her own. She found herself relaxing. "I believe I may have married the only man in England who would compare his wife to a horse."

"That's not true. Many a man has called his wife a broodmare," Cedric argued, his sightless eyes warming to a rich cinnamon.

"Is that supposed to win me over, Cedric?" Anne cupped his face when he broke into the most charming smile, one that melted her from the inside out.

"I love it when you say my name." He purred low and deep like a jungle cat.