Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 43

Cedric collapsed into the bed of the first inn his coach reached early in the morning. He was exhausted, upset and shaking all over. How had everything gone from bliss to a nightmare in mere minutes? All because of one damnable letter.

My wife doesn't love me. She's using me.

The thoughts kept running through his mind over and over, the words of that letter echoing in his mind. "Dearest Anne...we've much to plan..."

Anne had betrayed him. She'd married him, given him hope for a happy life, when she was in love with another man. Crispin Andrews. Her reaction when he said the name had been enough to tell him everything. She and Crispin were lovers.

She didn't want me to know, which is why she panicked when we met him at the theater that night. It all made sense now. I've been such a fool. Anne would never have wanted someone like me. I'm a broken man. I've lost her forever. No. I never had her to begin with.

He had hung such hopes and dreams on their union, but all was over now. The darkness around him was as oppressive as ever, perhaps more so. He wanted to die, to end the pain, the loneliness. Something had always held him back before, his sisters, his friends. But without Anne he was empty as a barren sea. His pain was deep, vast and lifeless. His future was no better.

"Oh, Anne, how could you!" He cursed and rolled over onto his stomach, face buried in his pillow. Still he wondered where she was at that moment. Was she packing her things and writing a love letter to her beloved? A violent rage swelled in him.

I should have killed him that night at the opera. He snarled at the thought of getting his hands around Crispin's neck a second time.

The sound of distant thunder caught Cedric's attention. The wooden walls of the inn vibrated with the fury of nature. The patter of heavy rain was a siren's call to the broken-hearted viscount. Cedric struggled to his feet and felt his way across the floor to the window. The latch gave way to his fumbling hands and the glass panes fell open.

Rain lashed across his face, the cold sting a welcome sensation after the numbing ache of Anne's loss. Thunder shook the earth around him, but Cedric felt only rain, saw only darkness. He stood there, letting the storm assault him until it calmed into a lulling drizzle.

"Cedric!" A voice far away echoed like that of a bleating lamb.

A chill set deep into his bones. "Anne?"

"Cedric!" The cry turned deeper, became rougher.

Cedric shook his head, wanting to clear his muddled thoughts. Anne was gone. He was alone. There was no one seeking him, no one wanting him. Fatigued, he crumpled against the window ledge, knees buckling beneath him. A crash, a shout, and then strong arms lifted him up, helping him to his bed.

"What in God's name are you doing?" a familiar voice demanded.

Cedric remained limp and unmoving as rough hands removed his soaked clothes and tucked him into the warmth of the dry bed.

"Bloody fool," the voice muttered.

Cedric finally recognized his friend's voice. "Ash?"

"Of course it's me. Who did you think I was?"

Cedric would have smiled if he'd had any strength. He was clearly in trouble if Ashton had grown upset with him. His friend's concern and anger was a soothing balm to his wounded heart.

"What are you doing, Cedric? You'll make yourself sick standing in the rain like that. Why are you here, of all places? And where is Anne?"

Cedric winced at the mention of her name.

"Gone," was all he could get out.

"Gone?" Ashton echoed.

"What are you doing here, Ash?" Cedric heard his friend shuffling about the room. The crackle and pop of fresh logs on the fire brought warmth to Cedric's body.