“Oh yes,” Anna acknowledged dully. “I do not believe I will wait for your carriage to take me home. It is a warm and sunny evening, and I would prefer to walk.”
“Anna—”
“Please do not say anything more to me this evening, Rufus.”
Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him pleadingly. “I could not bear it.”
Rufus frowned as he saw how deeply upset Anna was. No doubt because of their lovemaking earlier; he should not have allowed things to go as far as they had. Except he could not regret having touched and caressed her, having made love to her. Or deny the need he felt to caress and make love to her again as soon as was possible.
But not like this. Not with these misunderstandings standing be
tween them.
He nodded abrupt acceptance of her decision to leave. “You will return to the parsonage in my carriage, as I assured your brother that you would.” He rang for Watkins. “I will only agree not to accompany you,” he continued as she seemed about to protest yet again, “on the condition you agree to meet me at two of the clock tomorrow afternoon at our pond—”
“No.”
“Yes, Anna.” Rufus knew that his own eyes must be as fiercely determined as her own.
He may not have wanted to become a duke, but there was no denying he was one, and in this particular instance, he intended to behave like one.
“Be there at two of the clock, Anna, unless you wish for your brother to know the extent of our friendship,” Rufus’s tone was soft, but nevertheless brooked no further argument.
Watkins knocked quietly on the door before entering the room. Rufus issued his instructions for the carriage, and waited for the other man to leave before turning back to Anna.
She frowned. “You would not really do that?”
No, of course Rufus would not do that, but he was determined that Anna would meet with him tomorrow. “Do not press me, Anna,” he advised gently.
She looked at him searchingly for several long seconds before her lashes lowered and she gave a slight nod of acceptance. “Very well. I will meet you at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“At our pond,” he pressed.
“At the pond,” she corrected purposefully.
Rufus stood at the window and watched a few minutes later as Anna hurried down the front steps of the house before stepping quickly up into his carriage.
As if the Hounds of Hell were at her heels.
Or the man who was determined to have her for his own.
Chapter Seven
The challenging expression on Anna’s face when the two of them met at the pond the following day was not at all encouraging to Rufus in regard to his hopes of a successful outcome to the conversation to come.
He felt a clenching in his chest at how distant Anna seemed to him today, not in proximity, but in every other way that mattered. She looked beautiful of course, ethereally so, in a cream gown with her curls pure gold beneath the sun’s rays. But her eyes were a dark and wary blue in the pallor of her face as she looked up at him, her mouth unsmiling.
She set her chin stubbornly. “Could we please get this conversation over with as quickly as possible?” her voice was brittle, as breakable as she appeared to be. “I have visits to make in the village this afternoon on my brother’s behalf.”
Rufus eyed her quizzically. “Why are you lying to me again, Anna?”
Colour suffused her cheeks. “I am not.”
“Yes, I am afraid you are,” Rufus rebuked gently as he crossed the short distance between them to stand directly in front of her. “My conversation this morning with your brother would have ensured he did not send you off on errands today.”
“You have spoken to Mark?” she gasped, the colour once again draining from her cheeks. “But…I did not see you at the parsonage.”
“We met at the church.”