“Miranda.”
Even though she was already dangerously close to him, too close, she wanted to be closer. She pulled against him, trying to somehow eliminate the tiniest gap separating them, but it was no use. Never before had she felt so needy or so desirable, let alone both at the same time.
“Miranda, stop.”
She didn’t want to stop. She’d only just discovered a certain boldness within herself, and was experimenting with what Gabe might do if she were to move her tongue into his mouth (an inhuman growl came from him while his hand fisted in her hair), and stopping was absolutely the last thing in the world she wanted to do right at the moment.
But if he was growling, and his mouth was occupied…
“Miranda Jane Hunt, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Papa.
Her recognition of her brother’s warning voice had been too slow. She groaned, pressed her eyes closed with a prayer for wisdom, and quickly separated herself from Gabe. None of it really mattered, though. Her heart had stopped beating completely, weighing her down with guilt.
“Step away from my daughter, you filthy blackguard,” Papa said from behind Gabe.
Her eyes flashed wide, but no wisdom was forthcoming. The sounds of their feet rushing toward them, two pairs of heavy boots pounding against the earth, swam over Miranda’s consciousness. Had Mama had second thoughts after allowing Miranda to leave without a maid? She couldn’t imagine how else Papa and Jason would be here now. “Oh, heavens.” She felt dizzy and wished the ground at her feet would open up and swallow her whole.
Before he backed away, Gabe put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up.
What was he doing? Miranda blinked up at him, shaking her head in dismay.
“Remember?” he said so softly only she could hear. “I made you a promise. I need your agreement for the price I’ve demanded.”
His price. Marriage. “But Papa—”
“I told you I would handle your father.”
Papa would murder him, though. Even a hint of scandal surrounding the family was beyond the pale in Papa’s eyes. But to find his youngest daughter in such a compromising position with the most scandalous man she’d ever known? Miranda shook her head, tried to meet Gabe’s eyes and make him somehow see reason, but he would have none of it.
“Promise me, love.”
Love. He’d called her love, but he couldn’t really love her, could he? Miranda blinked up at him, wishing they were anywhere but here.
The pad of Gabe’s thumb brushed lightly over her lower lip, renewing the recent memory of his lips and tongue and teeth there.
As things stood, she didn’t have much choice in the matter. Papa would insist they marry, even though he would want no connection with the Devalle family. Either that or he would challenge Gabe as a scurrilous rogue. She couldn’t bear for either Gabe or Papa, or Jason for that matter, to be hurt. So she had no choice but to accept him.
“I will,” Miranda murmured.
Gabe winked at her, the most devilish wink she’d ever seen, and then gave her a chaste kiss upon the forehead. “Do not say a word.” With no further preamble he spun around, keeping her hidden safely behind his back.
Keeping silent didn’t seem too difficult a proposition, given her propensity for losing all ability to form coherent speech when she was flustered. She was terrified of what Papa would say when she finally had to face him, but for now, she was content to allow Gabe to take the brunt of Papa’s anger.
Although, that did seem rather cowardly of her. Blast.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said amiably, just as the clip-clopping of a horse and rider met Miranda’s ears.
A horse? Who else could be there? She stretched up on her tiptoes, strained her neck to see around him. But no matter how she tried, Gabe kept himself perfectly positioned in such a way that she couldn’t see anyone…and no one could see her.
The horse came to a stop and let out a whinny.
“Gabriel.” It was a woman’s voice—one Miranda didn’t recognize. The lady sounded strained, like simply saying his name caused her some physical discomfort. “Please tell me you’re not hiding another dead strumpet behind your back.”
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat.
“Not at all, Mother,” Gabe said as cool as you please.
Mother? Oh, dear. She certainly was not prepared to deal with not only her father and brother, but now Gabe’s mother as well. Had Miss Lyon made certain her vial of hartshorn was in her reticule?
“I’m merely hiding my intended bride.”
Of all the people who could have come upon him while he was practically mauling Miranda in the park, why must it be his mother? Granted, having Miranda’s father and brother come upon them wasn’t really much better, but at least they only hated him because of how they’d discovered him with Miranda. For the life of him, he had never understood why Mother hated him, but hate him she did—and Luke and Amelia, as well. Gabe’s entire body felt as tense as a bowstring just before the arrow was loosed, simply from her presence.
“Your bride?” Mother’s sarcastic laugh could pierce through glass. “I wasn’t aware that harlots ever moved higher up the social ladder than to become mistresses. Do let’s stop with the pretending, Gabriel.”
Lord Calstock bowed up at Mother’s unthinking choice in words. “Strumpet?” he shouted, the bark carrying well beyond the copse of trees where they had all convened. Mother’s eyes rounded upon the graying viscount. His face grew redder by degrees with each passing moment. “Harlot? Mistress? That’s my—”
“This is Lord Calstock’s daughter and my intended bride, Mother,” Gabe cut in before either his mother or Miranda’s father could cause any more harm between the two families. The viscount’s eyes flashed again when Gabe repeated his intention to marry Miranda, but that could wait. “Perhaps you would care to know that the young lady behind my back is Miss Miranda Hunt? Miranda is as far from participating in such a profession as a young miss could be, and I do not take kindly to you speaking of her in such terms. I’m sure Lord Calstock and his son are in full agreement with me on that score.”
“Oh. I see.” For once in her life, Mother looked properly chagrined and no less perplexed than she ought.
No doubt she never imagined he would take up with a debutante for at least several more years, despite her cold attempts to persuade him to change his ways. Everyone in the ton expected him to continue sowing his wild oats—as they were so fond of saying—for quite some time…perhaps even after he’d been properly married, though he couldn’t imagine doing such a thing.
Yet now, he had just caused the ruin of perhaps the most innocent young miss he’d ever known—at least, innocent in terms of the ways of the world. She did have a slight devilish streak of her own, judging from the ease with which she’d executed her plan to rip her sister’s gown.
But none of his past or Miranda’s present excused using terms such as Mother had even within Miranda’s presence, let alone using them about her. Gabe was actually astonished by how vehemently he’d reacted when he heard Mother insult Miranda. He wanted her, certainly, and he had every intention of making her his wife. But this newfound need to protect her, to guard not only her emotional state but what he had not shattered of her reputation, felt more than merely foreign.
He cared about her. It was uncanny, really. Once, he’d thought she would be a worthy adversary; now he would prefer her to be his ally. Yet even now, she stood behind him, one hand clutching to the back of his coat so tightly he could feel her shaking. He’d caused that. Well, Mother was partially to blame as well, but she had only come upon an already bad situation and made it worse. Gabe had started it. It was shameful that he’d created a circumstance in which the woman he wished to marry would feel such mortification.
No doubt her trembling was due primarily to the presence of her father and brother and his mother, but surely that wouldn’t be any concern if they had n
ot been discovered as they had been. In a ballroom, surrounded by hundreds of others, he would never have dared to kiss her. She would have no need to cower from their censure.
Yet he had brought her with no chaperone, and he had taken full advantage of her innocence in order to further his own agenda. But when had it come about that his agenda included marrying her? And why did that—the desire to leg-shackle himself to her—not feel alien to him?
The fact remained that instead of feeling peculiar, the thought of being married to Miranda felt delightful. He’d have a devil of a time understanding it.
Gabe’s defense of her did not seem to console Lord Calstock in the least, which wasn’t surprising, given the compromising position in which they’d been discovered.
The viscount’s eyes continued to bulge, and he clenched his hands into tight fists. “Miranda, come here this instant so we can take you home to your mother.”
Gabe wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight yet, though. He wanted to calm her before things went any further. He turned the fullness of his attention to her father, now that his mother seemed to be accepting what was taking place. “She will remain hidden behind my back until you all have left us. We can reconvene at Calstock House in half an hour’s time, where I’ll be happy to come to terms with you on the marriage contract, whatever terms they may be.”
The brother charged forward a few steps, jaw tense and shoulders taut. “You’ve already compromised her, and you expect us to leave her alone with you again?”
“And if I don’t consent?” Calstock asked, ignoring his son’s sudden flash of temper, which, as Gabe saw it, had been too slow in coming. A brother ought to show more indignation than he had where his sister’s reputation was concerned.
Taking two steps back, Gabe carefully guided Miranda to a new position of safety, ignoring her huffs of outrage. “I expect,” he said coolly, “that we will all discuss this as adults in a private home, and not here in the middle of a public park where even now, a crowd is likely heading this way to discover the cause of the shouting they no doubt heard.”
He waited with diminishing degrees of patience as comprehension slowly dawned in both Lord Calstock and his son’s eyes before continuing. “As things stand now, I’m sure some tongues will wag because I brought Miss Miranda out here alone. Because of that, if nothing else, I’m sure you can see the necessity for our marriage. She deserves the protection of my name, whatever protection that can provide.”
At long last, the viscount gave a small grunt, which he took as confirmation.
“No one need know anything more, however. You all can go on ahead to Calstock House. We will return to the main path in the park, let the world see that all is well, and then join you.”
Calstock was still fuming so much that it was a wonder he didn’t burst into flame, but he finally nodded. Miranda’s brother had a slightly bemused smile on his face as he looked first to his father, then to Gabe, then back to his father.
How terribly helpful the brother was. There was little wonder Miranda had been left to protect her sister by herself. Clearly, their brother was not suited to the post.
“As thoroughly perplexed as I am to say it,” Mother said, her nose turned up high in the air, “my son is right. It will be worse for your daughter if anyone were to come upon us as we are just now. And if you were to take her off yourself…”
There was no need for her to finish that thought. They all knew what would be said if people had seen Miranda ride off with Gabe, but later were to return with her father looking downtrodden and shamed.
It must have cost Mother a great deal to agree with him on any score. Since he was a very young boy, she had never approved of any of her offspring and had let it be known at every possible moment. She’d given up the thought of trying to rein him in when he was merely twelve.
“They’re right,” the brother said to Calstock. “We should leave them.”
His eyebrows squeezed together nearly into a single line, the viscount glared straight though Gabe. Then he took his fob from his waistcoat pocket, studied it, and carefully returned it. “It’s half seven. I’ll expect you on the hour and not a moment later.” Then he spun on his heels and marched away.
Miranda let out a breath which sounded as though it had been pent up for quite some time. Her brother tossed a goofy grin over his shoulder as he tromped along after their father, which only served as further proof that he had no inkling what a scandalous situation could do to a young lady’s reputation. Either that or he didn’t hold a care at all about his sister and her future prospects. Gabe was willing to bet that it was the former rather than the latter, however. They seemed to be a family that cared deeply for one another, even if they weren’t always in agreement. Why else would she feel so desperately loyal to her sister as to have started this whole turn of events into motion?
“Should we expect you there as well, Mother?” Gabe drawled when his mother did nothing more than stare after the Hunt men as they left, her eyes filled with a hauteur he hoped he would never portray.
Lifting a single eyebrow in practiced disdain, she nodded. “I suppose you will.” She flicked the reins of her horse and cantered off in the direction opposite of the two men, never looking back for even a moment.
Finally, they were alone again. Gabe turned, his arms instinctively reaching for Miranda in order to offer her comfort…but he stopped when she gave him a look so deep with hurt it could rival the ocean.
“Is that what you think me to be, then?” Miranda’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, but she knew he could hear every word. No wonder he’d kept her hidden behind him, keeping her concealed from view like something he was ashamed of. “A harlot, like your mother called me? Like all the…the others have been?”
She didn’t particularly care to think about just how many others there were, but she knew there were bound to be many. One had died at his feet, after all, and he hadn’t denied it. All the rumors that had been making their rounds through the gossip mill had to have at least some basis in truth. And the way his mother spoke to him—even she was repulsed by her son’s behavior.
What had she gotten herself into? And, perhaps more importantly at the moment, how could she possibly get herself out of it? She really ought to learn to better control her impetuousness. Stopping Samantha from trapping the man was one thing…ending up married to him herself was something else entirely.
Gabe’s brow pinched together. “Why on earth would you think that?” He started to close the distance between them, but Miranda put up a hand to ward him off.
“You were hiding me from them. You said so yourself. Twice!” Good heavens, but she hated the way her voice was trembling. Now that she thought of it, more than just her voice was trembling. She was shaking from head to toe, and all because of her own stupidity.
Shaking his head, he took a step toward her, then another. For every step he took, she backed away by two or three, holding her arms over her chest as though they could provide some small protection against her breaking heart.
Why did it hurt so much, any of it? She knew his reputation before she ever met him…but his actions did not seem to match what the gossips had said about him. True, he had acted in an outrageous manner when he’d brought her here—when he’d kissed her—but nothing else about him seemed as awful as the gossips would have marriageable-aged misses believe.
Beneath the façade of debauchery and vice, he was a truthful man with his own sense of honor. He’d made her a promise and intended to keep it. Chivalry might not be his forte, but she didn’t need chivalry in a husband.
But what did she need? This was one of those many moments she wished she was older than her mere twenty years. Surely if she were Samantha’s age, she would be better prepared to understand her own mind.
“Miranda.” It came out as a sigh. He stopped advancing upon her and held out a hand, palm up. “Please, stop running from me. I told them I wouldn’t hear you spoken of in such a way, so on
earth why would I think it myself?”
That was true. She’d felt the tension in his back when he spoke in such clipped tones to his mother. She couldn’t even imagine speaking to one of her parents in such a way, but he had. And it had been in defense of her.
She swallowed to borrow time, but her tongue felt so thick it was a wonder she could perform the action at all. “Then why did you hide me?”
“Because I didn’t want them to make you feel ashamed of yourself for letting me kiss you or for you kissing me.” Those blue eyes of his widened as though he was surprised to have said it, but he kept going, gruff sounds emanating from deep within his chest. “There’s no reason to suffer an attack of conscience for kissing the person you will marry…the person you love.”
Love. He’d called her love earlier, but that had only been an accident, or maybe he’d been trying to win her favor at the time. Miranda looked down at the green lawn between them, focusing her attention upon the polished boots he wore to try to slow her heartbeat. Was he trying to protect her as he claimed when he’d kept her hidden behind his back? If not for love, why would he do such a thing?
“You couldn’t possibly love me,” she said on a laugh that rang hollow even to her own ears. “We haven’t known one another for two days yet.”
The laugh was hollow because love seemed to be the answer to all of the unanswered questions racing through her head. Even if he didn’t love her, was it possible that she loved him?
The longer she allowed herself to think it, the fuller her chest felt. A rapid warmth stole over her, making it impossible to make sense of all the rampant thoughts racing through her overtaxed mind.
The Devil to Pay (The Devilish Devalles, Novella #1) Page 6
