Unlike the kiss he’d stolen on the terrace, or the ones she’d responded to in his river hut, this kiss was altogether something different. It had nothing to do with frightening her away, was not meant to make a statement to her guests.
This kiss, Lissa intuitively felt, was a glimpse of the sweetness behind the cold facade of the Heartless One. His mouth over hers proved as soft as a spring shower, as luscious as apples in season, and as thrilling as dancing the waltz for the first time with a man who could take one’s breath away.
Lissa tilted her face up, caught in the pure pleasure of Wylde’s unexpected onslaught. Slowly, his lips moved over hers, tasting every dreg of nectar she possessed, eliciting from her the deepest of reactions.
Unhurried and unplanned, the kiss sealed something unspoken between the two of them. Alone in the hall, with no one to judge or to intervene, both she and his lordship seemed to give of themselves.
For Lissa, ‘twas a kiss that waxed their fate, melding them together…. For the first time in her life she felt as though she’d crossed an invisible line into adulthood.
Wylde slowly broke the contact, lifting his face slightly.
“My lord?” Lissa whispered, her mind pleasantly hazy, her insides all aquiver.
“Sshh,” he murmured, touching one finger to her lips. “Say nothing. Not just yet.” His gloved finger traced the outline of her mouth. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you look at me like this?”
“Like what, m’lord?” she breathed, transfixed.
“As though you have viewed a bit of heaven… and as though you are not judging me—my character—as everyone else at your assemblage has done this night.”
“I—I can hardly stand in judgment of you given what I’ve allowed to transpire between us.”
“Aye, but you could and for that very reason. But you haven’t. That, Lissa, is what I find most refreshing about you.”
“I take it you feel you—you have been judged too harshly in your life,” she hazarded.
Wylde dropped his hands to his sides, stepping back, then let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “One could say that.”
“My father always warned me those of the ton could be wicked with their whisperings.”
“A perceptive man, your father.”
With bald honesty, she said, “I think, had my father ever met you, he would have made pains to get to know you better, sir.”
It seemed that a sharp pang rippled through Wylde. “I would like to believe that, Lissa. And please, call me Gabriel. God’s truth, I do not think it would be improper. In fact, I think it would be quite fine.”
Lissa’s heart trembled. “As in Gabriel, the archangel, the heavenly spirit?”
He shook his dark head. “Ah, no, Lissa. As in Gabriel, the man I am—flawed and imperfect… and the very one who came this night to aid your plot, for good or ill.”
As though all this talk of his person and his past made him uncomfortable, Wylde made the final motions to take his leave. “Return to your guests, Lissa,” he said to her. “Use to your advantage whatever you can of what the two of us have set in motion this day.” With that, he turned, opened the front door, and was gone just as quickly and abruptly as he’d arrived.
Lissa moved out onto the stoop, feeling the cool night air steal over her body as she watched the sixth Earl of Wylde head off into the dark night, being met immediately by one of her ever-ready stablehands. Too soon Wylde’s mount was brought forth, and she saw nothing but a cloud of dust kicked up into a sliver of moonlight as she watched Gabriel’s shadow mix with the depths of darkness.
Amazingly, Lissa felt like crying and smiling all at once. Felt, in fact, as though she’d never be the same again….
A long while later, Lissa made her way back inside. The musicians were between sets, and her many guests were milling about, talking amongst themselves.
Lissa did not need to be told what their topic of conversation might be.
Aunt Prudence came beside her. “My dear, sweet Lissa, what ever are you about this night? Have you gone daft—or are you truly falling in love with the man? No, don’t say it. ‘Tis written all over your face. You are in love. Or close enough to it.”
Lavinia, looking flushed, chose that moment to sidle up beside Prudence and Lissa.
“Oh, Lis, just look at you! You are positively glowing! Do tell what it was like to be held in his lordship’s arms. I don’t care a whit of what I’ve heard whispered about the man this night, Lis, he is positively handsome and—and, well, he appears to be just the sort of person you’ve dreamt about!”
“Vinnie,” Lissa whispered, finally coming to life. “Do keep your voice down. Do you think I wish all to hear?”
“No, no, of course you don’t. And never fear, Lis, even though you and his lordship will be the latest on dit on the morrow, I think it is absolutely thrilling that the two of you seem not to care what the world thinks! How very wonderful that you’ve found a man who cares not what the Polite World thinks. He simply had eyes only for you, Lis. What woman wouldn’t want such a man to fawn over her? This is the best birthday gift I could ever imagine; for my bosom-bow to finally find the perfect parti.”
Lissa blinked the dream clouds from her head that Gabriel had created, and then stared at both her aunt and her best friend. But she really didn’t have anything to say on her own behalf, and certainly could not find it within her heart to refute their statements that she’d fallen in love with the sixth Earl of Wylde.
The truth of the matter was, she didn’t know how she felt about Gabriel.
Was this what love felt like? Did one actually feel like dancing and dying all at the same time? She had no idea.
What Lissa needed was time alone to sort out all the thoughts now spinning through her head. She needed to ponder and thoroughly absorb all that had happened this day, needed time to perhaps write in her journal of her feelings, make a list of her options, and maybe even to sketch.
Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time. She had a room filled with guests to worry about.
Much to Lissa’s discomfort, the musicians decided then to play another set, and Lord Langford, descending upon her like a moth to a flame, was at her side even before the second note was struck.
“I believe, Lady Lissa, that this dance is mine,” he said, bowing graciously before her.
Prudence and Lavinia backed away, Lavinia’s hand soon being claimed by Chesney, and Aunt Prudence deciding to oversee that the refreshments were replenished.
Lissa looked up at Lord Langford. With his wheat blond hair and fair coloring he had at one time caused her to think of a gilded angel. Now that she’d met Lord Wylde, however, that comparison had changed. Though Langford was extraordinarily handsome, he did not illicit within Lissa any of the feelings Gabriel caused to stir and then flare inside of her. Though so far polite and kind in her presence, he neither pleased nor intrigued Lissa… and he did not make her heart flutter as Gabriel could.
Even so, Lissa danced with him. She knew she must put a bandage on all the hurtful gossip brewing. Now that Gabriel had taken his leave, she must somehow repair the damage the two of them had wrought.
“You seem preoccupied, Lady Lissa,” Langford said, as they went through their steps.
“Do I?” Lissa replied. “Forgive me. I do not mean to.”
“Do not tell me your thoughts are still with Wylde.”
“Very well then, I shan’t.”
Langford inclined his head, studying Lissa’s countenance. “Lord Wylde is a black mark on good society. He is not to be trusted, my lady.”
“Is this a warning on your part, sir?” Lissa asked, her blood beginning to boil.
Langford obviously realized he was treading thin ice with her. “No warning… not unless it needs to be. But I take it that you, my lady, are not so foolhardy as to allow yourself to become prey to Wylde’s savage ways.”
“Savage? Surely you are too strong in your choice of words, my lord.”
Langford dipped his head closer to hers. “The man’s would-be bride sliced her wrists shortly after he left her standing alone at the altar,” he said, obviously intending to appall Lissa with the tale. “Doubtless you’ve heard the tales, my lady.”
Lissa stiffened. “I have heard,” she said woodenly, refusing to believe that anyone who could kiss her so sweetly could harbor such darkness as to intentionally do harm to another person. “But since I know nothing about the woman Lord Wylde was to have married, and given the fact I know very little about the man he is, I shall not make any assumptions about what transpired in the past, sir.”
Langford frowned. “Then I must be so bold as to suggest you take care whenever Wylde is about, Lady Lissa. He has blackened the name of more than one female. I would hate for you to suffer a similar fate.”
“Do be assured, Lord Langford, that my parents did not raise a foolish daughter.”
“Touché,” he replied, an odd, almost plotting, smile on his lips.
The set soon ended. Lissa thankfully backed away from him, then made a motion to move off the dance floor.
Langford stopped her with just a touch. “Though Lord Wylde’s presence has caused me to rue a part of this night, I have decided that the evening has not been a total loss for me.”
“Oh?” Lissa said, not at all understanding his meaning.
“My locket,” Langford explained. “You have yet to return it. To be wholly honest, that truth buoys my spirits and leads me to believe there is possibly hope for me still in your estimation.”
Lissa’s right hand fluttered toward her neck. The dratted locket! It was what had brought her such unlucky luck—and it was the very excuse she would use to meet with Gabriel tomorrow at dawn.
“Ah, yes… your locket. We—we must talk about that, m’lord.”
“When?” Langford pressed, far too anxious.
“Soon,” Lissa promised. Sooner than you’d like, I’ll wager, she thought. “Until then, my lord?” she murmured, and before Langford could gainsay her, Lissa moved away, intending to be unavailable to him for the remainder of the evening. She had Gabriel on her mind—in fact, she could not get him out of her mind.
Would Gabriel hold true to his vow in helping her hook the trout that had eaten Langford’s locket? Or might he consider his promise null and void due to her duplicitous plot of intending to align her name with his? Lissa had no idea. What she hoped was that her encounter with Lord Wylde this night had not enraged him so much that he would abandon their endeavor to catch the wily trout both of them sought.
But would he even be at the river come dawn?
Perhaps more importantly, should she be so bold as to be there?
It would be daring of her to make a showing alongside the Dove early tomorrow morning, given the kiss he’d stolen for all to see, coupled with the more intimate kiss they had shared while at the front door of the manor.
Perhaps his lordship was just playing some sort of dangerous game with her and her virtue, a part of him wondering how far she would dare to tread along the path of thoroughly shredding her reputation.
Then again, perhaps his final kiss of the night was proof positive that he, just as she, felt something when the two of them were together. Perhaps Gabriel was as much drawn to Lissa as she was to him….
Lissa’s head spun with all the possibilities. Doubtless she could spend an eternity puzzling over all that had transpired betwixt herself and the enigmatic Lord Wylde this day! For that reason alone, Lissa knew she would be at the river’s edge come dawn. She needed to learn whether Gabriel was concocting some sort of emotional game between them, or if he was as caught up in the energy that flared inside of her whenever they were together.
Even if Lissa didn’t need to catch a certain trout—and soon!—she knew she would make the trek to the Dove at dawn to meet Gabriel. For better or worse, she’d become enmeshed within the enigma that was Lord Wylde.
There would be little sleep for Lissa once Lavinia’s natal day celebration came to a close, she knew. Dawn, and not midnight, seemed to have become the witching hour.
A part of Lissa decided that daylight could not come soon enough… while another, more cautious part of her deduced that tomorrow’s dawn alongside the Dove might well prove to be disastrous!
Chapter 11
Gabriel was feeling in odd spirits when he arrived home. After checking on Harry, who was peacefully asleep, he went immediately to his library. He closed the door soundly behind him, shutting out the echo in his brain of the evening he’d just put himself through.
He was amazed that he’d even set foot in a room teeming with so many members of the ton, with people he’d sworn never to come near again. Lissa, and her plot of a liaison with him, had clearly set him into a stew.
But even though Gabriel had set out for Lissa’s assemblage in a foul and savage mood, by the time he’d led her out into the front hall his anger had begun to dissipate. And when his mouth had melded with hers, he’d experienced both a death and rebirth. He’d felt, for the first time in six years, that life might actually hold a promise for the bruised part of his soul that not even Harry’s presence could help to heal. He knew for certain there was unfinished business betwixt himself and the lovely heiress who sought no suitors, things that went far beyond trout or a locket lost.
Though the lady was known for not wishing or even seeking a marriage, Gabriel had sensed in Lissa’s passionate responses to him that she—just as he—was caught up in the maelstrom of emotions flaring to life whenever the two of them were together.
Gabriel mulled over all of this as he sank down into his favorite chair. He’d placed Lissa’s folded blanket atop the small table beside him, her nature journal as well. His angling pole and fishing basket were also atop the table since he’d been of the mind to contemplate his angling endeavors this night. But all thoughts of angling paled in comparison to the puzzle of Lissa and his feelings for her.
Was he falling in love? he wondered.
Or had he simply become too lonely over the past many years and was now reaching out for any kind of companionship, no matter how preposterous?
Gabriel glanced at Lissa’s forgotten blanket. He touched the hem of it, his fingers gliding over the sturdy material. From there, his hand moved to her nature journal.
He should have returned the journal to her by now, should have taken it to Lissa’s gathering with him. But he hadn’t. Mayhap he’d been too angry after talking with Manningford earlier… or maybe he just wanted to keep for a little while longer something that she treasured.
Whatever the reason, the journal was here, beside him, and though he told himself not to do so, Gabriel picked the thing up, settled back, then began thumbing through its many pages.
He moved past the notes about her father’s death, about the mention of the baby birds in a nest, and found to his keen interest several entries detailing Lissa’s adventurous night visits to the River Dove.
Just as she’d mentioned to him earlier that day, her father had been an angler of the night, and clearly, following in the wake of the man’s death, Lissa had sought to discover some of the wonders her father had told her about.
In her perfect script, she’d written
There are not very many night anglers who partake of the “Black Art, “or so Papa told me. The bigger brown trout, though, become nocturnal. They find the “better feed at night, “Papa explained, and so become very cautious. They are also extraordinarily Bedlam-mad at times during the night, feeding with an absolute frenzy! They could be lying out within the water during the daylight, and if an angler raises his rod tip to cast, they are gone—but at night, if the trout are on the feed, an astute angler can catch them….
I decided, late last night, to gather my courage about me and head to the Dove shortly after midnight. It was the dark of the moon. I needed a lantern to light my way, so thick was the pure blackness. Once I reached my destination, I was amazed at the pulse of life beating all ar
ound the river. I’d had no inkling of the energy that surged along the Dove during the depths of night! It was truly otherworldly, a place of fascinating busyness.
Gabriel, very much caught up in Lissa’s journal entries, fought down the feeling of guilt that washed through him. He was invading her privacy by reading her thoughts, but he wanted to know more about night angling for trout—and God’s truth, he wanted to know more about the lady who had caught his interest and responded to his kisses with such toe-curling passion.
He continued reading.
After midnight, the entire structure of a stream changes. It is a different place, a beehive of activity as the air temperature drops and the water temperature drops. Papa explained to me that when the latter happens, more oxygen comes into the water, and therefore the best insect hatches often occur after midnight.
On this particular night, the very air seemed to thrum with insect life. I was amazed and pleased, and recall just standing at the river’s edge and feeling many large-winged flies beat against my skin. The dragonflies were most pronounced. I loved hearing the thrum of their tiny wings! I espied many bats—or at least, their shadows. They swooped and swerved, claiming the night with their crazed curves. A whippoorwill sounded far off in the distance. I heard the howl of several wolves as well. Lonely calls they were, but oddly enough the sounds comforted me. I did not feel alone in the Stygian dark. I dareswear I felt very much at home.
I settled down alongside the bank and allowed my lantern to grow dim. I wished to view this dark world as a creature of the night. Following is what I noted…
When all cools within the Dove, the larger trout move out in the stream and find feeding stations along huge rocks or the banks of the river. Bugs and flies settle on these rocks because they are seeking heat. And then mice come, looking for food. Oftentimes, one of these mice will tumble off the rocks, into the water. A trout will sense the mouse swimming in the water, and up he goes, capturing the mouse around the tail-end and pulling it down! I was surprised at the savageness of the trout in taking the mouse. Papa once explained how trout can be perfect carnivores. From what I have seen, he was very precise in his description. I swear I could hear the trout’s jaws click as it overtook its prey!
Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1) Page 12
