Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1)

by Randall, Lindsay

  Lissa then segued into describing a particular handmade fly her father had created during his lifetime. Dubbed the “Midnight Caller,” the fly resembled a mouse, was made of deer hair dyed black that was meticulously spun round the hook and trimmed, and had a tail made of boar bristle.

  Gabriel, very interested in this concept of angling during the dark of the moon, paid close attention to these entries. He went over and over the words, mentally envisioned the Dove at night, and then got up, procured paper and pen, then sat back down and took meticulous notes.

  That done, he spent the next hour waxing his silk line, soaking his cat-gut leaders, and then dried the handmade flies Lissa had created for him.

  Sometime around midnight he took Lissa’s journal and her blanket in his arms, gathered up his angling rod and the handmade flies, then headed to his river lodge, thoughts of creating a “Midnight Caller” of his own on his mind.

  It took several hours to create such a fly. Gabriel’s fingers felt clumsy as he wound the deer hair and affixed it about a long, delicate hook. He wished Lissa was beside him, schooling him in the exact ways of creating such a fly. No doubt she was still entertaining her guests—possibly even dancing until dawn with the dastardly Lord Langford. Gabriel’s mood blackened at the mere thought of the latter. He wanted Lissa nowhere near Langford.

  His only balm was in knowing that Lissa, come dawn, would hopefully spirit herself to the river and meet him there, intent on hooking “their trout” and retrieving her precious locket. He hoped his behavior of this night—and the kisses he’d stolen yet again—would not cause her to have a change of heart.

  By two a.m., Gabriel had accomplished the completion of two flies that seemed both strong in construction and true to form.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep. He ought to go back to the main house, he knew, ought to settle in his bed for what remained of the night.

  But he wasn’t ready to leave the refuge of his lodge. He could still imagine Lissa’s honeysuckle scent filling the interior, and for now—possibly forever—it seemed that he could recall her best while in this cozy place where he’d first touched her.

  Extinguishing the light, Gabriel settled down on the bench and pulled Lissa’s forgotten blanket up and over the long length of him.

  Gabriel propped one arm behind his head, staring up at a black ceiling of nothingness as he thought of all that had transpired this day, and remembered the feel of Lissa in his arms.

  She alone, it seemed, held the power to unhinge him, to blast his perfectly ordered life into so much emotional upheaval, and to leave him wondering about what she was doing and with whom she was doing it.

  Was she dancing with Langford at this very moment? Was her heart beating against Langford’s chest as fully as it had thrummed against his own? Was her mouth looking as sweetly kissable to that windsucker Langford as it had appeared to Gabriel earlier?

  Damnation! thought Gabriel, squirming atop the hard bench, his mind and his heart in chaos. He could not tolerate the thought of Lissa with Langford. He should have stayed until the final guest begged off. He should have….

  Bother it all, he thought. He should have done a good many things, such as tell Lissa what was truly in his mind; that she was the most beautiful, intriguing female he’d ever met. That she had the power to overshadow even his memories of Jenny, the woman he thought he’d love forever and would never forget.

  He should have told Lissa that she’d managed in a short span of time to make him feel alive again, that she’d become a bright ray of sunshine in his life, no matter of her duplicitous plot of using his blackened past to her advantage….

  Unfortunately, he’d said none of that. Though anger had swept him into her home, his deepest reactions to the lady had made him dare only to promise to shadow her every step, kiss her passionately at her front door, and then leave.

  What a perfect fool he’d made of himself.

  A fool in love, mayhap.

  As Gabriel drifted off into restless sleep, he wondered if his supposed “liaison” with Lissa could go beyond what she’d first imagined, and if it could metamorphose into something each of them might truly want. Come dawn, he might have a clue—that is, if the lady kept her vow and met him alongside the Dove.

  He hoped she would, almost prayed for that, in fact. But prayer had not come easily to Gabriel over the past many years. In fact, prayer had become the most difficult thing of all since the death of Harry’s mother.

  Maybe tomorrow, Gabriel thought, he’d be able to make amends with Lissa, and to perhaps even pray again. Mayhap tomorrow would truly be a new beginning for him—with Lissa beside him.

  Only time would tell.

  With that thought, he finally fell into a dream-filled sleep. Pity that his dreams involved both Lissa and Langford, and with his own self drowning in restless waters kicked up by the evilness that was Langford….

  *

  Lissa came awake well before dawn. She got dressed and was pacing her rooms long before Tilly’s knock sounded upon her door. The abigail brought with her a breakfast tray as well as an apology of sorts.

  “La, m’lady,” said Tilly quietly, looking as tired and wan as Lissa felt, “I did not mean for my words to bring so much trouble. How was I to know his lordship would hear the rumor of servants?”

  Lissa was in no mood to dissect how or when Gabriel had learned of her outrageous scheme, nor was she in any mind to hash out the matter with Tilly. As Aunt Prudence had so pointedly suggested, it was high time Lissa brought her maid to heel and ceased treating the gossipy girl as someone in whom she should confide.

  “Must you go to the river this morn, m’lady?” Tilly asked.

  Lissa yanked on a pair of soft kid gloves, a warning in her gaze. “I am going, Tilly, with or without you.”

  “Even before your breakfast, m’ lady?”

  “I am not hungry,” Lissa said. “Now, if you are joining me, leave the tray and gather up my satchel and a blanket. And I am warning you, Tilly, you are not to repeat any of what you see or hear this day, is that clear?”

  “Very, m’lady.”

  Lissa headed out of her chamber, then down the hall, intending to exit the house as quickly and as quietly as possible.

  Doing so proved a breeze given the late hours of the gathering the night before. Aunt Prudence was no doubt still abed, as were the bulk of the servants. Lissa decided she and her abigail were the only ones of the manor foolish enough to be up and out the door before dawn.

  Once outside, Lissa drew her cloak more closely about her. The air was cool and still wet. She felt her body begin to shiver as she and her maid took the path that led to the river.

  Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.

  “He is no here,” whined Tilly, finally finding nerve enough to lapse into her usual lack of decorum. “Mayhap he be too angry to fish t’day, m’lady. I say we go back to the house, to bed, and let his lordship do what—”

  “He is here,” Lissa cut in, “I am certain of it.”

  “And how can ye be so certain, m’lady?”

  “Because,” said Lissa, eyes straining as she glanced upriver, “of the many things I learned about Lord Wylde last evening, I now know that a promise made by him is a promise kept.” She squared her shoulders. “Come. He will be angling near the downed log, I am sure.”

  Tilly shivered, falling back into step behind her lady. “Ooh, but I be afeared of what else m’lady learned from his lordship last night.”

  Lissa kept walking, not looking back, and making no reply to Tilly’s statement. It would be best if no one knew what she had discovered while in Gabriel’s arms last night. In fact, Lissa wished that she, herself, had no clue. Last night’s happenings had changed her. Totally and forever.

  For good or bad, Lissa had been thrust into being something more, something wholly strange and new to her—and it was all of Lord Wylde’s doing. His touch had transported her out of the cocoon she’d built abou
t herself following her father’s death… and his kiss while they had stood at the front door of the manor had taken Lissa into a realm where she’d never dared to tread but had only dreamt about.

  Even more than that, Gabriel had made Lissa yearn for more of him.

  ‘Twas a dangerous thing, this yearning. Though Lissa had only intended to use Gabriel’s blackened past to her advantage, he had whipped the tables round and queered her game. Where only yesterday she’d been thinking of her sketches and nature diary, Lissa was now contemplating far beyond those hobbies. Not only had Gabriel managed to rob her of her past times, but he’d robbed her of the safe, secure and serene future she’d envisioned for herself.

  What a perfect pirate the man was proving to be!

  Lissa worried over what his reaction would be upon seeing her this morning. Would he be surprised that she’d gotten out of bed a mere few hours after falling into it? Would he be angry? Bothersome? Frightening? Anything was possible. After all, she really did not know much about the man who was Gabriel Gordon….

  All of these thoughts were swarming through Lissa’s mind when she finally spied him near the downed log she’d traversed and had nearly fallen off of due to her vertigo. Gabriel’s dark head was bent as he tied a fly to his leader.

  Lissa summoned her courage and kept moving. Tilly meekly followed. Within a few moments the two of them were striding near to Lord Wylde, but at the final moment Tilly stubbornly held back, choosing to sit atop a river rock and pretend to be busy with her lady’s satchel.

  Lissa continued walking.

  Gabriel finally looked up, as though he’d felt her presence long before he’d heard her. His darkling eyes were a maze of emotions, though none of them fully bared.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning, my lord.”

  “I did not think you would come.”

  His statement nettled her. “Of course I came. We’ve made a pact, you and I. Regardless of what you may believe of me, due to the rumors, I am not one to shirk the vows I have made.”

  A long moment of silence slipped past, time enough for Lissa to become uncomfortable. If she wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel was growing just as uncomfortable.

  She nodded toward the fly at the end of his leader. “A green-drake, m’lord?”

  He nodded. “The very one you created. I thought I might test its mettle this morn.”

  That he’d even bothered to remember the lessons she’d schooled him in yesterday surprised Lissa—that he was using of all things a green-drake at this time of morning surprised her even more.

  “It might do,” she said.

  “Might?” Gabriel sounded miffed.

  “When I told you about the green-drake, I’d been thinking of angling during the late-morning hours. However, given the time of day just now, I believe you should affix something else to your leader. Say, a minnowlike fly.”

  Gabriel lowered his pole. “You mentioned nothing of minnows yesterday.”

  “Yesterday we were not angling this close to the dawning of the sun,” she pointed out.

  He frowned. “Nor did I think,” he muttered, “we would be doing so today, given your penchant to entertain your guests to all hours of the night.”

  Lissa lifted her chin, daring him to utter Langford’s name. “It was my friend’s natal day. A celebration was in order.”

  “One that doubtless went on past midnight. Am I correct?”

  “Had you stayed, you would know the answer to that,” Lissa shot back, her ire stirring.

  “Aye,” he said, his own mood shading into black, “had I stayed, I would know. Since I did not, though, I know not. However, I can guess what transpired.” He took a small knife from the pocket of his coat, savagely cut the green-drake from the leader, then looked up at her. “You danced with him into the wee hours, didn’t you, Lissa?”

  She stiffened, not willing to give an inch. “I grow weary of where this conversation is heading, my lord, and so—”

  “Gabriel,” he cut in. “You are to call me Gabriel.”

  Lissa pursed her lips, drawing in a huge breath. “And so,” she finished with purpose, ignoring his command, “I propose we get to the task of honoring our pact.”

  “You mean hooking the trout that ate your locket.”

  “That—and… and sharing with you my knowledge of insects.”

  “Hmmm,” he murmured. “I have given that a great deal of thought, and it seems to me, Lissa, that there is more to sharing about the insects of the Dove than there is to trying to catch your trout. In fact, there is the very real possibility that given I actually catch the fish you seek, you will be beholden to continue spending time with me in order to keep up your end of our bargain. I am wondering now if you are willing to spend more time with me than it takes to catch your fish.”

  “I had thought of that possibility,” Lissa said slowly. “And the answer is yes, I—I am willing to give of my time.”

  He seemed oddly pleased with that answer. His eyes darkened perceptively as he gazed at her. “Even in light of what transpired last night?”

  Was he goading her? Or did he, just as she, enjoy their kiss good night at her front door. “Y—yes,” she murmured, her cheeks warming beneath his scrutiny, “even in light of last evening.”

  “Good,” he said. Turning, he nodded toward his angling basket situated alongside the river. “I have brought with me from my lodge all manner of hooks, feathers and string. You should be able to construct a minnowlike fly from the assortment.”

  “How very far-thinking of you.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel agreed. “It seems, of late, I am forever thinking of the future.”

  Lissa felt a wave of pure heat wash through her. She quickly ignored it, then moved toward his basket, knelt down, opened the lid, and rummaged through its contents.

  Gabriel moved beside her.

  It proved difficult indeed for Lissa to keep her mind on the matter at hand, but she forced herself to do so. For the next half hour, she explained to Gabriel the exact things needed in creating a minnowlike fly. She hand tied a replica using the supplies he’d brought, then schooled him in the precise way of presenting it in the water for the trout.

  From then on, their morning together became not one of underlying emotion so much as it evolved into a sharing of knowledge and thoughts. As the sun climbed high above the Dove, and Tilly on her far-off rock alternately dozed and contemplated the foliage near her, Lissa and Gabriel got down to the basics of fly angling.

  Lissa created numerous flies, some representing exactly the flies flitting about the river and others a compilation of those flies. Gabriel, with his masterful casts, laid each and every one into the water.

  By noon, Gabriel had caught three trout, but not the one Lissa sought. She hunkered down near his angling basket, intent on tying yet another creation, when she heard a squeal of delight come from the woodline beside them. She looked up.

  A young boy, not more than six years old, came scurrying into their midst.

  “Papa!” the boy cried, racing straight into Gabriel’s arms.

  Gabriel, a smile breaking wide on his handsome face, stooped down to catch the lad in a strong hold. “What are you about, son?” he asked, lifting the boy high, “and where is your governess?”

  “She ish coming,” the boy said, slurring his S’s in an endearing lisp.

  Lissa looked back to the woods, seeing an older woman coming toward them. She was garbed in dark colors, and wore her brown hair in a severe knot at the back of her head.

  “Do forgive us, my lord,” said the woman, who cast a quick, apologetic glance at Lissa, “but Master Harry insisted we bring you a picnic lunch. Indeed, he said he had promised it to you, and that you had agreed.”

  “He did, did he?” asked Gabriel, smiling up into the face of the boy. He set the lad down, then chucked him under the chin. “What a famous idea, Harry. I had not even noticed it was the lunch hour.” He placed his large hands atop the boy�
�s shoulders, then gently turned him about in Lissa’s direction. “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Lissa Lovington, Harry. She is our neighbor. Her estate marches with ours alongside the Dove.” Gabriel looked up at Lissa. “I present to you my son, Harry.”

  Lissa looked into the very blue and precocious eyes of Master Harry and instantly fell in love. He was extremely handsome, with a shock of blond hair, eyes robin-egg blue, and a sweetly devilish glint about him. Where Gabriel was all darkness and exuded confusing emotions, Harry was a delightful opposite.

  “How do you do?” she said, smiling.

  Harry gave a proper bow, then curiously moved to Lissa’s side, asking a number of questions about what she was doing with all the hooks and threads and feathers.

  “I am constructing handmade flies for your papa to use while he angles. Would you like to help me?”

  “Oh, yes!” said Harry. “I would like that very much!”

  Lissa laughed. How refreshing was his honest exuberance. She motioned for Harry to settle down beside her. The boy did just that, and soon the two of them were huddling together and picking through all of the accoutrements Gabriel had brought from his river lodge.

  The boy’s governess—Miss Fabersham was her name, Lissa soon learned—seemed truly nervous about whether or not Lord Wylde would accept this invasion during his angling, but when Gabriel nodded his acquiescence, the woman relaxed. She then began unloading the picnic basket she’d brought from the house.

  While Lissa and little Harry constructed several flies, Miss Fabersham spread out a checked square of linen, then laid out plates that she soon piled high with fried chicken, fruit, chunks of bread, pudding and bean snaps. A bottle of wine soon followed. Before Lissa knew what was happening, she, Harry and Lord Wylde settled down to a riverside feast. Even Tilly accepted a plate, her cheeks pinking when Miss Fabersham shooed away her offer of helping serve the meal.