The Duke's Temptation

by Raven McAllan

  “Without ties,” she said flatly. “With the chance to stop if you want to.”

  Gibb put his glass down with care. It was that or throw it at the wall. “Do you trust me?”

  Evangeline studied him over the rim of her goblet. Did she notice how his hair needed trimming and his overnight beard showed dark on his face? Her calm eyes stared at him long and hard, and her expression gave nothing away. Then she smiled and he swore the sun came out even though it was past midnight. “Of course I do.”

  “Then let me show you what we can do for each other,” he said and rued the note of needy pleading he had injected into his voice. “I promise to try to open up.”

  She nodded as she held out her hand. “And for my part, I promise to do my best to open you up even further.” To his delight she giggled and looked the carefree young lady he swore she should be. “In a non-threatening, non-nagging and ladylike manner of course.” She spoiled her earnest words with a roll of the eyes. “I confess now, I can’t vouch for the last of those attributes.”

  “It sounds interesting.” Gibb tugged on her hand until she fell into him. Her body was curvaceous and molded perfectly to him. “Ladylike is overrated.” Her warm breath feathered over his neck and her hair tickled his cheek. It felt, he realized, right.

  “Shall we try this?” He put his lips to hers. It put all thoughts of what she was hiding out of his mind.

  Chapter Five

  Gibb inhaled as he touched his lips to Evangeline’s. Her scent surrounded him, teased every sense and tightened every sinew and muscle in his body. It would be oh so easy to sink into her and let himself be overwhelmed. She was everything he thought a woman should be. Without any deliberation whatsoever, he intensified the kiss and blocked any other notion out except there and then. Evangeline sighed and the noise reverberated through him. Gibb realized he’d growled in response, and deep inside him something almost forgotten stirred. He ran his hands over her back and down to the soft, rounded globes of her bottom, holding her in place, insisting she felt his body’s response to her.

  To his delight Evangeline let her tongue mesh with his. Her lips softened and she sank into their kiss. His senses whirled as he deepened the caress, and almost dream-like swayed with her in his arms.

  It was… ‘Gibb, Gibb, why are you not with me?’ Violently, he pushed Evangeline back and held her shoulders as he trembled uncontrollably.

  “Oh god.” The words tore from him in anguish. “Why now, oh, why? It’s over. No more.” A sob escaped him as he saw Evangeline’s wide-eyed and hurt expression. “Not you, Evangeline, not you. Oh, bloody hell, never you.”

  “Hush.” She kissed his cheek and rubbed his back like a mother comforting a child. “If not me, who then?”

  He shuddered and it was her turn to embrace him and hold him close. “Tell me, Gibb, share your terrors with me. Let me help.”

  “Will it never go away?” he asked in despair. His forehead was clammy and beads of sweat dotted his skin. “Will I never stop hearing her? Am I to be tortured forever for not being what she wanted? I told her what I was, she said it was fine. She said she wanted no more than I did. She lied and I couldn’t change. Why should I? I told her what I am. Told her, and she accepted it or so she said. She lied.”

  “Who, Gibb?”

  He took a deep breath and looked into Evangeline’s eyes. He wondered what she saw as she hugged him closer.

  “H…Hester. My late wife.”

  Did she see a shell of a man? A man who could not save his wife from killing herself? Someone not worthy of her attention? He hoped not, but he couldn’t blame her if that were the case. It was true.

  “Ah.” There was a wealth of understanding in her voice. She held him tight as if to transfer her warmth and vitality to him.

  “You know,” he said flatly. “What happened.”

  “No more than that she died, and since then you have turned inward and refused to contemplate remarriage,” Evangeline said. “I have neither asked nor been told any more.”

  “I killed her.” He waited for her to pull back or shudder. She did neither. A featherlight kiss touched his forehead.

  “No, you did not,” Evangeline said in a firm voice. “Stop thinking that. She died in a boating accident, even I know that, and that you were not there.”

  “I as good as killed her. Hester wanted more of me than I could give. She needed attention and adoration and I had neither for her. I was told she took my boat out in a temper. My steward explained to her there was a storm coming and it wouldn’t be safe to put to sea and she told him to mind his own business. That if I couldn’t be bothered to pay her attention she would take something of mine I did care about. I…” He cleared his throat. “I believe she was going to leave me and go to Ireland. Where…oh, where she might have had a lover. She left, and I never saw her again. Even her body didn’t turn up for weeks and then…then she was recognizable only by the rings she wore. It was all my fault, I should never have married her.”

  “You can’t say that,” Evangeline said fiercely. “She was the one who tried to change your agreement.”

  “I know, but, but…”

  “No buts.” She put her hand over his mouth again. “You made your intentions clear. She accepted them. She is the one to blame.”

  “I try to tell myself that,” Gibb said, weary to the depth of his soul. “It is easier said than done.”

  “Of course it is. It’s human nature to feel you have failed. That you haven’t given someone what they need. But did she give you what you needed?”

  He shrugged. How could he admit such a thing? It would not be the conduct of a gentleman.

  Evangeline nodded. “I take that as evidently not. My advice to you is for you to try harder. But, I also advise you to beware. You know the grand dames of the ton think it’s time you remarry and beget an heir,” Evangeline said. “And they intend to harass you until you agree.”

  “Of course, they take every opportunity available to them to inform me of my alleged duty. And I suspect some would not be averse to aiding one of their protégées into a situation where a betrothal is inevitable. It will not happen. Forewarned is forearmed.”

  It was no wonder he fled to his country estate whenever he could and left when he had to. This extended stay, due to Evangeline, must be like manna from heaven to them. “They can harass as much as they like. I have ignored them, and will continue to do so.”

  “Do they not know of your anguish?” Evangeline demanded in a tone that made him yearn to see her on form with certain older members of the ton. “Misplaced torment, I must say, for as unpleasant as it is to speak ill of the dead, your late wife sounds selfish and spoiled.”

  Gibb laughed hollowly. Evangeline had summed Hester up to perfection. “Yes, she was, but to them it matters not, and nor do my feelings about it all. To them it is over. To me it never, ever will be. Not just because I failed her, but also because no one seems to accept what is said. Why do people think they can change others?” he asked, bitter as he remembered some of the more unpleasant instances where he had been harangued. “Can one not be accepted for what they are, not what you can make them? Remarry? It’s not going to happen. Even if a potential wife swears on the Bible she will marry for convenience and expect no more, I cannot and will not believe them. Someone else can sort out the succession for it won’t be me.” He was silent for several seconds, and rested his head on her shoulder. Evangeline didn’t speak but carried on rubbing his back in a circular, rhythmic motion. Eventually he looked up at her.

  “Do you still want to be friends?” he asked dryly. “Dare you risk it?”

  “Don’t be daft.” The British expression sounded strange in her French accent. It seemed with him she had no need to hide behind a false one. “Of course I do and I dare,” she said. “We, my lord, will confuse all and sundry with our relationship.”

  “Do you think it will spare me matchmaking mamas?”

  “If not I will throw my knive
s at them,” Evangeline said in such a matter-of-fact way he smiled. “Slowly and with great precision,” she added, and grinned. “I am excellent at that.”

  Gibb laughed wholeheartedly. “I like the sound of it. Evangeline, I am sure you will be good for me.”

  “Of course I will. I am French.”

  * * * *

  Several weeks later Evangeline sat in front of her bedroom mirror and examined her face with care eyes…two of a deep midnight blue. Brows, a neat semi-arc. Hair, a mass of curls and black as a raven’s wing. It had a mind of its own. Nose, what her maman called retroussé and she called button. Mouth…too wide maybe, but in her job that was nothing to worry about. Complexion. Not like her compatriots’ olive tones, but milky. What one swain called Celtic and she thought insipid.

  Therefore, a little rouge was, she supposed, necessary for her extravaganzas, but not for a ride in the park with Gibb.

  A ride in the park. How nice that sounded, even if it was at the unfashionable time of seven in the morning. Evangeline smoothed down her deep-red twill habit and pondered on how her life had changed over the preceding weeks. Gibb and she spent a fair amount of time together without being in each other’s pockets, and were discovering facets of their personalities Evangeline suspected neither of them had known they had. So far no one had commented to her on their association so she suspected it was probably the same with Gibb, but assumed it was a matter of time.

  Gibb would, he assured her, inform anyone who was so crass as to prod him that his life was his own and of no interest to anyone else. She hoped she could do the same if she were approached. If either of them thought their answer would satisfy their questioners they didn’t say. It was one occasion, Evangeline decided, that it was not worth sharing her doubts.

  The sound of footsteps on her stairs drew her to her feet. Giving Gibb a key had been, she reminded herself, a good thing. This way he could use the now on-his-decree-forbidden-to-her rear entrance and make his way upstairs unchallenged. She had mentioned it to Eloise, who had stared at her through narrowed eyes. Then just as Evangeline was about to scream, nodded.

  “On your head.”

  “Oh yes.”

  Gibb tapped on her door and she opened it. The swift kiss was as pleasant as it was unexpected. “You smell of summer,” he said as she pulled on her gloves. “It is refreshing.”

  “Rose water,” Evangeline said, and wished she could stop her pulse speeding up whenever he was close. If he noticed, not only would she be mortified, he would no doubt also renege on their agreement on the assumption she had. “Just a few drops of rose water, nothing more.”

  “Whatever, it is a breath of sweetness. Much nicer than the overwhelming scent Miss Jessop seems to think necessary.” Gibb grimaced. “I was introduced to her at Lady Wilton’s last night and it nigh on overpowered me.”

  Evangeline quashed the niggle of jealousy that flooded into her—she had no right to feel so—and laughed. “Perhaps that was her intention.”

  “What?” Gibb closed the door behind them and locked it before he pocketed the key. “What intention?”

  “To overpower you.”

  “I bloody well hope not,” Gibb protested. “I swear they are getting bolder. I had no intention of attending any bloody soirees but Stanley Wilton corralled me outside White’s and begged me attend, to, as he put it, give him support. As Stanley is one of the few people who never pester me to become my old self once more, or offer to introduce me to a woman, I thought it the least I could do. How wrong I was. The twittering simpletons were all over me like a flock of predatory birds. Not a nice experience. The fact that it was worse for Stanley kept my mouth shut and my annoyance in check. Even so, I was home before midnight, so that must tell you something. Horrendous. If it weren’t for you, I’d be miles away by now. Are you sure you don’t fancy a sojourn in Scotland?”

  “Quite sure,” Evangeline said as she squashed the thought that it would be very nice, if only she didn’t have secrets to fathom out. “And please, don’t feel you have to stay here on my account.”

  “I won’t.” He patted her glove-clad hand. “You should know by now I do what I want, not what is expected.”

  She sniggered. If he thought that, who was she to point out the discrepancies in his idea? “That’s me put in my place. In all seriousness, I do appreciate all you do, but I don’t want it to, how do you say, have it rebound on you.”

  Honey, her horse, which after a great degree of argument she had agreed to let Gibb purchase from the stables she had belonged to and keep for her, whickered her welcome as Gibb helped Evangeline to mount and settle herself. It had taken a lot of persuasion on Gibb’s behalf for Evangeline to give in with grace and offer her thanks. To be beholden to him, or anyone, was very difficult for someone so independent.

  However, each time she rode, she gave thanks once again.

  Evangeline held the reins in a loose grip, until Gibb joined her and the groom stepped back. The youthful groom would meet them at the stables later.

  “It won’t rebound, I promise,” Gibb said. “So which way? To the lake or to the paths first?”

  “The lake,” Evangeline answered. “Before it gets busy. Then we can be more decorous if need be and stick to the paths.”

  “So be it.”

  They let the horses make the pace as they moved on in companionable silence. Overhead a skein of geese flew low to settle on the lake with a great deal of noise and fluttering of wings. Evangeline looked at them as they began to glide elegantly across the surface of the lake, creating ripples on the otherwise still surface of the water. “It must be good to be able to roam at will,” she said. “To know if this place becomes too hot or too quiet, you can move on without any ties or worries.”

  “Except for being shot and ending up as someone’s dinner,” Gibb said.

  Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Oh, trust you. Now all my illusions are spoiled. I will never look at geese again without thinking of fruit sauce.”

  “Sorry,” he said and sounded not the least bit repentant. “Did you never eat goose in France?”

  “It was out of our orbit. We managed on fish, if we had caught them, eggs when the hens were laying, chicken when they stopped and of course vegetables. I always thought geese so majestic and so free and now you tell me their ending is for our stomachs. One more misapprehension solved.” She laughed. “Not true of course, but it is a good thought, eh?”

  Gibb inclined his head. “Indubitably. But, my dear, this is life as we know it. One person’s freedom is the other person’s prison. Freedom is but an illusion for everyone and everything.”

  “You are a cynic,” Evangeline observed as a moorhen squawked and swam through the reeds.

  Gibb nodded in agreement. “Now, let us talk of nicer things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Ah, now you have me. You decide.”

  “My extravaganza next week at Vauxhall? Will you be there?”

  “Of course.” He sounded amazed she even needed to ask.

  Evangeline wondered why. After all, nothing was certain.

  “I have bespoken a box,” Gibb continued. “Where we will take supper.”

  “We will?” She was surprised by his assertion. “Won’t people talk?”

  “Perhaps,” he said with indifference. “But as they are talking already, I see no reason why we should not enjoy a good supper after your act. As long as you do not pick me for your victim.”

  Evangeline sniggered as she shook her head. She might not want to be the center of attraction in any way except on stage, but gossip was inevitable. “I wouldn’t dare single you out for that. I prefer someone more aware of themselves and not in a good way.”

  “Someone whose ego you can deflate a little?” Gibb suggested and she laughed. “That’s an idea,” he continued. “Can I give you a list, do you think? It would be a long one, though, and difficult to decide who should head it.”

  “No need, I have one up here.” She tapped
her head. “I just have to look at some people and know they will suit.” They angled down a side track and the horses picked up their pace into a decorous canter, which still left Evangeline able to speak and know Gibb could hear and respond if he wished. “And some I steer clear of.”

  “Have you ever hit anyone by mistake?” Gibb asked as the horses lengthened their strides a little. “Even a nick?”

  “Not ever by mistake, although I have purported to have done so,” Evangeline admitted with a wry smile. “I will name no names but say retribution was oh so satisfying. The couchon had tried to interfere with the young daughter of someone I admire, who is a friend. I did nothing more than graze his staff and slice his leg. Before he said anything to me the father of the girl threatened to do a better job. I believe the bastard went to the Indies and stayed there.”

  “Best place,” Gibb said stonily. “For if anyone of honor found out his fate would have been worse. Much worse.”

  “Says the man who professes not to care about others.”

  “I seem to have forced that attitude into the background at times. That would have been one of them.” They had circled the track around the lake and began to walk their horses back toward Bruton Street. “When I see injustice done, I feel beholden to try and reverse it. But that is not personal, it is on behalf of my sex or standing. I sometimes am ashamed I am a man and a peer.”

  “Women can also behave as bad,” Evangeline remarked. “It is a sad state of affairs that most people do not believe it to be so. Me? I know so. As I work I see things that people do not realize. To them I am part of the furniture.”

  “What do you do if you see injustice?” Gibb asked with interest. “Apart from throwing a knife at whoever is the cause of it.”

  She laughed bleakly. “Make sure someone in authority finds out. Often it is a young gentleman’s mama who receives the news. There is no one better to put the fear of God into a young imbecile.”