The Duke's Temptation

by Raven McAllan

  No, he does not want involvement. “I wonder who it is.”

  “So does she. We might find out from her one day.”

  How to reply? “That would be interesting. I might discover a cousin four times removed or something.”

  “Would you like that?”

  She considered how best to answer. “It is always nice to know you have family, I suppose, but how would they react to me or I to them? Are they prince or pauper? French, English or neither? Would they welcome me or turn me away? Perhaps I am best not knowing.”

  “You don’t think that,” Gibb said. “Everyone wants to know who they are.”

  “I do not know what I think,” Evangeline replied. “Except who I am at this moment. Anyway, it is immaterial. She has no idea, nor do I, so I will not spend any more time on the puzzle and move on.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I eat the last piece of cheese,” Gibb said with a grin. “After all, it will go stale if we leave it.”

  She laughed, as he had no doubt intended her to. “You and your cheese.” She passed him the plate with two wedges of cheese and an onion on it.

  Gibb twitched his nose and stroked imaginary whiskers. “Squeak.”

  Evangeline’s heart missed a beat. In this lighthearted mood, if he asked she would give him anything. She was too fond of him, too involved with him, and something would need to come to a head soon. As an unmarried female, she wasn’t totally ignorant of the facts of life, but knowing them and knowing how to act were two very different things. Now that she knew she was illegitimate, the thought of bringing a child up alone was not a pleasant one. She remembered the stigma of his birth status being thrown at a lad in the village they had both lived in. No child should have to go through those taunts if it were at all possible not to. Now she had almost saved enough to give up knife-throwing and set out on her quest to discover why her maman had wanted her to come to England and a child was not to be thought of. Even so, if Gibb pressured her to make love, she would be hard-pressed to say no.

  “I best go,” she said as Gibb waved the brandy at her. “If I have any more I won’t want to.”

  “You could stay,” he said in a voice that gave nothing away.

  “I could but…” She bit her lip. “Gibb, I like you very much. You are the friend I never had. In all honesty, I do not know if I could cope with more. You, I think, do not want any more emotional entanglement and if we took the next step there would of course be some. So…?”

  “So, stay as a friend,” he said. “Separate rooms if you desire. Or if you trust me, just to hold and be held. I would do no more unless you asked, I promise.”

  The silence was overwhelming as he looked at her without speaking. The choice was hers. He always kept his promises.

  At long last she sighed. “That sounds perfect. It is an age since I slept in anyone’s arms, and that was my maman.”

  “I’m not your maman,” he pointed out with a smile. “Anything but.”

  “No, but I trust you as I did her.”

  “Then come with me.” Gibb stood up and held out his hand. Evangeline took it and let him pull her to her feet.

  “Show me,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  Surely she should have felt uncomfortable? Awkward or out of her depth? She didn’t. Gibb led her to a large bedchamber where the bed, high-legged with an intricate headboard and footboard, took center stage. The wallpaper was light, pretty and not at all what she expected. The fireplace held a large display of rushes, and as Gibb lit the lamp Evangeline was able to admire the patchwork quilt on the bed.

  “You do not sleep here,” she said as Gibb turned to her. It did not seem possible that this was the duke’s quarters. Was she not good enough to go in there with him?

  “I do. The ducal chamber holds memories I don’t want to think of. This was my room as a young man, and I had it redecorated for me after”—he cleared his throat—“after Hester died. It is no secret what our life together was like toward the end. She would storm into my room to rant and rail. I hated it and that chamber. This is a happy room. I want to be happy in it with you.”

  “Then you will be,” Evangeline said with certainty. The dynamics of the situation hit her. She had no nightrail, no gown and needed the facilities. “Ah…” She would wager her cheeks were as red as the velvet curtains that draped the windows.

  Gibb looked puzzled then his eyes twinkled. “Oh yes. Through that door. Meanwhile, I will find you something to wear.”

  She prayed that whatever he came up with, it wouldn’t be something that had belonged to his wife.

  Evangeline rushed through her ablutions. It was unnerving to know Gibb was in the next room as she used the twig brush he had found for her to scrub her teeth with, with a smile at her astonishment.

  “I admit it is a conceit of mine, to have an unused toothbrush at hand. I have them made for me a dozen at a time,” he’d said before he indicated towels. It was an intimacy she’d never thought she would know and one she didn’t know how to think about. Was this what it was like to share a house with a man? To share a room? If it was, didn’t it make one uncomfortable?

  Deep in thought, Evangeline finger-combed her hair and twisted it into a loose plait Sadly, she had no ribbon to hold it in place and she had no intention of going to bed with a head full of hairpins. Gibb would have to run the risk of a mouthful of hair.

  That brought up another thought. What were they going to do?

  I will never find out skulking in here. En avant. She took a deep breath and jumped as there was a sharp knock on the door.

  “Evangeline?”

  It was Gibb. Who else would it be? she thought as she stifled a nervous giggle. The man in the moon?

  “If I open the door an inch I can pass a shirt through for you to wear,” he said gruffly. “It will also swallow you up, but I thought it best in the circumstances.”

  “Oh yes, thank you.” Her voice was as unnatural as his had been. It was ridiculous. They were friends for goodness’ sake. “I don’t want to shiver,” she said in a normal tone. “Or make you cold.” She stood to one side as the door opened and a garment was held out.

  “I would squeal like a stuck pig if you put your cold feet on me,” Gibb said with a laugh. “And retaliate. So here you are. One shirt, to wear to save your blushes and me cold feet.”

  It was indeed a shirt. Evangeline looked at it, realized how she was dressed and groaned.

  Stays. The dratted torture item of clothing she despised. There was no way she could unlace them herself, and no way she was going to sleep in them. She gave an impatient huff and stared at the now-closed door. There was nothing for it. Evangeline took a deep breath, opened the door to the bedchamber and stepped into the room.

  The empty-of-any-other-human-being room.

  She let her breath out in an amused hiss. There she was, all churned up, emotions on high alert and embarrassment ready to take over as she asked Gibb for help, and he wasn’t there.

  What now? She wandered around the room and took her first long, unencumbered glance around. When she’d entered with Gibb she’d had impressions, but nothing concrete. His presence and the sense that something out of her orbit was about to happen had seen to that. Those first impressions, though, to her relief, had been correct. This room was beautiful.

  I could be happy here. Not that she would get the chance. This was something out of the ordinary. A chance to receive comfort and give it back. No strings, no ties, no emotional connection. It was getting ever harder.

  “Evangeline?” Gibb had once more crept up on her unnoticed. For a tall man he was very quiet as he moved. She noticed that now he wore a banyan striped in shades of blue, and his feet were bare. She glanced at his face, not allowing herself to look elsewhere. “What’s wrong?”

  “Stays,” she said, brief and to the point, and hoped her embarrassment didn’t show. “I need help.”

  “Of course, I should have thought of it,” Gibb said gravely. Eit
her he didn’t see her chagrin, or was gentleman enough to ignore it. “If you perhaps take your gown down to your waist and ah, cover your front with a towel?”

  “Thank you.” She dashed into the next room to do as he asked and returned with a large sheet of linen held over her bosom.

  “Turn around.”

  She complied then, oh my, his hands stroked her skin as he began to fumble with the laces. Why did they always go into knots when you didn’t want them to?

  His breath was warm on her neck as he bent his head and his fingers deftly began to undo the knots. He muttered something under his breath as he moved closer and Evangeline stopped breathing.

  Something was hard up against her spine. Something virile and male. Gibb laughed.

  “I can’t make it go away, but I promise I will not let it do what it wants to. Ah, almost done.” His matter-of-fact attitude helped Evangeline. She was mature enough to accept that sometimes close proximity could make people over-aware of each other. After all, her pulse was jumping and her muscles tight.

  “There,” Gibb said in satisfaction. “You should be able to step out of them now. One of the knots is too tight for me to move but this should do.”

  Her stays slid down and she stepped out of them. Now what? How to get into the shirt he gave her without baring her all. Maybe she should have said she would sleep in her shift? But then… Oh shut up. She moved from one foot to the other. “Er…”

  Gibb snorted. “I promise to turn my back until you do whatever you have to do. I suggest you then get under the covers before you tell me it is all right to turn around.”

  That she could do. But never, she thought, in the history of mankind, had anyone pulled off their undergarments, struggled into a man’s shirt and scrambled under the blankets as fast. She was panting when she told Gibb he could turn around. He did so slowly, looked at her and stood stock-still, like one of the statues in the park.

  “You,” he said in the voice of a man at the end of his tether, “appear as if you belong there.”

  Evangeline pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her plait hadn’t stood up to all her frantic undressing and redressing without unravelling. “And?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  If he didn’t, she as sure as eggs were eggs didn’t either. “Get into bed?” she suggested. “And we can relax.”

  “If you think that, you are very naïve, my dear,” Gibb said as he pulled back the covers on the empty side of the bed. “But I hope we can be comfortable.” He stretched out against the pillows and with a grin tugged his shirt down and pulled her into his side. “Now then.” He put his arm around her and pressed her head to his banyan-covered chest. “Is that not comfortable?

  His heart beat unsteadily under her cheek, comforting, shouting in some indefinable way ‘security’. His arm circled her with warmth and slowly she relaxed.

  “It is for me but…” She left her question unsaid. Was this a step too far? It felt intimate to her, but how did that affect Gibb? Was it going to mean he looked at her with annoyance, or told her he didn’t want to stay friends? Lord, life was complicated.

  Gibb tightened his arm and pressed a soft kiss to her hair before he laughed ruefully. “I can cope. Now go to sleep.”

  He turned the lamp to low and began to stroke her back in those rhythmic circles she had once used on him. Much to her surprise, she slid into sleep.

  * * * *

  In the dim light that filtered around the shutters Gibb moved his head, looked at the sleeping woman in his arms and willed his erection to subside. The lamp had long gone out and the room was lit by that glimpse of the eerie predawn sky. Someone, or both of them, had moved around enough during the night hours to bunch her borrowed nightwear around her waist and his own garment even higher. At some point he had inserted one long leg between her slender ones and now she was half over him, her soft contours molded to him, her long black tresses a cloak over his chest. Her breath disturbed the hairs on his neck and her arms were as tight around him as his were around her.

  It was oh so beautiful. How difficult it was not to move and do what he craved. Especially when his staff was hard and his senses so aware of her. Would it be so bad? To fill her, take her, slake his thirst, his neediness, and make her his? His? Perhaps that was going too far. His for now maybe, but sadly, even that was not going to happen.

  Still fast asleep, Evangeline scrunched up her nose and muttered something unintelligible. She shifted a little and took hold of some of his chest hair. A sweet, unbearable pain. Gibb began to move.

  “No…n…” She muttered as her hold tightened and her other arm pressed even closer to him. Gibb watched and saw the exact moment Evangeline woke up, took in her surroundings and her present position and blushed. A blush he would love to trace and see where it covered.

  “My apologies,” he said, and did his best to ignore his erratic pulse and the soft, half-awake expression on her face. “We both seemed to know what was needed and took it.” It was half true. He thought it better he didn’t add that he had refrained from taking everything he desired.

  Evangeline blinked and looked up at him skeptically. “And that is it?”

  He shrugged and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Found out. No, not really. If we had done that, for my part we would be naked and I would be deep inside you.”

  If possible her blush deepened and she swallowed hard. “I would love that,” she said and dropped her head back to rest on his chest. Did she speak wistfully? “But…”

  “But,” he agreed with a heavy heart and a dry mouth. “But maybe I can let you discover a little of what a man and woman can do? Without going too far. The choice, my dear, is yours.” Gibb held his breath, conscious that he had made the biggest step ever in his post-Hester life.

  He counted to thirteen before she nodded, and didn’t reply. Would it be lucky or unlucky thirteen? Gibb opened his mouth to say not to worry, he understood that it was too much to ask. Evangeline put her fingers over his lips.

  “Always you are impatient,” she said solemnly. “This is a big decision for me and not to be rushed.”

  He nodded and stayed silent. Evangeline played with the hairs on his chest and wriggled as his erection did its best to be involved in her decision-making process. It was hell not to move his staff to a place where he might be able to tempt her to let him show her extra delights of the flesh, but Gibb held himself rigid. He would not seduce her into intimacy. More intimacy, he amended in his mind. After all, if semi-naked in each other’s arms was not intimate, what was?

  That thought made his heart miss a beat. He did not want intimacy. That led to dependence and heartache. But… Evangeline lifted her head and stared at his eyes.

  “I think,” she said, “I would like that.”

  New aches in places she’d never even known existed, Evangeline mused as she made her careful way down the internal stairs to Eloise’s quarters the following evening. Gibb was attending Parliament for a debate and she and Eloise were about to have supper together. It was perhaps a good thing, she reflected, for Gibb and her to spend time apart. It would be all too easy to read more into their friendship than there perhaps was, and a little distance might clarify it for her. For Gibb, she had no idea and did not intend to press him for his thoughts on the subject.

  She’d made a hearty cassoulet as her contribution to her and Eloise’s supper, and was sure Eloise would have some of their favorite cheese and wine. It was the sort of evening they both enjoyed and never seemed to get often enough. Evangeline was aware that she spent a lot of time with Gibb, and hoped it didn’t mean she had neglected Eloise. She vowed to ask her as soon as possible if it were the case.

  She asked the question as soon as they were settled.

  “Neglected me? Where on earth did you get that idea?” Eloise seemed surprised at the query as she began to pour them each a glass of deep red wine. She stopped when the glasses were only half full and held the decanter in the a
ir. “I think, considering what busy lives we lead, we meet a lot. Now disabuse yourself of such stupidity and tell me how Vauxhall went. I’m agog to hear your version of events. My salon has been awash with twittering women and their versions, of which no two were the same. If I believed half of them you had a dancing bear, a naked man, three small people who threw knives at you and Denby Crowe being his usual obnoxious self.”

  Evangeline stared and shook her head to clear it. She blew hair out of her eyes and blinked. “Vaux… Ah, yes, Vauxhall, I forgot we have not had a chance to converse in any great depth since then.” Had it been only four nights ago? It seemed like weeks, not days. “Take it from me the one grain of truth is Crowe, and apart from him it went as I hoped. It was, as you intimated, the place that Crowe, the imbecile, thought to interfere.” She shuddered as she told Eloise the story and remembered what could have happened if Gibb had not held his nerve. “It was to his grace’s fast thinking and disposition he didn’t manage to do so. Instead it was he—Crowe—who was seen to be in the wrong. His sister also tried to entrap Gibb, in the manner you said she would. Thanks to your advance notice she was also thwarted.”

  “The besoms.” Eloise appeared outraged. “What is the ton coming to?”

  Evangeline laughed at Eloise’s outraged expression and assumed the question was rhetorical. However, she chose to impart her thoughts on it. “As far as I know nothing is different from ages ago. All is fair in war and the ton. The upshot is that I believe Crowe and his sister are now out of the city and in shame. I wish I could say I am sorry, but it would be a lie.” She recounted all else that had happened at the gardens. “Now I hope I can move on with my quest.” She didn’t mention Gibb or their recent togetherness. It was all too new to share. Plus, Evangeline was uneasily aware Gibb hadn’t yet come to terms with how he considered this new stage. Perhaps she hadn’t either.

  “Be careful,” Eloise warned her as she set the table. “Crowe will have friends who would back him up, and I swear the tabbies would do nothing to help you.”