The Duke's Temptation

by Raven McAllan

  “We are almost home, your grace. Perhaps you might tell me what it is you want to explain, before we arrive.” There, that didn’t sound needy or attention-seeking, did it?

  “Gibb. You used to call me Gibb.”

  She shrugged. “I did.”

  “And you do not intend to now? Oh hell, it’s not easy,” Gibb said. Lord, he sounded irritable as he took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m edgy.”

  And he thinks I am not? At least he knows what is about to be said. I don’t have a clue.

  “They say nothing of importance in life is easy.” Evangeline glanced out of the window as the carriage turned into Bruton Street and saw the familiar buildings and the nameplates of the businesses housed therein. It was one of those moments when she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You have two minutes before we arrive and I’m home. I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

  Gibb stuck his head out of the window and groaned.

  Groaned? Why?

  “Damn, you are correct. That’s not long enough. May I come and explain tomorrow?” he asked in an urgent tone as he returned his attention to her. “It’s important. Truly, I need more than two minutes. Let me take you for a ride or a walk in the park, or to the theater? We could talk in the interval.”

  “I don’t think so.” She sighed. It all sounded so enticing, but she had to guard against future hurt. Once was more than enough, and time spent together doing social things would not help her there. “Come at eleven if you must.” The look in his eye warned her he was about to argue. “I have both an afternoon and a supper engagement,” she added in a rush. She’d make sure she did by the morrow.

  “Can’t you break them?” he asked.

  If Gibb had sounded more involved than he did, Evangeline might have given in to his request, but his tone intimated otherwise. He might say it was important, but somehow Evangeline doubted their idea of important was the same. “Why should I?”

  The coach stopped and Gibb got out to hand her down. He looked somewhat incredulous at her refusal and perhaps, Evangeline pondered as she smiled her thanks and put her hand in his, she glimpsed a little hurt in his eyes? She owned up to the fact that it satisfied her somewhat to see that emotion displayed, however fleeting—she wouldn’t be honest if she didn’t. Even so, it wasn’t enough to change her mind.

  “Eleven. I’ll warn the doorman.” She tried to tug her hand free but Gibb held on.

  “Not yet.” Without warning, Gibb pulled her closer and anchored her tight against him. His breath was on her cheek for a scant second before his lips crushed hers. His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth and without volition her lips softened and parted to give him entrance.

  Her gown crushed between them as she gave in to sweet temptation and clutched Gibb’s shoulders then let her hands drift lower until she held the taut globes of his rear in her palms. He laughed deep and low in his throat and mimicked her actions until they were so close together their clothes were no barrier to what she could feel.

  His erection.

  His attraction to her.

  Was it enough?

  Somehow, she didn’t think so. However, Evangeline decided as Gibb gentled the kiss and coherent thoughts began to form again, a lot would depend on what he shared on the morrow.

  “Hell, love, I could take you here against the coach, but as sure as the sun will rise once the moon has set, the watch would go by or the horses bolt and we’d end up on our backs in the gutter.”

  She shuddered. That would not project the demeanor she wanted. “Not a good idea.” Evangeline disentangled herself and shook her sadly crushed skirts out. “Eleven.” She bolted for the door.

  It opened at her first peremptory rap of the knocker and she was able to thank the man who stood there before she took the stairs two at a time. Sleep was impossible, so perhaps hot milk would help.

  It didn’t.

  * * * *

  Several hours later she watched the sun come up over the chimney pots and heard the clock strike the hour, just as she had every sixty minutes since she’d rolled into bed. Six a.m. and no point in staying where she was.

  The thought of any more hot milk made her somewhat nauseous, as did the thought of chocolate. Evangeline found some water that had been thoroughly boiled—it never paid to take chances with well-drawn water in the capital—and stood at the window looking out over the semi-quiet streets.

  London never slept, she knew that, and the lamplighter, the watch and several cats of various colors indicated that. But the rumble of carriages, the slamming of doors and the raucous cries of the pie sellers were absent. No hackneys plied their trade, no chimney sweep trod the dusty streets and no peeler looked around suspiciously.

  Peace.

  If only she felt the same, all would be perfect. However, a churning stomach, goosebumps and something nasty crawling up her spine were not conducive to tranquility. All she could hope for was semi-harmony.

  By ten she’d eaten some oats, lost them in the chamber pot and refreshed her mouth with yet more water. She hadn’t felt like this since the day she had boarded the smelly fishing boat that had carried her to England. Even meeting her father hadn’t brought such a drastic result. Evangeline washed her face and hands, pinched her cheeks to add color and took a deep breath. Eloise, who had appeared half an hour earlier, looked at her anxiously.

  “I have to go, I have a client due. Are you sure you will be all right?”

  Evangeline nodded. “I will be fine. It seems I just needed to get everything out of my system except him.” She shrugged. “Maybe also him, we will see.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gibb elected to walk to Bruton Street, in part so he could rehearse what he wanted to say. Silly to feel as nervous as a virgin about to discover the delights of the flesh, but there it was. He trembled and had such a toad—it was bigger than a frog—in his throat it threatened to choke any words he tried to utter. He’d best lose it soon.

  The temptation to peel off and head for his club was almost impossible to ignore. Only a fierce will, and the knowledge that if he didn’t turn up at eleven Evangeline could and no doubt would write him off, kept him walking in the correct direction. He greeted a crony absently and watched the man stare at him as if he had lost his mind. Gibb, not the other man. Gibb accepted he was known for his attention to politeness, and awareness—not due to a lack of them. But then, he knew something others did not. He accepted it was too late to rectify his mistake with his friend, except apologize when they next met, but he hoped not too late with Evangeline.

  The next hour would define his future.

  To his annoyance it didn’t start off in the right direction.

  The doorman stared at him long and hard before he admitted that ‘Mam-sell’ was expecting him. Then he’d had to be shown a room to duck into to avoid a crony of his late mama and her obnoxious husband-hunting daughter. The doorman had smirked as he’d hidden Gibb from sight, and Gibb swore he was left in the closet-sized room for longer than necessary. Even so, he thanked the man. For that couple to spy him would be the final straw. Then, if that wasn’t enough, before he’d climbed the last flight of stairs, Eloise had cornered him, taken his arm, marched him into her workroom and proceeded to interrogate him. As he had no intention of sharing his thoughts with anyone except Evangeline it was a difficult ten minutes of verbal sparring on his behalf and enough hard-hitting questions on hers to make him squirm. When Eloise let him go, he could see she was unsatisfied and unsettled and he could do nothing to allay her fears.

  Somewhat rattled, he knocked softly on Evangeline’s door. At least she opened it promptly and stood back to let him enter. Then, uncertain, he hovered.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, sit down.” Evangeline waved toward a comfortable chair set near the blazing fire. “You look like death warmed up.”

  “I feel it.” Gibb grinned against his will as he sat in the chair she indicated and crossed his long legs elegantly—or so he hoped. They could look like
a tangle of ropes for all he knew at that moment. “Is it any wonder? I gave an acquaintance the cold shoulder by accident, have been scrutinized by your doorman, had to hide like a criminal to avoid the Countess of Marksham and her odious daughter and had the thumbscrew interrogation by Eloise. All before noon.” He rolled his eyes. “On top of a fitful night’s sleep.”

  “Poor thing.” She patted his shoulder. “Then if I offer you ale?”

  “I’ll take it,” Gibb said. “And pretend it is noon. Truly, I have suffered.”

  “So you say.” She gave him a sympathetic glance.

  Did he look as haggard as he felt? It must be convenient to pour the liquid and keep your hands busy. He had to force himself not to pick at his nails or twist his fingers together. How pathetic.

  “Let us hope this will help.” She passed him a tankard. “Perhaps if you just say what you want?”

  “That is so easy to say and not so much to do.” Hadn’t he spent most of the night agonizing over how to explain himself? “However, I will try. Promise you will hear me out and let me finish?”

  Evangeline looked surprised. “Of course, but why do you think I may not?”

  Gibb grimaced. “I don’t know. All I understand is this is important and I am not at my most articulate at the moment. It…” He hesitated. It had to be said. “It worries me.”

  “That something does is obvious. You are unraveling my tablecloth and performing contortions with your ankles. Spit it out and relax.” She smiled. “Have a drink. It might help.”

  Gibb exhaled loud and long. “I think I had better.” He swallowed some of the ale. “Thank you. I never thought I would need this for courage.”

  Now Evangeline looked worried. He watched her every move from under his lowered lashes. Would she understand? He thought her sympathetic and far-seeing, but… He bit his lip and forced himself to wait until she had poured herself some water and sat in a matching chair at right angles to his.

  “Tell me what is on your mind, Gibb, before I copy you and I end up with no table covering and so tied in knots I’m there forever.”

  Now the ‘moment’ had arrived, Gibb was amazed to find himself ready to speak. Whatever the outcome, now was the time to open up and be honest.

  Evangeline waited with as much patience as she could muster while Gibb rearranged his legs, sipped some ale then leaned toward her without warning.

  “When you said you didn’t want to see me again, I was hurt,” he began slowly. “Not surprised, because, after all, who would want to spend time with someone who could make no promises about the following week let alone the next month or year? So I admit I went off in a mood of both anger and woe is me. I went north in a begrudging, ‘all is for the best’ frame of mind.”

  She nodded, and wiped one eye. “I told myself you would.”

  “It didn’t last. I promise,” Gibb told her. “I toiled alongside my workers, worried their crops might not be as good as they could be and struggled to help build a new barn so what crops they did have lasted the winter. Then arranged for their homes to be warm and watertight and reiterated that missing school was not an option if you live on my land.” He laughed. “I was asked if bunking off was not normal. Bunking off is playing truant.”

  “Ah, and you do not allow it to happen?”

  “Not if they expect to be employed later.” He shrugged. “I feel that to grow and prosper we need education. A chance to understand and learn. I know many do not agree with me.” He quirked his lips. “Think I am too much of an authoritarian. They have a choice. Stay or go.”

  “Gibb Alford, why on earth do you imagine you have no feelings?” Evangeline left her chair and crouched at his feet to look up into his smoky eyes and search for something to indicate his mood. “They are there all right, believe me.”

  He nodded. “Something an old retainer said gave me food for thought. He told me that some people are born miserable and can’t understand why others are not, and my late wife was one of them. He went on to say he reckoned whatever I did would never have been good enough, and that she had been determined to make my life uncomfortable.”

  “That is appalling,” Evangeline said without thinking. “Why on earth?”

  “That is a question I suspect I will never be able to truly answer,” Gibb replied. “She accused me of not giving her what she wanted. I don’t think even she knew what that was. Lord, this sounds disloyal, but I have to try and explain my marriage to you.”

  “Oh, my dear, you don’t.”

  He looked startled. “I don’t?”

  “No, not at all. All you have to explain is why you are here now. What is different from before. Why…” She stopped as she tried to put her scrambled thoughts into order. “What do you intend next?”

  From somewhere outside an altercation filtered upward and added to the tension in the room. The semi-silence was not peaceful, anything but. It was charged with something indefinable. A coal in the fire flared, spluttered and died. Evangeline moved to alleviate the pain in her knees due to her crouched position. “Gibb?” she prompted. “Is that too difficult to answer?”

  “It depends on you.”

  “Me? How so?” It was his mindset that had given rise to this situation, was it not? Yes, she had decided enough was enough but in response to his intractability, nothing else. “You are the one who said the way it should be,” Evangeline said, proud of her even, non-judgmental tone.

  “And you were the one who said no, it was not acceptable,” he replied equably, without censoriousness. “Now I’m asking you if we can try again.”

  Evangeline stood up and surreptitiously did her best to work the pins and needles from her limbs. She needed a clear head as she asked the words that bothered her.

  The argument in the street, which had gone silent, started up again. Someone shrieked outside the window and both of them jumped. “This is daft,” she said shakily. “Let’s try to do this in a sane and sensible manner. What do you want from me?”

  “A chance to be your friend again,” he said straight away.

  “As in how? A friend who you care about to some degree, but aren’t prepared to admit it?”

  “I do admit I care,” Gibb said. “Haven’t I just said so?”

  “Not in so many words, no. Yes, your actions often do. Look at the way you look after your estates and workers. But words? No, never.”

  “That’s common sense, is it not? Does it need to be put into words?”

  “Not necessarily,” Evangeline argued. “Plus, there is also compassion shown. However, I digress. That is not us. I’m asking again, what do you want from us, Gibb? In specific, from me.”

  He studied her. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know or refuse to know?” she asked, sick at heart. Had anything changed? “There is a difference between them.”

  “I know that,” he said. “And I don’t have a proper answer. I think I care, I’m scared to care and I don’t know if I dare care more than I do now. Is not the fact that I take care of things that could affect you enough? Is that not the sort of care you desire?”

  If he thought that, they had not moved on. She bit her lip. “I wish it were, Gibb, but we both know it isn’t. I could not cope on half a loaf. I’m not asking for your undying affection, for you to shield me from all the winds of fate and make sure none touch me. Life isn’t like that. But you are, as you ever have been, putting fences up where none need to be.”

  “I’m being as honest as I can.”

  “I know you think you are, and believe me I appreciate that.” Good lord, she had almost said how she loved him for it. Too much for him to accept, she was sure. “What you say you are able to give me would not be enough, I’d be scared to show my feelings in case they crossed over some invisible line I didn’t understand or know about. You would be ever watchful and on edge. Add that to who we are.” She got out of her chair, shook her head and stood on tiptoe to lean over him and kiss his cheek. His hands clenched around her waist
and tightened briefly before she drew back and he let go of her. “It cannot be.” Dare she be open now?

  He stood and strode to the window to turn his back on her, and looked out of the panes of glass. Evangeline saw his hands were white as he gripped the sill. She decided not to hold back.

  “Gibb, I could so easily love you, and love that isn’t returned turns black and evil. I will not put either of us through that. To be with you would be torture. It wouldn’t be the tortured duke, it would be the tortured duke’s tortured friend.”

  He turned around and she saw why he had been given that sobriquet.

  “Believe me, I would love you if I could,” he said in an anguished voice. “I do not know if I have the ability to love anyone. It might not be part of my makeup.”

  She shook her head. “I doubt that, somehow. You have come a long way since we first met, but you have still shut a major piece of yourself away. Love is beautiful, and like any emotion, be it good or bad, is an integral part of you and can’t be compartmentalized. You either let it in or not. And only you can do that.” There was nothing else she could say. She took her glass of water, wished it held something stronger and took small sips. Too big a mouthful would choke her.

  Gibb was so quiet she wondered what would happen next. Eventually he took a deep breath and exhaled with a long-drawn-out hiss. “I need to think again.”

  “Then you must do so.” And she needed to make her mind up if she was going to let him know why she was going away for a while. Evangeline decided she wouldn’t, not unless she had to. Those explanations weren’t about to be shared unless he was prepared to be part of her life.