His Perfect Game

by Jenn Langston

  He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. The thought of the cold, lonely townhouse brought him no pleasure. He would be surrounded by people who only tolerated him because of his connection to the duke. Although not enjoyable, the fake acceptance held preference to being rejected.

  Someone knocked on his door, which only increased his agitation. Considering he didn’t require assistance of a valet to dress, the interruption could only mean trouble. He wanted to ignore the intruder, to pretend he wasn’t here, but he’d never shirked his duty before and didn’t intend to begin now.

  He opened the door ready to demand an explanation for the disturbance, but the words died on his lips. Abigail stood before him. Determination shone through her eyes, although her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  “Abigail, what—?”

  She launched herself at him, cutting his words off with her mouth. He stumbled backward, but clamped her tightly against him. Still having his wits about him, he reached out with one hand and closed the door. Her attack made his body burn, and his ears began to ring as if ready to explode.

  Slowly drawing her back, he led her toward the bed. Beyond need, he had every intention of taking this as far as possible. When his knees hit the mattress, he sat, lifting her to straddle him. She didn’t break the kiss.

  Her demanding lips caused his member to swell to the point of discomfort. Desperate for more contact, he secured one of his hands behind her head while the other gently rubbed down her back. With her skirt raised from her position, her bare leg laid within reach. The smooth warm skin called out to him, demanding he expose it.

  The hunger to run his mouth over every inch of her flooded him, but he was terrified to break the kiss. If this was to be his only kiss from her, he would ensure the experience lasted forever.

  When her hands tentatively reached out to touch his bare chest, he thought he would die from the sensation. He smoldered everywhere her fingers caressed as if she were made out of fire. His fire angel.

  Too far gone, Greyson couldn’t handle the wait any longer. He fell back onto the bed, bringing her down with him. As soon as his head hit the mattress, she raised herself up. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were wide, but she didn’t climb off him. She sat, legs on either side of him with their bodies touching in the most intimate way.

  Her eyes took on a dreamy quality, and her lids began to close as she ground her hips against him. He groaned and reached out to draw her back to him, but she quickly jumped back and scrambled off the bed.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, seeming terrified.

  “Don’t be.” He pushed himself up.

  Her gaze dropped to his chest, and her lips parted. He could not move. The hunger he saw forced his heart to pump rapidly.

  “Good day, my lord.” She curtsied then fled the room before he could stop her.

  As the slam of the door echoed in the room, Greyson laid back on the bed, working on controlling his breathing. He wasn’t sure what had brought her to his room, but, regardless, he felt grateful. If he had surprises like that to look forward to, he could handle any amount of rejections. How could he leave now?

  His only regret and frustration was being unable to go after her. If she had been dressed as his wife, he could have hauled her back in and locked the door. She must have planned this. He groaned knowing how easily she manipulated him.

  His breathing returned to normal, but his body refused to calm. Rubbing his hands over his face, he knew sitting with his steward would be impossible today. On the other hand, spending the day with his wife would prove equally difficult.

  Sighing, he stood and finished dressing. Once he sent a message to Barry, he mounted his horse and rode out over his land. The wind whipping against his face helped to cool the feelings his wife awakened in him. The weather remained fine and the tenants grateful for his visit.

  No one he called upon had experienced any problems, and after hours of riding, Greyson happily accepted an offer to join a few of the men at the local tavern. However, even sitting with them, holding his drink, he thought of his wife.

  Memories of that morning swamped him as he ran his finger down the side of the glass. The texture reminded him how smooth and soft Abigail’s skin felt. Gripping the handle, he held his body motionless, willing it not to react to the images filling his mind.

  “Have you heard about the thefts, my lord?” one of the men asked.

  Greyson cleared his thoughts as he turned in the direction of the question. “I had some of my men check on the affected homes, but they didn’t find anything that could point to the culprit.”

  “Have you talked to Old Jack?” the barkeep asked as he served him another drink.

  “Does he have more information?” Greyson took a sip of the bitter liquid.

  “He saw the thief. Jack chased him off his property. Maybe if he described him, we could put together a search party to flush him out.” The barkeep shrugged, passing out another mug to a waiting patron.

  “Where can I find him?” Greyson wanted the man caught. Only then could he put his suspicions to rest. He shook his head. Algers could not be behind this.

  “With a threat out there, Old Jack will be sitting at home,” one of the younger men answered. “I can take you there if you want.”

  “I appreciate any help.”

  After paying for their drinks, they set out to see Old Jack. Greyson noticed their destination rested close to his home. He remembered Barry’s concerns about Alexander residing nearby, so Greyson relaxed a little. Although he could not understand why the stable hand would remain in the area, he would prefer that explanation to the other possibility.

  When Greyson and the tenant approached the modest house, a man meeting the description of Old Jack greeted them with a pistol posed to kill. When his eyes settled on Greyson, he lowered the weapon. This man would not allow any trouble on his property.

  “Lord Merrick wants to ask you about the thief you scared away.” The younger man swept his hand toward Greyson.

  “Of course. Come on in.” Old Jack turned and led them into his house. Clearly Old Jack expected the thief to return. Even as he sat, the gun still rested on his knee. “So, what do you want to know, my lord?”

  “Tell me about your experience with the thief.”

  “Well, the cow has been hassling me for milk lately. She refuses to be milked until the night, so I was in the barn when a man walked up. After a second gaping at me, he took off running.”

  “Did you follow him?” Greyson asked.

  “No. I heard that others were having trouble, so I knew what he was about. I grabbed my pistol and shot off where I seen him. Next time he will think again before setting foot on my property.”

  “I would imagine so.” Greyson admired the old man’s determination. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Sure did. Young. Around six foot with hair so blond it could have been white.”

  Greyson stopped breathing. The accounting was a perfect match to Algers. If he was here, his wife would not be safe. The only hope Greyson held onto was that Algers had not discovered Lady Merrick’s secret. If Greyson was wrong, he could already be too late.

  “Thank you for the information. I’ll spread the word. If you hear of anything else, please contact me at once.” Greyson stood and headed out the door. He could not afford to waste any time.

  Rushing to his horse, he jumped on the stallion and flicked the reins. His wife was probably safe, but he could not stop the compulsion to check on her. Algers may be lying in wait for her to emerge. Luckily his wife protected herself by adopting the guise of a maid. Otherwise, Algers would have already taken his revenge.

  Greyson’s chest tightened as he pushed the stallion hard. Every second passing could be another moment for Algers to harm Abigail. If she was all right, he would confine her to her bedchamber until Algers was caught. However, if Algers touched her, Greyson would kill him.

  Ripping another weed out by the roots, Abigail tossed th
e offending plant on the pile. She worked furiously, trying to prevent memories of this morning from filling her head. When she went to Greyson’s bedchamber this morning, she only thought of how she owed him the kiss. The choice of when and where had fallen to her.

  Being greeted with the sight of his muscular chest, she lost the ability to think and had allowed her desire to take over. His reaction clearly stated he didn’t mind in the least. Her body began to heat, and her reaction had nothing to do with the sun shining down on her.

  She shuddered, recalling the immense pleasure she received from pressing her most sensitive place against him. The sound of his groan echoed through her mind. She squeezed her legs closed, trying to stop her yearning from rushing through her. How could so much enjoyment come from a simple touch?

  “Abigail.”

  The sound of her name made her cheeks grow warm. She hoped her thoughts were not displayed on her face as clearly as she felt them in her body. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and was surprised to see Alexander standing in the shadow of a tree. She could not imagine what would have brought him back considering the magistrate searched for him.

  “Alexander, what are you doing here?”

  She stood up and blinked. The sight of him shocked her. His clothes were tattered and his hair was stringy and askew. Previously she never saw him with so much as a wrinkle in his outfit.

  “I came to see you. I would have come sooner, but he never leaves you alone.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. I’m alone working, most days.” Something in his tone put her on edge.

  “That may be, but your husband is always near. Well, except for today.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abigail tried to contain her shock. She was beginning to believe everyone knew her identity and merely humored her.

  “Don’t play games with me, Lady Merrick. I heard your confession to that gardener. Up until that, you had me fooled.”

  “What do you want?”

  His mouth twisted in an evil smile. As his gaze trailed down her body, she wished she hadn’t asked. She needed to be careful, for this man wasn’t the charming person he’d led her to believe. After all those days of her husband roaming about the garden, why had he chosen today to be absent? She needed him now.

  “I want my due,” Alexander said with an ugly smirk. “I’ll get it, and I’ll enjoy every second.”

  Not about to wait around for him to act on his threat, Abigail turned and ran. Unfortunately he proved to be much faster, and he locked his arms around her within seconds. Grabbing her to him, he ran his nose down the side of her face to her neck, inhaling deeply.

  Silent tears poured down her cheeks. Her stomach knotted, and the urge to retch overwhelmed her. She had one chance, one sliver of hope that Joshua would come down the row to check on her.

  She filled her lungs with air. “Hel—”

  His grimy hand clamped over her mouth. “There will be none of that.”

  He held her mouth too tightly for her to be able to bite him. Closing her eyes, she said a prayer. This man would do far worse to her than her father ever had.

  “Let go of her,” Greyson growled, appearing in front of them.

  The dirty hand left her mouth, then something smooth and hard pressed against her side. Although unable to look, the feel of a pistol could not be mistaken. Her heart sank as her body began to shake uncontrollably. He would kill her and her husband.

  Greyson took a step toward them.

  “Not so fast.” Alexander moved the gun up to her head.

  Fury overtook her husband’s face. His hands clenched into fists, and she thought he would bellow with anger. Normally that level of rage would terrify her, but she couldn’t ever remember seeing a more beautiful sight. He would not abandon her. He would save her.

  “Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “If you believe that, you are a fool.” Alexander shook his head as he gripped her tighter. “All this time, and she was right here.”

  “Your problem is with me. You have your pistol, you can finish me off like you want. I will not fight if you just let her go.” His voice took on a desperate quality, but his anger didn’t diminish.

  “I like my plan better. Your suffering will be more satisfying than your death.”

  Before Greyson could respond, Abigail heard a loud banging, then the arm around her went slack. Not a second passed before her husband was there, holding her up against him. Clinging to him, she buried her face in his chest. Still, the rapid beating of her heart didn’t slow. Was it truly over?

  “Thank you, Joshua. I’ll never be able to repay you.” Relief rang in Greyson’s every word.

  “Her safety is all that matters,” Joshua replied in a breathless tone.

  She twisted around to see Joshua standing over Alexander’s crumpled body. He held his shovel in both hands as if expecting the unconscious man to strike. Her heart wanted to burst. These two men had saved her. She began to shake as reality crashed upon her.

  “Take her inside,” Greyson instructed as he took the shovel from Joshua. “I’ll deal with this.”

  His arm loosened from around her, but she could not bring herself to release him. He gazed down at her with gentle eyes and stroked her cheek.

  “Come with me, Abigail.” Joshua lightly touched her shoulder. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  Staring into her husband’s face, she wondered who would protect him. Images of the pistol brought fresh tears spilling over. Could she trust that she would be safe? Or that he would be?

  “Go on.” Greyson wiped a tear away with his thumb. Then he turned to Joshua. “Have Mrs. Coushings give her something to calm her.”

  Reluctantly releasing him, she wrapped her arms around herself. With one last encouraging nod from him, she followed Joshua inside. She could not help wondering if Greyson would have left her if she had been dressed as his wife.

  “Where would you like to go, my lady?” Joshua asked quietly.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice shook. If she went to her bedchamber, Greyson would not know where to find her, assuming that was his plan. As the shaking expanded to her body, Joshua’s eyes widened in concern.

  “Don’t worry. We will figure it out. First, let’s go to Lord Merrick’s study.” He held on to her arm as he led her down the hallway.

  Once closed inside, he sat her down on a sofa then crossed the room. After he filled a glass with brandy, he handed it to her. The amber liquid looked inviting, but the smell burned her nose. She had never consumed brandy before. Staring at the alcohol, she wondered if she should partake after what just occurred.

  “Drink. Brandy will settle you much better than anything Mrs. Coushings could bring.”

  Not wanting to argue, she placed the glass to her lips and took a large gulp. The liquid burned while sliding down her throat. She coughed as tears sprang to her eyes. How did men regularly drink such a vile concoction?

  “Easy now. Sip until you are accustomed to the flavor.”

  “That is all right. I’m finished,” she managed to choke out.

  “Not until it’s gone. One drink will not be enough to help.”

  Sighing, she took another sip. This time she prepared herself for the sensation. The flavor improved as she neared the end. When she finished, she didn’t protest when Joshua handed a full glass back to her.

  By the third glass, her body felt heavy, but wonderful. The fear now seemed far away. Why hadn’t she heard of the healing powers of brandy before?

  “Thank you,” she slurred. She could hardly form the words, and she found her lack of control inordinately funny. As she laughed, she realized how tired she was. The lack of sleep the previous night wore on her. Leaning back on the cushions, she rested her eyes.

  An undeterminable time later, she opened her eyes to see Greyson kneeling on the floor in front of her, his face full of concern. She smiled thinking how wonderful it felt to awaken and see him. Her heart
expanded to the point she thought it would explode.

  The feeling that swamped her when he was near was unlike anything she ever experienced before. He made her complete in some way. His face softened as he stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes as a tear escaped, drawing a line down her face.

  She loved him. The realization burned from deep within her. She didn’t want to love him. The feeling only made the pain that much harder when they hurt you. Although she began to wonder if he had the capability of treating her like her father did. Immediately, she cast the thought aside. Her love already blinded her.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, sitting beside her and drawing her against his chest. “You don’t have to worry anymore. Algers can’t hurt you.”

  Drawing back, she stared at him. “You mean Alexander? Why was he trying to take revenge against you?”

  Abruptly, he stood and went to his desk. Pouring a glass of brandy, he drank it in one swallow, then refilled it. After he dropped himself into his chair, he watched her with sad eyes.

  “Alexander Algers and I are both illegitimate. However, where my father chose to recognize me, his did not.”

  “But that isn’t your fault. Why would he blame you when the responsibility belonged to his father?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone sees things differently. His father treated him in the typical fashion for a bastard. My father is the one who deviated from the norm.”

  Hearing the pride and love in his voice when he spoke of his father made her wish she could have known him. A man who would ignore Society’s dictates and follow his own path was someone who earned her respect.

  “Tell me about your father.”

  Greyson’s eyes took on a faraway quality. “Newman Thorpe never acted as the traditional viscount. He was a scholar. His life was devoted to his books until he fell in love. After a year of marriage to her, they discovered she could not conceive a child.”