Winning the Mail-order Bride & Pursued for the Viscount's Vengeance & Redeeming the Rogue Knight (9781488021725)

by Robinson, Lauri; Mallory, Sarah; Hobbes, Elisabeth

  ‘The law would not take that as a defence.’

  ‘The law?’ She looked at him in surprise. ‘Why should you say that? My brother is not a criminal. He has done nothing illegal in his life, I would stake my own life on that. He may have acted wrongly at times, but no worse than many young men.’

  ‘You truly believe that?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Her hand crept to her shoulder. ‘Others have done much worse.’

  She did not wish to dwell on that and shuddered, shrugging off her painful memories. They had nothing to do with this.

  ‘Randolph has hurt himself more than anyone else,’ she told him. ‘But I am hopeful that now he is living at Fallbridge things will improve. Now he has me to look after him. He is very fond of me, you see, and will make the effort, for my sake.’

  ‘Yes, he told me at dinner the other night that your happiness is paramount with him.’

  She gave a little smile. ‘Of course.’

  It was only partly true. Deb knew Ran’s affection for her was genuine, but when he was in the grip of his depression, or befuddled by drink or laudanum, it was beyond her ability to reason with him. And even today, she suspected it was his craving for wine that took him back to Fallbridge.

  * * *

  Gil watched the changing emotions flickering over her countenance. He knew Deborah well enough now to know her every mood. She worried about Kirkster, as well she might. She thought she could save him from himself, but privately Gil doubted it. It would not be long before he was too far into a life of dissipation and drunkenness to care about anything.

  And then there would be little point in revenge.

  Revenge. Gil had put that word from his head these past few weeks, cravenly refusing to think of the reason he was in Fallbridge and why he was courting Deborah Meltham so assiduously. It was too easy to tell himself that he was merely relieving her of her cares for a few hours. But every time he looked at her, every time she smiled at him, he felt the desire stirring. It would be easy to take her to his bed.

  The difficulty would be leaving her afterwards.

  ‘I have hired a house,’ he said suddenly. ‘A neat little place called Sollom Hall, do you know it? It lies a few miles to the east of Fallbridge. It is fully furnished and staffed, the family has had to retrench, the father is in poor health and they have removed to Harrogate for the next few months.’

  ‘No, I do not know the property, but most likely it is not in this parish. It will be more comfortable for you than remaining at the George, I suppose, while you look for a house of your own.’

  ‘I would like you to see it. Are you free tomorrow? I could drive you there.’

  Even as the words left his mouth part of him was willing her to refuse. To save herself.

  ‘Tomorrow morning I have no engagements.’

  She smiled up at him and he knew the trap was sprung.

  ‘Excellent, I will call for you at ten. In my curricle.’

  ‘I shall look forward to it.’

  * * *

  ‘So you are off on another pleasure jaunt.’ Randolph came down the stairs just as Deborah was pulling on her gloves. ‘With Victor, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes. He is taking me out in his curricle.’

  The scrunch of wheels upon the drive announced Gil’s arrival.

  Ran kissed her cheek. ‘You had best wear your cloak, then. It looks like rain.’

  ‘I shall.’

  As he turned away she caught his arm. ‘Would you like me to stay and keep you company today? I would happily cry off; I am sure Mr Victor would understand. We could ride to Long Acre; the steward tells me the improvements there have now been completed.’

  ‘What, and risk a drenching? No, no, my dear, off you go and enjoy yourself. I am going into Fallbridge later. George Appleton is come home from his travels and I thought I might call upon him.’

  With that he gave her shoulder a brotherly pat and she watched him lounge off to the breakfast room, her spirits lifting. She was pleased that Ran was mixing more in local society and her heart was lighter than ever as she went out to meet Gil.

  He drew up on the drive and as soon as the groom was holding the horses he jumped down and ran around to greet her.

  ‘The hood is up, you see, in case it comes on to rain. I have already felt a spot or two in the air.’

  He was smiling and her heart missed a beat. She gave him her hand and his fingers closed about hers in a strong, comforting grasp as he helped her into the curricle. It was a low-slung racing model and the pair of powerful greys were moving restlessly in their harness, eager to be away.

  ‘Here, I have brought a rug for you,’ he said. ‘I do not forget that it is not yet May.’

  She sat very still as he placed the rug over her lap and tucked it around her skirts. Her heart swelled so much that she could not breathe. It was years since anyone had looked to her comfort in such a way. His hand brushed her knee and even though there were several layers of cloth between them she felt it keenly. Her mouth dried and her skin tingled. She clenched her hands together tightly, determined to remain calm. This was merely a drive in the country, nothing more.

  She concentrated on steadying her breathing as he took his place beside her and gathered up the reins. He sent a swift, piercing glance in her direction.

  ‘Nervous? You are quite safe, I promise you.’

  She managed a smile. She did not doubt his driving ability, but safe? How could she be safe, when her body reacted so violently to him? He only had to look at her and she felt herself melting with a desire that threatened to overwhelm her. Deb knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would never be safe in his company.

  The horses sprang into their collars and they were off. Deborah kept one hand in her lap, the other gripping the edge of the seat, not out of fear for the cracking pace, but to stop herself bumping against Gil as the curricle rocked and swayed. Then he reached out and covered her hand with his. He gave her fingers a brief, reassuring squeeze and she felt the tension easing out of her body. He knew. He understood what she was feeling. She relaxed, allowing her shoulder to touch Gil’s arm, to feel the muscled strength of him and revel in his nearness.

  With the hood up and separating them from the groom riding in the rumble seat, she felt emboldened to speak.

  ‘Do you think it foolhardy of me to come with you today?’

  He did not pretend to misunderstand her.

  ‘Yes. But I am extremely glad you did.’

  He guided the curricle around a bend and she leaned into him, revelling in his strength and support. She smiled.

  ‘So, too, am I.’

  * * *

  Sollom Hall was a small, stone-built mansion in the old style, with leaded windows and a studded oak door. It was buried deep in woodland. Gil told her that it had originally been a hunting lodge, which explained its isolated position. They were admitted by a rosy-cheeked maid in a snow-white apron, who showed them into a parlour where wine and fancy cakes had been set out on the table.

  ‘Would you like refreshments first, or to go over the house?’ he asked, taking her cloak from her shoulders.

  ‘Oh, a tour of the house, if you please. With its gables and tall chimneys, it looks like something from a fairy story.’

  With a smile he took her off to show her the main reception rooms before leading the way up the wide oak staircase and throwing open the doors that flanked the landing, so that she might inspect each chamber.

  ‘And this is my room,’ he said, standing back that she might enter.

  Deb went no further than the doorway. All ideas of fairy tales had fled, replaced by wanton thoughts that made her heart beat far too fast as she gazed at the heavily carved tester bed with its rich damask hangings. In her imagination, she and Gil were already lying there, naked.
He was kissing her deeply, hungrily, and she was kissing him back, running her hands over his strong, muscled shoulders, pulling him closer, inviting him to caress her body.

  He was standing very close, she could feel his presence, her spine tingling with the nearness of him. If he touched her, if he put his arms around her and kissed her now, that scene she imagined could become reality in a matter of minutes. And she was shocked to realise how desperately she wanted it to happen.

  Hastily she stepped around him and back on to the landing, biting her lip. Gil closed the door and stood for a moment, looking at her, and Deb had no doubt that he knew what she was thinking. Their minds were too attuned for him not to be aware of it. The longing she felt, the desire for him to hold her, to kiss her, was so strong it was almost overpowering and she knew it was his restraint and not hers that was keeping her safe.

  ‘Let us go back downstairs.’

  Gil spoke softly, but she heard the tremor in his voice. He, too, was struggling for control.

  She preceded him down the stairs, hoping her legs would hold her up and not daring to speak until they were once more in the little parlour with its polished wainscoting and heavy furniture.

  ‘It, it is a very pleasant house,’ she said, as he poured her a glass of wine. ‘A little dark, perhaps, but that will be because of the small windows and so many trees around about.’

  He glanced out of the window.

  ‘Also, it has clouded over.’ Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance and he grimaced. ‘I am glad I told my tiger to put the curricle in the stable. I doubt I shall be able to show you the gardens today.’

  As if to confirm this, rain began to patter at the glass. It grew darker as the rain increased to a torrent. Deb put down her glass and walked over to the window, just as the lightning flashed. It was immediately accompanied by a clap of thunder that made her jump.

  ‘Are you frightened of storms like this?’ he asked, coming closer.

  ‘No.’

  But he still took her in his arms. She leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing in the comforting smell of him, hints of soap and wool and leather mixed with the clean spicy scent of his skin and something else, something very masculine.

  His embrace was indescribably comforting, but she was aware of other, more disturbing sensations: her rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing. The ache between her thighs. Desire was unfurling, dangerous and irresistible, taking control of her body.

  She looked up, but even as she thought of entreating him to let her go he lowered his head and captured her lips with his own. His mouth was warm, the kiss demanding and Deb responded hungrily. His arms tightened and she clung to him as he teased her lips apart. For a few dizzy moments she allowed his tongue to explore her before responding in kind, following his lead while the blood pounded through her body.

  Without breaking off the kiss, he sank down on the window seat and settled her on his lap. Deb was not so innocent that she did not know when a man was aroused, but it did not frighten her, she was excited by the thought. She felt malleable, liquid in his arms. She wanted him to possess her and when he broke off and raised his head, she felt almost unbearably bereft.

  She remained with her head against his shoulder, gazing up at him. The storm had passed and the rain had settled into a steady downpour. Lightning still flickered in the distance, but the thunder was little more than a menacing rumble.

  ‘I should take you home,’ he murmured, easing her gently on to the cushion beside him.

  ‘Yes.’ His arms were still around her and she clung to him, unwilling—unable—to move away. Not yet.

  ‘Or you could stay.’ He kissed her hair. ‘Stay and dine with me.’

  Her insides liquefied at the thought. To stay and dine—as well put a lamb into a lion’s cage and expect it to be safe. And she did not want to be safe.

  ‘I cannot.’ She spoke on a sigh, turning her face into his coat. ‘We are engaged to dine at Gomersham Lodge tonight.’

  ‘Tomorrow, then. I will send the servants away for the night and my man will wait on us. We may be quite discreet.’

  The madness was receding. Deborah pushed herself away from him and sat up very straight, sliding one hand around her waist while the other crept to her left shoulder.

  ‘I cannot do that. I must not.’

  ‘But you want to. Your kisses tell me so.’

  She swung around to look at him. ‘You knew this would happen.’

  He cupped her face. ‘It was inevitable, if you were here with me. Alone. And I should warn you it might well happen again, if you come to me tomorrow. I cannot resist you.’

  His eyes were dark, unreadable, and she gave a shiver.

  ‘You are very…frank,’ she said at last.

  He let her go, a shadow passing over his countenance, and with a sudden, impatient movement he got to his feet.

  ‘You must think carefully, Deborah. You must be very sure before you come back here. I will tell you now, I cannot marry you.’

  ‘Y-you have a wife?’

  Impatiently he shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that, but I want you to know, I cannot offer you marriage. Whatever else I may do, I will not deceive you on that point.’

  He spoke roughly, as if he was angry, but instinctively she knew it was not with her. She rose and went to stand before him.

  ‘You know already that I cannot marry while my brother needs me.’ Amazed at her own daring, she took his hand and cradled her cheek against the palm. ‘As for tomorrow, there is nothing I want more than to come here and dine with you.’

  He held her gaze, his own eyes sombre, searching, then he gave a little nod.

  ‘Very well. I shall send my coach for you. Now, we had best get you home.’

  * * *

  They travelled back in silence, save for the rain pattering on the curricle’s hood. Deborah was still reeling from the tumult of emotions that he had roused in her and she wondered if Gil felt it, too. No one had ever made her feel so alive, or so reckless. She was fully aware that to dine with a man, without a chaperon, would be quite ruinous to her reputation. She also knew that to be alone with Gil, in his house, she would be at his mercy, should he wish to seduce her. And the dreadful truth was she wanted him to do so. What had she to lose, as long as they were discreet? He had assured her no one need ever know of it and perhaps the memory of a few hours spent in his company—in his arms—might help to warm the cold, empty years she saw stretching ahead of her.

  * * *

  When they reached Kirkster House and he handed her down she peeped up at him, but his lean face was inscrutable.

  ‘Until tomorrow,’ he murmured, raising her gloved fingers to his lips.

  She nodded wordlessly and stood in the rain while he climbed back into the curricle and gathered up the reins. He looked across at her and Deb thought he was going to speak to her, but after a frowning moment he whipped up his team and drove away, his groom scrambling nimbly up behind him.

  * * *

  Deborah prepared carefully for her dinner at Sollom Hall. She discarded several gowns before finally deciding upon her dark red silk. Tiny seed-pearl earrings were matched by a single string around her neck, although they were covered by the fine muslin fichu she used to fill the low neckline of the gown. As she sat before her looking glass, adjusting its folds, her hands stilled. Tonight, if what she suspected would happen—what she wanted to happen, she reminded herself—Gil would undress her and there would be no hiding her body from him. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine his look of shock. He might shudder and draw away, repelled. Worse, he might pretend it did not matter, but she would know. She had endured enough lies and pitying looks over the years. She always knew. She hoped, prayed that Gil would not reject her, but her desire for him was so strong that for the first time in years sh
e was prepared to take the risk.

  She was so distracted by her thoughts that she barely noticed the unusual activity outside her door and thought nothing of it, even when she made her way downstairs shortly after five o’clock and Speke informed her that his lordship was in the drawing room with a guest. She went in, expecting to see George Appleton or perhaps Sir Geoffrey, but when she saw her brother’s visitor her heart plummeted with dismay.

  Sir Sydney Warslow turned and made her an elegant bow. Of all her brother’s acquaintances, Deborah disliked and distrusted him the most. He was a few years older than Ran, classically fair and many considered him handsome, but not Deb. She saw only cruelty in his blue eyes and insolence behind his smile. He was smiling now as he came towards her. She moved away quickly, unwilling to give him her hand.

  ‘Miss Meltham,’ he drawled, raising his quizzing glass to observe her. ‘As charming as ever and even more beautiful. But alas, I fear this finery is not for me.’

  ‘How could it be, when she had no idea you were calling?’ said Ran with a laugh. ‘Deb is dining out. Damme if I haven’t forgotten where you are going, m’dear?’

  She managed a smile. ‘An old friend and her husband, whom you do not know, Randolph.’

  How easily the lies tripped from her tongue. She held her breath, afraid he would ask for more details, but he was already moving towards the sideboard.

  ‘But you’ll take a glass with us first, Deb, won’t you? We are having claret, but you might prefer something else. Ratafia, perhaps, or sherry?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’ She turned a cool gaze upon their visitor. ‘My brother is correct, Sir Sydney. I had no idea you were in the area.’

  ‘I was passing this way and thought I would call upon my old friends,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘Yes,’ Ran interjected. ‘And I’ve invited him to stay here for a few days. We have much to catch up on.’ He glanced at Deb and continued, a note of defiance in his voice, ‘I promised you I would not return to Duke Street, but I suppose I can invite my friends here, if I wish.’