Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

  “I did.” She came to his side and followed his gaze. “It’s clear enough to see straight through to the bottom.”

  “But you didn’t stick your hand in it.”

  “No, why should I? My vision is perfect and there’s nothing swimming in the pond but two goldfish.”

  He sighed and pulled his cuff up as far as it would go. “Your knowledge of science is limited. Not your fault at all, but rather the idiocy of society in restricting the formal education of women.”

  She turned to him in surprise. “That’s quite forward thinking of you.”

  “You sound shocked. Did you believe me to be as stodgy as the fossils who run the Royal Society?”

  “Indeed, no. But neither did I expect you to hold such radical views about women and their rights to an education,” she said with a nod of approval. “What does losing my necklace have to do with science?”

  “Do you see how the light plays on the water?”

  She returned her gaze to the small pond and studied the movement. “Yes, it’s quite beautiful. But what are you doing?”

  “Hopefully retrieving your heirloom.” He dunked his hand into the shallow water, feeling about the bottom, and finally pulling out—a miracle!

  “You’ve found it!” she gasped, watching the strand of pearls shimmer like starlight between his fingers.

  He laughed, obviously feeling quite proud of himself. “Crisis averted.”

  She gazed at him in amazement. “How did you know?”

  “I stayed awake during physics class at Cambridge,” he said with a wry grin. “Though I never expected to put the theory of refraction of light to such good use. The bottom of the pool is deeper than it looks, you see.” As though to make his point, he held up his jacket sleeve to show that even his drawn-up cuff had gotten wet. Fortunately, not too badly.

  “I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t seem enough,” she whispered in relief. She felt giddy, elated, and in danger of actually starting to like Gabriel.

  “Put them in your pocket,” he suggested after wiping droplets of water off each shiny bead with his handkerchief.

  “I haven’t one. This gown wasn’t designed with much fabric to spare,” she said with a wince, feeling the heat of a blush creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. Her gown had been purposely fashioned to cling in the most obvious places.

  “Ah, um... I see the problem.” He studied her attire, his gaze slowly drinking in every curve of her body as though he could see through the fabric. He coughed as he stuffed the necklace into his breast pocket and patted it. “I’ll hold it for the moment.”

  She wondered how she might feel cozily tucked against Gabriel’s chest. However, she quickly shook out of the bumble-headed thought. “My sister, Lily, tried to teach me about physics. She’s brilliant and an excellent tutor, but we’d hardly begun before the family caught on and put a quick end to my studies.”

  “Not seemly for a debutante to be spouting equations while waltzing with a dashing duke, I suppose.”

  “Lest the dashing duke find her a crushing bore.” She grinned before continuing. “So I’ll have to wait until the season is over before learning more about Sir Isaac Newton and his writings. Have you read his Opticks or the Principia Mathematica?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You know about those works?”

  “Surprised?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “I should be, but somehow I’m not. Daisy, you are a rare young lady.”

  “In a good way or bad?” she asked with a sudden pang of doubt.

  He seemed surprised by her confusion. “Good, of course. I meant it as a compliment.” He sighed. “If I help you, will you do something for me?”

  “Help me? With what?”

  “Well, do you wish to learn more about Newton or not?”

  “Yes... no... it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what I must do for you in return.” He’d found her pearls and saved her from disaster, but she wasn’t so foolish as to sacrifice her virtue for a lesson in physics. She didn’t need to read Lady Forsythia’s book on reforming a rake to know that. “What is it you wish from me?”

  His brilliant smile simply melted her bones. “I wish to dance with you.”

  Chapter 6

  A lady repays a debt to a rake with no more than a polite thank-you.

  The girl grew prettier with every breath, Gabriel decided, offering Daisy his arm and escorting her onto the dance floor. Once in place among the other dancers, he took her gloved hand in his, and resting his other hand at the small of her back, brought her as close as he dared. “You’re trembling.”

  “With relief,” she said with the softest quiver to her voice. “I’m amazed. I don’t know what to say. You saved my evening. You saved me.”

  “Very heroic of me, I must say.”

  “It was. Thank you... Saint Gabriel.” She smiled up at him.

  Once again, he made the mistake of gazing into her vivid blue eyes and quickly found himself enthralled by their magnificent depths. He was still gazing as the music started. And as the first dancers bumped into him.

  “Gabriel? The music.”

  And as her soft, incredibly tempting body yielded to him.

  He was going to kiss her tonight, damn the consequences.

  One harmless kiss.

  Sweet.

  Short.

  “Did you forget the steps?” she asked, reaching up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Shall I lead? We can sit this one out if you don’t feel like—”

  He stopped her as she was about to pull out of his arms, and moving with the music, began to twirl her about the floor. She swayed gracefully in her white satin, following his steps with ease. Surprisingly, she was an excellent dancer.

  “I’m not incompetent in all things,” she murmured, seeming to read his thoughts. In truth, he didn’t think her incompetent at all, just young and inexperienced, and at times distracted by her boisterous clan and the burdens they unwittingly placed upon her slender shoulders.

  “I’m sure you are a very accomplished young lady.”

  She pointed her pert nose into the air and cringed. “Oh, dear.”

  “I intended it as a compliment.”

  “I know, but it’s such a hideous expression. My father often describes his Aunt Hortensia that way. She’s an utter ogre.”

  He shook his head and laughed. It felt nice, he admitted, to hold Daisy in his arms. “You’re not an ogre at all.”

  She let out a deliciously breathy sigh. “I’m not all that accomplished either.”

  “Is that so? You don’t seem the sort to butcher Beethoven sonatas or sew crooked hems.”

  “Oh, but I do so constantly,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Those aren’t important talents. Kindness and generosity such as you’ve shown my grandmother throughout the years of my absence are the virtues that count.” He knew it had been a harrowing time for his entire family. They must have felt helpless, no doubt blamed themselves as they watched him earn the reputation as the family disappointment.

  The dance ended and he knew better than to try to continue the conversation by seeking Daisy’s hand for another. No, he’d already caused enough damage to her reputation by choosing to partner her in this one. Then there was the time spent in the library and the conservatory, innocently of course, but vicious rumors often started with much less.

  Apparently, she’d already felt the sting of gossip a year or so earlier and suffered for it. He’d ask Graelem about that incident later.

  His situation was different. He’d endured the lies told about him—indeed, encouraged those lies in order to maintain his disreputable appearance. Easier to slip in and out of France without being noticed. Easier to infiltrate the lower orders, make contact with Napoleon’s agents and make them believe he would betray his country for a few shillings.

  He escorted Daisy to his grandmother’s side and settled her in one of the red velvet
tufted chairs beside the lovable old harridan. “Don’t let her out of your sight, Eloise.”

  His shrewd-eyed grandmother glanced from him to Daisy then back to him. “I’ll watch her like a hawk,” she assured, casting him a wry smile.

  He turned to Daisy, intending to issue a stern warning... Well, he’d meant to speak sternly, but his tone might have softened in response to her delightfully earnest gaze. “You’re not to leave my grandmother’s side for the rest of the evening.”

  He expected mild protest since the night was young, she was beautiful, and her admirers were many. Young Albert Dawson, lean and sharp-nosed, was already circling Daisy like a buzzard awaiting his meal. “And do not talk to him.”

  Daisy looked around, confused. “Who?”

  He turned and stared pointedly at Dawson, who had the good judgment to quietly slink away. “Never mind, he’s gone now.”

  “Oh, him. He didn’t look very pleasant. Indeed, none of these young men look at all appealing. I’ll do exactly as you say. I’d much rather spend my time with Eloise.” She smiled up at him, doe-eyed and utterly delicious. Having found her heirloom necklace, he could do no wrong, at least for tonight.

  Gabriel smothered a grin, feeling quite the cock-a-hoop, for the girl had a way of making him feel quite capable and important. “Good.”

  She took a little breath and wiggled in her seat. “Yes, I’ll tie myself to this chair and never leave it. I won’t give you another moment’s worry.”

  Oh, he liked that little wiggle.

  And the thought of Daisy tied to a chair... perhaps naked and tied to a chair... perhaps naked and aroused and tied to his...

  Thwap!

  Hellfire! His grandmother had caught him squarely across the back of his head with her reticule as he’d innocently bent over Daisy’s hand to bid her farewell. Well, perhaps not so innocently, he knew, struggling to subdue his body’s response. Of course, getting walloped by one’s interfering grandmother went a long way toward cooling off all lust. Lord, what had she stuffed in her reticule? A cannonball?

  “Leave us, Gabriel,” the beloved harridan intoned. “Go tend to your business.”

  ***

  Much later that evening, Daisy snuggled in a corner of Eloise’s carriage and gazed out the window into the darkness that was about to lift with the coming dawn. There was an enchanting stillness to the London night, something warm and cozy about the gentle rocking of the well-oiled carriage springs and the nicely padded leather seats, something appealing about the light musk scent of Gabriel’s cologne and his comforting presence.

  Eloise had always been her friend.

  She now considered Gabriel a friend.

  Tonight, he’d been more than that, he’d been her hero. Her very own wart hero, as her young cousin, Charles, would say.

  She allowed her thoughts to stray as they rode in silence.

  “What are you thinking about?” Gabriel asked in a whisper.

  She must have had an odd expression on her face because Gabriel hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire ride. He’d remained seated directly across from her, studying her since they’d left the Hornby townhouse. Well, she thought he had been studying her, but couldn’t be certain because there was hardly any light in the carriage and his eyelids were half closed. Perhaps she’d imagined it and he had briefly drifted to sleep.

  Eloise had fallen soundly asleep the moment they’d started the journey home. Even now, her soft snores mingled with the rhythmic groaning of the carriage wheels.

  “Oh, I was thinking of many things,” Daisy whispered back, hoping not to wake his grandmother, who was bundled in a thick fox fur and almost hidden from view. “Mostly of this beautiful night and how I survived my first ball, thanks to you.”

  He shook his head. “Any friend would have helped out.”

  “But only you did. I hope I may return the favor someday.”

  He arched an eyebrow as he shifted slightly toward her. “A good deed is its own reward.”

  She let out a merry, but hushed, laugh. “You sound like a minister at a Sunday sermon.”

  He gave a mock shudder. “Who me? No, I’m an unrepentant sinner.”

  She was a sinner, too. The thoughts now whirling in her head while gazing at him were undeniably wicked. She’d have to speak to her married sisters about these new sensations. Or read Lady Forsythia’s book. Even though she had no intention of reforming Gabriel, what harm could there be in learning the workings of a rakehell’s mind?

  Certainly no harm in better understanding her body’s response to Gabriel. Unmarried females weren’t supposed to think or feel or even know about what went on in the marriage bed. But Daisy had overheard enough of her sisters’ conversations to understand that the quickening of her heart, the warm tingling of her body, the yearning in her breast, were symptoms of desire. Did she desire Gabriel—crumpets, she couldn’t—or was she mistaking these sensations for gratitude?

  Would she respond as eagerly to Alexander?

  In truth, she liked the naughty way Gabriel made her feel. There was a quiet promise in his soft glances, as though they were a prelude to something wonderful.

  But what?

  She’d have to ask Rose and Laurel.

  “Are you cold, Daisy?” His voice was a husky rumble of concern.

  “A little,” she said, though she wasn’t in the least. But how else could she explain away her shiver of excitement?

  “Here, take my coat.” He removed it and then drew her forward to wrap it about her shoulders. His taut muscles shifted beneath the white expanse of his shirt. His vest, shot through with silken threads of silver, gleamed as brightly as the moon on a crisp winter’s night.

  He drew the coat tightly about her, his hands gentle against her skin. There was something wonderful about being enveloped in his scent. “Better?”

  She tilted her head toward his. “Much.”

  His hand lingered at her neck.

  She held her breath. Please. Please!

  No! She was mad to want him to kiss her! And hadn’t she already gotten into trouble once, even though she hadn’t really done anything wrong?

  And what of Alexander? Would he ever forgive her for kissing his wastrel brother? Goodness, she’d never even met Alexander. What if she never met him?

  It seemed a terrible shame to waste this opportunity.

  Gabriel was a man of experience. Surely, he’d know just what she needed. And what harm could he do with Eloise snoring right beside them?

  Ever so gently, he began to trace the outline of her jaw with his finger.

  “I’ve never stayed up all night before,” she whispered tremulously.

  “Perhaps it shall be a night of firsts for you,” he murmured, his thumb now caressing her cheek. “Your first ball.”

  She nodded.

  “Your first waltz at a ball.” He drew her closer.

  She blinked her eyes. “My first ball gown.”

  “And a lovely one it is.” He drew her closer still. “You were the prettiest girl at Lord Hornby’s tonight.”

  “Very kind of you to say.” She suppressed a sigh as their breaths mingled. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Daisy—”

  She let out a small gasp. “The answer is yes.”

  He eased back, seeming confused. “To what?”

  “The question you were about to ask. Yes, you may kiss me.”

  His lips twitched upward at the corners. “I wasn’t about to ask the question.”

  She groaned, certain she was the silliest debutante ever to exist. It was bad enough she’d given him permission to kiss her, but to assume he’d wanted to... and now it was humiliatingly obvious that he didn’t. She ought to have kept her mouth shut until she’d read Lady Forsythia’s book. She’d probably botched a dozen rules on the short ride home. “I’m so sorry. I thought... ridiculously foolish of me...”

  He held her as she tried to pull away. “Shut your eyes.”

  “Why?” s
he sputtered.

  “Because I am going to kiss you. I just hadn’t planned on asking permission. Rakehells never do.” His mouth slanted across hers before she had the chance to protest, gently at first, his lips pressing against her own in a whisper-soft caress that sent a wave of heat through Daisy’s body. The kiss was lovely, politely restrained, and more pleasant than she’d expected, but instead of bringing the kiss to a natural end, Gabriel suddenly let out a quiet growl and began to increase the pressure of his lips against her mouth.

  In the next moment, she was on Gabriel’s lap, deliciously wrapped in his strong arms, her body tingling madly as he circled one hand about her waist and allowed the other to linger at her neck, his thumb caressing a wildly sensitive spot behind her ear.

  She let out a gasp. “Gabriel.”

  “Hush, Daisy. Don’t speak, just feel,” he said with aching gentleness and slid his tongue along the soft, throbbing flesh of her lips to tease them open. He eased his tongue into her mouth and she welcomed the invasion.

  Great balls of cheese and hot, buttered crumpets! She closed her eyes tightly and did as told, taking in every exquisite sensation. No doubt she’d just broken every rule in Lady Forsythia’s book, but she didn’t care. Her surrender yielded a rich bounty in return, for with each barrier Gabriel conquered, with every probing surge and teasing feint against her lips, he gave a part of himself to her.

  Oh, she knew that she was an incompetent innocent and held little seductive power over him. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the moment, allowing herself to grow reckless and wanton, for she was eager to match him touch for touch, and savor him taste for taste.

  Her body was hot and trembling with desire, but so was his. At least, she hoped so.

  “Daisy,” he said in a ragged whisper and kissed her again, his kiss igniting a fiery torment deep within her soul. Fireworks exploded in her heart and a flaming heat spread throughout her limbs.