Lily Becknell, one of her dearest friends, strode toward her. Lily was the town’s true beauty with fair blonde hair and blue eyes, with a soft womanly form that drew only admiration from every male eye when she passed. With Lily came a shorter woman with black hair and shiny little black eyes. It made Gemma think of a rat she’d seen in the gardens once, all beady black eyes and gnashing teeth. She shivered in revulsion at the memory. This stranger flashed Gemma a calculating sort of smile that caused an undercurrent of unease to move through her. It was not the type of look one young lady ought to give to another, not if they were meant to be on friendly terms.
“Lily! How are you?” She clasped hands with her friend and smiled politely at the other woman.
“Gemma, this is Miss Arabella Stevens. You recall a Mr. Stevens who lives a few miles north of Randolph Hall? This is his niece,” Lily informed her.
“Oh yes, of course! Miss Stevens, it is so nice to meet you,” Gemma greeted with genuine warmth. Mayhap the woman was nice once a person got better acquainted with her. Then again, perhaps not. Gemma bit her lip to hide her frown.
The other woman smiled, but it wasn’t exactly a friendly expression when it was displayed on her face. There was something almost vicious in the feral glint of the woman’s dark eyes and her smile revealed teeth that smiled seemed gritted together as though in great displeasure. There was no way that Gemma would be able to keep from picturing that rat in the garden when she saw this woman.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Haverford,” Arabella replied, her rosebud lips pinched into a little simper.
Rattish eyes and teeth aside, Gemma had to admit Arabella was attractive and dainty looking, nothing like Gemma with her fuller figure and taller body. Her father used to call her Little Diana because of her beauty and her strong looking form, like the Goddess of the Hunt. But men did not want such women, they wanted petite delicate flowers that depended upon them for protection. Men were silly though to toy with such flowers, for they often had the sharpest thorns. And Arabella looked very thorny indeed, at least to Gemma.
I should be ashamed to be so petty in my thoughts. She knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking them. Sometimes a person simply didn’t strike her as genuine and that always bothered Gemma.
Lily broke through Gemma’s prickly thoughts. “Have you seen Mr. Randolph and Mr. Holland? They are just over there, talking to Lady Greenley.” There was a hint of mischief in Lily’s tone. She and only she, outside of Gemma, knew of the understanding between her and James.
“I have not…” She craned her head about toward the two tall men again, vastly distracted by their handsome forms. The way their navy overcoats and buckskin trousers molded to such strong, athletic forms. A little shiver rippled through her at the memory of touching James’s muscles, particularly those of his thighs and the way it felt to clench them while she rode through a seemingly endless wave of pleasure at his knowledgeable hands.
“James came by my carriage, with my uncle of course,” Arabella supplied to the conversation and Gemma’s head snapped back to her. Why would this woman think she could take such a familiarity with James, when only Gemma had that right?
“Yes, it was kind of you to provide such transport for him,” Lily added diplomatically. Gemma decided to believe what she wished, that Arabella had no claim to James. Perhaps Arabella’s uncle lived near James’s family home, and offered a ride out of kindness.
Yes, that was it. She couldn’t help but smile. All would be well, she was going to see James. She turned back to her friend, seeking any bit of information about James, but she would have to ask about Jasper too, in order to prevent any speculation by Arabella that she and James had an understanding.
“Well Lily, how did you find them? Are they much improved from those darling boys of our youth who used to tug our braids and put frogs in our pinafore pockets?” Gemma ignored Arabella now, eager to hear what Lily had to say about the two prodigal men of Midhurst.
Lily smiled secretively and leaned in close and conspiratorially to Gemma. “Never have you seen such a finer pair of men. If I had not married my Henry last year, why I’d be setting my lures to catch one of them.” Lily winked at her and Gemma suppressed a laugh. Lily had always gotten into arguments with the boys when they’d been younger, whilst Gemma had tried eagerly to catch up when the young men had run off on their much longer legs. The mere idea of Lily marrying either one of the two bucks was laughable. She’d spend too much time arguing with them if one of them ever became her husband.
“Oh really, Lily, you are too much!” Gemma smiled and bit her lip, looking over Lily’s shoulder toward the pair of men again.
Turn around James, I want to see you, she silently begged. Let me put a face to the dreams I’ve had for years. Let me see the lips that brought forth such passion last night.
Lady Greenley’s screech jerked Gemma out of her thoughts.
“You, Haverford! Come here at once!” Lady Edith Greenley’s bonneted head bobbed up and down when she waved at Gemma and demanded she come to her like a general in His Majesty’s army. The ancient yet formidable Lady Greenley stood near the two men, who both turned at Lady Greenley’s shout, in order to see Gemma.
Her heart stopped and she sucked air into her burning lungs after what seemed like ages of being frozen in time. Funny, she’d never had this happen before in her life, but seeing the faces of James Randolph and Jasper Holland after eleven years… Her world spun on its axis, as though she were a celestial planet shifting in its orbit, thrown into a spin by seeing these men. Side by side, they stood, almost an equal height, proud and strong in looks and demeanor. And both of them stared directly at her, equally curious to see her as she was to see them.
The resemblance of the two men to each other was startling. Only her childhood memories dared to find differences between the manly faces turned toward her. James had a fuller mouth, quicker to smile, but Jasper, quiet, calm, Jasper had eyes like liquid caramel that smoldered so powerfully when he stared at her that her mind simply blanked of all thought.
A rapid play of inscrutable emotions danced across his eyes, touched lightly upon his mouth as though he nearly smiled, but caught himself. Why on earth would Jasper smile at her? When he’d been a boy he’d always avoided her and had shouted rudely at her more than once that she was a nuisance and ought to go home and practice her needlepoint and sketching rather than gallivant off into the wooded glens after him and James.
Not that I ever listened to him. She almost smiled back at Jasper. She had the strangest urge to needle him, challenge him for daring to smile at her.
“Now Haverford! I could keel over and die waiting for you to grace me with your presence,” Lady Greenley snapped, prodding the ground with the tip of her closed parasol. Gemma excused herself from Lily and Arabella and walked quickly toward Lady Greenley. She tried not to stare at the men when she reached them.
“What can I do for you, Lady Greenley?” Gemma asked.
“Can I depend upon you to rescue me from these unruly young bucks? Take them about the garden, and see that they don’t scandalize my party, won’t you?” Lady Greenley demanded of Gemma, a wicked glint in the older lady’s gray eyes. With her crafty mannerisms and being rather boisterous for her age, no one dared to cross her.
“Of course, Lady Greenley,” Gemma answered politely.
Both men grinned at her. The direct attention from both James and Jasper heated her skin with an embarrassing blush. There was nothing decent in either of their gazes. She could understand a look like that from James, after what they had shared, but Jasper? He should not be eyeing her form with such a bold look of appreciation like he did at that exact moment.
Lady Greenley watched this odd triangle of looks with an arched brow of interest, and Gemma thought she saw the old woman hide the beginnings of a smile beneath her ridiculously foppish bonnet. Where James’s gaze seemed to outline every curve of her body with speculation, Jasper’s gaze had
the deep sensual sweep of such force that she almost felt his hands stroking her rather than his eyes…it was a knowing gaze, like he knew just how the flesh of her breasts would tighten, her legs tremble and her breath quicken beneath his touch…
“Why, is that really you, Miss Haverford?” James exclaimed with a broad smile and a deep bow. It did little to dispel the ensnaring enchantment of Jasper’s heated gaze which distracted her from James.
Gemma forced a soft laugh, letting James take her hand and kiss it, but the tingling rush of contact she expected did not come. His voice did not seem quite the same as the night before, perhaps because it was disguised by his whispering tone…
“Mr. Randolph, Mr. Holland, I’m so glad to see you both returned to Midhurst in good health.” Her gaze was strangely drawn back to Jasper, who watched her in deep concentration and she didn’t know what to make of his scrutiny. She nibbled her bottom lip, studying Jasper intensely. His shoulders were wide…a little wider than James’s now that she compared them so diligently.
James dropped her hand and glanced between her and Jasper, one brow raised.
“Er…we’re quite glad to be home, Miss Haverford,” James added, trying to draw her attention again. “I see Midhurst has treated you well over the years, Gemma.” His voice deepened, but still Gemma didn’t tear her gaze away from Jasper.
Was it possible to have a battle between a man and woman based on eye contact alone? She did feel as though she were battling this man, what she couldn’t understand was why. His lips twitched, her eyes narrowed and her heart gave a strange little flip in her chest when his gaze lowered, inch by inch to focus on her lips.
We’re strangers, after all these years. I should not be fascinated by him.
When he spoke to her, however, her body responded with a terrifying thrill of recognition.
“You are looking well, Gemma.” The way he caressed her name…she went suddenly pale. That voice! Jasper’s voice was the voice in the garden, the voice that belonged to the body which had…
No, no! He could not be the man I… Gemma wavered on her feet when a cloud seemed to cover her mind and she couldn’t quite control her legs enough to stay standing.
“Now you’ve done it you rogues! Gone and frightened the girl. Shame!” Lady Greenley struck Jasper in the chest with the pointed end of her parasol.
Jasper grunted with the impact of the parasol’s blow to his navy waistcoat and doubled over as though in pain. James ducked when Lady Greenley’s parasol whirled through the air where his head had been moments before.
“Have at you, you devils!” Lady Greenley cried, waving the parasol aloft like a saber as she started forward to continue the attack.
Both men got control of themselves and flashed smiles in Gemma’s direction and looks of amused fright at the crazy, old battle-axe before turning tail and running toward the garden like any sensible rogues would do when threatened by the likes of such a woman aiming a parasol at their jugulars. Once Lady Greenley had clearly vanquished them, at least enough that they had sought safe haven in her garden, Lady Greenley turned to face the recovering Gemma.
“Now, Haverford, what’s all this fainting nonsense? Tell me what’s gotten your shift in a twist?” the elderly lady demanded in an all-knowing whisper. Had Gemma not grown up around Lady Greenley, the bold vulgarity of her reference to undergarments would have been shocking and not amusing. But this was Lady Greenley after all and no one would be surprised at her wild behavior after knowing her a short time.
Lady Greenley was far too smart for her age and saw far too much. Gemma shook her head, not wanting to breathe a word of what she’d discovered, especially if those words spread, as they often did in Midhurst. She still couldn’t believe it. Jasper, not James, had met her in the garden, had deceived her, had compromised her… Why? How? A thousand questions beat inside her mind so harshly that it made her eyes ache and she shut them, rubbing them with gloved fingertips for a few moments while she struggled to regain her composure.
If James knew the truth, knew that she’d been compromised by another man, his best friend no less…knew that it was Jasper who had kissed her, touched her... It didn’t matter that she thought it was James the whole time, he would not forgive her.
Fury boiled inside her. She distinctly remembered saying ‘James’ in the garden, several times, and her ‘love’ had not corrected her. He had wanted her to believe he was James! Lady Greenley was right. Jasper, at least, was a rogue. Not a good one either, not the sort of rogue a woman would sigh and swoon over then whisper about in giggles to her friends. But not Jasper. He was the sort of rogue who would end up on a dueling field, likely shot for having stolen his best friend’s future wife’s virtue. A wave of nausea followed her churning fury.
“Excuse me Lady Greenley, I have a man to strangle,” she growled softly and started off toward the garden where she’d seen both men flee. She was going to find Jasper and ring his bloody neck. After that, she was going to cry for a very, very long time.
“Remember dear, use both hands, cuts off their air quicker!” Lady Greenley’s advice warbled across the lawn when she cut through the garden’s entrance. At any other time in her life, Gemma would have been fascinated to stay and hear just how Lady Greenley had gained such useful knowledge of the strangulation of rogues, but not today.
Tempted by a Rogue: Chapter Four
The Greenley gardens were expansive, a huge array of mazes and gazebos marking various points of the gardens. It was easy to get lost especially if one was angry as Gemma was. She took several wrong turns and only just stumbled upon James who chatted quietly with Jasper near a white laced gazebo. Their heads were close to each other while they whispered, their shoulders squared and arms crossed, in that pose men take when no woman is around to scowl at such blatant displays of masculinity. They both looked far too handsome and rakish as they shared soft snickers and smiles. Gemma despised being left out of that loop of friendship they shared, at any other moment she would have given her left leg to know what they were saying. Right now, she wanted to throttle both of them.
“Miss Haverford?” James asked, his lips curving slightly when he saw her. Gemma tried to smile but it withered quickly. How was she going to do this? She had to tell James. She would not continue to be secretly engaged to a man when lies lay between them. He needed to know what sort of man his best friend was.
“May I speak to you, Mr. Randolph? In private?” she asked, trying to stay cool and calm. It didn’t work. Her hands trembled, and her lungs couldn’t seem to take enough air.
“Er…yes, of course.” James came over to her, leaving Jasper alone to lean back against the gazebo, watching them with hooded eyes. She wished Jasper would go away, far away where she would never have to see him ever again. But that did not happen. The man stayed right where he was, watching her with a smirk on his face.
“Did you…come by my house to pay a visit to me last night?” She worded the question carefully. There was still a possibility, however infinitesimal, that it had been James and not Jasper, they were so alike after all. She just had to be sure.
“Come by your house? No, I’m afraid I did not…why?” Suspicion darkened his eyes and shadowed his face.
“Oh, no reason,” she said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant.
James grabbed her hand. “Did you expect me to come and see you?”
“Well, in your last letter you said you would, you even sent this...” She retrieved the black and silver star embroidered cloth and held it out to him. He took it from her, sliding the cloth over his fingers, a scowl etched into his full lips. Lips she hadn’t kissed last night.
Oh, Lord, this cannot be happening. I couldn’t have kissed Jasper.
“I did not send this…who gave you this?” he demanded sharply, his face flushing and his fists clenching “Another man has been sending you letters and gifts? I’ll kill him.”
“I…” How stupid could she be? She’d let him see it and now the wh
ole incident had turned into her fault. His almost violent response made her take a hasty step back.
“Did you meet with someone last night?” he asked, his lip curling in a soft snarl.
Her heart dropped clear down to her toes with dread.
“No, I—”
James thrust the cloth back at her. “I see the lie in your eyes, Miss Haverford. I cannot attach myself to someone who has clearly been with another man and lied about it. It makes me wonder what else you have lied about.” James leaned in close, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“But I haven’t lied! I came here to ask you the truth, the letter was signed with your name! How was I to know it wasn’t from you?” She wanted to hit him, hit the arrogant man right between the eyes, for assuming she would betray him and their love, a love she had built her dreams and future around. Her heart splintered, each fracture pinching her chest with pain.
“Lies or not, you have granted your attentions to another man, I have little interest in marrying a deceitful creature like you…however.” His cold eyes heated up again when he reached to tug a curl of her hair before letting his fingers drop to her throat. “I would be more than willing to offer companionship whenever you tire of this other man.”
His words hit her like Lady Greenley’s parasol, right in the stomach, her breath knocked completely out of her lungs. She slapped his hand away and took a step back. He wanted to sleep with her, but not marry her? Who was this man? This was not the man she’d written love letters to for eleven years…James Randolph was a coldhearted ruthless stranger.
“I am an honorable woman, and you dishonor me with your accusations and your… offers,” she added for lack of a better word. She hated herself for the way her voice shook when she took another step back from him. She was going to toss her accounts if she had to spend another minute around this man.
“Suit yourself, Miss Haverford,” he replied almost sulkily and stalked off, leaving her alone.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 97
