A short distance away, some of the older gentleman bunched together, murmuring to each other, occasionally chuckling. Their cheeks were rosy and despite their best attempts to hide it, more than a few men seemed to be drinking glasses of sherry whilst their wives were otherwise occupied. She would have smiled, except she noticed that the women were focused on something that sliced her heart into tiny pieces. James and that awful woman Arabella seemed to be in the middle of a group of women who were chittering and clucking like little birds.
“Lily, what is happening over there?” she asked, her head spinning with a heavy sense of sudden doom.
Lily glared at James before turning back to her. “Mr. Randolph has just announced his engagement to Arabella Stevens.”
“What?” Gemma’s voice out dreadfully shrill, but thankfully no one had the least bit of interest in her. All eyes were on the new happy couple. Couple. The word cut deep. How had he moved so quickly to Arabella when just a half an hour ago she and James were supposed to be engaged? The tea she’d been sipping seemed suddenly bitter and she flinched, setting her cup down on her saucer hard enough that it rattled.
“It seems.” Lily cleared her throat. “That Mr. Randolph and Miss Stevens have met before, and that they have been courting this last month.”
Courting? James had been courting another woman while writing love letters to her?
“How? How could he do this to me?” she said in a hoarse whisper. Her heart shattered into even smaller pieces beneath the weight of James’s betrayal. All those letters, each word she had cherished had been nothing but lies. To move on from her so quickly? It made no sense, what sort of man had she fallen in love with? Everything she’d worked for, planned for, every hope and every dream had been spurned by James, and tricked by Jasper. She wasn’t sure which man she hated more at that moment.
“Apparently he met her several months ago in Brighton and has been in love with her ever since,” Lily informed Gemma in an acidic whisper. “What a wretched man. If Henry only knew, he’d…oooh!” Lily kicked at a tuft of grass with her slippered foot. “Do you want me to have Henry draw his cork? I’m sure he’d be happy to.”
Gemma shook her head. “No, you mustn’t. I just… Oh, Lily…it was supposed to be me,” she whispered to her friend.
Lily alone knew of the depth of Gemma’s and James’s secret love letter affair. The secret stack of letters had never been bared to another’s eyes save for Lily’s, because there were often passages that were so amusing, or impressive, and often romantic that Gemma felt compelled to share them with her closest friend. Lily would often comment on them, tell Gemma her thoughts on what she believed certain things meant, and it was part of Lily’s impressions that had led her to believe James would marry her. Had they both been so utterly wrong on that account?
“Look not to him, not any longer Gemma. Perhaps you ought to adjust your gaze to finer, better company?” Lily cupped Gemma’s chin and turned it to point to the person who had just emerged from the garden. Jasper Holland. How he could look so devilishly handsome in his blue coat and buckskin trousers? It was dreadfully unfair. Gemma blinked back tears and pulled free of Lily’s hand.
“No, no. I detest Mr. Holland. He’s a ruthless rogue!” she declared vehemently, even if the sight of him did make her mouth suddenly go dry and make her body shudder with a confusing twist of feminine interest and near abject misery. How could a man make her want to cry and to kiss him at the same time? What was a woman supposed to do when a man tugged her in two completely different directions?
It was as though he heard her words because his gaze met hers. A flash of intensity and dark brooding passed between them. He clenched his hands into fists and took one step in her direction, then froze when he seemed to realize she would attempt to turn him to stone like Medusa if he dared to come closer.
Lily’s gaze darted between him and Gemma, her lips pursed into a confused moue. “That is a pity. I thought he seemed rather taken with you, Gemma. He’s done nothing but stare at you since you’ve arrived,” Lily said, eyeing Jasper with an arched brow.
Gemma tore her eyes away from him, wanting to remove that creeping feeling of need, of hunger for newly discovered pleasures. She couldn’t want him, couldn’t want to make love to him again, not when she was so determined to hate him for all eternity.
Henry Becknell, Lilly’s tall, blond-haired husband trotted over to them. “Lily, my love, come quick, the archery contest has been set up.”
He was the sort of man a woman could love immediately. All smiles and boyish charm without any of the danger that someone like James or Jasper would pose to a girl’s virtue. Henry was older than James and Jasper by two years and had been away at school before Lily had grown up into the town beauty. When he’d returned home, it had been inevitable that they’d fallen in love. Gemma was filled with envy sometimes when she watched them, but she was happy for her friend too. Lily deserved to be loved by a good man, and Henry was the finest there was.
“Miss Haverford,” he greeted Gemma warmly.
She smiled a little; Henry was so good-natured that it was hard to keep one’s spirits depressed when he was near. “Mr. Becknell,” she replied.
“I know you love a bit of archery too. Come and join us, give my Lily some competition, eh?” His teasing challenge made it irresistible to refuse.
“Oh, very well.” She laughed. Archery was one of her pleasures at parties like these and it would do her some good to get her mind on other things. There was nothing as satisfying as handling a weapon when one was in a foul mood. When she pictured shooting James in the rump with an arrow, she stifled a giggle. It was too tempting a notion.
Henry escorted them both to the part of the lawns where ten targets had been arranged and bows laid out for those interested in competing. James and his new bride-to-be refrained from the contest, choosing instead to linger near the tea tables and gossip with others not participating. Gemma didn’t want to have to face that embarrassment of having to speak to them and congratulate them. It was actually a relief that they stayed far enough away that she could focus on the archery. She and Lily both slipped on leather vambraces and shooting gloves to protect their arms and hands.
Jasper had recovered somewhat from her earlier glower at him to keep his distance and now strode toward them, a purposeful gleam in his eyes. Glancing away, she did her best to pretend she didn’t notice him. It didn’t stop her body from sensing him. Each of the fine hairs on her neck prickled and she felt his focus on her.
“It’s a pity you despise Mr. Holland, he seems keen to be your partner for the first round,” Lily remarked in a low whisper behind her hand.
Gemma determinedly looked away from the clearly interested gaze that Jasper kept shooting her way. How the devil was she to avoid him if he came over to join her in the game?
“Would your husband care to partner me?” she asked Lily.
With a sigh, Lily waved Henry over to them. “Gemma, dear, we shall have to have a talk about you avoiding eligible men,” she whispered softly so her husband wouldn’t overhear.
“Henry, my heart, would you partner Gemma? She’s in need of rescuing.” Lily’s smile to her husband earned a chuckle from Henry.
“Of course.” Henry winked. “Assisting ladies in distress is my specialty.”
“Thank you.” Lily glanced about, apparently seeing no one watching them and planted a kiss on her husband’s lips. The barest touch, yet it made Henry turn an amusing shade of red. Gemma longed to have that sort of relationship with a man, where a hint of a kiss would be a reminder of the passion that burned between them when no one was around to witness it. It was romantic, and sweet, and deeply full of love, and it made her chest ache to witness it.
After making sure Gemma and Henry would be fine, Lily left them and went to claim a different partner.
Gemma took up a bow and joined Henry at one of the ten targets, ready to match herself against him to see who would advance in the contest
. She was a skilled archer and was better than Henry, who loved the sport but lacked Gemma’s natural skill. One more reason that her father called her a fair huntress. She and the bow were well suited.
She took her shot first and then while Henry lined up for his, she scanned the other couples at the targets, finding Lily and Jasper at the target to her immediate right. Jasper, like Henry, had removed his waistcoat so that he now only had on his white blouse and gold embroidered vest. He cut a stunning figure, long legs parted slightly in the proper stance, bow raised and arms taut with perfectly controlled strength. The shirt molded to his muscles, showing off his body in a way that seemed all too intimate. Muscles she remembered touching, digging her fingers into as she’d come apart in his arms. Gemma forced herself to look away.
After several rounds the contestants narrowed down to four. Lily and Gemma were against each other on one target and Jasper and Gemma’s father were on the other target. Lily took her stance after Gemma fired. She raised her bow rather too quickly and with the faintest glint of mischief in her eyes that Gemma nearly missed, she released her arrow. It zipped through the air at a wide angle and embedded itself in the outermost circle on the target.
“Lily, what are you doing?” Gemma hissed at her friend.
Lily merely shrugged one elegant little shoulder, a hint of a smile upon her lips and then she left for the tea tables. Gemma’s father raised his bow, one eye fixed on the target and then he took his shot. He’d always been decent at archery, but like Lily, his shot went wide, wide enough that he missed the target entirely. It sunk into the ground some yards behind it. The white tuft of the arrow’s feathers quivered with the force of the shot. With a casual shrug, her father turned, smiled at Lily and left the archery area.
Had her father purposely used too much strength to send the arrow sailing well out of reach of the target? And if he had…why? That would mean Jasper won his round, and now she and Jasper were the only two left.
Devil take it, this was not going to end well for either of them.
Tempted by a Rogue: Chapter Six
The crowd, which had gathered around the archers at the beginning of the contest, melted away so only Gemma and Jasper remained. She was never more thankful for the apparent disinterest of those people. Being the center of attention had never been something she enjoyed, and knowing she would have to be around Jasper, feeling as unbalanced as she did now…it was best if she wasn’t under the scrutiny of others.
“Gemma,” Jasper greeted softly. His voice was full of warmth and it reminded her too much of the garden shed and what they’d done there. Her lower body gave a pulsing response, reminding her of just how tender she still was.
“Mr. Holland,” she replied quietly, however she couldn’t hide the little growl in her voice. After this party was over, she was going to return home, and never set foot in Midhurst again, not if it meant seeing Jasper. She steeled herself against another wretched pang in her heart at James’s callous betrayal of her and Jasper’s deception.
Thankfully all of the attention was primarily back on James and Arabella. James’s voice carried over the air while he told the crowd how he first met Arabella. No one watched Jasper or Gemma when they approached the last target, bows in hand. Gemma resolved to not say another word to him. She would likely be furious at him for the next century. Introducing her to pleasure like that last night in the garden, and then again seducing her today in the garden shed.
She tried not to think about the ramifications of what had happened in the shed on her future. There was little hope now of marriage to anyone. Her husband, if she was fortunate enough to find one, would likely discover she was no longer a maiden.
She shivered as a heavy sense of dread choked her. She gripped her bow hard enough that her knuckles turned white. Why was the world so unfair toward a woman and not a man?
“Would you care to go first Gemma?” Jasper asked.
“You will address me as Miss Haverford,” she replied icily.
Jasper glanced over at the distracted crowd before leaning in close to her and stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Gemma swatted his hand away, avoiding the intensity of his gaze and the way it seemed to bring her right back to that moment in the shed when they’d been connected so deeply, touching everywhere, mouths a breath apart. She hated the fact that she loved the burn that simple touch drew forth on her skin and the almost tangible memories it evoked.
“Wouldn’t you say that after what we shared today, we no longer need to be bound by the rules of formality?”
Even though she despised his words, she knew he was right. His hand strayed lower, to tease her waist where she was most ticklish. Shivers shot up her spine. He grinned mischievously, reaching for a more firm grasp, but she resumed her restraint and whacked his hand with the tip of her bow.
“Please Gemma, give me a smile. I know you are angry with me, but I don’t want you to be. We were friends once, weren’t we? I should like to be friends again.” He set his bow on the ground beside his feet.
“Friends?” She planted one hand on her hip and challenged him. “We were never friends, Jasper. You always chased me away when I tried to follow you and James around. You got mad when James tugged on my curls, you left jars of tadpoles on my bedroom window hoping to frighten me when I woke up and saw them wriggling about in the pond water.” She almost smiled at the memory.
Tadpoles had been rather fascinating to her, and whenever she’d found a jar, the little green bodies lit by bright sunlight on the open window ledge, she’d pull up a chair and watch the creatures inside the glass. She supposed it was because her father had nurtured in her an appreciation for science. The tadpoles would grow up to be frogs someday, and the thought that they would had captivated her. She had a love of the things that made the world what it was, a place of endless wonder and never ending miracles. Miracles that Jasper had left on her window when he was a boy to try and frighten her. This time a little smile did escape and she blushed.
Jasper cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat with one crooked finger. “Did you ever think that I might be jealous of James? The way you used to look at him, with those big beautiful eyes, and all that ginger colored hair so perfect for tugging on.” He reached up as though lost in a dream of days past and curled one lock of her hair about his finger, tugging.
Gemma stared up at him, completely consumed by the look in his eyes and the strange exciting thrills her body had in response to that single little tug of her hair. What would it be like if he fisted his hand completely in her hair and pulled her head back for his kiss? It would be divine…she shook her head, trying desperately to clear her thoughts of such wonderful, no sinful, ideas.
“Then why push me away?” she demanded in a hushed whisper. Was he really jealous of James? Had he liked her much more than he’d pretended to? She couldn’t despise a man who had secretly been jealous of his friend because of her. She was still angry and hurt but the seething rage had faded. His actions had been those of a jealous man, not of one full of callous disregard.
He raked a hand through his dark hair, pulling hard on the strands as though he attempted to control himself. “You were so young Gemma. I knew better than to let myself feel things toward you.”
“Young? Jasper, I’m only one year younger than you.” He was twenty-six, but she had to admit he had lived more than she had in many ways. She’d been in Midhurst while he’d been out seeing the world, fighting battles, protecting His Majesty’s Empire. It made her feel strangely small and insignificant in comparison.
“A boy of fifteen is very different from a girl of fourteen.” He stroked his hand down her waist again, toying with the folds of her skirt. Once or twice he gripped it harder and she wondered if he was tempted to pull her closer.
She blew out a very slow breath, trying to still her racing heart. “I suppose you might be right. I knew nothing of boys or men at that age. I confess I still don’t understand the male creature. You are a mysteri
ous lot.” Her tone came out teasing, and she didn’t mind. This frank discussion was good. They needed to speak plainly of this or else she might really be tempted to hate him for the rest of her life and she didn’t want to hate Jasper. He was too good in so many ways, even if he had seduced her. But what a sweet seduction it had been. It made her understand why some women were compromised. The temptation to be with someone sometimes outweighed the good sense of one’s mind.
“Perhaps we should finish the contest,” she suggested and gestured with the bow she still gripped in one hand at the last target.
“Very well.” Jasper sighed and retrieved his bow from the ground.
Gemma lined up for her shot, raising the bow and notching her arrow, but he would not leave her be.
“Your stance, while excellent, could still be improved…” He moved to stand behind her, his entire length pressed up against her. The rush of heat that followed made her blush a deep scarlet. She demand he step back, even when his arms came up around hers to better her stance. He released her arms and settled his palms possessively on her waist while he waited patiently for her to take her shot.
“I can’t concentrate when you are touching me, Mr. Holland,” she said, trying to wiggle her hips to dislodge those warm hands. He tightened his grip and pulled her back against him. It was impossible to ignore the state of his arousal which dug into her lower back. She couldn’t help but gasp.
“I can’t release you Gemma, you left me in a state of desire that is unseemly for public eyes. Please, stop that wriggling or else I’ll be in certain trouble…” he warned.
“It would serve you right, you know, for me to leave you in such a state.” She bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.
“And I’m sure I quite deserve that, but then there will be all those pesky questions about who left me in that state. You wouldn’t want anyone to guess it might be your beauty that inspired such a reaction in me, now would you?” His fingers dug into her waist.
Her Perfect Gentleman: A Regency Romance Anthology Page 100
