Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone?

by Donna Cummings

  Gemma might need to give herself a good scold as well. She had never been so boldly interested in anyone before now. Of course it would have to be the one man she could not permit herself to pursue. Not without losing any hope of an independent future.

  "I cannot thank you enough for assisting me," she said. "I would not have been able to sleep a wink, worrying that Snowball was trapped somewhere, unable to free herself."

  "I am happy to help. And I would not have slept a wink knowing you were out here all alone searching for Snowball."

  She felt her heart melt a bit more, which was understandable, but also inconvenient. Once Snowball was safe, and given the admonishment she deserved, Gemma would have to make a concerted effort to remove herself from Mr. Colborne's company. She could not neglect her matchmaking duties any longer.

  After several minutes of companionable silence, they finally arrived at the entrance to the stables. They could hear someone in one of the stalls, so they followed the sound, as well as the light given off by a lantern on a hook. One of the younger grooms, a fresh-faced lad, was moving loose straw around, carefully depositing it near the corner of the stall.

  Gemma stood on tiptoe to better see over the door, ready to call out to the groom. Her jaw dropped at the unexpected sight before her. Snowball reclined in the midst of the piled-up straw, surrounded by several miniature Snowballs, all of them mewling and doing their best to partake of their mother's milk.

  "Snowball!" She turned to gape at Mr. Colborne. "I had no idea! None at all."

  ***

  Miles chuckled at her wide-eyed expression. "Looks like we shall have to find the scoundrel responsible, so he can make an honest cat out of our Snowball."

  The groom fought off a grin. "I think they'll be all right now. I found her a bit earlier, hidden in the corner there, and did my best to make her comfortable." He sucked on a knuckle that bore a mark from Snowball's protective paw. "She's a fierce one."

  "I cannot thank you enough," Gemma said. "Or apologize more profusely at Snowball causing you injury."

  He waved her concern away self-consciously.

  "How many are there?" Miles asked the young man.

  "Six. And all of them healthy as can be," he added proudly, as though he had sired them himself. "Come take a look. Just be careful not to get too close."

  He touched the brim of his hat and then left them alone with Snowball and her brood. Miles brought Mrs. Seton closer to the corner. Snowball lifted her head and then began a nonchalant licking of the kitten closest to her.

  "How adorable!" Gemma knelt in the midst of the straw, and Miles followed suit. She laughed, and then leaned against him. He could not resist wrapping his arm around her shoulders, though he told himself it was merely a steadying gesture. But when he pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, he had no excuse for that, other than wanting to do so.

  "Snowball is definitely full of secrets," she said. In the next instant, she had plopped down into the pile of straw. Her grin was infectious. Miles could see no reason not to sit right next to her, so that is what he did.

  "It may explain why she was trying to hide in the rosebushes," he commented.

  "Of course. It makes complete sense now." She shook her head. "Though I am still in shock."

  "You are a grandmother now, of sorts."

  She laughed merrily. "Without having children of my own. That is quite a feat, is it not, Mr. Colborne?"

  He tsked. "Surely we can dispense with formalities after sharing in this momentous occasion. Please. Call me Miles."

  "I would be honored. And you must call me Gemma."

  "Gemma." He lifted her hand towards his lips, enchanted at how her mouth parted while she watched him. How could he relinquish her hand now? He couldn't. Though he probably should, since it made him want to kiss those soft lips, the ones she was moistening at that very moment...

  He pressed his mouth against hers, lightly, giving her a chance to retreat if she chose.

  She leaned into him, and his heart began to beat more rapidly. It took off at a gallop when she opened her mouth, silently pleading for him to deepen the kiss. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her in place, kissing her with more intensity each time she gave a little moan of pleasure.

  His thoughts were definitely not heading in a heroic direction. Yet he could not halt such pleasure when he knew Gemma was experiencing it too. She was the one to finally break off the kiss, resting her forehead against his for a brief moment, doing her best to steady her breathing.

  When she tilted her head back, her eyes were twinkling. His lips turned up into a smile from the anticipation of what she might say.

  "Grandmotherhood is quite a bit more thrilling than I anticipated."

  "It seemed an appropriate way to celebrate your new status."

  "I quite agree."

  She brushed her fingers across his lips. Much as he enjoyed the sensation—her skin was soft, and delicate, maddeningly so—Miles wished she would press her lips against his once more. He leaned forward and she took him up on the offer. It was just as thrilling as the first one, and he nearly protested aloud when it ended.

  "It has been a long time since I have enjoyed kisses—"

  "So you have had kisses." He pretended to frown. "But they were not enjoyable?"

  Her laugh warmed him everywhere. "No, it has been a long while since I have had any kisses, enjoyable or not."

  "That is a shame. Though I truly cannot bear that you have endured kisses that were not pleasurable. Let me obliterate them from your memory."

  She nestled into his arms, biting back an impish smile. "You will have your work cut out for you. Now that I have thought about it, there were indeed a great deal of kisses. Easily a score or more."

  "Fortunately I have nothing planned for the rest of this evening. So I can commence replacing those memories." He nibbled at her bottom lip. "At this very moment."

  Her sigh was a blend of pleasure and contentment. He had never expected to be so aroused by that combination, yet he was. He had to remind himself they were in the middle of a stable, on the floor no less, but it did not really matter. He was as enchanted with her in this rough setting as he had been while discussing the wonders of Egypt, when he had unwittingly displayed for William—and a bevy of onlookers—his interest in the woman right now in his arms.

  He tugged her closer, until they were both leaning against the wall of the stall, where they could keep an eye on Snowball and the kittens. "How is it I feel as though I have known you all my life?" he asked. "Yet it was mere hours ago that I first made your acquaintance."

  "Thanks to Snowball." Gemma tilted her head back, smiling, and he could not resist a quick kiss on the tip of her upturned nose. "We have experienced a great deal in that short time."

  "Indeed we have." He paused. "It may be completely impertinent, but I must ask—"

  "Yes, those were the best kisses I have ever experienced," she said with a chuckle.

  "You minx. That is not what I was going to ask, but I must thank you for being so concerned about my tender sensibilities. No, what I wanted to ask..." He hesitated, but then decided he could not wait to ask something so important. "Would it be possible for you to suspend your search for suitable females where I am concerned? Or would it make you feel intensely disloyal to my aunt?"

  She frowned, and he instantly regretted his suggestion. He had been thinking only of himself, and now he had caused her distress. Before he could retract the words, she turned to face him, her expression delightfully earnest.

  "I should not wish to draw her wrath down upon us. She is quite adamant, as you know. I will be deemed a failure if I cannot persuade you to consider some of these women she has assembled for you."

  "I am not afraid of her wrath, though I do not wish her to consider you a failure." Surely that would not be such a terrible situation. "Would you be sent home in disgrace?" he teased.

  "More like I would never leave my home again," she sighed.
"I have been promised a generous sum for my matchmaking services. But only if I succeed."

  He sagged at her revelation. "And if you do not succeed, she is threatening to withhold a goodly portion of my next allowance. Which I had counted on for my upcoming excursion."

  "She is a wily one, entangling us both in a multitude of purse-strings. I confess I find it all very clever." Her expression was sympathetic as she added, "Not to mention inconvenient."

  Miles drew her closer, telling himself there was no harm in the stolen moment, even though it left him wanting even more. "What plans do you have for this unlikely windfall?"

  Her eyebrows shot up. "Unlikely? You do not think I will find a suitable woman for you?"

  He wanted to growl his frustration, but did not want her to believe she was the source of it. "I am convinced you are quite capable, but I am not yet persuaded that such a woman exists." He nibbled on her earlobe, treasuring the little shivers that resulted. "Unless you are available?"

  "Unfortunately I do not believe the Dowager would consider it appropriate." She nuzzled against his chest, murmuring something he could not hear. He bent his head, just as she lifted hers and whispered in his ear, "You are making it impossible for me to want to find anyone for you."

  A thrill raced throughout his entire body. He managed to tamp it down, since he preferred to continue his wooing of her in a less rustic setting, somewhere more befitting of this woman who unexpectedly enchanted him so.

  But how would he outrun his guilt over spoiling her plans for the future? He pushed that troublesome thought aside for the moment, along with the desire she continued to incite in him.

  "So what shall you do with the stipend? Once you present me with this utterly irresistible woman?"

  Her lips tilted up into a mischievous grin. "I mean to travel extensively. I have had little opportunity to do so, since my husband preferred to stay put, and my father prefers I stay out of harm's way. Once I have the means of my own, and am no longer dependent on anyone else's finances..."

  He tried to ignore the delightful sensation of her hand slowly rubbing across his chest, something she likely did not realize she was doing, but which caused a riot of desire to flare inside him.

  "Where shall you travel first?"

  "I have not yet decided. There are so many possibilities. Where do you suggest?"

  Miles was ready to sweep her up and take her along wherever he was bound—except he was barely able to fund his own journeys, let alone hers. He wanted to growl in frustration. "It depends on what you wish to see, or to experience."

  "Everything," she murmured. "I wish to experience it all."

  Logically he knew the words were not meant to be provocative, but apparently his body was unwilling to comprehend that. Or perhaps everything about her stirred him, for his previous attempts to hold off his passion weakened completely.

  He tilted her chin up and saw an answering passion in her eyes. His impatience to have his lips on hers made him less gentlemanly than before, but she responded with equal fire. Her hands slid upwards until they linked behind his head. He thought he might go mad from the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest, the soft sounds of her arousal, her uninhibited response to his kisses.

  He wanted her so badly, it was well nigh unbearable.

  He stood abruptly. At her cry of protest, he clasped her hand, smiling as he helped her to her feet. He kept her hand in his as he began to head out of the stall, his scruples be damned. After two steps, he glanced back. Gemma's lips were lifted in an innocently seductive smile that made his knees weaken momentarily. Before they could fold completely beneath him, he strode towards the door.

  "Ooof!"

  "So sorry," he heard Richard saying, in the most unrepentant voice possible. "I did not expect you to barrel into me—"

  Miles kept from growling at the inopportune arrival of his smirking cousin. He managed to step back a pace, so his face was no longer plastered against Richard's superfine coat, but his words could not be interpreted as welcoming. "What the devil are you doing here?"

  "I worried that you had been unable to find Snowball." Richard grinned at Gemma, which irritated Miles for some reason. "Perhaps you could introduce us, cousin?"

  "Mrs. Seton," Miles said in a clipped tone, "this is another of my aunt's nephews, the one you rightly described as impervious to marriage vows." Richard gasped, and Miles barely bit back a laugh. "May I present Mr. Richard Hayward?"

  She bobbed a quick curtsey. "It is a pleasure, Mr. Hayward."

  Miles did growl that time, for he did not want his cousin to link pleasure with Gemma in any fashion. Nor did he want Richard to believe she was merely someone with whom he had just enjoyed a quick tumble. That was even more distressing, but with both of them covered in straw, and breathing heavily...

  "We cannot tarry," Miles said, "but if you wish to stand guard over Snowball, she and her newborn kittens are in the corner there."

  Richard's nose wrinkled. "I am not generally a cat sort of person."

  A genuine rush of relief swept through Miles. Gemma would never give a second glance to anyone who could not care for her beloved Snowball. He tucked Gemma's hand in his elbow, and then gave his cousin a quick nod. "Good night to you then."

  Richard's eyes were twinkling, as usual. "A very good night to the both of you."

  Miles swept them out the door without a backward glance, but Richard's gentle laughter followed.

  Miles abandoned his impetuous plan to take Gemma to his bedchamber. Perhaps another day he could ask her to join him there, but it was impossible now with Richard a witness to their leave-taking. He did not believe his cousin would do anything to harm Gemma's reputation. No, he was more likely to continue to needle Miles at every chance about his rather speedy pursuit of this woman.

  He could not deny it had all happened quickly. They had known each other only a day. Yet surely that was long enough to know their own desires. He glanced at Gemma, and she appeared to be lost in her own thoughts. He could only hope she was striking from her list several women she had meant to dangle in front of him. As impossible as it was, for both of them, there was only one woman he could possibly consider now.

  He took his time returning them to the house, drawing out the moments they had to enjoy each other's company. It also gave him a chance to ponder where this attraction was leading, how far he was willing to follow it—and what it might cost Gemma if he did.

  Chapter 5

  "It is a perfect day for a picnic," the Dowager insisted. "Why would anyone think otherwise?"

  Gemma glanced around at the numerous fans being whipped through the air, and the handkerchiefs blotting moisture from several foreheads.

  "There may be some who find the heat a touch stifling," she said. "Perhaps if we waited until the sun has gone down a bit more..."

  Her response earned her several grateful looks from the young women assembled in the parlor.

  The Dowager harrumphed. "Fine. I had thought to take my daily restorative nap afterwards, but I shall rearrange my schedule this once. Honora, you must wake me when it is time to leave for the picnic."

  "Of course," her companion replied. "I will be happy to do so."

  "I wonder if you are able to entertain yourselves while I am not here." The Dowager's tone, and her expression, were clearly doubtful.

  "We shall do our best," Gemma assured her. "Though we will be looking forward to your return."

  The Dowager beamed, and then sailed out of the room. There was a collective sigh of relief, followed by the question, "What shall we do to amuse ourselves?"

  Gemma grinned. "I have something in mind."

  A short while later, they were seated at the edge of the Dowager's reflecting pool, eager to dangle their bare feet in the water. Gemma had asked for several tent-like creations to be added to one end of the manicured lawn, complete with chairs and several tables, so they might retreat there and stay out of the sun if they chose.

  "Mrs.
Seton, this was a wonderful idea! And having ices as well..."

  Gemma had not been sure they would be amenable to such an activity, but apparently her animated discussion with Miles the previous evening about Egypt had caught their fancy. Now they were mad to experience it themselves, albeit without actually traveling there, so it had been easy enough to replicate the tents, and the cooling experience of the pool. How could anyone resist that?

  It also gave her an opportunity to cool down her overheated thoughts about Miles. Every moment with him was delightful, but it seemed to destroy her ability to remember what she wanted. In truth, it was becoming rather inconvenient pretending she was not interested in him, especially when he seemed to delight in trying to persuade her otherwise.

  She kicked off her slippers, gathered her skirts as best she could with one hand, and stepped down into the shallow pool. She would have preferred to be wearing a bathing costume but she did not have one, not having planned for such an occasion. The water lapped about her calves, calming her restless mind, though it did not seem to ease her libidinous urges.

  There was only one cure for that, and she could not allow herself to even consider it.

  She dipped her hand in the water and placed her wet palm against her forehead. "This is becoming more impossible every day," she muttered.

  Honora had joined her in the pool, and her grin said she had overheard Gemma's lament. "I am guessing you are reconsidering the Dowager's assignment for you?"

  "Yes," she laughed, "but not for the reason you might think."

  "I think it is because of your interest in Mr. Colborne."

  Gemma gasped. "Please tell me the Dowager is not aware. I am not ready to cry defeat just yet."

  Honora shook her head. "She is not aware, and I will not be the one who tells her." Her expression became more sympathetic. "But what will you do?"

  "I have no idea. Perhaps if I train my mind to think only of the stipend, and the journeys it will permit me..."