To Capture a Rake by Lori Brighton
Outside the rain thickened, pattering against the glass like a delicate song from a children’s choir, but inside the air was humid and warm. “You mentioned going to the Americas. What will you do there?”
“Whore myself out, most likely.”
She frowned. “Be serious, and I know you’re not serious.” At least, she hoped he wasn’t serious.
“How do you know?” He lifted his tea and drank, watching her over the rim. Those large hands cupped the china with a delicate ease. She realized with a start that he held the china much like he did her…with command, yet an underlying gentleness.
She forced her gaze away from his hands and her mind away from the memory of his fingers sliding over her thighs. “Because, you don’t react.”
“Pardon?” He leaned closer to her, obviously interested, despite himself.
His musky scent invaded her space, swirled around her, made her dizzy with need. When he was near, an undercurrent of awareness seemed to spark between them. She had to force herself to concentrate.
“When you jest,” she said, her voice husky. Did he notice? “Your face becomes as hard as granite. You don’t even flinch.”
He sighed long and loud, obviously annoyed that she had noticed personal things about him. If he only realized how much she knew. “What does it matter to you what I’ll do in America?” He set his cup down, his jaw clenching. “I’ll work until I can save enough money to purchase some land.”
He’d admitted the truth, but he pulled his gaze away, as if embarrassed to be sharing his dreams. Elizabeth hid her smile. So, he had wishes of a future after all. He suddenly seemed very human indeed. The way the sunlight hit his hair and made is shine. The flecks of blue in his silver eyes. The dark stubble along his jaw and cheeks. That tiny scar at the edge of his jaw. He was merely a man. A man who had somehow not only gained her respect but had snuck into her heart. Blast it all, she cared about him, cared deeply. Could she love him? The thought was too worrisome to contemplate.
“Will,” she called out. “Please take the children to their rooms.”
“Yes, my lady.” He jumped out from behind a table of orchids where he’d been hiding from Henry and Cally. “Come along.”
“But we want to play,” Cally whined.
“Maybe later.” Will shot Elizabeth a sly grin. She could imagine what he assumed they would be doing alone in the conservatory. The servants would be gossiping before the day’s end, but then that wasn’t so uncommon. She waited until they strolled through the door, closing it behind them. “Can we walk?”
Gideon watched her warily, as if he sensed her unease. “I suppose.”
The last time they’d walked she’d ended up with her skirts around her waist. She stood and curled her trembling hands. Lord, she’d never done anything like this before. No wonder why men took marriage so seriously. She waited until he was beside her and then they started down the gravel path that ran the perimeter of the greenhouse garden.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that I need someone to help protect the children,” she said in a rush of words. “Someone I can trust.”
He didn’t respond, but then she knew he didn’t think this had anything to do with him. No, he assumed she was just making chitchat. He had no idea his life was about to change. Hell, her life was about to change. She paused and glanced up at the ceiling, watching the rain trail down the glass. The outside world seemed suddenly ominous.
“What I’m saying is that…I’m asking…” Heat traveled torturously slow up her body and to her face. It was time, it must be done. She spun around to face him, their gazes clashing. Should she drop to one knee? Should she have bought him a ring?
Somehow she dredged up enough courage to blurt out, “Will you marry me?”
Gideon’s pupils flared, the only sign of his shock. For one long moment neither of them said a word. Even the rain had stopped quite suddenly. When the minutes ticked by and still he didn’t respond or even move, she started to wonder if perhaps he hadn’t heard her.
“I said—”
“I heard you.”
Well, then. Elizabeth took in a deep, trembling breath. “And?”
“And I assumed you were jesting.”
How very odd. He sounded almost angry. Elizabeth shifted, hesitating, unsure how to proceed. Did he honestly think she would be so cruel as to joke about something like marriage? “I’m not jesting.”
And then he did the most peculiar thing of all…Gideon, the man who was quite serious most of the time, tilted his head back and laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a deep laugh that echoed across the conservatory, vibrating the very glass. Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. This wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all. If he thought she was jesting, no one else would believe her interest. How very inconvenient he was being.
“Are you quite finished?” she asked, wondering if she should join in his laughter, or slap his handsome face.
His laughter faded, but his eyes still sparkled with mirth. “Truly, this has all been very amusing, but I’m going to breakfast.”
Just like that he turned around and started back down the path.
“Gideon,” Elizabeth called after him. “I’m very serious.”
He paused. She knew by the tense set of his broad shoulders that he finally believed her, but he didn’t seem thrilled with her proposal. The very air practically vibrated with unease. She had the sudden urge to take a step back but held firm. What was done was done. She had asked him, and she would not relent.
Slowly, he faced her, his laughter gone, and the cold, angry Gideon returned. “I don’t know what game you’re playing—”
“No.” She shook her head, despair and unease washing over her. “None. I swear.”
He was quiet. Too quiet.
How she wished she knew his thoughts. Elizabeth swallowed hard, so utterly nervous. His glower was intimidating, to say the least. How much of the truth dare she tell him? “I’ve given you my virginity because I thought it would be best to be rid of it.”
He sliced his hand through the air to cut her off. “Taking your virginity is hardly a reason—”
“That’s not why.” Lord, she was mucking this up. Gideon’s hard and guarded expression tore at her heart. Could he not believe that someone would want to marry him? With a sigh, she began to pace in front of him. “I need someone my mother-in-law will not intimidate.”
“I’m a whore.”
She refused to cringe, attempting to ignore his statement. “I can trust you.”
Maybe. Even if he didn’t trust her.
He laughed, this time a wry, sharp burst that said he was not amused but quite the opposite. His reaction stung. She tried not to take it personally. After all, the man had been manipulated most of his life; of course he didn’t believe her honorable intentions. Somehow she needed to get through to him.
Elizabeth moved the few steps forward and took his large hand in hers. The size of the man before her, the scars she could feel across his fingers were only blatant reminders of how much he could hurt her, if he desired. “I can trust you. You’ve proven again and again that you are worthy of protecting us. And…and we do well together when we’re in bed.”
She couldn’t believe she had added that last bit. How she wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. But the words were out and they were true. She could think of worse things to base a marriage on. She refused to look away from him, refused to blush.
“And what happens,” he said, stepping so close the tips of his boots touched the tips of her slippers. She would not be intimidated, even though she knew he was doing his hardest to scare her off. “When society uncovers the truth about what I truly am?”
She quirked a brow. “An honorable man?”
He laughed and jerked his hand away. “A whore.”
She shook her head. “They won’t.”
“You’re an idiot if you think my sordid past won’t be made public. Not only will your mother-in-law
She hadn’t thought about that, and she supposed he did have a point. Well, no worry, she didn’t get out in society much anyway, and their estate was quite isolated. “As I don’t plan to be the toast of the ton, we should be quite safe tucked away here. If something does happen, well…then we will deal with the ramifications later.”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I don’t know if this is some sort of intention to pay me back for protecting you—”
“Of course not, I would never—”
“Then you’re mad. Completely insane.” He turned and started toward the door, his steps sure and hurried, as if he could outrun her and her question. She wasn’t so easy to dismiss.
“So,” Elizabeth called out, moving back to her little table, “does that mean you’ll think about it?”
He didn’t respond, merely disappeared into the house, leaving her alone.
Elizabeth sighed in frustration and slumped onto her chair. That hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. She lifted her teacup and drank. It had grown cold. With a grimace she dumped the contents into a potted rose.
Perhaps it was time to tell the truth, the complete and utter truth.
So much for dealing with the ramifications later.
Chapter 15
He’d packed a bag. There was nothing left to do. There was nothing holding him here. So why wasn’t he out the door and on the nearest coach headed anywhere? Because before he left for good, Gideon was determined to uncover the truth once and for all. Unfortunately, he had to wait until the dark hours of the night, when the house grew silent and still.
The moon was high, the garden below awash in blue light. It seemed as if even the land slept. He could practically feel the deep, even breath of the world as it drifted off. He, on the other hand, had found it hard to rest since arriving. He let the curtain fall back into place and forced himself not to think of Elizabeth curled up in her bed, her warm, soft body a temptation not even a saint could refuse.
He’d headed to that conservatory intent on getting answers. Instead, the blasted woman had hit him with the most ridiculous request that had ever been made. What could he do but flee? But his skin itched with the need for answers, and he had the strange feeling he was running out of time. He knew Elizabeth was hiding the truth from him. He could practically hear the house whispering her secrets, if only he could understand. Tonight was the perfect night to search, and Mr. Ashton’s study would be the perfect starting point. He would not be played the fool and be caught unprepared again. And he had been completely and utterly unprepared for Elizabeth’s proposal. Hell, he’d been completely unprepared for Elizabeth.
Quietly, he left his bedchamber and made his way down the long, dark hall. Desire and need spurred him forward. The lights had been extinguished long ago, but he liked the shadows. He thrived in the darkness and felt at ease. Slowly he made his way down the steps to the foyer. While Elizabeth…Elizabeth was made for the light. Even now he could picture her sitting in the conservatory sipping tea. The way her skin glowed like porcelain, the way her hair caught fire…
“Should have seen her,” he heard a maid chuckle. “Hiking her skirts for the master of the house. Rightly so, they chucked her. She’ll never work in this county again.”
“Unless Elizabeth takes her in,” Will said, laughing. A flash of light swayed over the wall, nearly hitting Gideon. “Where’d she end up anyway?”
The maid snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Gideon slipped into that alcove where he had practically taken Elizabeth that day the dowager had arrived. He swore he could still smell her scent in the small space, the memory too fresh in his mind. Pure torture. For a brief moment he wondered why in the hell he was traipsing around a cold, dark estate when he could be in a warm bed with a beautiful woman.
He closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head against the wall. The answers to his past were here…begging to be discovered. He had to know for his own peace of mind, and because he couldn’t trust her until the truth was uncovered. For some reason, he needed to trust her, even if he was leaving on the next available coach.
The two servants passed, taking the lamplight with them. Gideon waited until their footsteps faded, then moved into the foyer, letting the curtain fall back into place. He knew outside the front doors two guards were posted. Other servants walked the house every hour, and two footmen stood guard outside the children’s door. He didn’t blame Elizabeth for being overly cautious, but it sure as hell made it difficult to sneak about. He moved down another short corridor, attempting to remember the way.
The very air was charged with expectation. He felt watched in this home as he made his way toward the east wing. Watched and judged by the very Mr. Ashton. He could imagine what the old man thought of him. Gideon knew very well he wasn’t good enough for Elizabeth. Damn it all, his mind rebelled. He didn’t care; he selfishly wanted her for his own.
Gideon paused outside the study and pulled a thin, long metal object from his sleeve. One didn’t live in the slums without learning how to pick a lock. With quick work, he had the door unlocked in a few seconds. He stepped inside just as the maid’s and Will’s voices reached him.
“I’m telling ye, if they aren’t married within six months, I’ll give ye my entire week’s wages.”
Gideon closed the door softly and waited for them to pass. His heart hammered madly, but he refused to give in to his desire and move. He knew he was close to finding the answers he needed. He could feel it in his blood. But he’d waited this long, he could wait a few more minutes. If he didn’t uncover the truth, Lady Lavender would win.
“Go on then; what makes ye think she’ll settle down when there’s no need? She’s got more money than the bloody queen.”
The maid had a very good point. Gideon took in a deep breath. The place smelled of dust, cigar smoke, and old man. It smelled like a memory trapped in time. It was obvious the room was rarely used. A mausoleum dedicated to her late husband. Gideon felt the odd need to growl at the thought. The man had been a lecherous cad who’d impregnated her sister, yet Elizabeth acted as if he was a bloody god.
“Because marriage isn’t just about money, you daft fool,” Will muttered, his voice muffled through the door. “I’ve seen them together plenty of times.”
Gideon sighed, knowing exactly who they discussed.
“Aye, I suppose he’s quite handsome. Wouldn’t mind inviting him to me bed.”
“Watch your tongue,” Will snapped. “That’s yer future lord.”
Gideon’s palms fisted. He was no one’s lord. What would they think if they knew the truth? He was nothing but a whore. Still, Elizabeth knew and she didn’t seem to mind, which made no bloody sense. With her money and beauty, the lass could practically have the prince. Then again, his entire world no longer made sense. It was as if he’d stepped out of Lady Lavender’s and into some bizarre dreamworld where everything was the opposite of what it should be.
“Jest sayin’ I wouldn’t be surprised if my lady fell for the man. He’s right handsome, he is.”
“Nah, I’m not talking about Elizabeth,” Will said, his voice fading. “It’s the way Gideon looks at her.”
Gideon rolled his eyes heavenward. Good God, was he so obvious that even a bloody footman knew he had become obsessed with the woman? When their footsteps disappeared, Gideon pushed aside thoughts of Elizabeth and moved across the room, evading the shadowy furniture.
Marry her?
It had been a jest. Or some nefarious plan afoot. More lies, more secrets. She could not have been serious. He ignored the thread of hope that whispered temptingly through his body. She didn’t truly want him. But he could not ignore the memory.
“What I’m saying is that…I’m asking…” Her face had flushed a charming red. “Will you marry me?”
He released a wry laugh as he knelt before Mr. Ashton’s desk. Marriage. I
“I can trust you. You’ve proven again and again that you are worthy of protecting us.”
She might trust him, but he had yet to trust her. Besides, if it was protection she was after, Mr. Smith and the staff would serve her well enough. She could always hire more servants if she needed protection. Hell, she could hire an entire brigade with the money she obviously had. So why the hell did she want him here? There had to be more to the story than she was admitting.
“And…and we do well in bed together.”
He found a flint box and managed to light a lamp with unsteady hands, hating that she could make him feel so off-balance. Vaguely, he scanned the room. A large oak desk took up much of the area, while two leather chairs were placed near the fireplace. Bookshelves full of novels lined the walls. Typical study.
But she had been right about one thing…he could not deny they did do well in bed. More than well. Hell, even now his hands started trembling at the thought of touching her satiny skin. It certainly wasn’t her experience, for the woman had been a damn virgin their first time. So what was it about her that attracted him so? He’d had sex just about every way a man could, and with so many beautiful women most men would be sick with envy.
The light flared to life, giving a soft glow to the room. He shifted the lamp closer, setting it on the desk, and unlocked the first drawer. It was those blasted freckles. Those damn dimples. It was her laugh, such a pure and joyous sound. It was the way she loved the children even though they were not hers. Or, maybe it was the way she helped others in need. But mostly…mostly it was because of the way she looked at him…as if he was a man. An honorable, loyal man and not the murdering whore he truly was. His hands fisted on the desktop. What would she do when she uncovered the truth?