by Kate Bateman
“It wasn’t a pig,” he said, reclaiming the flask. “It was a woman.”
“A woman,” she croaked.
“Of course. Women are the root of every conflict, ever. Just look at Helen of Troy. I’ll bet you a hundred pounds some Montgomery maiden ran off with a Davies male.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a Davies damsel and a Montgomery man?”
“Doesn’t matter either way. Personally, I’d have stolen the pig. Pigs are simple. Uncomplicated. Women are nothing but trouble.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “That is such a male response, to blame the female. As if you men are at our mercy, without a will of your own.”
“Are we not at your mercy?” He lifted his own brows. “We’re the ones facing bullets and sabers while you stay safe at home. You tell me who has control.”
“Maybe in times of war,” she conceded. “But in everyday life, we women are almost helpless. We’re passed from one man to the next, from father to husband, little more than chattels to be bartered and sold. The only way to avoid it is to have independent wealth.”
He didn’t seem to have an answer to that.
“And anyway,” she continued. “The Trojan War started because Paris couldn’t leave a married woman alone.” She sent him a meaningful glance. “A lesson the modern male would do well to heed.”
He gave an amused snort. “Digging for information, Miss Montgomery?”
“I am an archaeologist,” she said loftily. “Digging is what I do.”
“Just ask me about the duel. You’re clearly dying to know.”
Maddie’s curiosity warred with her sense of decorum, and lost. She was desperate to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. “The papers said it was over a married woman.”
“Well, that much is true. But I was doing a favor for a friend. I should have remembered that the path to hell is paved with good intentions.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You call having an affair with another man’s wife a ‘good intention’?”
“I do,” Gryff said. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
Chapter 14
“Extenuating circumstances?” Maddie echoed in disbelief.
“Yes, really. A friend of mine, Ben Turner, was in my regiment. He was killed at Salamanca, and when I got back to London, I went to pay my respects to his sister Sophie, who by that time had married another old school friend, Henry Sommerville. Sophie was desperately unhappy.”
“And you consoled her,” Maddie finished, trying to sound worldly and cynical even as her stomach twisted in disappointment.
“Not in the way you think. Her parents had arranged the match. Sophie had been in love with Sommerville for years, but he’d only ever treated her with cool reserve. So when he agreed to marry her she was sure it was for her money and not for her person. Her fears were compounded when, two months after the wedding, he still hadn’t consummated the marriage.
“Sophie was at her wit’s end. She’d tried all sorts of things to goad a reaction out of him; she spent a small fortune on dresses, scandalized the ton by racing my own sister, Carys, in a horse race along Rotten Row. But however outrageously she behaved, Sommerville never so much as scolded her. He treated her with the utmost respectability.”
“The monster,” Maddie said drily.
His lips twitched. “Sometimes a lady doesn’t want respectability from her own husband. As a final resort, Sophie begged me to flirt with her, to make Sommerville jealous.”
“It must have worked. You ended up facing him with pistols at dawn.”
“Nobody was more surprised than me when Sommerville challenged me. Turns out he’d been carrying a torch for his own wife for years, but was too shy to tell her. He thought she’d only married him for his title.” Gryff rolled his eyes. “God, if those two idiots had only talked to each other, I wouldn’t have been shot.”
“He actually shot you?” Maddie gasped. “I didn’t hear that bit. What happened?”
“We met, as agreed, at Chalk’s Farm, each with our seconds, and a physician on hand. I tried to explain to Sommerville that I hadn’t done anything more than kiss his wife on the cheek, but the idiot had worked himself up into a righteous fury and refused to listen.
“So we took our places. Sommerville badly wanted to put a bullet in me, and I was just debating whether to wing him first, in self-defense, as Rhys suggested, when Sophie and Carys bowled up in a carriage.”
His lips quirked at the memory. “I swear, it was like a scene from one of those awful Haymarket melodramas. Sophie screamed ‘Stop!’ just as Sommerville turned. He flinched at the noise, pulled the trigger, and his bullet grazed my arm.” He gestured vaguely toward his left shoulder.
“You could have been killed!”
“Not likely. Sommerville couldn’t hit a barn door at thirty paces. He’d have missed me completely if the girls hadn’t interrupted.”
“So then what happened?”
“Sophie ran to Sommerville and slapped him for being such an idiot. Then she started crying and scolding him for thinking she’d ever take a lover when she only wanted him. And then she threw herself into his arms and kissed him silly.
“Poor Sommerville didn’t know what to do. He finally confessed to loving her the whole time, and kissed her back. Meanwhile, yours truly was bleeding all over his second-best jacket, Rhys was laughing fit to burst, and Carys was arguing with the surgeon about the best way to patch me up.”
Maddie smiled at the scene he painted. She’d been so prepared to cast him in the role of shameless seducer, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.
Still, he wasn’t completely blameless. The plan had worked because of his reputation as someone who indulged in flirtatious affaires. He might not have been guilty in the case of Sophie Sommerville, but he had plenty of other scandals to his name.
It wasn’t hard to see why an unhappily married woman might be tempted, though. If Maddie was shackled to some whiskery old trout like Sir Mostyn, maybe she’d consider taking a lover too. Especially if he was as gorgeous and exciting as Gryff—
She shook her head at her own inconstancy. This was the problem with marrying for duty and not for love: It caused all sorts of moral dilemmas. Her own parents had been lucky enough to have a love match, but they were in the minority. There were scores of unhappily married couples making a mockery of their marriage vows. Half the ton had politically expedient marriages designed to keep the wealth of the nation contained to a few hundred elite families. Even the Prince Regent loathed his chosen wife. And Princess Caroline loathed him right back.
She let out a long sigh. “Don’t you think it’s time we stopped all this feuding nonsense? It takes a lot of effort to maintain such levels of animosity.”
Gryff sent her a look of mock horror. “You don’t mean that! Having an enemy gives a man purpose. It’s invigorating. Think of it as a constant battle between the forces of good and evil. With us Davieses being the ‘good.’”
She refused to rise to that ludicrous statement. “One of us should give the other a pig. As a symbolic reparation.”
“Ah, but who’s the injured party?”
“Fine. We could exchange pigs.”
“It’s too late for that. It’s bigger than pigs now. There are centuries of insults, on both sides.” He sent her a sideways smile and shook his head. “Our histories are too entangled. We’ll just have to stay enemies forever.”
Maddie didn’t know if that sounded like a blessing or a curse.
“Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “I won’t be here to annoy you for much longer. I’ll be going back to London soon.”
Her spirits sank at the reminder that he would be leaving, but she refused to let him see her disappointment. She cast around for a less contentious topic. “Are you worried about the situation in France? They say Bonaparte’s reached Paris.”
Gryff’s smile faded. “So I heard. He claims to want peace, but there’s a battle ahead, I guarantee. I won’t be h
eading back to France, though. We earls are excused from the fighting. We’re too important.”
This time Maddie couldn’t ignore the thread of cynicism in his tone. “Do you feel guilty that your friends will be going without you?”
She didn’t really expect him to answer, and was rather surprised by her own boldness in asking such a personal question. Maybe the fact that they weren’t looking at each other, but out to sea, made it easier to talk.
“Of course I feel guilty,” he growled. “It’s just blind luck that I was born the son of an earl and not the son of a chimney sweep. Those other poor bastards have to face that madness all over again.”
“What regiment were you in?”
“Twenty-Third Foot, Royal Welsh Fusiliers. It’s an infantry regiment, generally an escort to the artillery. Rhys and I were both officers. Morgan, just to be perverse, joined the navy. We saw action at Salamanca and at Nivelle. And then in France; Toulouse in April last year. Napoleon abdicated after that, and suddenly the war was over. We all thought he was finished.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I miss the camaraderie. And the clear line of command. But do I miss being shot at? Facing death on a regular basis? God, no.”
Maddie sneaked a sideways look at his profile. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his eyes had a faraway look, as if he were seeing the distant past.
“Do I miss seeing my friends die, or be horribly wounded?” he continued softly. “Definitely not. But I do miss fighting for a cause I believe in.”
He blinked, and seemed to come back to the present.
“There’s no need to feel guilty for staying here, you know,” she said quietly. “You’ve already proved your dedication to your country. And heroism comes in many different forms. You men always think it’s great, showy acts, but staying home just requires a different kind of strength. Schools must stay open. Factories and farms still need to run. There’s bravery in carrying on.”
She flushed, suddenly embarrassed by her fervor. Being so opinionated was an unattractive trait—at least according to the ton. But Gryff tilted his head and gave her a wry, genuine smile.
“What a wise woman you are, Miss Montgomery. And I do appreciate the privilege of my position. It’s just hard to readjust to civilian life after so long in the military, that’s all.”
Maddie gave a snort and attempted to lighten the mood.
“According to the Gazette, you were ‘readjusting to civilian life’ just fine.”
His low chuckle brought an answering curve to her lips. Why did making him smile give her such a sense of achievement?
Chapter 15
Darkness had fallen as they talked; a half-moon lent a silvery cast to the rocks and the sea. Maddie reached into her satchel and rummaged around until she found a bag of paper-wrapped sweets. “Peppermint?”
“Is it poisoned?”
She rolled her eyes, pulled the ends of the paper twist, and popped the sticky lozenge into her own mouth. Her cheek puffed out as she transferred it to one side and began to suck.
Gryff watched, his expression unreadable, and her skin prickled.
“See, completely harmless,” she mumbled.
His lips parted as if he was about to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. He took a sweet of his own instead, and she tried not to stare as he placed it between his lips. She heard a crunch, and the muscle on the side of his jaw flexed as he bit down.
“It lasts longer if you suck it,” she chided.
He gave a soft snort through his nose, and she had the distinct impression he was choking back a laugh.
“Is that so? I must admit, I’ve found the opposite to be true. Sucking often shortens the experience.”
Maddie frowned into the darkness. He was laughing at her, she was sure, but she had no idea what she’d said to amuse him.
“That said,” he continued, and there was a distinct smile in his tone, “there’s certainly something to be said for savoring. Having it dissolve against one’s tongue can be very pleasurable too.”
Were they still talking about peppermints?
Maddie tried to ignore the way his gravelly whisper flowed through her veins like the brandy. She felt hot and flustered, as if her skin were too tight.
She swallowed the last sliver of her mint and slid another sideways glance at his profile. He really did have the most inviting lips. He’d taste of peppermint if they—
He turned his head sharply, as if he’d read her scandalous thoughts. Their eyes clashed, and her heart gave a jolt as his intense gaze pinned her to the spot. His eyes dropped to her mouth and she ran her tongue over her lower lip, suddenly self-conscious, convinced she’d left a splinter of peppermint there.
And then he lifted his hand and slid it around her nape.
Maddie couldn’t have moved if all four riders of the Apocalypse had chosen that moment to thunder over the hill. Shock held her completely still as he brushed the side of her jaw with his thumb, then leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. He narrowed his eyes.
“Madeline Montgomery.”
His low growl sounded more like a threat. Or a curse. His slow exhale filled her lungs, peppermint-sweet, and his expression was the same one he’d worn when he’d offered her the brandy: an invitation to sin.
I dare you.
He was so close she could see the tangle of his dark lashes, feel the warmth of his breath tickling her parted lips. She held his gaze, full of defiant bravado.
Surely he wasn’t—?
The press of his lips was soft, questioning—completely different from the kiss he’d given her on the bridge. He paused, as if waiting for her to slap him, or to pull away, but when Maddie did neither of those things he tilted his head and kissed her again.
A soft hum of pleasure rose unbidden in her throat. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, and when she sucked in a shocked breath he caught her lower lip between his teeth in the gentlest of bites. The faint tug sent tendrils of pleasure spiraling to every part of her body, and when he pulled back a fraction she followed him, desperate to prolong the contact.
No! Don’t you dare stop!
He muttered something she didn’t quite catch. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and Maddie met it instinctively with her own, then almost swooned at the taste of him: peppermint spice, hot and cold at the same time.
Gryff Davies was kissing her properly!
Amazed, delighted, she closed her eyes and clutched at his shoulder, then slid her hand up over the slope of his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. His low growl of encouragement made her stomach pitch in jumbled confusion. Goose bumps rose on her skin.
He angled his head and kissed her again, deeper. Light nibbling kisses gave way to slow, wet, decadent swirls of his tongue that made her blood pound in her ears and caused a strange, throbbing heaviness between her thighs.
Let’s keep doing this forever—
A rough curse sounded just above them on the trail. They jolted apart as if they’d been drenched in icy water. For one moment they simply stared at each other, eyes wide with shock, both panting hard at the sudden, disorienting interruption.
And then reality set in. Someone was coming down the path.
Maddie sucked in an unsteady breath. Dear God, they’d been moments away from being discovered! If she’d moaned, or made some other noise—
Gryff put his finger over his lips in the universal sign for quiet and pushed her lower in the ferns, ducking down to join her.
Maddie tried to breathe more quietly as the heavy tramp of boots and the rumble of muttered voices came closer. Their hiding place was only a few yards above the trail, and she watched with her heart in her throat as a procession of four men tramped down toward the beach.
They carried no lanterns. She squinted through the ferns, trying to make sense of the dark shapes. One man led the group, while two others appeared to be helping a fourth, who seemed to be injured. His arms were slung over their shou
lders and they half carried, half dragged him down the rocky slope.
Why would they bring an injured man here? Perhaps he’d been hurt in some confrontation with the law, and they were planning to hide him in the cave? They might not want to arouse suspicion by taking him to see Doctor Williams, in the village.
She tried to hear what they were saying, but they dropped onto the beach without revealing anything useful.
She sent Gryff a questioning look. He shook his head and indicated that they should wait a little longer. When the men rounded the rocks and entered the cave itself he rose and gestured for her to follow. Staying low, they slipped soundlessly down onto the beach and used the tumbled boulders as cover to sneak closer to the cave entrance.
A light flared as one of the men lit a lantern within, and Maddie heard what sounded like a heavy weight being dropped, then a piteous groan.
“Bind ’im,” a deep voice ordered.
The large space amplified the sound of scuffling and a series of grunts, then a second voice pierced the night. “I won’t tell, I swear to God! Let me go.”
Maddie crept forward until she could peer inside the cave—then wished she hadn’t. Two of the men stood over a third, who was now trussed with rope at ankles and wrists. Her eyes grew wide as she finally understood what was happening: The injured man wasn’t one of the smugglers, he was their prisoner!
“I warned ’im what would ’appen to customs boys sniffin’ round,” the first man growled. “Show ’im.”
He nodded at the two standing men, both of whom held ugly-looking cudgels—stout wooden poles like broom handles. They started to beat the prisoner, laying into his legs and ribs as he curled himself into a ball in a vain attempt to protect his head with his bound hands and arms.
“For pity’s sake, have mercy!” he screamed.
His pleas fell on deaf ears.
Maddie surged forward without thinking, determined to go to the man’s aid, but before she could move more than a few inches Gryff’s arm snaked her around the waist. He slapped his hand over her mouth to stop her instinctive shout of denial and tugged them both back against the rocks, her back pressed to his front.