One Night To Be Sinful

by Samantha Garver

  "Actually," Abigail corrected herself, "he initiated the kiss, but I was a willing participant."

  "You kissed him back?" Isabel's tone bordered on horrified.

  "Yes." Abigail squeezed her eyes closed. "Very much so."

  "Was it a nice kiss?" Augusta inquired politely. "Like in love stories?"

  "Was it-Augusta, what on earth are you about, asking such things?" Isabel came up off her chair as if it had caught fire. "Of course it was not a nice kiss. The man took advantage of Abby."

  Abigail opened a single eye. "I don't believe so."

  Augusta shook her head. "If he was hurting her, I should think Abby would not have kissed him back."

  Isabel's eyes widened, as if the fact had only just registered. "Abby, forgive me for being so blunt, but a virtuous woman cannot go about kissing the men who are under her employ."

  "He is rather handsome."

  "No matter how handsome he is." Isabel shot the unconcerned Augusta a quelling glance. 'What if one of the other servants happened upon you?"

  "We were outside." Abigail was aware of the lameness of her argument even as she said it.

  "Even worse." Isabel began to pace. "Who knows what might have happened if you had been seen by someone who lacked the devotion those who work for you possess? One of the greatest gossips in all of England lives in North Rutherford. Marcella Rueben would love nothing more than to rise up the chain of scandalmongers again."

  "She was placed low on the list of legitimate gossips by the ton after her inadequate description of Lord Black," Augusta agreed.

  "I cannot imagine the kind of things someone like her would say, the rumors she would spread. A lady cannot do such things as kiss a man whom she also pays for various services. It is ... well, it borders on indecent."

  "You're right," Abigail sighed, a cold sense of loss closing around her heart. "I should not have let him kiss me. I definitely should not have kissed him back. I am no green girl lacking awareness in the ways of the world."

  "It is over and done with, however." Augusta reached out to lightly touch her elbow. She sent Isabel a pointed look. "No use in brooding over the past, especially when it was only a shared kiss."

  "Yes." Isabel took a deep breath. "Yes. There is nothing that will change what happened."

  "I must be careful it does not happen again." Abigail turned toward the door.

  The vise around her heart tightened even further. When she had been in Calvin's arms, she had felt ... something unexplainable. It reminded her of the bliss she had briefly enjoyed in the first few weeks of her engagement. It reminded her of being loved. There was a difference in Calvin's embrace and that of Patrick Valmonte, however. Calvin's had felt better.

  "Abby?"

  She stopped to glance back over her shoulder when Isabel spoke from where she had ceased pacing.

  "I didn't mean to make such a fuss. I know you came as a friend seeking help, and I-"

  "Gave me the honesty I much needed." Abigail made herself smile.

  "I would not like to see you abused. Or hurt."

  Isabel didn't say the word, but its presence was evident in the air between them.

  Again.

  "Abby?" Augusta's smile was gentle. "You never answered my question."

  Abigail swung open the shop door and offered with complete honesty, "The kiss was very much like those in the love stories, Gus."

  The chiming sound of a bell that accompanied Abigail's exit from the nameless shop alerted the man gazing calmly about his surroundings outside to her departure. He straightened from where he was leaning against the carriage as she met his eye. Abigail offered him only a brief inclination of the head before she turned and moved on down the packed-earth road. Calvin wasn't sure what had happened inside the building, but she had left it without the smile she had worn on entering and appeared a bit pale around the cheeks.

  "Abby." He had to jog to catch up with her, noting she was a bit startled by his approach.

  "I have to pay a call at the magistrate's office." Her gait did not lessen, and she hardly looked at Calvin as she spoke. "I will be back shortly."

  "I'd like to go with you." He regulated his stride so he could walk beside her.

  She appeared to speed up, her crutch hitting the white soil below with heavy thuds. "There's no need."

  "I am a witness, Abby"-he stopped when she did, just outside a building with a solid maple door-"to what was painted on your stable."

  "You think Mr. Kingsly will find the report of a woman lacking?" Abigail's brows snapped together under the shadow of her bonnet.

  Calvin frowned, not certain what had occurred to change the easy camaraderie they had shared less than two hours before. "No," he said carefully. "I thought you could use a friend."

  Abigail blinked as if she only just realized the chill of her attitude. "Thank you, Calvin. You may come inside with me," she said, "but I shall have to ask you not to interfere."

  "I would not embarrass you before others, Abby."

  She looked away quickly, and Calvin opened the door.

  "I was wondering how long the two of you were going to stand out there!"

  The magistrate was younger than Calvin had expected, perhaps no more than a few years older than himself. His hair was dark, most of it brushed forward as if in an effort to hide his considerable forehead. His mustache-near blond, oddly enough-ended in two small points that aimed up toward his earlobes.

  "Mr. Kingsly." Abigail's tone remained serious, though the magistrate's had been almost exuberant. "I was hoping you might have a moment to speak with me."

  "I always have time for my townspeople." He smiled to expose small teeth shaped like perfect squares. "Especially the pretty ones." He shot Calvin a wink.

  Calvin ignored the gesture, watching the woman beside him from the corner of his eye. She had missed the byplay and, perhaps, everything the man had said. Her attention was focused on the hearth that took up one wall of the cramped buildingor, more to the point, on the large deer head that peered sightlessly out from the wall above it. When she turned back to the magistrate, her expression reflected some of the doubt Calvin suddenly felt.

  Abigail shifted, stepping nearer to the desk behind which Kingsly stood. At the sound of her brace making contact with the wooden floor, the magistrate's gaze dropped to her legs.

  "Why don't you have a seat, Lady Wolcott?" he said without looking up.

  "No, thank you."

  "Are you certain?" The magistrate finally let his gaze lift, his smile like that one would offer a feeble old woman. "I don't want you to overexert yourself and fall."

  Calvin's hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  Abigail's jaw flexed. "I am certain."

  "How about this fine gentleman with you?" Kingsly's attention moved to Calvin. By the time he had done a quick survey and had to lift his chin to see the other's face, his smile had dimmed somewhat.

  "This is Mr. Garrett," Abigail said.

  "Ah, the fellow who took up Tuttleton's old post." He did not appear concerned with the way the other two individuals in the room lifted their brows at his knowledge. "An interesting character, your predecessor. Old as dirt, if he was a day. It was his time to go, really."

  Calvin heard a crackling sound and didn't have to look to know it was the blueprints in Abigail's hands.

  "I should like to make a complaint, sir," she said stiffly, "about a neighbor."

  "Duncan Simmons?" Kingsly propped his hands on his hips and shook his head. "What has that old codger done?"

  "Nothing. Mr. Simmons, his good wife, and I get on well. It is of the owner whose land borders mine on the west that I speak."

  "Lord Raleigh?

  "The same."

  Kingsly lowered himself into his chair and folded his hands to make a pyramid beneath his chin. "What would be your complaint, dear?"

  "Some of his employees have trespassed upon my land, as well as friends of the viscount's in a less than sober state."

&
nbsp; "Ah, well, mistakes do happen." The ring on the magistrate's slim pinky winked in the light of the taper upon his desk.

  The reflection of the gem within caught Calvin's eye.

  "I am certain that some of these intrusions were no accident." Abigail spoke in a crisp tone that brooked no interruption. "I have made my opinions on the subject known to the viscount. Since then, these trespasses have only worsened. I be lieve Lord Raleigh is deliberately setting out to frighten me."

  "Has he harmed your person in any way?" Kingsly's gaze ran down the length of Abigail's form, pausing once over the crutch she leaned against and again at the delicate curves of her hips.

  Calvin kept his promise to Abigail. He said nothing, only coughed. The magistrate's attention moved to him only briefly, catching Calvin's single lifted brow then moving away.

  "No, not directly," Abby was saying. "But the man who threatened me harm is employed by the viscount."

  "He told you Raleigh pays him to threaten you?"

  "His wording left no doubt in my mind."

  "But he did not come out and say it?"

  A wave of understanding hit Calvin. He had to press his teeth together to keep from calling the other man a rather choice name. Kingsly was playing Abigail for a fool, downplaying her every comment. Attempting, in short, to make her seem like she was overreacting.

  His intent did not appear to be lost on Abigail. Calvin could see little of her face beyond her bonnet, but her back had gone rigid and her words were clipped when she again spoke.

  "No, sir, he did not say it."

  "I know the viscount, Lady Abigail." He smiled again and continued in a tone that was best suited for a child's ear. "He was the only landholder, only gentry that helped me obtain my position as magistrate. We have been acquainted for almost two years. He has never struck me as the sort of man who would attack a defenseless woman."

  "I told you, Raleigh himself did not-"

  "Lady Wolcott, your brother does not live with you at the estate, does he?"

  "No."

  "And you have no husband, correct?"

  Son of a bitch, Calvin thought.

  "I do not see what that has to do with this," Abigail snapped.

  "A woman alone and lonely can imagine all sort of things in a given situation. I'm not saying you were not accosted, Lady Abigail, but mayhap your fear enhanced the tale afterward. Dramatized it, if you will."

  "I beg your pardon?" Abigail's rage was palpable.

  Kingsly offered Calvin a second man-to-man look. "Take her home, Mr. Garrett. See to it she gets some rest, and be so kind as to watch the shadows for this man who is trying to harm her."

  Calvin couldn't stop the words. "You do not tell me what to do."

  Kingsly blanched.

  Calvin turned to the woman who was his employer-so to speak. She slowly faced him and then moved to the door.

  "Have a good day, Lady Wolcott."

  "Go to hell," Abigail said.

  Calvin looked back at the gape-mouthed magistrate and smiled.

  Good girl, he thought.

  Chapter 12

  The night sky had disappeared behind a heavy blanket of mottled storm clouds. The ominous folds of blue-gray shifted and swelled above like a brooding thing, like the anger that continued to fester inside Abigail. Her crutch hit the bed of straw silently before she took a tight grip on the bridle and swung herself atop Achilles' back. The massive gray's tail flicked upward, and he let out a sharp snort, as if he sensed his mistress's emotions and was eager to help her be rid of them.

  The horse's shadow floated between the haning lanterns on either side of the stable as the animal trotted impatiently to the exit then halted abruptly just beyond the opened doors. Abigail wasn't sure if Achilles was as surprised as she or simply reacting to her sudden tenseness. She was certain, however, hers were not the only eyes fixed on the rider who stood in their path.

  She felt a moment's fear until, in the dim light from the stables, she saw the man on the horse was not stocky, with mean black eyes. He sat tall in the saddle, his shoulders broad and his waist compact. The horse he rode was one of Abigail's own.

  "What are you doing?" Abigail hissed, directing her anger at the man who, for a second time, was intruding upon the solitude of her ride.

  "You shouldn't be out at all," Calvin said, his voice calm despite her irritation. Abigail could make out nothing of his features, only the dark shadow of his head tilting toward the sky. "It's going to rain."

  "We shall be fine." A slight nudge, and Achilles was moving again. Abigail did not look in the direction of the other on horseback as they passed him.

  "I thought you would say that. I am going with you.

  Abigail scowled, not liking the close proximity of his voice or the beat of hooves following after her. "That is unnecessary."

  "I disagree."

  Undisturbed, Achilles continued in his easy canter as the woman on his back turned at the waist to glare at the large shadow following them. "What is it about you, Calvin Garrett? Why must you go to such pains to annoy me? Especially now, when I should very much like to be alone."

  "I do not want you to get hurt." The words came out in a low timbre.

  Sudden, unwelcome sensation sizzled down Abigail's spine then spread outward to her limbs. She faced forward again. "I will return before the rain comes.

  "I am aware you are an intelligent-enough female to get out of the rain."

  "Big of you."

  "It is your stubborn refusal to worry about your own safety in regard to those that may be lurking in the dark that concerns me."

  As they left the cleared land for the tree-lined trail that reached to the ends of her property, Abigail understood. "I can take care of myself today just as well as I did yesterday. I do not need to be taken care of."

  "Do not speak to me like you do those who judge you because of a minor physical flaw, Abby. I see you as a damned stubborn woman whose focus on independence borders on lunacy," Calvin said. "Not a cripple."

  Abigail brought her mount to a stop. The one behind her shifted slightly to the side then forward until, in the dull glow of the moon behind clouds, she could see Calvin's eyes. So blue they were almost black, they met and held hers. At the brief contact, Abigail was abruptly aware her anger at the worthless magistrate back in the village had disappeared.

  "Calvin?"

  "Yes, Abby?"

  "I believe that is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." She saw him blink, taken aback, and laughed. Achilles stepped into motion again.

  "You make it hard, you know." Calvin kept his horse in step with hers. "You have built up a wall around yourself that prevents all the ignorant insults and sympathy from coming in."

  "As well I should." Abigail's jaw tensed as she continued to stare straight ahead. Her smile disappeared. "You cannot imagine how bothersome it is to have people smiling at you with such pity in their eyes that you begin to wonder if it is really as bad as they think. To hear them whisper behind your back, as if you were not only lame but also deaf, about how terribly tragic it all is. Telling their friends that the poor dear used to love to dance and that she was abandoned by the man who was supposed to have loved her more than any-" She took a deep breath, horrified that she had shared so much with this man she hardly knew at all. Abigail said simply, "You do not understand."

  "I understand," Calvin said, apparently less than traumatized by her rant, "that there are individuals with whom you need not put up your protective armor. As it is, you make it difficult for a man to know what to do around you."

  "Rest assured, Calvin." She tried to keep her tone impersonal. "As my employee, I shall tell you what I need."

  "Will you?"

  His tone caught her off guard. He had completely ignored her effort to draw a line between them and set new boundaries. Calvin's words came out from low in his throat, and his amusement was audible. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help but glance at him from the corner of her eye. His
gaze was rising from the swell of her breasts against the old material of her shirt to her mouth. Without thinking, Abigail let her tongue slip out to dampen her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze flared upward to meet hers.

  Abigail's head snapped forward and she surreptitiously guided Achilles into a faster pace. "You ride well, sir." She turned her head again. "Did you grow up in the country?"

  The rumble of his chuckle worried her, mostly because of the hair it made rise at her nape. He answered her amiably enough, however.

  "Quite the opposite. I was born in London."

  "Whereabouts?" Abigail, too, was born in Town.

  "I don't know." Calvin's voice was devoid of the humor it once bore. "My first memory is of the parish where I lived before I went to the workhouse. I spent most of my youth in the latter."

  Abigail looked at Calvin when the remnant flash from a bolt of lightning illuminated the night. Much as she had when discussing her past, he was facing forward, his spine rod-straight and his hands curled tightly about the reins.

  "Some," Abby offered cautiously, "would say you were lucky to have had a roof over your head and food, when others were starving on the street."

  "Some have no idea what it's like in the house," Calvin returned grimly. "There are many times when going hungry and cold outside its shelter seemed like a dream."

  "You never knew your mother?" Abigail asked, anxious to change the topic.

  "She died in childbirth."

  Abigail frowned. "Have you no family at all, Calvin?"

  She sensed him looking at her when he said, "My father was alive until I was seventeen years old, but I never knew until circumstances after his death made him known to me."

  "I'm sorry," Abigail said softly.

  "Don't be. How can I miss what I have never known? In truth, being alone for almost half my life has served me well. I have learned that you really don't need anyone."

  "Perhaps that is why...." Abigail let her words die off, not certain she wanted the man to know that thoughts of his demeanor-of him-took up her time.

  "Why what, Abigail?"

  She did not look at him. "Since you came here, you've never actually struck me as the kind of man who accepts orders from others."