One Night To Be Sinful

by Samantha Garver

  "Handsome, isn't he?" Harriet wiggled her eyebrows.

  "Yes, and, I believe, not a man I should like to have angry with me." Bernice shook her head. "After what those men did to frighten Abby, I thought he was going to come to blows."

  "With the viscount?" Augusta's expression registered some of the same wonder Bernice had felt hours before.

  The other woman nodded. "He went after the two of them like he had no concern for Raleigh's station or the fact that together both men were larger than himself."

  "I've never seen a servant actually argue with the nobility," Harriet said. "None has ever argued with me."

  "You've never had a servant," Augusta pointed out.

  "I'm not a member of the nobility either." Harriet shrugged, unconcerned.

  "He and Abby argued as well." Bernice ignored the others' byplay, too ensconced in the matter that had taken up a lot of her thoughts since leaving the Wolcott estate. "She was upset at Mr. Garrett for interfering in her affairs and, I think, a little put out that he might believe she needed him to take care of her."

  "What did Garrett have to say?" Harriet folded her legs beneath her, fully enthralled with the story.

  Bernice glanced between her two friends and said softly, "He told her he would not leave her to harm. He promised to watch over her."

  Augusta released all her breath in a quiet rush.

  "That's not all," Harriet encouraged, "is it, Bernice?"

  The other woman shook her head, remembering the entire scene. Recalling the strange but sudden certainty she had that Calvin Garrett was going to kiss Abigail in the middle of that field. To the women seated across from her, she asked, "Do you remember when that Collins fellow snuck into my home and I had to knock him over the head with my water pitcher?"

  "I'd like to think it was a move you learned from me." Harriet grinned.

  "Yes, well, when I screamed, I heard Sebastian break my door in. I went running down the stairs and to him as fast as I could. I must have looked a fright, but I remember thinking he looked even worse than I did. Upset."

  Augusta said softly, "He was worried something had happened to you."

  "Yes." Bernice felt her heart swell at the memory.

  "But what does that have to do with Mr. Garrett?"

  "The way Sebastian looked at me then was how Garrett looked at Abby."

  "Bloody hell," Harriet whispered.

  "He kissed her," Augusta said. She nodded when the other two gaped at her. "She told Isabel and me the other day at the shop. He kissed her, and she kissed him back."

  "He's handsome," Harriet said again, her tone thoughtful, "but not in the same way that Patrick Valmonte was handsome. Just to hear Garrett speak. . . " She shook her head, struggling for words that were so easy for the two women who read love stories. "He is different."

  Augusta shook her head, perhaps remembering sitting beside Abby's bed as the other woman pretended her broken leg didn't pain her. "After their engagement ended," she said sadly, "she stopped reading the books we love so much. It broke my heart."

  "Bernice?" Harriet frowned worriedly. "Why are you grinning like that?"

  The soft folds of fabric rested silently atop her head as Abigail froze. Her arms were still lifted above her head to slip on her new nightrail as she listened to the sound of heavy footfalls in the hall. There was a muted creak of the bedchamber door across from hers opening then falling closed again. From wherever Calvin had been all day, he had returned home.

  A slight tug brought Abigail's gown over her head and a second made certain it was in its place. A heartbeat later she snatched up her crutch and was moving through her door and to the one across from it. Old habits as well as the urgency of her stride had her hand on the doorknob and it turning before she even bothered a warning.

  Abigail immediately, upon entering Calvin's bedchamber, wished she had remembered to knock.

  She dropped her gaze to her stocking feet. "Excuse me," she said quickly, breathlessly. "Tuttleton told me I never had to knock, and I suppose I forgot....

  When Calvin remained silent, Abigail lifted her gaze to peer across the room through her lashes. Besides not having spoken a word since she barged inside his room, he hadn't moved a muscle. He still stood by the washstand, only a single taper illuminating him in the room that was dark and untouched by the light from the hall. His boots lay on their sides on the floor beside his feet; his shirt hung open with the sleeves folded back. Her gaze moving to his face-the tense muscle in his jaw, the line of his lips pressed together, and the dark expression in his eyes-Abigail thought he looked tired and angry.

  She cleared her throat. "Perhaps I shouldn't have come," she said. "I just wanted to apologize. For earlier today, I mean." She peeked at Calvin again and, seeing him still in place, began to worry. "I'm afraid I was upset and a bit blunt when I spoke to you. I'm sorry if I-"

  "Get out."

  Abigail blinked. Her chin lifted and her heart stopped when she realized Calvin had finally moved and it was to come right at her. She struggled to come to grips with his escalating anger in the face of her apology. "Have I made it worse?"

  "Yes." The hiss of his tone and the tightening of the muscles across his face suggested Abigail and Calvin were not discussing the same thing.

  Although he was closing in on her, his steady steps echoing heavily against the walls, Abby could not make herself move. She shook her head. "I don't understand."

  "Do I look like your last butler, Lady Abigail?" His warm hands lifted and circled her bare upper arms.

  "Tuttleton?" She shivered. "No."

  "Have I ever struck you in any way as comparable to the man?"

  Abigail looked up from the large hands that could have circled her arms twice. His hold wasn't painful, just tight and rather unnerving in its presence. Her heart pounded against her ribs. "Not really." The words came out shaking.

  Calvin's face came close to hers so that she could see the white of his clenched teeth. The heat from his body stirred the air around them and made her throat dry.

  "Do not"-he said the words evenly, without mov ing his jaw-"mistake me for an old man who has forgotten what to do with a woman." His eyes burned like blue flames against her flesh as they lowered between them, running along the exposed line of her neck and the gentle curves of her breasts pressed against the bodice of her nightgown. "Come into my room like this again, Abby, and I'll show you that I do know what to do with a beautiful woman.

  Quickly, pointedly, but with a surprising amount of gentleness, he turned her away and gave her a small shove toward the door. She left the room on numb legs with her hands shaking and gasped when the door slammed closed after her. She did not blink, did not breathe, until she had crossed the hall and was safely in her own bedchamber. Once there, she released the pent-up breath she'd been holding and dropped her forehead against the cool wood of the door.

  It came out of nowhere.

  The urge curled around her spine and squeezed, a tingling sensation spreading out to her fingertips and toes. In the silence of her darkened bedchamber, where no one could see, least of all the man who had just thrown her from his room, Abigail gave into the inclination. She smiled.

  Chapter 15

  After the scene with Raleigh and his cohort, Calvin had to find an outlet for his rage at the two men who were trying so hard to frighten Abby, the woman who was trying so hard to pretend they didn't affect her at all. Her thinly veiled threat that his post was on tenuous ground had made Calvin want to throttle her. Not because she was so damned stubborn, but because of the ease with which she had given the warning. As if it would not be difficult for her to be rid of him. As if Abby felt nothing compared to the certainty Calvin had that he belonged there.

  He had gone walking, ignoring the beat of the sun on his back and his increasing hunger as the day wore on. He found his way back to the pond where he had kissed Abigail and she had appeared to enjoy kissing him back. The spot only made him angrier, so he walked on. He had
made it around the entire perimeter of her property and was back at the estate by nightfall. Not before having de stroyed three animal traps he found at the edge of her land and two he could see on Raleigh's.

  By the time he had eaten the cold beef and cheese Mrs. Poole had left out for him and gone up to his bedchamber to wash, his anger had diffused to a simmer and he had made a deal with himself.

  He would not kiss Abigail, despite the fact he had been sorely tempted to do so on many occasions since their first shared embrace, ever again. He would make himself look upon her solely as her brother's sister and a woman whose only relationship to him would be employer and unknowing charge. If he had to stay up all night, he would have no more dreams about her from which he would wake up painfully aroused.

  Then she had walked right into his bedchamber without even bothering to knock. The light from the hall illuminated her like a mocking thing, the flickering sconces laughing silently at this sudden taunt at his resolve. Abigail's chestnut hair was in loose upkeep, countless tendrils escaping from her barrettes down her nape and at her temples. Her skin had been flushed and her chest rising and falling quickly as if she had hurried from her room the moment she realized he was in his. The only article of clothing she wore was a simple nightgown with shell sleeves and a lace decolletage above which the uppermost curves of her breasts were exposed. The material cinched tightly beneath the swell of her breasts then dissolved into frothy layers of silk through which Calvin could clearly make out the curve of her hips and the tapered length of her legs.

  The fates had sent her-Calvin would tell him self after he ordered her none too kindly from his room-to tempt him. To test the steely resolve he had set within himself. He only had to remember the startled look in her gaze when he wrapped his hands around her painfully soft skin and the moistness of her ragged breaths against his own lips to know with grim certainty he had thoroughly failed his test.

  Despite the cold water he had used to bathe and the half-dozen glasses of brandy he gulped down before falling back onto the bed, he was painfully awake as the glow of the moon across the ceiling gave way to dawn's first light.

  He had given up on sleep long before, but waited until the sun had begun its ascent to push himself up to a sitting position. His eyes felt grainy, his mouth dry, and his face itched where a night's worth of beard had taken root.

  Even though the only sound she made was the light tapping on the door, he knew it was Abigail.

  Despite his night without sleep and consequently sour mood, he was tempted to smile when he saw her through the opening door. All he could make out of Abigail was her face. She wore a pale violet bonnet that matched her gloves, and her darker coat was buttoned up to her neck. Another garment of black hung over her free arm.

  "Good morning, Calvin," she offered carefully.

  "Good morning, Abby." He was surprised she was talking to him after last night. Had been certain as his hours of wakefulness droned on that he would have to make apologies this day. After all, she had come to his room only to express regret for her treatment of him, and he had rudely thrown her out.

  "I was just on my way out-"

  "Let me put on my boots"-Calvin nodded"and I'll be down."

  "That won't be necessary." Abigail shook her head. "Some of my friends are coming to get me. We're going to the bookshop."

  Calvin wondered what made the shop so popular that the woman frequented it more than once a week.

  "Tomorrow evening, however, I shall need you to accompany me to London. Thomas is throwing another party for my sister."

  "All right," he said, suddenly aware that they were speaking to each other with careful politeness. The way tentative strangers might. He couldn't say he appreciated their almost-too-civil tones.

  "I have something for you," Abigail was saying, looking slightly embarrassed as she held up her arm.

  He frowned, reaching for the length of dark cloth.

  "I hope you do not mind," she added as if suddenly worried he might take the gift as an insult. "It's just that you always seemed uncomfortable in yours.

  "A coat?" He held up the garment, noting the silk lining and sturdy wool that constructed it.

  "A gift." Abigail lifted gloved fingers to toy with the lapels of her own coat. She looked from the jacket he held to his face then back again. Her brows crinkled, as if she read something adverse in his expression. "If you do not like it, you don't have to wear it, of course. It may be a little large for him, but I'm sure Timothy can use-"

  "It's the nicest thing anyone's ever given me, Abby. "

  Abigail laughed. "You don't have to make me feel better. Of course you've received nicer things from a friend or relative."

  "No." He didn't think his father's timely death counted as a present, just an obscure twist of fate. Calvin met Abby's gaze and, with just that contact, prevented her from turning away. "I have never received a gift from anyone. Ever. Thank you."

  "Well." Abigail nodded, and he thought he saw a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. "I had best get downstairs. Bernice will be here soon."

  "Abby?"

  "Yes?"

  Though Calvin did not look up from the coat in his fists, he knew she had stopped in the doorway.

  "You need not fear any unwanted attentions on my part." He slowly lifted his gaze to her gloved hands, then to her buttoned coat. "You should not feel you have to blanket yourself from head to toe to prevent my want of you."

  She stared at him a 'long moment before realizing what she was doing. Her laugh was high and nervous. "That's silly, Calvin. I'm not afraid of your"-she swallowed-"attentions. I am dressed like this because, as I already mentioned, I am going out. One never knows when it will start to rain."

  Calvin lifted a brow.

  "Really." She smiled much too brightly.

  He couldn't help it. There was something undeniably captivating about such nervousness from a woman who made a point to be self-assured. The fact Calvin could see her breasts rising rapidly beneath the material of her coat and gown didn't hurt either. As he moved nearer to the doorway in which she stood, he saw her eyes go wide in the shadow of her bonnet.

  "I didn't alarm you at all last night?"

  Her lashes fluttered; she felt his words as the caress he had intended them to be. "No, sir." She cleared her throat. "I should not have barged in here last night without gaining your permission, and it was most unseemly of me to do so in only my nightgown. Improper, I should think."

  "I suppose one could blame it on your interruption and attire"-Calvin cut his nod off short"except. .."

  "Except?" Abigail blinked up at him, and it was all he could do not to grab her by the shoulders and drag her into his bedchamber.

  "Except"-he set his new coat neatly across his shoulder, then lifted a hand to either side of the doorjamb-"you were very discreet in knocking at my door this morning and are dressed very respectably-rather spinsterlike, in fact."

  Despite the fact he was a large and looming form above her, she frowned at that. "And?"

  His lips curved into a slow smile as his gaze moved to her full and perfect mouth. "And I want to do to you the same things I wanted to do to you last night."

  "Oh." The word was barely audible, breathless. It left her lips parted.

  Too much, he decided as he stepped toward her, for him to take. She didn't move as he reached out to capture her arms much the same way as he had the night before. The material of her coat was warm and soft, but nowhere near as much so as her skin had been. Abigail's chin lifted as she watched him close in on her, and as his head lowered, the very tip of her tongue peeked out to wet her lips.

  Calvin groaned and brought his mouth to hers.

  "Abby!" Margot's voice pierced the heavy silence between them. "Lady Abby?"

  "Yes." It came out a whisper. Then Abigail blinked and looked toward the stairs. "Yes?" she called louder.

  "I see Lady Black's carriage coming up the drive!"

  "Be right down." Abigail t
urned back to Calvin, taking a deep breath. "I should go."

  "Yes." He nodded, releasing her and stepping away. He watched as she turned and walked quickly from him and didn't miss, when she was halfway down the carpeted stairs, her look of utter bewilderment as she peeked back.

  "This is all too much," Abigail breathed, staring-gaping, really-at the women seated in the carriage about her.

  Augusta was on the cushioned seat beside her, Harriet and Bernice in the one directly before them. Each woman was an individual, yet all were friends despite their varied likes and dislikes and different stations in life. At that moment they made a powerful force intent upon one task.

  It was not bad enough that they had questioned her thoroughly about her trembling hands when she had boarded the carriage, but they also had to bring up the topic at hand. A topic that horrified Abigail at the amount of thought it took up in the others' minds.

  "Forgive us, Abby," Augusta said, "if you think us overly forward in concerning ourselves with your personal life in such a way."

  Harriet folded her arms beneath her breasts, closely scrutinizing the face of the woman seated across from her. "You have actually never thought of it yourself?"

  Abigail wondered why the other women did not notice the stifling heat in the carriage. She unbuttoned her coat and reached for the ribbons of her bonnet. "I have gone to great pains to keep from thinking about it, Harriet."

  "So you admit, you've thought about it because you had to make yourself not." The other woman grinned.

  "I saw the way he looks at you, Abby," Bernice said.

  "And you did say you shared a kiss," Augusta added.

  Abigail's brows drew together as she began to fan herself with her bonnet. She offered each of the women a reprimanding scowl. "Is this what you do to occupy yourselves when I am not about? Fret over my love life?"

  Bernice's brows lifted above the rims of her spectacles as she returned, "And you did not discus my relationship with Sebastian before we were married?"