Shaking his head, Greyson calmed his body down. Algers had been gone for almost two months. Surely he would have taken his revenge before now if he was here. More than one thief existed in the world.
“Notify the magistrate and send some men to check on the affected families. Now, unless there are any other pressing matters, we can continue tomorrow.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll return in the morning.” Barry collected his papers, then left Greyson to his thoughts.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Nothing came easy or simple for him. He avoided his wife during the day to not hurt her. And he left her alone in the evenings because she didn’t want him. Perhaps the time had arrived for him to give up trying to understand her and return to London.
A knock on the door elicited another sigh from him. He was in no mood to deal with anything right now. Sitting up, he masked his feelings and granted entry.
When Abigail tentatively walked through the door, his jaw went slack. She had no reason to be here unless something was wrong. Observing the nervous excitement on her face put his fears to rest. His pulse quickened watching her long body stride forward. He could envision those hidden legs wrapped around him.
“Are you busy, my lord?” She wrung her hands.
“Not at all. What can I help you with?” He crossed his hands on his desk trying to regard her in the same manner he would any other employee. An employee with creamy smooth skin, hair that drove a man to distraction, and eyes that promised many satisfying nights in her bed.
“Well . . . You promised to teach me to ride and show me the grounds. I wondered when you would be able to do so.”
His heart nearly burst. She wanted to spend time with him. Why hadn’t she approached him dressed as his wife then? No matter. He would take whatever part of her she would give to him.
“I can make the arrangements for tomorrow morning if you are agreeable.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She stood there for a few minutes longer as if reluctant to leave him. Then with a curtsy, she left.
He set off to make the arrangements immediately. By the time everything had been prepared, the hour was late, and he’d missed dinner. He wondered what his wife thought about his absence. Did she miss him?
As he lay awake in bed that night, he contemplated hundreds of things they could do after her lesson. Unfortunately the majority of them didn’t involve clothes.
The next morning he decided to forgo breakfast in preference to setting up a picnic for them to enjoy. He felt as eager as a schoolboy anticipating his first lover.
After mounting his stallion, he mapped out a path for their ride. The path would be easy for her to travel, assuming she grasped the basic steps of riding a horse. If not, he would take her there in another manner. Their destination, an ideal spot near the rushing river with the boathouse as a backdrop.
Satisfied, he galloped back to meet her by the stables. She was already there waiting for him. He enjoyed her anxiousness. The excitement in her eyes made his chest swell.
“Good morning, my lord. That is a fine animal you are riding.”
“Thank you.” He dismounted and led his stallion the last few paces to her. “You will be riding Midnight.”
At that moment one of the stable boys brought Midnight out. Abigail’s face lit up to see the sweet black mare. When he purchased her last night, he’d been assured she was a perfect choice for a new rider. The man he’d bought Midnight from had no prior intention of selling her, so he had paid far more than the animal’s value. But seeing Abigail’s smiling face made the price worth it.
“She is beautiful.” Abigail gently stroked her mane. When the mare nudged her, she laughed in delight. He wished he could tell her he’d purchased Midnight for her, but knew the time had not arrived. The horse belonged to his wife. Allowing Abigail to ride her as a maid would cause enough talk.
The lesson went well as Abigail’s skill came naturally. Seeing her sit with confidence made him proud. She never appeared to tire, and he got the impression the mare enjoyed the experience as much as she.
“Would you care to test your newly gained skills?” he asked as she reined Midnight to a stop.
“What do you have in mind?” Her tone held both suspicion and caution.
“Not too far. The terrain is easy, and there is a perfect picnic area.”
Her smile was brilliant. “Lead the way.”
Almost an hour later they sat on a blanket, enjoying the weather. The picnic Mrs. Coushings packed had been delicious and abundant. He applauded his quick thinking in requesting she put the lunch together.
As the breeze washed over his skin, he studied Abigail. Her eyes were closed and her face lifted to bathe in the sun. As her glorious hair shimmered in the light, his fingers itched to stroke the silken strands.
Without thought, he leaned toward her, but he stopped himself. He wanted her, but he also wished to get to know her. The woman he shared dinner with each evening was a mask. Abigail was her true self. However, he had no intention of causing irreparable damage to his marriage by seducing another woman. She must be the one to take the lead.
Needing a distraction from the temptation before him, he removed the deck of cards from his pocket and began shuffling. The noise must have drawn her attention, for she opened her eyes and raised her brow. He shrugged, having no intention of telling her why he needed something to occupy his hands.
“I take it you’re looking to play a hand of cards.”
“It wasn’t my purpose, but I never turn down an opportunity. Do you play?”
“Yes, but I’m confused. If you didn’t mean for us to play, why are you doing that?” She waved her hand over the shuffling cards.
“It relaxes me. Throughout my life I have been mistreated and ridiculed, but when I have cards in my hands, no one dares to challenge me. I suppose it makes me feel equal in a way.” Greyson clamped his mouth closed and averted his gaze, not quite believing he’d confessed all that. Growing up, he learned to keep to himself the hard way. Knowledge gave power, and power brought pain.
Turning back to her, he tensed, not wanting to see the pity he knew would be in her eyes. But he was wrong. Instead of that horrid emotion, he saw determination. She didn’t pity him. “Well, unlike those others, I’m not afraid of you.” She plucked the cards from his hands. “I challenge you to a game.”
His skin burned where her warm fingers touched him. “What are the stakes?”
“Oh.” Her eyes grew sad as she placed the deck of cards down in front of him. “I’m sorry, but I have nothing to offer.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what she had to offer, but he stopped himself. “I wasn’t thinking of betting anything of monetary value. Perhaps the winner gets a kiss.”
“But how is that a punishment for the loser?”
“You’re right.” Greyson’s pulse quickened. She had not outright refused his suggestion. “Then the winner shall obtain the ability to bestow a kiss. Whenever and wherever they choose, within reason, of course.”
“It’s certainly an interesting proposition.” She clicked her tongue as if contemplating what to do. “Well, Lord Merrick—”
“It’s Greyson. At least when we are alone.”
She offered him a beautiful smile. “Well, Greyson, I accept the bet.”
Hearing his name on her lips affected him in a way he never thought possible. His breathing sped up, and his body instantly came to attention. He fought the strong desire to take her into his arms. His eyes fastened on her lips. He wanted her to say his name again.
She cleared her throat, reminding him to deal the cards. As they played the hand, he didn’t expend his usual amount of concentration. He wanted her to win. How could his wife be angry with him if she initiated their interactions?
She shuffled cards around in her long fingers and her teeth lightly bit her bottom lip. She didn’t notice his preoccupation as she focused on her move. Waiting felt like torture.
When the game finally ended with her the victor, she shot him a satisfied smile. His body practically hummed in excitement.
“I feel quite powerful knowing I have a kiss to use at my disposal. I wonder what unsuspecting man I should present it to.” She pressed a finger to her lips.
Anger flooded his body. “No,” he almost bellowed. “This is between us.”
“Then as I said before, you would be rewarded for losing.” She held up her hands as he narrowed his eyes. “All right, I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll just keep it.”
Greyson closed his eyes as his frustration peaked. Forcing himself to remain calm, he nodded and reshuffled his cards. This had not turned out the way he’d hoped. His ideas for her to take the lead left his mind. He would earn his own kiss and show her what he expected.
“Would you care to play again?” He worked hard to hide his irritation. He didn’t want her to know how badly she affected him.
“No, thank you. I have no need for more kisses.”
His hands tightened on his cards. “Perhaps another time.”
She shrugged and made a noncommittal sound.
As they packed up and returned to the manor, Greyson struggled more than usual to contain his emotions. He’d been fantasizing too long about this woman to handle her outright rejection. Too much time had passed since he shared her bed.
If his wife intended to evade him as Abigail, he would attempt to obtain her attention another way. Tonight, regardless of how she acted toward him, he would make every effort to charm Lady Merrick. One way or another he would make his wife want him.
“Why are you in such a rush?” Abigail asked as Sandra cinched the dressing gown at her waist. “Can you tell Mrs. Coushings I’m not feeling up to a fitting right now?”
“The seamstress will be here whether you are feeling well or not.”
“Why? I didn’t send for her.”
“Lord Merrick instructed her to come.”
Abigail’s cheeks heated at the mention of her husband. She owned a kiss. The day had gone so much better than she’d expected. Once she understood the basics of riding a horse, the rest came naturally to her. In addition, Midnight was the most perfect mare in existence. However, as much as she enjoyed riding, nothing could compare to the picnic.
Her husband had been as charming and wonderful as he had been on their previous encounter. The heated glances and hungry looks he shot her when she wasn’t directly looking at him drove her crazy. Then he gave her permission to use his Christian name, and she’d nearly launched herself in his arms. When he watched her lips with such intensity, her body burned. She’d broken the spell he weaved around them as a way to protect herself from her emotions.
She had played cards with him before and knew of his ability, so she thought winning would be a challenge. Although he seemed distracted today, she could tell he’d allowed her to win. His arrogance had acted to cool her ardor. She’d wanted to kiss him but refused to give him the satisfaction. His anger afterward had made her want to laugh with delight. Revenge was fun.
“Why would Lord Merrick have need for a seamstress?” Abigail giggled, still giddy from her success earlier today.
Sandra sighed. “He has commissioned her to create you a new wardrobe. I would have told you sooner, but I have only just found out. Madam Debot will be here any moment to measure you for her creations.”
“That is unnecessary. I wonder why he didn’t inform me first.”
“Mrs. Coushings didn’t tell me anything more. All she said was that when Lord Merrick had returned from riding, he instructed her to fetch the seamstress at once.”
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Madam Debot. Abigail loathed these fittings. The seamstresses in London treated her as though she were a canvas to display their art. She did remember how her mother always requested extra material be left in the seams. Once the gown was delivered, she and Mary had worked on expanding the dresses to contain her armor. She would have to do that as well.
“My lady,” Madam Debot said, giving a curtsy. “I’m honored you have selected me to create your wardrobe.”
When Sandra stepped aside, the woman swept into the room with her three attendants. They each carried a bag, no doubt filled with materials and tools to proceed with Abigail’s torture session.
“You were highly recommended.” Abigail recalled Mrs. Coushings gushing over the works of Madam Debot several times over the past couple of weeks.
“You are too kind.” Madam Depot snapped her fingers. “Danielle, help her undress.”
After an hour of being poked, measured, and examined, Abigail was ready for this to end. Working in the garden all day had never exhausted her as much as one dress fitting did.
“I prefer that color,” Abigail said, pointing to a swatch and hoping to dissuade them from selecting colors that would clash with her hair.
“Then I’ll include your preference with my choices when I present them to Lord Merrick.”
“Why are you discussing color samples with my husband?” She couldn’t understand why Greyson had taken such a notice of her wardrobe. Did he feel guilty for spending the day with a maid? She hoped so.
“He gave me specific instructions. All color choices were to be approved by him.”
Abigail shrugged. Considering she wore Sandra’s gowns the majority of the day, the color of her gowns mattered little. But she had other requirements.
“Then I’ll trust your judgment. I only ask that the styles are modest. Also, leave extra material in the seams.”
“I’m sorry, my lady.” Madam Debot shifted uncomfortably. “The styles are also to be selected by the viscount. The excess material was also addressed.”
Abigail’s mouth dropped. He knew about her armor and intentionally ensured she couldn’t wear it. She didn’t understand how her feelings toward him could change so drastically. One moment she wanted to kiss him, but in the next breath, she wanted to slap him.
“Very well. I’m sure I’ll be pleased with his selections.” Abigail forced a smile and saw the seamstress’s tension ease.
Obviously still fearing a negative reaction from her, Madam Debot quickly packed her tools and exited the room. She was no doubt off to confer with Greyson regarding matters that should be under Abigail’s discretion.
A few hours later, Abigail sat across from her husband wondering where the charming man had come from. To date, he’d only acted this way with her as a maid. She wanted to tell him of her anger with his interference with the seamstress, but she could not resist him like this. He watched her throughout dinner with a twinkle in his eye.
“Is something on your mind?” he asked once they were settled in the drawing room.
She cringed. How could she deny such an opening? “I was simply thinking about my fitting today with a seamstress.”
“Madam Debot? I have heard a great deal about her. I don’t believe you will be dissatisfied with the outcome.”
“I’m sure she is quite talented. My concern isn’t in her skill level, but in how she didn’t allow me to make any decisions regarding the gowns.”
She chose her words with care, not wanting to upset him as his gesture had been kind. In addition, she had no desire to see him adopt his cold façade again. This side of him was much more pleasant.
“That was my decision. I simply wanted to ensure the coloring and styles were flattering to you.”
“And the seam allowance?” She watched his face closely for any signs of anger.
“I didn’t see that as a problem considering you no longer have a need to wear your armor.”
“I don’t recall making that decision.”
“In London you explained how you wore it for protection from unwanted suitors. Seeing as you are married and safely tucked away in the country, I don’t understand why you would continue to wear it.”
Abigail swallowed, trying to suppress her anger. As her husband, he had every right to make decisions for her, but she didn’t like it. If she
kept quiet and allowed him to believe she didn’t care, he would continue. On the other hand, if she argued, his anger would turn him into a man like her father. She knew once he began to beat her, the habit would become a daily occurrence.
“It’s also for comfort. You should have consulted me first, as I have no intention of dressing without the armor.” She held her head high, allowing her annoyance to show through her words.
“I tried to do something nice for you.” His tone held no emotion. “But if you are determined to hate me, so be it.”
As he stood and walked toward her, she could no longer hold her brave façade. Shrinking back into the cushions, she closed her eyes. Although she deserved his punishment, she could not watch. For some reason, she wanted to trick herself into believing he was different. If she didn’t see the origination of the blows, she could pretend the pain came from her father.
She kept her position for a few seconds until a shadow moved past her eyelids. Peering out, she saw his retreating back. He stopped at the threshold and turned back to her. The pain in his face made her throat ache. Without a word, he hurried out of her sight.
Tears burned the back of her eyes as she dropped her face into her palms. Confusion assaulted her. Nothing made sense anymore. Thinking of the agony in his eyes made her feel terrible. She’d rejected him twice today as two different women. Considering she had no desire to hurt him so badly, there remained one way to fix this. The solution would have to come from her maid persona.
If she flirted with or kissed him as a maid, nothing would change. He didn’t know who she was, so he could do nothing to her that she couldn’t escape from. As his wife, harmless flirting could escalate and invite him into her bed. Once that happened, their relationship would be forever changed. The thought of subjecting herself to that act every night made her body break out in a cold sweat. She would not allow that to happen.
Tomorrow she would seek him out and use her kiss.
Chapter 15
Greyson fastened his trousers and pulled his shirt on. Not bothering to secure the buttons, he dropped into a chair and leaned back, covering his eyes with his hands. How did he proceed with his wife? As his efforts with both her and Abigail were rejected, he decided the best option was to make arrangements to leave Merrick today.
His Perfect Game Page 20