by Annette Lyon
Gina scrambled out of bed then had to take a moment to steady her swimming head by bracing herself against the bedpost. What time was it? She’d left the drapes halfway open, and moonlight still streamed through. By the black color of the sky beyond, it had to be the middle of the night.
She crossed to the door, unlocked it, and opened it a crack. “Is something wrong?”
“Let me in and light a blasted lamp,” her father barked.
Gina opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Is it Mother? Or Grandmother?”
“No.” He moved to the windows as Gina lit one of the oil lamps. The low light was feeble at best, but the fire had died hours ago.
Her father pulled the drapes closed with a snap. Turning toward her, he narrowed his eyes. “That man is a fraud, through and through. You’re to have nothing to do with him.”
“Who are you talking about?” Gina stalled, although she had fairly good idea.
“Edmund Donaldson, that’s who.” He scrutinized her carefully.
Gina’s face grew warm, and she clasped her hands in front of her. She’d danced with him only once; why the concern? Curiosity burned through her.
“How is he a fraud?” she asked.
Her father crossed to the dark fireplace. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Gina’s thoughts tumbled. Her father’s worry was surely about the shipping business, or the lawsuit, which she didn’t completely understand. “Is it the lawsuit?”
“He set me up,” her father said. “He placed a high stakes wager in a card game.”
Mother hated him gambling. “What happened? Did you… lose?”
His face reddened, and he took a couple of steps forward. “He might have won his wager, but I’m going to crush everything he’s ever built.” He stopped in front of Gina, so close she could smell brandy on his breath and see that his eyes were bloodshot. “If I see you speak to him or so much look at him, you’ll be cut off— do you hear me?”
Cut off? Gina took a step back. What had the wager been? And what had she done to deserve her father’s threats? Her life had become a scene in a novel.
“Father…” she started, wanting to ask him about the wager, but he brushed past and opened the door.
He turned to look at her. “If that infernal man isn’t gone at first light, we’ll be leaving on the morrow.” Before she could formulate anything remotely intelligent to say, he left, slamming the door behind him.
A shudder passed through her body, and tears threatened, but she kept her emotions in check as she locked the door and extinguished the lamp.
Gina stood in the dark room for several moments, too stunned to do much else. Then dread coursed through her as she realized her neighbor on the other side of her wall had surely heard the shouting. A door shut down the hallway. She hoped her mother was sound asleep and would miss her father’s tirade. She stood, listening, but all was quiet.
She let out a groan as dismay then anger took ahold of her heart… She didn’t know what had happened exactly between the two men, but it wasn’t her fault. What had her father lost? What would her mother say about it— especially since she was the one to bring the fortune into the marriage?
Gina crossed to the windows in thought. Her mother might rant for a while. Predictably, she’d then finish off the nearest bottle of wine. Gina drew open the drapes, and moonlight flooded the room. With the aid of extra light, she grabbed a wrapper from the chair near her bed and slipped it on. She wouldn’t be sleeping, knowing she might never see Mr. Donaldson again.
Gina stepped out onto the balcony. Only that morning, her life had seemed much simpler. She had not met the man in the room next to hers. Her gaze slid to his darkened windows. Was he in bed, or still in the card room? Perhaps he’d already left the hotel like her father hoped.
Something inside her felt profoundly sad at the thought. Mr. Donaldson was the one being sued, he had been recently widowed, and now… he’d incurred the wrath of a powerful man— her own father.
If the people of New York had to take sides, her father would win. He’d been established in the business longer, and her mother came from a long line of society’s elite.
Gina’s heart raced as she considered what she could do… and what she wanted to do. Another glance at the darkened windows of Mr. Donaldson confirmed her decision— nothing short of what a heroine might do, although this might be a bit more risqué, since this was… well, real life. She gripped the balcony rail and climbed over the edge. The moonlight gave enough light to get to the ground safely. Now she only had to climb up again.
She arched her neck, looking at Mr. Donaldson’s balcony, her heart responding with more thumping. This was beyond anything she’d done before. Gina thought about her father’s harsh words and threats…
It was now or never. Tomorrow she’d be separated from Mr. Donaldson.
She grabbed for the first protruding stone then lifted her foot to find purchase. By the time she climbed over Mr. Donaldson’s rail, she was out of breath. If this had been in a novel, the hero would be waiting for her, and of course he’d declare his love the moment she knocked. Perhaps passionately kiss her. Then he’d request her hand in marriage from her father, and the two men would become the best of friends.
As it was, this wasn’t a novel, which was made clear when she knocked softly on the window but no one answered. She knocked again, despite her pounding heart. Still, no answer. Something moved below the balcony. Her heart nearly stopped.
“Miss Graydon?” a voice whispered from below.
Gina wanted to disappear. With her pulse racing, she turned and peered over the rail. Edmund Donaldson stood below, looking up at her. “Hello,” she said in a quiet voice. “I seem to have climbed the wrong balcony.”
His mouth quirked into a smile, and it was then Gina noticed he wasn’t wearing his suit coat or a tie, and that his collar was open, his shirt a bit rumpled, his hair disheveled… He looked every bit the romantic hero.
“Juliet?” he said.
Gina stared at him for a moment before understanding. He was teasing about her lie about reading Shakespeare. “I don’t think this is how it went,” she whispered.
“No? Romeo didn’t call up to Juliet on her balcony?”
“Oh, that happened in the story, but this isn’t my balcony, and my name isn’t Juliet… It’s not even close.”
Mr. Donaldson laughed softly. “However could you mistake my balcony for yours? Mine has the hedges.”
Gina played along. “Perhaps because they look identical when one doesn’t notice the hedges, and it is quite dark out here.”
“Darker than when you usually visit the garden, eh?”
“Much.”
“And why, may I ask, are you climbing balconies in the middle of the night?” he said. “Has your nocturnal eyesight become good enough to read with only the moon as a guide?”
“No.”
He laughed again, and not only had Gina’s face warmed, but her entire body.
“Mr. Donaldson, if you would please turn around, I’d like to come down now.”
One of his eyebrows lifted, but he turned and walked a few paces away.
Gina climbed over the railing. She descended slowly, highly aware that one slip would be witnessed, and might send her tumbling into his arms. At one point, she nearly lost her grip, earning a scraped palm for her efforts. When she was nearly to the bottom, two hands grasped her around the waist and lifted her the rest of the way down.
She gasped and turned around, coming face to face with Mr. Donaldson. Her hands rested on his arms, and she was suddenly glad he wasn’t wearing a confining suit coat. It was a new thing for her to feel the warmth and strength of a man’s skin through his shirtsleeves— a realization that made her blush furiously.
“What are you doing out here?” she said, her voice not quite steady. She hoped to cover the fact that being in his arms made her feel faint, because of note, he had not yet released her. And the intensity of his
gaze told her he wasn’t about to any time soon.
“I was thinking about where I might find a woman on a balcony.”
“You seem to have a lucky streak tonight… You find a woman on a balcony as you desired, and earlier, you won my father in a card game.”
His face sobered, and he released her.
Gina regretted bringing up her father, but she knew it must be so. She might never see Mr. Donaldson again. “What happened?”
“How do you know about the game?” His eyes searched hers, and she didn’t like what she saw in them: mistrust and doubt.
Could she trust him? She would take the risk to learn the truth. “My father was upset, said it was a high-stakes game. He came to my room and declared I am never to see you again.”
Mr. Donaldson didn’t answer, his gaze intent.
“What was the wager, Mr. Donaldson?”
“Edmund,” he whispered, leaning down. “Call me Edmund.”
Her heart hammered, he was so close. He wasn’t even touching her any longer, yet her body seemed to yearn for his.
“Edmund, what was the wager?” Her head felt light, her body weak, as if she’d had champagne.
His fingers brushed against her arms, ever so lightly, then one hand moved to her cheek, like touching a porcelain doll. “You were the wager.”
Chapter Ten
Before Gina could question him, his hand slid behind her head, cradling hers as he angled his face. His lips brushed hers, so softly at first that Gina wondered if it could possibly be a kiss. But when his kiss deepened, and his mouth moved against hers as if he was only focused on one thing, there was no doubt.
Fire spread through her from his touch, his hands on her face and neck. His scent enveloped her, and she wondered if this was what a heroine felt like when kissing her hero. Gina sighed against Edmund, and her lips parted, kissing him back.
Then both his hands tangled in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. As far as first kisses went, nothing much seemed amiss. At least, Gina found concentrating on something other than Edmund Donaldson difficult, and she quite forgot any of the romantic plotlines she’d read.
His kisses were urgent, yet gentle, as if he savored each taste of her, and she wanted to taste him back. His fingers skimmed her neck, causing warm shivers to course through her body. Then his fingers trailed her collarbone and rested on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
She felt too dizzy to reply for a moment. “Kissing me was the wager?”
“No.” His breath was warm against her ear. “Becoming acquainted with you.”
“So you went straight to kissing me?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m sorry. I am taking advantage.” But he didn’t release her. “Ever since I first saw you scale the balcony wall, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“You don’t even know me,” Gina said.
His arms stayed around her as he looked at her. “I intend to remedy that. Thus the wager.”
Her mouth still tingled from his touch. “I don’t want to be a wager.”
One side of his mouth lifted, and he touched her jawline. “Your father was backed into a corner. The wager was that if I won, he’d drop the lawsuit. He lost, then demanded we play a second game for a chance to win back the lawsuit. But he had nothing else to offer, so I threw out your name, and he grabbed onto it.” His low voice resonated through her.
She gazed into his eyes, her heart pounding at his nearness. “And you won?”
“Of course.” One of his hands trailed down her arm then caught her hand in his. “They call my fortune new money because I won a couple of gold mines in a card game. I sold them and started the shipping company.”
Gina’s skin went cold. “You’re a gambler?”
One of his brows arched. “Retired.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve retired.”
His other fingers threaded through hers; they stood nearly toe-to-toe. “I was until someone with a beautiful daughter decided to sue me.”
Gina’s mind tumbled. She didn’t know what to think. Maybe her father was right— she should stay away from Edmund Donaldson. Here he was, a professed gambler, with his wife dead only a few months. She drew her hands away.
“Your father wanted to play again,” he said, not seeming aware that she was keeping her distance. “He said all or nothing… and I asked what he meant by ‘all.’”
Gina found herself holding her breath.
“He said ‘my fortune for yours’ and when I asked him the amount of his fortune, I could tell he thought he’d bested me.” Edmund paused, moving closer to Gina. “My wife’s property is worth twice that of your mother’s and father’s assets combined. I told him I didn’t want his fortune, but I would wager my own in exchange for becoming acquainted with his daughter.”
Gina gasped. “You risked all of your wealth for me?” Her face burned… with what she wasn’t sure. Anger? Pleasure? Embarrassment? Then she realized… “You knew you’d win, didn’t you? You cheated.”
His expression turned to stone. “I’m not a cheat.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what your father said?”
“No,” Gina breathed.
He grasped her arms. “I knew I would win because your father’s face is as easy to read as a naughty toddler’s.”
“It was still a great risk. Why would you make such a wager?” she asked, unsure if she should be flattered or angry.
His grasp fell away, but he didn’t give her any space. His tone softened. “There was no other way your father would let me near you.”
The man was a flatterer. She’d only met him the day before, had danced with him once. How could he be so interested? “Surely you seek my company because it brings angst to my father.”
He showed no hesitation in his answer. “No. But I won’t deny the challenge.”
Gina didn’t know what to make of his answer. “Despite the wager, my father is determined to keep you away,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Then, my darling.” He moved close again. “We’ll have to keep him to his bargain.” He kissed her cheek, lingering, and Gina wished for more, though she feared this was all some sort of game to Edmund.
She was a challenge; he’d said so himself. Was the wager for her really a way to get back at her father as part of a revenge plot? Or worse, was she a passing fancy, someone to dally with while he got over the death of his wife?
“I know what you’re thinking.” His scent seemed to steal some of her common sense.
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“This is not about the lawsuit, and I’m not a man of idle convictions,” he said, holding her gaze. “I would like to get to know you better… with or without a wager.”
Her breath left for a few seconds. “Edmund.” She felt her resolve to stay away from him weaken. She had to think this through. This man had been a gambler. Could he be trusted? Would she listen to her own father, or a near stranger who happened to make her pulse race wildly?
His fingers slowly traced her jaw, and then they moved to lightly brush her lips. “Tell me about yourself, anything and everything. Do you like music, painting? What books do you love?”
Her body trembled in response to his touch; she wanted to cling to him, to kiss him again, to ask him to hold her. But if this was anything real, if it had any potential at all, she must tell him the truth about what she read before she lost herself to him completely. Then she would know if he’d ever fully accept her. She took a step back.
“I read romance novels,” she whispered. “Constantly. And without my parents’ knowledge. I will not apologize for it, and someday I may write one myself.” She had never admitted to herself that she was interested in writing novels, but with blurting it out, she realized it had been a hidden desire for years.
“Will you use a pen name?” he asked.
Gina straightened, getting some of her determination back with their new
distance. “I haven’t decided. Whether or not I do, I wouldn’t be fit for marriage. Society frowns upon a married woman with an occupation. Especially a female novelist.”
His gaze held steady for a long moment. “Whichever way you choose, I’ll read your books.”
Chapter Eleven
Edmund chuckled to himself as he remembered being with Gina in the garden. If her worst flaw was reading romance novels, she was a like a dove in the eye of a storm— innocent, to be sure. Her life had been more than sheltered.
He turned from the window and the rising sun to start packing. They’d reluctantly parted after another kiss or two and had returned to their own rooms— Edmund through the front doors of the hotel, and Gina back up to her balcony. Perhaps one day, he’d try balcony climbing himself.
He thought about her family as he unlatched his trunk, getting ready to pack. Gina’s mother was a society drunk, and her father was ruthless; life was not all roses at the Graydon household. The man’s reputation was callous at best, and if Edmund took the time, he’d probably uncover several questionable transactions made by Mr. Graydon to keep his company afloat. There was no secret about Mr. Graydon’s gambling history, and though it seemed to have lessened in the last few years, the financial sting would likely be felt for decades. If anyone knew the false promise of gambling, it was Edmund. Which is why he’d sworn to retiring the habit after starting his shipping company; wagering against the old man had been the single exception.
As Edmund loaded his shoes and trousers into the trunk, he realized that the fact he had no trouble hiring some of Graydon’s top employees was a distress signal indeed. There might be more issues with Graydon’s company than Edmund knew. No matter the outcome of the lawsuit, Edmund determined to court Gina. He’d had marital complications before, but now he’d rather enter into a love-filled marriage and deal with difficult in-laws, than marry for convenience— which he’d already experienced.
Marriage. Was he really thinking it? As unbelievable as it might sound to others, it wasn’t to him. Would marrying Gina be so farfetched? He didn’t think his interest would wane anytime soon. His marriage to Jacqueline had not been all it seemed. It wasn’t something he readily admitted to anyone else, but it was hard to deny who attended his wife’s funeral— the most notorious bachelors in New York City.