by North, Evie
“You really are bellisima,” he said with a grin. “Where did you pop up from? I thought I’d seen all the ladies this village has to offer. Are there more like you? Please, tell me you’re not happily married!”
“She isn’t.”
The voice startled her and the gentleman both. They turned just as Maddox stepped out of the shadow of a wall. During their time together, she had come to recognise his moods, so when she saw the tense set of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw, she knew he wasn’t happy. But before she could begin to wonder why, the stranger gave a delighted laugh and hurried toward Maddox, wrapping his arms around him in a hard hug.
“Maddox, my friend!” he cried. “What a surprise! I thought you were home in England, and yet here you are!”
“Lawrence.” Maddox gave a reluctant grin, returning the effusive greeting with a slap on the other man’s back. His gaze slid over Lawrence’s shoulder back to Gabriella.
“I was just making the acquaintance of this senorita here,” his friend said in a low voice that still carried. “Devilishly pretty, don’t you agree, Maddox? What do you think? Perhaps we can have one of our wagers?”
Maddox went very still. His pale eyes narrowed and his mouth was a tight line, and Gabriella couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t keen on the idea of this wager, whatever it was.
It was clear that Maddox and Lawrence had a history. As Lawrence rambled on about this woman or that woman, speaking in a language he assumed she could not understand, her heart sank. It was becoming obvious to her just what the two men had in common.
When Maddox’s gaze met Gabriella’s, she lifted her chin, suddenly angry with him and his friend, and her own stupid dreams. The moments they had spent together, the touches they had shared, were not special after all. He had done that and far more with countless other women. Now she felt like a fool but she wasn’t about to let him know it.
“What do you say then?” Lawrence said, turning to stare at Gabriella. “Fifty guineas says she will be mine by sunset.”
Maddox frowned. “Shut up, Lawrence,” he said. Then, as if making up his mind, “Allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Gabriella Jones and she understood every word you said.”
Lawrence looked so shocked he gave meaning to the phrase ‘could have been knocked down by a feather,’ and then he began to laugh. He bent over, hands on his knees, overcome with mirth. It was only when he raised his head and noticed his friend’s expression that his amusement came to an abrupt halt.
“She is also my secretary,” Maddox added.
Lawrence seemed inclined to laugh again and then his eyes widened. “You mean it! Good God, man, what do you need a secretary for?”
It was clear he thought Maddox had another reason for keeping Gabriella at his side. All of her doubts raised their heads once more. Maddox was still watching her, but this time she couldn’t read his thoughts. He turned back to his friend, his frown deepening. “What are you doing here?”
“Rusticating,” Lawrence said with an unrepentant grin. “Trouble at home, I’m afraid. We can discuss it over a bottle of red wine. I’ve sampled a few of the local tipples since I’ve been here.” His gaze slid to Gabriella again and he gave Maddox a sly wink.
Maddox also looked at Gabriella. Assuming he wanted her gone so that he could spend time with his old friend, she said, “I’d better return to the yacht.” She rolled her eyes at Lawrence’s chuckle and turned to leave, but had only gone a few steps when Maddox called after her.
“I’ve found a house for us. Wait at the yacht until I return and I will take you there.”
She glanced over her shoulder. The two men were still standing in the square, watching her. Lawrence gave her a grin and a wave which made her feel both uneasy and flattered at the same time. A moment later, Maddox put an arm around his friend’s shoulders and turned him about. They walked away, heads together.
If she were a more conceited woman, Gabriella might think Maddox did not want Lawrence to fix his attention on her. That he considered her to be his alone. That he was jealous.
But she had believed Terrence enjoyed her company too, and had learned the hard way that all he wanted from her was her body. During her time with Maddox she had started to have similar feelings for him, but she needed to put aside such foolish imaginings. They were in Italy and their lives must diverge. He was an earl’s son and she was… well, she was nothing.
13
MADDOX
Maddox was feeling very unsettled. He tried in vain to tell himself he was being ridiculous but it didn’t help. As soon as he’d seen the way Lawrence had looked at Gabriella, something in his chest had tightened to the point of pain. Lawrence was his oldest and best friend! Meeting up with him here in Italy should have been the best of surprises. Why was he wishing the man was half a world away?
The two of them had been in so many wild japes together he’d forgotten half of them, and when they shared the more outrageous of those memories he would laugh until his sides hurt. He could tell now, as they sat at the table with their bottle of red wine, that Lawrence was keen for more of the same. He should be happy to oblige, but something had changed. Some piece of him no longer fitted with the Maddox he used to be. He’d known it the moment he had stepped into the square and had seen the way Lawrence looked at Gabriella.
His friend’s interest disturbed him. More than disturbed him. It made him angry and agitated and so possessive he had wanted to march over and put her physically behind him so that Lawrence could no longer see her.
Maddox was aware that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, it made no sense. He was not the possessive sort, certainly not when it came to women. He and Lawrence had shared many over the years so his friend’s suggestion was far from unexpected. Why then did he have a strong urge to punch him in the face?
He suspected his feelings had something to do with his desire to be a better man. He wanted to protect, although his suggestion that Gabriella touch him hadn’t been the sort of thing a ‘good’ man should do. But at least he hadn’t taken her against the wall of the corridor as he wanted to, as he might well have done in the past. Every time he’d thought about her touching him, and he’d thought about it a great deal, his cock had gotten painfully hard. But he could deal with that eager piece of flesh, even if his hand wasn’t really what it wanted.
But Gabriella was under his care, and until he’d seen his friend’s eyes wandering all over her body he hadn’t understood just how primal his feelings had become. The sort of urges that he imagined men in caves had experienced millennia ago.
He gave Lawrence a sideways glance and realised he’d barely heard a word the man had said. His friend had told him he was here to escape the attentions of a jealous husband—a duke no less—and now he was boasting about all the beauties he had come across so far and how many he had taken to his bed. It was a long list indeed. Maddox felt slightly jaded listening to him because, and this was a particularly worrying fact, he wasn’t interested. And the reason he wasn’t interested was because the only woman who currently resided in his thoughts was Gabriella Jones.
Lawrence had stopped speaking. It seemed he realised that Maddox wasn’t paying attention and began to shoot him suspicious looks. “What’s the matter, old boy?” he asked, a frown drawing his fair eyebrows together. “You haven’t even told me why you’re here.”
“I did tell you. You were too busy telling me about yourself. I fought a duel.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Lawrence stared a moment, his smile hovering. “So your father sent you here until things smoothed over…” He took a sip of his wine. “Is the man dead?”
They both knew that to kill a man in a duel could mean Maddox would have to stay away from England for years until his father was able to arrange a pardon. Gervais had been in prison and came close to being hanged, and Maddox had seen for himself his brother’s anguish. He didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He didn’t want to be the man he had been for far too many y
ears, but he wasn’t going to say any of that to Lawrence right now. He wasn’t sure his friend would believe him.
“I hadn’t heard the finer details of his state of health before I left,” he said now, answering the question. “I’m hoping he recovers.”
Lawrence nodded, eyes watchful. Then, as if he couldn’t remain serious any longer, he shot Maddox a grin. “Well, I’m sorry about the duel but I’m glad you’re here. I was getting bloody bored, to be honest. Now we can have some fun, just like the old days.”
Maddox smiled back but the old days were something he was trying to put behind him. As Lawrence continued to reminisce, he pretended to listen but he was still pondering this change in himself. He knew he had a choice. He could follow along with Lawrence’s plans or continue on with his own journey.
Gabriella’s face flashed into his mind, and the tension inside him coiled even tighter. The idea of going out and finding a woman and bedding her, even if she was willing at the time, made him uncomfortable. It seemed empty and worthless now. He didn’t want that, not anymore. He wanted his life to mean something and he wanted a woman who wanted him for himself and not his position or his money.
“Maddox?” Lawrence was staring at him strangely. “I said, who is this secretary of yours?” He grinned. “I know! You just want to have her without sharing, that’s it, isn’t it? Is she a virgin? You’re thinking of that wager we made, aren’t you? Well I’m going to do my best to lure her away from you.”
Maddox sighed, but when he looked up his eyes must have shown something of his inner feelings because Lawrence’s smile faded and then disappeared completely. “I told you the truth. She is my secretary, Lawrence. I’m paying her a wage to write my letters. I am still having trouble holding a wine glass for long, let alone a pen.”
Which reminded him, he hadn’t paid her a penny yet. He needed to speak to her and decide upon a monthly figure. No, damn it, a weekly figure. He had plenty of money and she had, according to Cadiz, probably saved his life.
“Letters?” Lawrence scoffed. “Letters to who? I think you must have taken a blow to the head in this duel of yours, my friend. Where did you find her?”
“She… she was in a difficult situation. I saved her from a fate worse than death,” and his mouth twisted at the irony of it. Usually it would be Maddox planning the fate worse than death, except that the women would be jumping to their fate without a second thought once he’d worked his charms on them. But even when he was at his worst, he’d never taken a woman who was unwilling, so at least that was something he could count in his favour.
“Oh-ho,” Lawrence declared. “And who was the unfortunate fellow you stole her from?”
“Lord Rattray.”
Lawrence pulled a face. “Then you’re right, you did her a good turn,” he said, cautiously, eyes watchful. “And yet… I’m still trying to come to terms with her being your secretary, Maddox. Wouldn’t it have been simpler just to take over from Rattray? Your planning seems convoluted, if you ask me. Wait, was making her your secretary the only way you could keep her? She seems to be a delicious handful.”
Maddox waited a moment. The simmering anger inside him was threatening to boil over, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to reach over the table and put his hands around Lawrence’s throat. So he pushed down the urge, telling himself that Lawrence had been a friend for a long time and he really couldn’t maim the man without first explaining why he wanted to. And he wasn’t ready to explain.
“I am employing her because she is my secretary,” he said at last, his voice calm. “I am ensuring she has a living and can make a new life for herself. I’m helping her because I want to, and I don’t expect her to open her legs for me in return.”
“I’m happy for her to open her legs for me if you don’t want her.” Lawrence burst out laughing, and finally it was too much for Maddox. He reached over and caught hold of Lawrence’s shirt, dragging him closer. The table rocked and one of the wooden cups fell to the cobbles with a noisy clatter. Lawrence caught his breath with a shocked gasp, blinking at Maddox.
Maddox leaned in, so close he could see the red veins in his friend’s eyes. “Don’t touch her,” he said quietly. “I mean it. She isn’t part of the wager with me or you or anyone else. Leave her alone.”
Lawrence pulled back, frowning, and brushing down his crumpled shirt. “All right,” he said, but his eyes were slitted as he watched his friend. “You could have just said so. No need to tear my head off.”
Maddox said nothing, watching as the waiter came to clean up the mess. Afterwards, Lawrence changed the subject, but Maddox had the uneasy feeling he was not completely convinced.
14
GABRIELLA
The house Maddox had found was in a narrow lane, with the sky a blue strip above the tiled roofs. The outside walls were peeling, but the original paint had been a bright orange. He hadn’t come back to the yacht until late so it was the next day before they moved into their new accommodation.
Gabriella’s eyes widened as she looked about her. As someone who had never travelled beyond London before, she was completely won over. Maddox, so sombre of late, burst into laughter as she ran up the stairs ahead of him to find her room. Once there, she threw open the shutter and leaned out.
The scent of flowers from the window box wafted in and disguised some of the less pleasant smells from the drains outside. Gabriella hardly noticed though, it was all so beautiful. The view from the back of their house overlooked the quay and the water was as blue as Maddox’s eyes.
She turned and found that he was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her. She smiled at him a little shyly but knew her face was lit up with her joy and excitement. He smiled back.
“I’m glad I’ve made you happy,” he said. “I’ve hired someone to cook and clean, and I doubt I will need you to write many letters just now, so you can indulge yourself. Pretend you are on holiday.”
It sounded so wonderful that she immediately doubted it was true. Gabriella left the window and walked closer to Maddox. Her room was large and airy but she did not look at that, she looked at him. “How long will we stay?” she asked.
“Until my father sends word that it is safe to go home,” he replied, and rubbed at the bandage on his arm.
She wanted to thank him, but reminded herself of her duties, Gabriella had him sit down in a chair by the window and saw to his injury. He didn’t say anything, watching her as she unwrapped the bandage and inspected his arm. The flesh was still red around the actual wound but nothing like it had once been. He was definitely over the worst of it.
“It is healing well,” she said after a moment, aware of his silence. “Are you in pain?” She lifted her eyes to his and found it difficult to look away. The air between them seemed to hum.
“No,” he said, his voice low and husky. “No pain there.”
There seemed to be meaning in his words but she pretended not to hear it. If he wanted to play the hero then she would let him. “I think I will leave it uncovered for now. Fresh air is supposed to aid in healing.”
He was still watching her, and the rising heat in his gaze made her heart jump and her stomach clench. Despite herself she was swallowed up by that ever present memory of that moment on the yacht. When she had run her hands over his warm, hard body, and he had stood there and allowed it.
Gabriella still wasn’t sure why he had done that, although she had the impression he believed it would help her overcome her fear of him, and her shame of her own sensual nature. He hadn’t understood that when he let her touch him it had only made her crave him more.
She wanted to do it again.
Her hand hovered and then rested, seemingly of its own accord, on his shoulder. He felt warm, his muscles firm beneath the linen shirt.
He glanced sideways at her small hand and, as if he’d guessed her intention, he smiled. “Touch me,” he said. It was a command and at the same time a plea.
That was all it took.
&n
bsp; Gabriella drew in a breath. She used her free hand and ran her fingertips along his unshaven jaw. His eyes drifted closed and he made a sound low in his throat. She paused but when he did and said nothing more, she began to trace the shape of his face. His cheekbones sharp beneath his skin, the arch around his eye and the dark shape of his brows. She followed his hairline, brushing back unruly strands of brown hair, although they promptly fell forward again.
He lifted his face into her touch, his eyes closed, his lips parted so that she could feel his warm breath. There was something very sensual about his lips, the fleshy shape of the bottom one and the curve of the top. She very much wanted to lean down and press her lips to his. She wanted to taste them, run her tongue over them, suck them…
“Don’t stop,” he said.
It was only when he spoke that she realised she’d been still for too long. She slid her fingertips down over his throat, reaching the top opening of his shirt. The exposed skin was warm and she wanted to bury her nose against him. She was imagining tasting him with her tongue when the brush of his fingers against her hair made her step back, startled. Immediately he took his hands away, clenching them on the arms of his chair. “Take your hair down,” he said, eyes going to her dark curls. “Please.”
She hesitated, but she wanted to please him, and she reached up to remove the pins, allowing the heavy cloud to tumble down about her face and shoulders. He made a sound, and his hands clenched harder on the chair. He wanted to touch her, she realised, just as desperately as she wanted to touch him. But he’d promised. And he was abiding by that promise.
His gaze moved over her face and down to her bodice, and Gabriella felt her breasts grow heavy with the thought of him touching her there. Covering the tips with his mouth and sucking her in. Involuntarily she arched toward him and her skirts brushed against his breeches. She realised that at some point he had opened his legs and she was standing between his thighs.