It had to be the latter. She faced Lord Westonburt and closed the distance between them, refusing to allow an ounce of fear to remain in her. He stared at her with his frigid gaze, one that probably instilled fear in many people. Yet somehow the blood smeared across his face made him seem pathetic to her.
He had hit her. He had actually thought he could. She reared back and slapped him across the face. “Do not ever lay your hands on me again. You are mistaken if you think my father will force me to marry a man who has struck me.”
He stepped so close to her, she could feel the heat radiating from him, but he did not touch her. “You’re the one that’s mistaken,” he whispered, a vein in his jaw jumping with his anger.
The surety with which he spoke sent waves of doubt through her.
“Your father will keep our contract. I’ve no doubt. Don’t upset me again, sweeting, and behave while I’m gone. I was raised under the principle that to train a disobedient dog, you must first banish the litter. Isolation breeds devotion to the new master.”
With that warning, he stalked toward the terrace door and shoved past Alex. Gillian stared at his departing figure. What did he mean, banish the litter? Was he talking about her sister? Why did he think he had the power to do anything to Whitney?
She gripped the banister, trying to make herself breathe and expel her ridiculous fear. All this wide space lay before her, but the heavy air smothered her. She could not draw a proper breath. A vine of fear sprang to life in her belly, unfurling and growing rampant through her insides.
She had to see her sister and make sure Whitney was all right. Gillian raced toward the door. “Alex, I have to find my sister. I…well, thank you.” She wanted to say so much more, but what good would it do either of them? She tried to pull her wrist free, but he held tighter.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing. Nothing that affects you. Please.”
Alex released her, but his gaze hardened. “I’m coming with you.”
“Fine.” She shoved through the door. She did not have time to argue. She entered the ballroom and scanned the area for Whitney. Gillian stopped so suddenly that Alex bumped into her back.
“What the devil?”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, staring with shock at her sister. She was not in Lord Westonburt’s angry clutches. Whitney twirled on the dance floor in Drake’s arms. Her head was tilted up and her eyes were lowered in a coquettish half-mast. Her sister looked utterly happy. Lord Westonburt was nowhere to be seen. Gillian sighed with relief.
Gillian moved her gaze to Drake. His arm was wrapped tightly around Whitney’s waist, and his hand was splayed protectively across her sister’s back. He peered down at Whitney with an admiring smile. Gillian almost laughed. What was wrong with her? Shouldn’t she feel a twinge of possessiveness toward the man she intended to marry?
Confusion flowed through her fast and furious. How could she pursue a man she didn’t hold an attraction for? She had not counted on this lack of feeling in all her careful planning. She turned toward Alex, and he stared down at her, his eyes filled with concern.
Her heart leapt and the recklessness that had driven her in the woods consumed her once again. This could be the last time she was ever alone with him. “Follow me,” she whispered, wincing at the breathiness of her tone.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Where to?”
Her heart tapped a dangerous rhythm of desire. “Does it matter?”
“Not in the least, peach.”
She nodded and wove along the outer edge of the dance floor and into the darkened corridor that led to her aunt’s library. At the door, she paused, suddenly unsure of what she was doing. He quirked an eyebrow up at her. “Afraid to be alone with me? I promise to behave.”
She was more worried about whether she could behave, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the library. She shut the door and turned around straight into the hard wall of his chest. The desire to touch him overwhelmed her.
She took a step back and fell against the locked door while praying for her senses to return. He leaned toward her, closing the paltry distance between them. His masculine scent filled her senses just as his gaze found hers.
He reached toward her, and she closed her eyes, not caring he was the wrong man, not caring he did not fit her plan. She wet her lips in anticipation of his kiss. When he pressed his chest to her breasts, heart to heart, his heat enveloped her body and every nerve clenched in anticipation. A lock clicked and his heat vanished. Her eyes flew open, and so did her mouth.
His broad, quite lovely back moved away from her, along with the rest of his equally perfect form, toward the settee, where he dropped down and folded his long legs. A devilish smile crossed his lips, and the embarrassment and anger that had just begun to work their way to the surface to replace her shock disappeared as he directed his smile on her. He patted the settee with a resounding smack. “Come. Sit by me.”
Based on her willingness only a moment ago to abandon all her plans in the heat of desire, she was certain she should say no, yet she walked over to the settee and sat beside him. When their legs brushed, she immediately scooted toward the other end of the settee before turning to face him once again.
“You’re not going to tell me what Westonburt said, are you?”
She shook her head, afraid her voice would tremble with her desire if she spoke.
He dropped his arm over the back of the settee as he turned more fully toward her. She was acutely aware of his body touching hers and his fingers resting still against her shoulder. Suddenly, his fingers traced back and forth across her skin, and an aching need for his touch overwhelmed her. When she started to squirm, he stopped and glanced at her with both eyebrows raised before moving his arm. “If you’re not going to tell me what he said to you and you appear to be perfectly fine, then I have a demand.”
“A demand?” she croaked, finding it hard to speak at all. She cleared her throat. “What sort of demand?”
“I demand a kiss as my reward for rescuing you.”
“You did not rescue me. I was on the verge of slapping him when you barreled through the door. I’m perfectly capable of rescuing myself.”
He moved toward her and cupped her chin. “I still think I should be rewarded for my effort.”
He pressed closer, delving his hand into her hair. His mouth came over hers, warm and consuming. From the first touch, the kiss was frenzied. Their tongues met and circled only to retreat as his lips moved down the sensitive skin of her neck. She hissed with pleasure, her fingers curling into the thick locks of his hair. His lips massaged her skin until she could scarcely think. A moan escaped her, and she threw her head back and pressed her chest forward to get closer to him. He trailed light kisses down her throat over the exposed expanse of her chest, then crept lower into the deep plunge of her dress. When his tongue flicked between the valley of her breasts, she gasped and pressed her fingers against his head to make sure he stayed there.
A deep, amused chuckle reached her ears. Gillian opened her eyes and glanced down in time to see his fingers catch the edge of her gown, then pull and tug until the tip of her breast spilled out and his warm hand scorched her bare skin. She gasped when his fingers touched the sensitive tip, but as he started to rub the bud, a strong, aching need filled her. She wanted only for him to make the need go away. All her embarrassment was gone and her doubts set aside for later.
His lips returned to tease, stroking the fire burning inside her with every flick of his wicked tongue. When he lapped with slow, gentle strokes, the madness inside of her rose to block out all else. Another moan escaped her control. His hand stroked lower, and her dress came up over her legs until his fingers brushed between her parted thighs. Her eyes flew open. What was she doing? Would she give herself to this man while pursuing another? Where was her honor? She pushed at his chest. “Stop.”
He suckled her breast harder, faster. God help her, she wanted him to continue, but
she twined her hands into his hair and yanked his head back. “Stop. Please. You must stop.”
She released him as he pulled back with a harsh groan, and sat up before pulling her dress up to cover her.
He raked his hands through his hair as he stared at her with desperate eyes. “God, I’m sorry. I’m the worst sort of lecher. When I’m near you, I feel—”
She met his stricken gaze, then pressed a finger to his lips. “I feel it too.” How else could she explain allowing him to fondle her so?
He dropped his gaze to the floor. “It won’t happen again. Unless you want it to.” His voice was ragged and possibly hopeful.
The hope tore her apart. She could not let him hope when she owed Whitney her life. Gillian reached for him, but thought better, and drew her hand back. “Never again.” She was foolish and selfish to risk her sister’s future for a moment of pleasure with this man. Now, if her sister was developing a tendre for Drake, things could possibly be different. Gillian stood, shook the wrinkles out of her skirts and set her hair to rights. Gillian did not know her sister’s heart. Until Whitney’s feelings were clear, things had to stay as planned.
Alex met Gillian’s gaze. The rigid set of his jaw told her he was upset. At her or himself, she couldn’t tell. Yet when he took her hand, again he squeezed it. “This was nothing. Don’t think on it again. I’m a rake and a cad and could lead the most virtuous woman astray.”
God, she was a fool. She was a whirl of confusion over a man who played the same game with her he played with every woman. She forced herself to smile, though her face felt like cold marble. “Don’t be silly. You’re not leading me astray or anywhere else, for that matter. We got carried away. We won’t do it again.”
She wanted to hate him for the way he made her burn and hunger for him, but she focused on being disgusted with herself. She could not trust her judgment when he was near. The blame was hers. “I’m going out now. Wait and follow me after a few minutes. If anyone were to see us…”
“You’d be ruined, and then you would have to marry me.” He grinned at her.
Gillian swallowed at the little thrill the thought of marrying him gave her. “A tragedy, indeed.”
Before he could reply, someone pounded on the door.
“Gillian Clare Rutherford, open this door at once,” Auntie hissed from the other side of the dark paneling.
Rolling her eyes heavenward, Gillian moved toward the door. But before she could unlock it, Alex grabbed her hand and motioned toward her hair.
He ran his hands through her tresses. “You’ve quite a mess there.” She shivered as his fingertips brushed lightly over her scalp. Longing sprang up in the pit of her stomach, warming every inch of her body. Warming places that had no right to be warmed by any man’s touch, save her fiancé. And heavens, her aunt stood on the other side of the threshold. She raised her hands to still his, though she wanted more than anything to allow him to keep caressing her. His touch was the very thing she had always longed for―gentle, undemanding and loving. But that couldn’t be right. Her brain must still be addled from his kiss.
She gently pushed his hands away. “Thank you.”
He smiled while shaking his head. “I seem to be having a bit of trouble keeping my hands off you.”
She laughed aloud at his innocent admission, then slapped her hand over her mouth.
“I’m waiting,” chirped Auntie.
“Me too,” came Whitney’s voice.
“It seems I have a loyal, nosy following.” Gillian flung open the door.
Aunt Millicent brushed past her and stopped in the middle of the study. “Ah-ha! Just as I thought,” she pronounced, looking at Alex.
If it wasn’t so embarrassing, Gillian would have laughed at Alex’s completely disheveled appearance. His shirt was half-untucked, his cravat hung loose, and his hair looked as if someone had run their hands through it repeatedly. Which was exactly what she’d done. Dear God above, what Auntie must think of her now. “Auntie, I can explain.”
“Explain what, dear?” Aunt Millicent strode past Alex to her desk. She reached over and picked up a book, which she waved in the air. “I just came to get this book. I positively cannot ever go to sleep without reading, and I’m right in the middle of a chapter. Starting something else would be unthinkable.”
Gillian shook her head. She knew her aunt was lying by her twitching right eye, but she would confront her when they were alone. Whitney was another matter. She crossed her arms and stared at her sister. “Why are you here and no longer dancing with Drake?” She wasn’t jealous, but she did want to know what Whit was up to.
“He’s retired for the night,” Whitney murmured, blushing furiously.
Gillian barely held her own smile inside. If Whitney was interested in Drake and he in her, then they could marry. That would solve a great deal. Drake could whisk Whit to America, and Gillian would break her betrothal to Lord Westonburt without having to fear the repercussions to Whitney. Whatever else happened, if Whit was safe, Gillian could survive.
“So Drake went to bed without saying good night? He must have been quite befuddled from his dance with you.” Gillian studied her sister, looking for a hint of interest or happiness.
“He was very tired.” Whitney’s face took on the mutinous look Gillian knew well from their childhood. If Whit did like Drake, she certainly wasn’t going to announce it here and now.
A broad smile covered her aunt’s face, lighting up her green eyes and reminding Gillian of how Auntie used to look when she was pulling the wool over Uncle Gene. Her aunt was still scheming, and now she had Whitney involved. Gillian rubbed her head, which was beginning to pound.
“I think I’ll follow Drake’s lead and depart for home and bed. I’m rather tired.”
“I bet Lord Lionhurst is tired too,” Whitney said.
Gillian glared at her sister. “I’m sure you are too. Jumping fences, wading in streams and vigorous dancing must surely wear a young lady to the bone.”
Whitney’s eyes nearly popped from her head. Good. Maybe she understood that Gillian saw the attraction Whit had to Drake.
“You’re testy tonight, niece.”
Gillian frowned. Her aunt had no idea.
Auntie moved in a blur, pushing Alex toward the door. “I’ve had your things moved, Lord Lionhurst. You’ll be in the last room on the right tonight.”
“Why did you move Alex’s things?” Gillian demanded suspiciously.
“Because, dearest. You and your sister are sleeping here tonight, and I could not very well have the two of you in the room next to him. Highly improper.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips. “Do you think I’m not to be trusted?”
“You? Heavens no, dear. You’re not one of the lovebirds, are you? But I couldn’t move Mr. Sutherland and not you. Though you are simply an innocent bystander caught in their game. Or am I confused? Are you part of the game?”
“I’m part of the game.” Alex caught Gillian’s gaze.
“Oh?” Auntie waved her hand out the study door and Perks, her butler, magically appeared. “What’s your part, Lord Lionhurst?”
“Helper.”
Aunt Millicent gave him a shove toward Perks. “It does appear you are helping. But whether it’s yourself or your friend remains to be seen.”
Before Alex could respond, Perks tugged him out the door.
Aunt Millicent faced Gillian as the men departed. “I sent your father home.”
“You’re full of surprises, Auntie. How did you get him to agree to go without Whitney and me?”
“It was simple enough.”
Whitney rushed to their aunt’s side. “You’re being modest, Auntie. It was brilliant, Gillie. Father had come to fetch me, and Auntie was with him. I was just about to come find you when Auntie swooned in Father’s arms. He was flabbergasted. When she insisted she needed both of us to stay and attend her, he readily agreed. You know how Father hates weak females.”
Gillian nodded. She knew too well. “What game are you playing at, Auntie?”
“I’m giving you the time you wanted to get to know Mr. Sutherland. He’ll be here in the morning and so will you. You two can go for a ride or a picnic. Won’t that be lovely?”
She did not believe for a moment her aunt was doing any such thing but arguing would be pointless. She would spend tomorrow with Mr. Sutherland if it was the last thing she did.
Auntie yawned. “I’m exhausted. Off to bed with the two of you, but not without a hug and a kiss.”
Gillian embraced her aunt, clinging for a moment. She inhaled her aunt’s scent of roses. This woman had been her true mother since the day her own mother had decided she didn’t really want the position. “Auntie, I’ve never understood why you and Mother were close. You were so different.”
“Not so different, dearest. Your mother was a woman who loved greatly and never recovered from the loss. I loved greatly too, so I understood.”
Whitney scrambled to Gillian’s side. “Are you saying Mother loved Father greatly?”
“No, but that’s all I’ll say for now.”
“But Auntie―” Gillian and Whitney cried in unison.
“Don’t bother pleading. There’s a time and a place for the past to be set to rights. Now is not the time, nor the place, and I’m still undecided as to whether I’m the person to shed the light.”
Gillian glared at her aunt. “I refuse to leave this room until you have told me what you know.”
Gillian punched the pillow on her bed in anger and frustration. Her aunt was a stubborn, unpredictable woman. Who would have thought she would make good on her threat to have the butler forcibly remove Gillian from the study and deposit her in her bedroom? Who could Auntie have been referring to? Who had Mother loved greatly?
“Gillie, are you thinking about Mother?”
Gillian turned onto her side to face Whitney. “Yes, but I’m thinking about you too.”
“Me?” Whitney flopped around with her covers and settled back into her own bed.
Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) Page 21