Gillian took a deep breath. “Do you fancy Mr. Sutherland?”
“No.”
Disappointment flooded Gillian. “Then why the jump on the horse, the wading in the stream and the dance with such evident devotion earlier this evening?”
Whitney turned her face into the pillow. “The jump was accidental. May got spooked by something and just took off. I couldn’t stop her.”
“Well, that’s certainly more believable than you suddenly turning into an expert horsewoman.”
“I’m glad you take my near death so lightly.”
“I take nothing regarding you lightly,” Gillian murmured.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.” Gillian prayed her sister wouldn’t question her further.
“Gillian Clare Rutherford, if you’re mad about me wading into the stream you don’t know me very well at all. I only went into the stream because I developed a huge blister on my foot that was bleeding. And as for me dancing with Drake, he spent the entire time asking me questions about you. I don’t want him, and he certainly doesn’t fancy me, so quit worrying.”
Wrinkling her nose, Gillian flipped onto her back and groaned. It had been ridiculous to hope for such an easy solution as Whitney caring for Drake.
“Gillie, what’s wrong?”
Gillian drew the covers over her head. What could she say? I have to marry Drake to protect you, but I think I may be falling in love with Alex? Dear God. She gripped the sheet to her. Was she falling in love with a man she absolutely knew she could not allow herself to fall in love with?
“You like him, don’t you?” Whitney asked.
“Of course,” Gillian automatically responded from within her cocoon before tugging the covers down to her shoulders. “I like him. I’m trying to get him to fall in love with me, aren’t I?”
Whitney snorted. “I don’t mean Drake. I was referring to Lord Lionhurst. You can deny it, but I know you like him. And so does Auntie.”
“Quit scheming with Auntie. I intend to marry Mr. Sutherland.”
“But you like Lord Lionhurst!”
Gillian wanted to spill all her secrets, but she had to keep protecting her sister. “Good night, Whit.”
“I’ve one more thing to say.”
When Gillian didn’t answer, a pillow hit her head. “What is it?”
“You know the painting in the great hall downstairs? It’s the one where Mother actually looks happy.”
“Yes.” Gillian knew the exact painting of which Whitney spoke. It was completed five days before Mother died. She wore an emerald-green gown cut deep to show a vast amount of olive skin. She displayed no jewels except a choker of blood-red rubies. Not even her wedding ring adorned her hands, which were folded serenely in her lap with a deep, red rose clasped between them. Her beautiful shining eyes, which the painter had captured to perfection, took Gillian’s breath away every time she passed the painting. They reminded her of summer moss.
“Are you picturing it?”
“Yes.” Gillian’s heart thumped against her ribs.
“I think Mother must have already been in love with the man Auntie referred to,” Whitney whispered as if someone besides the two of them were around to hear the secret.
Gillian squeezed her eyes shut, remembering her mother in the dark night by the river with a man. Who had that man been? Mother loved him. She must have loved him desperately.
Tears slid down Gillian’s face, and she quickly swiped them away. She never once stopped to consider how their mother must have felt in love with one man and married to another. How wretched it must have been. Remorse and understanding filled her.
“When you look at Alex, your eyes look just like Mother’s do in that painting,” Whitney said softly. “And you have just met him. Just think how it could be between the two of you in time. I don’t want to see you end up like her—married to the wrong man.”
Gillian didn’t want to end up like Mother either, but even if Alex was the right man for her, he did not want her. Besides, her fate was set—sealed by a secret she shared with her father.
* * * * *
She awoke in the morning bleary-eyed, grumpy and alone. She frowned as she stumbled out of bed toward her clothes, surprised that Whit was already up. Where was her sister? By the rays shining through the window, it had to be early morning. Possibly nine. Whitney hadn’t risen early on her own accord before the hour of ten since she was a child. So where on earth had she sneaked off to now? And sneak she surely had. Her little sister was knee-deep in a desire to make mischief. A behavior she definitely learned from Auntie.
Gillian shoved her arms in her dress, her feet in her slippers, and was four steps to the door before she paused. She didn’t want to chance running into Drake with mussed hair. With a quick glance in the mirror, she winced at her pitiful reflection. A brush was definitely a must. A few quick strokes later and she was out the door. She had to find Drake, and if possible, avoid Alex. In the sleepless hours of the night, she had decided she simply needed more time alone with Drake and less time with Alex.
Of course she was attracted to the devilish man. He was handsome, suave and an astonishingly good kisser. And she had spent a great deal of time alone with him, more than Drake. She had not had time to develop a tendre for Drake. That was all. Simple and fixable. She hurried down the stairs toward the dining room intent on fixing her problem.
She strode into the dining room and stopped at the sight of Alex leaned back in his chair, shirt hanging casually open to reveal the top of his chest and his hair disheveled in a way that made Gillian want to go to him and run her hands through his tresses. He looked lovable, kissable and rakishly handsome. Gillian frowned. How was she supposed to avoid Alex when he was the only one in the room? “Where is everyone?”
She strode to the opposite end of the table, where a servant hovered, and motioned him to pull out the chair. The farther away she was from Alex, the better. “Eggs and bacon, please,” she said, sitting down and adjusting her dress. When she finally looked up, Alex stared at her with a furrowed brow.
“And a good morning to you too,” he drawled. “Are you always this friendly in the morning?”
She picked up her own cup of steaming coffee, which had just been poured for her, and took a small sip while thinking exactly what to say. “I’m sorry. I was hoping to run into Drake first thing this morning. I want to arrange some time alone with him.”
“That’ll be difficult,” Alex replied, walking toward her, plate in hand.
“What are you doing?” Alarm raced through her as he advanced toward her. She set her coffee cup down for fear she would spill the liquid. He could not sit near her with his shirt undone, where she could see the tan skin of his chest and the hint of muscles she felt last night. She trembled just thinking of how those arms had felt around her.
Alex’s eyebrows shot up, but he did not cease in his advancement. He set his plate next to hers and waved the appalled servant out of the room. He settled into his seat, his masculine scent invading her senses as it always did. “I’m merely making conversation more manageable. Is there a reason you chose the furthest seat from me?”
She shook her head, snatched her fork off the table and attacked her eggs.
“Hungry?”
“Famished,” she murmured between mouthfuls of egg. The faster she finished, the quicker she could get away from him. Every second near him made her pulse beat faster, her breath come quicker. At this rate, she would have an attack and die. Did people die from desire? If not, she’d be the first. Immortalized forever in some book because she was an oddity. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but instead she breathed him in. This morning he smelled of rain, grass and the earth. She wanted to run before she attacked him.
She shoved the last bite into her mouth, while her stomach rolled in protest. Her fork clattered against the plate, and she shoved her chair back to leave. “Where did you say Drake was?”
It was a command, and by the thread of steel underlying the tone, it was one she guessed pointless to try to ignore. She sank back into her chair, and he released his hold at once.
“Look at me, please.”
She turned her gaze toward him and sighed. Black stubble covered his unshaven face and the blue of his eyes blazed brighter because of the contrast. Lord, but he was lovely. She wanted to run a finger over his stubble, down the line of his strong jaw, and end at his full lips. She shivered but did not look away.
“Are you trying to avoid me?”
“Certainly not,” she lied. She was not about to tell him the effect he had on her, though after she let him caress her last night, he probably had a fairly good idea that he left her senseless. Of course, he did. The man left all women senseless. Devil take him.
“Then why did you sit at the other end of the table, refuse to look at me, and shovel food into your mouth? At a rate, by the way, that I’ve never seen a man match. And after that amazing performance of consumption, you attempted to dash out of here like a fire licked at your heels.”
“I suppose I’m a trifle embarrassed about what occurred between us last night,” she whispered, offering a partial truth. She studied him, trying to discern by his features how he felt about last night. But his look was unreadable.
“I’ve forgotten about it. So should you.”
She picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on her skirt while swallowing down her hurt and embarrassment. His blunt words left a hole of disappointment in the middle of her gut. How silly of her. She should be glad he had forgotten the kiss. She forced a smile to her face. “I expect you find yourself with women in your arms quite a bit.”
“Let’s not discuss other women.”
She nodded.
“There’s no need to avoid me. We got carried away. But we won’t again.”
“No, we won’t. I’m going to marry your best friend, after all. I hope.” Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so fast she could not fathom what the spark had been.
“Of course you are. And you will love him.”
She nodded at his words. “Of course I’ll love him.” Her words sounded unsure to her. She peeked at Alex in the hope he had not noticed. His gaze met hers, and it felt as if he could read her secret thoughts. Her cheeks warmed ,and after clearing her throat, she spoke again. “I will love him,” she reiterated.
The words were strong, but her tone rang false. Blast and damn. This time when she glanced at Alex the look of satisfaction that crossed his face was unmistakable.
“You do not need to accompany me to my house,” Gillian insisted for the fifth time. “I have ridden from Auntie’s home to mine all by myself for years.”
“Indulge me.” Alex swung up into his saddle as Gillian mounted her horse. “It’s not as if I can leave your aunt’s until Sutherland returns. So since you insist on going home, I might as well escort you.”
“I don’t need an escort.” It was the truth, but the bigger truth was that she was afraid to be alone with Alex. She was attracted to him, despite all the reasons she should not be. The last thing she wanted to do was give that attraction any more room to grow.
“I know you don’t need me, Gillian, but I need you. You must save me from complete and utter boredom. I don’t abide sitting idly. Never have.”
“Fine.” She laughed. “I hate to sit with nothing to do as well. You can accompany me, but only as far as the path by the river. I don’t want Father to see you. After all, the whole reason I’m leaving now without seeing Drake is to avoid that very possibility.”
“Yes, yes, I know. You’ve already explained.”
Taking up her reins, Gillian blew out a frustrated breath. “I can’t understand why Auntie won’t stop meddling. What was she thinking, taking Whitney and Drake on a tour of her estates again?”
“That we’d fall into each other’s arms,” he said matter-of-factly.
“But we won’t,” she murmured, wishing her pulse had not leaped at his words.
“No, peach. We won’t.”
“Actually, I’m glad I got you alone,” she said, just realizing she might be able to help him with their time together.
“Are you?” A devilish smile tugged at his lips.
“Yes,” she said tartly. “I want to talk to you about your older brother.”
His smile was instantly gone, replaced by a foreboding frown. “I don’t talk to anyone about Robert.”
“You talked to me about him yesterday,” she reminded him gently.
Alex’s eyes bore into hers. “That was a mistake,” he said as he clicked his heels against his horse and raced ahead of her in a swirl of dust.
She watched him ride ahead, shoulders bent like demons were chasing him. Her heart ached for him. He was wounded, and she had a soft spot in her heart for wounded people. He was not going to talk to her or tell her any more about his older brother. That much was obvious. But she would say her piece. She tapped her heels against Lightning and raced to catch up with Alex. In seconds, she pulled up on Lightning’s reins and slowed to the pace Alex’s horse had fallen into.
“No matter what you think, you deserve happiness. You’re warm and have a good heart. You’re helping me, and you are trying to right a wrong done to your sister. Whatever you did in your past that haunts you, you should let it go. Let it die. And let yourself be happy.”
He pulled his horse to a stop and turned to look at her. “Is that what you’re doing? Letting your past die?”
“My past won’t die,” she said, dismounting and walking toward the river where her mother had drowned.
Alex’s boots hit the ground and he fell into step beside her. The moving water called to her as it did so many days. At the edge, she stared down into the murky depths. Rocks jutted above the surface, and long, tangling weeds floated like green fingers, swaying with the river’s movement. Those weeds had wrapped around her mother’s kicking feet and dragged her to her death.
As Gillian leaned forward, Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her backward, pressing her against his chest. His arms encircled her body in a tight embrace. She welcomed his presence and his strength.
“Are you running to get away from your past?” he whispered in her ear.
She was running from the past, but not just hers. She couldn’t share her secrets with anyone because they were not only hers to share. But she wouldn’t lie. Not to Alex, not now. When she had asked him to tell her the truth about his past.
A connection ran between them, for better or worse. Instead, she quoted his own words back to him. “I would tell you if I could, but some secrets must be kept to protect those we love. I know you understand.”
He turned her around and tipped her chin until she was looking at him. She may not know much, but she knew she wanted this man with every heartbeat, every breath and every bone in her body. Her desire curled in her belly.
“I understand,” he said and traced a finger over her lips. Her pulse skittered in response.
She stepped away while staring at his lips. God, how she wanted him to kiss her. She craved it so much she ached. Forbidden fruit. That’s what he was. And she was weak. “You better go.”
His own face was flushed as he nodded. Did he feel it too? The uncontrollable desire. The pull like metal to a magnet. “Don’t forget to let Sally know what ton events you’ll be attending. Where you are, we will be also.”
“You mean Drake will be,” she corrected.
“Yes. I’ll be in the background like a worried chaperone. Except I’ll be worrying about how to get the two of you alone. You just use your charms, and let me do the rest.” Alex mounted his horse and looked down at her. “You can count on me.”
She watched the road until Alex disappeared back the way they had come. She needed to get home, but she didn’t want to go yet. Instead, she sat at the edge of
the riverbank and studied her surroundings. This spot had not changed much in eleven years. More brush, fuller trees, but nothing pretty ever grew here. It was as if the earth remembered her mother’s death and refused to make the place beautiful because of it. Gillian kicked off her slippers and drew her knees to her chest. The water hissed below as it moved downstream, and she found herself once again staring into the murkiness.
You can count on me, he had said. Yes. She drew her toe back and forth in the dirt. She thought she could. Though she had never counted on anyone in her life but herself. Putting her faith in Alex had become too easy this week. It was time she got herself back on course.
* * * * *
Frowning, Harrison paused outside the modest yellow house with the neat lawn and black iron gate. This could not be the right place. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper upon which Madame Lovelace had scrawled Caprice’s new street number. This was indeed 3225 Magnolia Street. He couldn’t imagine Madame Lovelace daring to lie to him after he had shown her what would happen if she did.
Harrison had tried to be nice, but no one would ever let him. The old woman wanted more coin than he could give her for the information he needed. He didn’t have a lot of bloody coin. Not right now, anyway. Damn Lionhurst’s lying hide to hell. The man was going to pay with his life for everything. The question was when and how.
As Harrison climbed the stairs to the home where Caprice was supposed to reside his desire mounted. He was angry, and his anger always fueled his desire. Anger had driven him to find Caprice. He needed to plant himself inside her and use her. She was not Allysia, but Caprice looked so much like her, he could imagine that she was. She would scream his name as Allysia had done and beg him for more. He wished Lionhurst knew how his little sister had pleaded to be plundered again and again.
Harrison fingered the heavy gold lion hooked to the door. What the hell was this? This bloody knocker had to be worth a fortune. So his little Caprice had found herself a rich benefactor and hightailed it out of Madame Lovelace’s with no intentions of saying goodbye to him or ever seeing him again.
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