Rules for Reforming a Rake

by Meara Platt

  “I hope we are friends again.” He cast her a smile that did not reach into his cold, dark eyes.

  She managed a small smile in return. “Yes, of course.”

  “Excellent.” He let out the breath he’d been holding, a response which Daisy thought quite odd, for Auguste had never seemed to care whether or not she held a good opinion of him. “May I be so bold as to escort you to dinner after the recital?”

  “Of course you may,” her mother interjected before she could decline. “My daughter is honored by your notice.”

  He bowed to her mother and then to her. “Until later, Miss Farthingale.”

  She managed another smile, this time more sincere. “I look forward to it, my lord.”

  Her mother turned toward her once Auguste Malinor, Lady Beaverton, and their companions had walked away. “Goodness, you gave me quite a scare! Daisy, you almost ruined your chances with young Malinor. Possibly ruined Julia’s chances with his father. I know we taught you girls to be honest, but sometimes it is best to keep such thoughts to yourself.”

  “Sorry, Mother. I don’t support what Lord Dayne has done, but who are we to cast blame? Do we have the right to question his sacrifice when we’ve sacrificed nothing ourselves?”

  “Oh, Daisy,” her mother moaned, uttering a string of woes which included phrases such as “sad creature, doomed to spinsterhood” and “determined to drive me to an early grave.” “No man wants a woman without the sense to keep her radical thoughts to herself.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

  She held up her hand. “I don’t wish to hear your excuses. Indeed, I blame myself for failing to train you properly. But I won’t make the same mistake with your younger sisters. I’ll thrash them soundly if they dare to utter an independent thought!”

  “Mother! You’ve never raised a hand to any of us.”

  “And I never will,” she admitted, her shoulders sagging as she let out a sigh, “but you worry me, darling. At times you make it so difficult for anyone to see just how special you are.”

  “I’ll be an angel to the entire Malinor family if it will help set matters right.”

  “Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now. Come along, child. The music has started.”

  “You go in, Mother. I’ll follow shortly.” She mumbled something about misplacing her fan, then hurried off in search of Gabriel.

  Though the Baldridge home was large, she managed a quick search of the residence—the card room, dining room, and private nooks. She’d just about given up hope of finding him when she spotted him on the terrace. “There you are.”

  Gabriel glanced in the direction of several guests who were also on the terrace, staring at him quite coldly. “Daisy, you shouldn’t be out here.”

  She paid the scowling guests no notice. “I know, but I must speak to you.”

  “You’ve just done so. Now, go away before tongues start wagging, this time against you.”

  “Are you suggesting that you care?”

  He frowned. “About your reputation? I do care. Don’t come any closer.”

  She had to meet him somewhere private, find some place far from the music room or terrace, far from prying eyes and disapproving gazes. “How’s your arm?”

  His lips curled in a mirthless smile. “It’s fine. Nothing more than a scratch. I’ve been injured worse.”

  Her heart tightened. “The news of your row with the Prince Regent and Wellington is all anyone is talking about tonight. Do the London gossips pay you to set the town afire with scandal, or is it a natural talent of yours?”

  He glanced over her shoulder as another group of gentlemen and ladies passed by and began to whisper furiously while casting him furtive glances.

  “A natural talent,” he replied. “Now, go away.”

  “Follow me.” She wasn’t certain whether to poke him in the nose or go after the next person who glowered at Gabriel. She was angry with everyone tonight, particularly him. He was arrogant, insufferable, and thickheaded.

  “No.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and scowled at him. “You must.”

  To her surprise, his gaze turned tender. “And allow you to be tarred with the same brush as me? I don’t think so.”

  The will to fight simply drained out of her and all she felt was a deep, abiding sorrow. “Please, Gabriel. I’m so frightened for you.”

  He let out a soft groan. “Don’t be.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “I can’t help it.”

  “I know.” He cast her a mirthless grin. “You Farthingales like to meddle. But this is a dangerous business, Daisy. The only way to keep you safe is to keep you far away from me.”

  “Are you ordering me to forget you? Am I supposed to return to the music room and pretend to listen to that insipid harp recital?” She shot him a frown. “There’s a small Grecian temple in the Baldridge’s garden.”

  He pushed away from the balustrade. “Haven’t you learned your lesson about secret meetings and gardens? You could have been killed the other night... and again today in the park.” He ran a hand through his hair, obviously exasperated. “What will it take to make you go away?”

  “Five minutes alone with you,” she said, glancing out into the garden. “I’ll go first. Don’t take too long.” She marched off before he had the chance to stop her.

  A cool gust of wind caught Daisy’s curls, loosening several as she walked toward the Grecian temple next to a torch-lit pond. She ignored the stray wisps curling about her ears and neck, her thoughts in anguish over Gabriel as she walked on, hardly noticing the scent of lilac in the air.

  A row of lilac trees swayed lightly along the high stone wall at the garden’s edge, and she barely heard the rush of cool water spurting from the fountain in the nearby fish pond. The tree-lined wall obscured much of the garden walk from view of the music room and would afford them the privacy she desired.

  Of course, she didn’t know what she would say or do when he arrived... if he arrived, but she wasn’t worried. She’d let her heart guide her.

  She ducked into the temple and waited for Gabriel, straining to hear the sound of his footsteps against the wind, but all she could make out was the lilt of the harp filling the air.

  “Daisy,” he said with a rasp to his voice, stepping close and tucking a stray curl behind her ear in a casually affectionate gesture. However, Gabriel was not the casual sort. His every move was well thought out. He knew exactly what he was doing and had calculated precisely how to achieve his purpose with a smile, a touch, a soft word. He was much like any other rakehell, except he seemed genuinely worried about her.

  His mere touch was crumbling her defenses, not that she ever wished to defend herself against him. She didn’t at all. He wasn’t a rogue... well, perhaps he was, but one with well-developed protective instincts. That’s what he was doing now, trying to protect her by pushing her away. “I won’t keep you long, Gabriel. I promise. I just had to tell you that I believe in you. No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says about you, I know the sort of man you truly are. I won’t defend you, because you’ve gone to great pains to make everyone loathe you and I won’t ruin your plans, but in my heart—”

  “Daisy, don’t talk about hearts.” His words sounded pained. “I need you to forget me.”

  That wasn’t quite what she longed to hear, but telling him what was in her heart mattered, even if only to herself. Somehow, she knew it was important to him as well, even though he was determined to make her think it wasn’t. “I love you.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Don’t. You little fool, you can’t love me.”

  “Why? Because it interferes with your carefully designed plans? I’m not a fool,” she insisted, lowering her voice to a whisper, although they were quite alone and she doubted anyone could hear them. “I know your Scottish hunting trip has nothing to do with shooting game or debauching or running away from war. I know that Napoleon has escaped
and you’re needed for something dangerous.”

  His fingers tightened on her shoulders as she continued. “You’re a hero, Gabriel. You don’t run from responsibility, no matter how tortured or overburdened your soul. Everyone thinks Alexander is the Dayne family hero, but it’s really you. That’s what you were doing throughout the war, running headlong into battle, volunteering for the most dangerous missions. Secret missions.”

  She waited for the well-intentioned lie to spring from his lips, waited for the denials she knew were coming because he refused to admit he was brave or noble. He sighed and then released her, turning away to study the pond. He pretended to be fascinated by the amber torch flames reflected in the shimmering water, but she knew his thoughts were on her. “I’ll be away for quite some time, Daisy.”

  He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “You saw the glowers I received tonight. I’m no longer welcome in society. That’s how it needs to be.”

  She nodded. “Will you be gone a week? A month? Years? How long do you mean to stay away?”

  He turned to face her. “I don’t know.”

  “Gabriel,” she said, edging closer, but afraid to hug him for fear he’d rebuff her. “If you want me to wait for you, I will. A lifetime, if necessary. Who knows how long a war will last? Napoleon is on the march again and everyone’s afraid he’ll soon regain control of France. Isn’t that why the Prince Regent and Wellington are so concerned?”

  She paused, waiting for his response, and continued when he said nothing. “But you intend to be hunting by then. What I don’t understand is your need for pretense. Why can’t it be known that you’re working with Wellington?”

  He ran a knuckle gently across her cheek. “Because it isn’t that simple.”

  “I didn’t think it was.” Her breath was shaky and her entire body tingled. Gabriel’s mere touch was enough to turn her upside down. Her body wasn’t merely tingling, it was on fire. He was doing all he could to douse that flame. It wouldn’t work. She was too far gone. She hoped he was as well, for she really wanted their last moments together to be special. “But I wish you’d have some faith in me, enough to tell me the truth.”

  “You think I don’t have faith in you?” He let out a soft, anguished laugh and drew her into his arms. “You’re the only... I just wish I’d met you two years from now, hopefully when the threat from Napoleon is truly over.”

  “Two years? Is that how long you think this new war will take?”

  He shrugged. “It could take longer.”

  “Very well.” She tipped her chin up to meet his steady gaze. “I promise I will wait for you.”

  His laugh sounded mirthless. “No, you won’t. You had better not. I reject your promise. I don’t want you to give up your life for me. I forbid you to wait.”

  “Forbid? That sounded quite military and commanding, but I’m not one of your soldiers.”

  “No,” he said softly, “and thank heaven for it. Soldiers need to obey without question, need to respond on instinct. You don’t look like a soldier either. You’re so beautiful, Daisy. My heart slams into my chest every time I look at you.”

  “Oh, Gabriel! My heart does the same whenever I look at you.” She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss her.

  He drew away. “No, Daisy. The sooner you realize we aren’t meant for each other, the better off you’ll be.”

  Were they speaking the same language? Hadn’t he just admitted that his heart soared whenever he set eyes upon her? So why was there such desperation in his voice? He wouldn’t push her away unless... he knew something terrible was in the offing. Her eyes clouded with tears. “You don’t expect to survive.”

  “Nonsense.” But he set his hands against her cheeks, once again caressing them with his thumbs as more tears began to roll down. “Forget your little girl dreams. You must.”

  “Please,” she said in anguish, her throat so constricted she could barely speak. “I can’t forget you, or let you destroy yourself... your future. Our future together. I’ve grown up and my feelings for you are not just little girl dreams.”

  He stood still a very long moment, hardly breathing. The night had a way of heightening one’s senses. Noises were sharper, scents were easier to identify. Gabriel’s subtle musk scent drew her closer, made her ache to put her lips to his throat and kiss her way slowly to his mouth.

  But Gabriel made no move. The only sounds she heard were of the gentle flow of water circulating in the pond and the distant, plaintive strains of a Celtic harp. Her senses were as finely tuned as the harp, her body as taut as its strings.

  She understood the importance of this moment, the need inside her. An aching need that brought more tears to her eyes.

  Gabriel moaned and took her securely into his arms, cradling her against his chest while she sniffled into his shirt. “Damn it, Daisy. You’ll destroy me if you cry.”

  She held him tightly and breathed in his musk scent. She ran her hands along his broad chest and muscled shoulders, wanting to memorize every hard curve of his body. She wanted to remember his strength and stubbornness, to remember him because she had the horrible feeling that she would never be in his arms again. “I’m glad I met you... glad I fell in love with you.”

  “I won’t say it back to you, Daisy.” But his voice was tight and raspy, and instead of pushing her away, he drew her even more firmly into his arms, holding her so close that their bodies seemed as one. His fingers gently brushed against her hair, but he needn’t have been careful, for the wind and her tearful burrowing against his chest had ruined her fashionable chignon.

  She didn’t care. How could she worry about the style of her hair when her life was coming undone?

  He bent his head to hers and kissed her softly on the mouth, a gentle, lingering kiss that made her heart soar like a bird. When the kiss ended, he didn’t pull away. She felt his lips against her cheek, mingling with her tears. “Daisy Farthingale, you complicate my life. What am I to do with you?”

  “Love me,” she said and instantly felt him tense. “Even if it isn’t true. Just pretend for tonight. I want the memories. No matter what happens, whatever our destiny... I want to remember the kisses, your laughter and your smugness—you can be impossibly smug, you know.”

  He let out a light, mirthless chuckle. “I know.”

  “I want to remember the gentle strength of your arms around me, the heat of your body against mine. I won’t ask more questions. Keep your secrets. Just kiss me, Gabriel. Make this night memorable. Please.”

  And he did.

  He lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly, exquisitely, his large hands exploring each curve of her body, gliding up her thighs, circling her waist, and then he cupped her breast, his hand warm and gentle and knowing.

  She arched into his palm, her body melting under the heat of his touch as he flicked his thumb across the hardened bud, evoking moans and passionate shudders from her. When she thought she could bear no more exquisite delight, his hand drifted lower, his fingers lightly grazing along her tingling skin on a purposeful path down her body. Somehow the silk bodice of her gown was now down about her waist, her breasts bared to the cool breeze.

  Before she knew it, his mouth closed over her breast, his tongue flicking across the taut nipple, swirling and suckling, until she thought she’d shatter from the pleasure. His hand slipped under her gown and he caressed her thighs, then caressed what he’d obviously sought between her thighs. “Gabriel!” she cried in a whispered moan.

  “Sweetheart, don’t hold back. I want to remember you like this, so soft and beautiful in the moonlight.”

  He stroked her moist core, seeming to know just when and where to apply the gentle pressure. She’d never experienced anything so powerful, her entire body in flames, hot, roaring and so intense she doubted her fiery passion could ever be doused. For him. Only for him.

  She nestled between his muscled legs and felt his arousal, knew he was meant to be insid
e her, filling her. “I love you, Gabriel.”

  He said nothing, just closed his mouth over hers again and began to... oh, oh... oooh!

  CHAPTER 17

  A lady must never decline an offer of marriage from a man of quality in the hope that the rake will reform.

  DAISY SLIPPED BACK to the recital unnoticed and spent the rest of the evening watching helplessly as Gabriel made a drunken fool of himself. His actions were obviously planned in advance and executed with precision, though the other guests were quick to believe that he was in his cups and out of control. Lord and Lady Baldridge, finally having had enough of his offensive behavior, demanded that he leave their home.

  Graelem stepped forward to take his staggering cousin in hand. “C’mon, Gabriel. You’ll have a blistering headache in the morning. Sleep it off at my house.”

  “Your place? What fun is that?” Gabriel took an awkward swipe at Graelem and missed. “Take me to Curzon Street. I have a call to make there.”

  The last was said loud enough for all standing close by to hear. Daisy and Auguste Malinor, who had spent much of the evening by her side, happened to be standing beside the door. “Disgusting,” Auguste remarked.

  “Indeed,” Daisy’s mother replied, for her family was standing close by as well. She took Daisy’s hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze, for her mother knew her well enough to sense her quiet desperation. Though she disapproved of Gabriel, Sophie Farthingale’s motherly instincts were on alert now and her only concern was to comfort her daughter. The “Daisy, you’re young and foolish” lecture would come later.

  Graelem left with Gabriel.

  The music started up again and the Baldridge guests soon returned their attention to the festivities. Daisy could only think of Gabriel, but she hid her quiet concern since Auguste Malinor was still by her side.

  One thing was clear: Gabriel and his cousin had neatly arranged to put Gabriel in Graelem’s home tonight. “Sleep it off at my house,” Graelem had said. Was it a ruse to provide cover while Gabriel collected the supplies kept under lock and key at Graelem’s without raising suspicion?