For the Love of a Soldier

by Victoria Morgan

  She opened her mouth, closed it, and sighed. “Garrett,” she relented. When he beamed at her, she shook her head. “You must stop stealing kisses from me. It is—”

  “I agree. Why don’t you give them to me freely, then I won’t have to steal them.”

  “Absolutely—”

  He reached for her again, but her hands shot up, fending him off as she retreated into the corner of the coach. “Not, absolutely not!”

  He laughed. “Perhaps when we know each other better.”

  “Stop saying that!” She lifted a hand to rub her temple. “This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. I’ve told you that, and you agreed.”

  He stared at her flushed features, watching her color deepen to a wine red. He nodded and composed his features into a serious expression. “You’re right. I did.”

  “Good, I’m glad we agree.” The coach rolled to a stop and the sudden silence echoed through the carriage. Alexandra sat up, straightened her jacket, and neatened her wig, which had become comically askew during their embrace.

  He opened the door. “But you also told me you are immune to seduction. It means we needn’t worry about a few stolen kisses.” He vaulted from the carriage before she could see his amusement, but he couldn’t suppress his laughter when silence greeted his words.

  He glanced up to find Havers standing a few yards from him. His eyes were enormous, nearly popping out of his face. His mouth gaped before he shut it. He opened it to speak, closed it, and opened it again, looking like a bird snapping at a worm out of reach.

  Garrett paused, baffled by his unflappable manservant’s discomposure. What the hell was wrong with the man? He knew Alexandra was a woman. He frowned. “Havers? What is it?” Christ, had they been followed? His amusement fled and he crossed to Havers, his gaze scanning the area, every muscle in his body taut. “Did you see anyone? Did—?”

  “No!” Havers said, his expression sobering. He gave his head a sharp shake and straightened his shoulders. “It were nothing, my lord.”

  Garrett frowned. But before he could pursue it, Alexandra recovered her voice and bellowed his name. He turned and the sight of her leaning out the carriage door and pointing at him restored his humor.

  “Just one minute,” she started, “come back here. I don’t think—”

  “Good, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” She sounded exasperated.

  “Think, don’t think.” He swung her down as her enraged shriek answered him.

  On her feet, she slapped his hands away and stepped back. “A thinking woman must be a novelty to you, but you will have to get used to it because we are not finished with this matter. Not at all.”

  “I quite agree, but we have an audience now, so we’ll have to finish it later.” He tipped his head toward Havers.

  Alexandra whirled to face Havers, who nodded curtly to her before addressing Garrett. “I’ll see to the horses and bring up the bags, sir.”

  Garrett grasped a flushed Alexandra by the elbow and escorted her to the house.

  She was right. They were not finished with the matter.

  They were just beginning.

  ALEX’S HEAD WAS spinning. She didn’t protest Kendall’s, or rather Garrett’s escort. She feared if he released her, she would stumble, so unsure of her footing was she.

  Little wonder there. It wasn’t often a woman was awakened from sleep by a mind-numbing sensual kiss. Her world was spiraling out of her control and had been for the past year. At least before Garrett she had been at the helm of her floundering ship. Now she was a mere passenger while Garrett manned the wheel. Worse, she didn’t know if she liked the direction he steered her.

  But Lord, the man could kiss. She couldn’t deny liking that.

  She had tasted on his lips the cider he had drunk at the tavern. Like its strong flavor, Garrett’s kiss was potent, heady, and it stirred a response deep inside her. She had ached to curl her fingers into the soft strands of his hair and merge her body with his.

  Dazed, she touched her fingers to her sore lips, while regarding the manor that loomed before her. She had been so distracted that she had paid little heed to her surroundings. The moon was full and illuminated the house like a bright beacon. Symmetrical in the Elizabethan style, it was an imposing structure of red brick. Matched gables on opposite sides framed the entrance and towering bay windows lined the facade. Ropes of ivy climbed the brick, finding footholds in hidden crevices.

  “This is Charlton Manor, my late uncle’s former home. It’s mine now. The only people who know it is one of my holdings are family and former veterans loyal to me, so we should be safe here for a while.”

  Garrett’s voice startled her, and she choked off her laugh. Safe? Was the man serious? He clearly didn’t understand the danger he presented. She couldn’t fathom how he could kiss her blind and not see that he was killing her.

  Sighing, she followed Garrett up the stairs to the front entrance. Before Garrett could lift the brass knocker, the door swung open.

  A young footman greeted them. “Sir.” He nodded to Garrett as he moved aside for them to enter.

  They stepped into a spacious foyer. Alex glanced up to see an elegant chandelier dangling from the ceiling of the second story. A polished mahogany staircase with spooled rails curved to a balcony that encircled the second floor.

  “Ned, I see you found your way safely. Is all in order?”

  Ned bobbed his head. “Yes, sir. I got us a cook and some maids, and they’ve done started on cleanin’ up the place.”

  Ned was as dark-haired and tall as Garrett, but when he followed Garrett to the foot of the stairs, Alex noticed he walked with a limp, one leg favored over the other.

  “Sir, Cook put me to work polishin’ some silver and…I been thinkin’. I don’t think that’s a footman’s job, sir. And I been thinkin’ some more, sir. Perhaps, I’m not cut out to be no footman. I’m better with horses, sir. Perhaps I should be in the stables.”

  Garrett stopped and turned to Ned.

  Alex grinned at the youth’s outburst, watching as he shuffled his feet under Garrett’s regard. He studied the young man in that infernal silent manner of his. At least she wasn’t the only one made to feel like a laboratory specimen.

  “It sounds like you’ve been doing a great deal of thinking, Ned,” Garrett said, his expression solemn. “Tell you what, why don’t you handle the few horses we do have. I’ve hired a man to build up the stables and he could use a hand, so if you’d prefer that line of work to being inside, then we’ll set you up with him. How does that sound?”

  Ned beamed. “Thank you, sir, and you be gettin’ a better stable hand out of me than a footman, sir, so ’tis the better deal for both of us.”

  She stifled her laugh as she observed Garrett tuck his tongue in his cheek and nod, appearing to consider the comment with undue seriousness.

  “Thank you, Ned, for bringing this to my attention. A man shouldn’t waste his talents in areas unsuited to him. Now then, if that’s all, I will show our guest to her room.”

  “Oh, right, sir.” Ned’s eyes landed on Alexandra as if aware of her for the first time. He took in her masculine attire and turned to Garrett, baffled. Clearly he had caught the use of the feminine pronoun.

  “Miss Daniels and I left a masquerade in the city.” Garrett delivered the lie with ease, while his closed expression brooked no further inquiries.

  Ned’s cheeks colored, and he dipped into a short bow. “Thank you, again, sir. I’ll head to the stables now.” If not for his stiff leg, he would have bolted the distance to the door.

  “Think nothing of it,” Garrett murmured to Ned’s back.

  She couldn’t resist a comment. “He’s charming.” After a slight hesitation, she continued. “His leg? Casualty of the Crimea?”

  Garrett raised a brow at her question, and then looked amused. “No, that’s a casualty of Duke and youthful hubris—or stupidity.” At her obvious bafflement, he explained. “Ned’s father i
s the stable manager at another of my estates. Duke is an unbroken stallion that I recently purchased, and Ned thought to break in the horse.” He shrugged. “Ned was lucky, for with time, his leg should heal. But in punishment, his father turned him over to me thinking he’d make a better footman than a stable hand. As you can see, Ned has other ideas.”

  “What do you think?” Alex smiled.

  “I think the boy’s old enough to make his own decisions and live with the consequences, painful or not.” He paused and his eyes darkened. “As do we all.” He turned away and strode forward. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  Alex frowned, his last words clearly referring to some decision other than Ned’s training of Duke. She wondered what consequences Garrett had to live with that caused his pain? It was more than memories of the war. Of that she was sure.

  Disturbed, she followed Garrett upstairs and nearly stumbled into him when he paused in the dimly lit hallway. There were no pictures on the brocade wallpaper and most of the doors were closed.

  “This will be your room.” Garrett opened a door before him and stepped aside. “I’ll have a maid sent to you and see that she brings your valise.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, aware of the heat of Garrett’s body beside her.

  “How about a kiss good night?”

  Her head snapped up to his, the husky timber of his voice sending shivers through her. Definitely trouble. “I don’t think—”

  “Good.” He crushed her to him and once more, silenced her with a kiss.

  She grasped his arms, his embrace forcing her to stand on her toes to reach him. If not for his support, she would have slid to the ground in a boneless heap. In the back recesses of her mind, she knew this would not do. They had a business arrangement, and business partners did not tangle tongues as they were doing, no matter how good he tasted. But Lord, he tasted wonderful. And she wanted more.

  Her practical side continued to scream this was a bad idea. She planned to heed its warning…in a minute. Desire swept through her in an undulating wave and she yearned to ride it.

  When he lifted his head years later, she gasped for breath.

  His eyes locked with hers, the steel gray of his warm and amused. “Sometimes not thinking is good,” he said. “Sometimes things are best felt.”

  He released her and she stumbled back against the wall, blinking up at him.

  “Good night, Alexandra.” His smile was intimate and knowing. He bowed, turned on his heel, and strode away.

  Weak-kneed, she stared after him. She needed to call him back. She wasn’t finished with him yet. She shook her head. That didn’t sound right. Of course, they were finished. He wouldn’t…she couldn’t…she refused to venture down that trail of thought. It led to forbidden ground.

  She moved into her room and closed the door. Garrett was steering her into dangerous waters. Tomorrow, she would regain the helm. She couldn’t think tonight. Sometimes not thinking is good, his words echoed. Some things are best felt. Lord, did she feel. Hot, prickly, and unsettled. Her arms curled around her waist as her gaze drifted over the bedchamber, seeking to distract her thoughts from Garrett.

  The room was decorated in muted shades of rose, green, and blue. The iron bed was ornate, with scrollwork of floral medallions set in the headboard and footboard. An armoire stood in the corner, a vanity with a marble top and an oval mirror hanging above it lined one wall. An Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. It was lovely. Inviting and…feminine. She frowned.

  She refused to think about how many other women had stayed here or if Kristen had slept in this room. Kristen, who loved Garrett. It was easy to forget Garrett’s mistress, particularly when the man was kissing her blind.

  So much for distracting herself.

  She removed the pins holding her wig in place. Slipping it off, she dispensed with the rest of the clips tying up her hair and threaded her fingers through the freed strands. She untied her cravat and yanked it off as well. When she unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt, she breathed freely for the first time in hours.

  A noise nearby made her jump.

  She froze, straining to hear. Another sound carried to her, a dull thud as if something had fallen on the floor. Her eyes searched the room and found a second door beside the armoire. Without thinking, she stormed over to it, yanked it open, and gasped.

  Garrett.

  He stood in the middle of what appeared to be the spacious master suite. Her feet sank into a thick Aubusson carpet, and her eyes strayed to the inviting spool bed piled high with pillows. She noticed Garrett’s jacket tossed onto the comforter and quickly averted her gaze, her heart thudding.

  Garrett grinned. He had removed his boots, thus explaining the noise she had heard earlier. His cravat was untied and the top buttons of his shirt were open, his shirttails untucked and hanging loose. Independent and arrogant, it was so like the man to not wait for a valet to disrobe.

  It was of no relevance to her who undressed him. She clenched her jaw. Again, that had not sounded right. She shouldn’t be wondering about his valet but more important, she shouldn’t be thinking about Garrett undressing.

  She needed to focus on his presence in the master suite in the room next to hers. If this door connected his room to hers, that made her bedchamber the…She braced a hand against the doorframe and lifted her chin. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  He cocked his brow, leisurely stripping off his cravat and tossing it onto his bed.

  After a tantalizing peek at the naked skin through the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, she kept her eyes fastened on his face, which was also a mistake.

  He looked amused. “I’m getting undressed. You’re welcome to join me.”

  “This has to stop!” She resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “We had an agreement.”

  Laughing, he crossed to a side table to lift the crystal decanter sitting there. He filled a glass and crossed to Alex’s side. His lips pursed when she pressed back against the doorframe as if seeking refuge.

  Without a word, he caught her hand, placed the glass in it, and curled her fingers around its solid surface. “Drink that.” He nodded to the swirling liquid. “It’s brandy. It will relax you.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed his fingers against her lips, silencing her with the intimate gesture.

  “I do remember our agreement and I’m sticking to it.” His hand dropped. “But part of our arrangement is protecting you. You forget, someone wants me dead. I refuse to let you be a casualty in their plot. As safe as I believe this estate is, I have no guarantees. Your welfare is my concern, so for now, I’m keeping you close.” In a quicksilver mood change, his intensity vanished and he grinned, a gleam in his eyes as he leaned close. “If I can’t have you in my bed, next door is the safest alternative.” He pressed his fingers to the bottom of her glass and lifted it to her. “Drink.”

  She slapped his hand away and took a sip. Like liquid fire, the brandy burned her throat and made her eyes water. She blinked furiously and coughed, Garrett’s laughter rumbling through her.

  “And Alexandra,” he said, his voice lowered, her name like a whispered endearment on his lips. “I’m not partial to unwilling bedmates. I’ve never forced a woman. You don’t need a house wing separating us, nor this door, locked or otherwise. All you need is one word—‘no.’” He flashed a devilish grin and leaned closer still, one hand braced on the doorframe above her head, the other reaching out to capture a lock of her hair.

  She caught her breath as his knuckles brushed the pulse beating in her throat before he moved his hand away and the long strand slid through his fingers.

  “But I prefer ‘absolutely,’” he breathed.

  Alex was mesmerized by the slow, seductive smile curving his lips and lighting his eyes. This conversation had not gone in the direction she intended. Once again, Garrett had steered her off course.

  But he was right. He had never forced her, and if the man was bent on ravishing her, he could h
ave done it six times over by now. He might be a rake, but he was a gentleman rake. All she had to do was say no. She would do so next time.

  And there would be a next time.

  A rake, gentleman or not, was still a rake, and stealing kisses is what they did, some better than others. Garrett had perfected the practice.

  “Yes, you’re right. You’re absolut…” Her words trailed off. She stepped back into her room and gripped the doorknob. “I just needed that clarified. It’s, ah…it’s good we understand each other.” She jumped when Garrett reached toward her.

  He removed the glass from her hand.

  His fingers were warm, his touch sending a shiver down her body. “Good night, Garrett.”

  “Alexandra?” She was about to close the door, but Garrett’s hand blocked it. “I’ll teach you the proper use of a revolver. You need to be comfortable with it.”

  She moistened her lips to respond. “Yes, that might be wise if I’m going to be near you.” She liked his look of surprise. “Good night.”

  When his hand dropped from the door, she closed it firmly and slumped back against it, her heart galloping.

  She heard his laughter through the door and her smile grew. She hadn’t fully regained her footing, but she was finding it.

  Her parting salvo was a start.

  Chapter Thirteen

  GARRETT leaned forward in his office chair, nodding his head as his secretary reviewed the accounts, updating him on the needs of his tenants and sundry other estate matters.

  He listened attentively or rather, presented the appearance of doing so. His secretary, David Stewart, was young and new to the job. In his eagerness, he got bogged down in details. Garrett should have expected it, for Stewart used to be his artillery sergeant. Precision was a valued asset in the man’s former profession.

  With his secretary’s head bent over his papers, Garrett removed his pocket watch under cover of the desk and read the time. Good Lord, they had been at it for over two hours. This would not do. Besides, Garrett needed to assess the grounds for himself and speak to his men about patrolling the area. On Garrett’s turf now, the bastard wanting him dead would be trespassing. If he dared to do so, Garrett would be ready. A tic vibrated in his cheek as he clenched his jaw.