The languid comfort in his tone and in his kisses began to melt away some of her doubts. “I had not thought you so observant of my person.”
“I was always very aware of you, dear countess, especially when you least suspected.” He cast her a mysterious grin. “After last night, I would venture to say I know far more about you than any other man alive.”
Oh, not everything, my lord. Guilt for the true reason she had come to his bed washed over Amelia. She tried to pull away, but Gareth’s arms locked around her, drawing her closer. “I think I need to remind you of my intimate knowledge of your loveliness. And my deep regard for you.”
He kissed her soundly, then rolled her expertly on her back. Amelia forced herself to hold his gaze. She could feel his erection pressing into her upper thigh.
She knew he desired her. The proof of that was rather obviously poking at her. And while it might be considered foolish to trust and believe such a handsome rogue, Amelia admitted his words touched her heart, allowing her to face the fact that she, too, cared for him, perhaps even loved him a little.
Her conscience however demanded that she make some attempt at honesty. “I should return to my bedchamber before anyone sees me.”
“The duke’s servants are well trained and discreet. They will turn a blind eye to anything they see.”
He nuzzled her neck, kissed her jaw, then raised his head to stare into her eyes. There was a trace of boyish delight in his handsome face as he spread her legs with his knees, then slid inside her body.
Amelia caught her breath and he stopped. “Have I hurt you?”
“No.” The warm strength of him filled her completely, making a shiver of pure pleasure rush through her blood. “ ’Tis a perfect fit.”
“For the perfect lady.” He raised her hand and kissed it tenderly in a gallant, courtly gesture.
Amelia felt her heart turn over. Emotions swirled and swelled inside her as she twisted and adjusted her hips. She surrendered then completely to the moment, arching her back, pressing herself closer to his heat, his strength, his power.
She understood and accepted that this moment of passion would be their last. It was a bittersweet joining, filled with all the emotions and feelings she knew she could never express in words. It lasted a long time, yet seemed so quick.
As his large body began to shudder with the power of his release, she tightened her arms around his broad back and held him close. Amazingly her own climax broke at the same instant, creating a rare experience of shared pleasure.
It was a fitting end.
When their ragged breathing finally slowed, Gareth’s mouth moved gently over hers. Amelia kissed him back. He eased away and stretched beside her, opening his arms in invitation. Amelia accepted, allowing herself one final moment of bliss.
He caressed her hair, stroked her back and buttocks with slow, lazy circles. Sleep threatened, but Amelia fought it. Gradually the caresses slowed, then ceased. Amelia placed her palm lightly on Gareth’s chest. She could feel the muscles expand as he breathed in a steady rhythm. He was asleep.
She dared not linger any longer. Taking great care to make as little movement as possible, Amelia slipped away from the warm protection of his embrace and slid off the bed. She found her nightgown flung in a corner of the bedchamber. It was cleanly torn down the middle and completely useless.
Amelia tossed it aside and searched for something else to wear. She hastily picked up Gareth’s discarded shirt and pushed her arms through the sleeves. The white linen enveloped her body, but came only to the top of her knees. The few buttons at the top of the garment were missing and it gaped open in a provocative manner.
She removed it and tried his evening coat. That fell below her knees, but there was a wide rent in the sleeve where it attached to the shoulder. Amelia surmised that damage had occurred when she was eagerly yanking the coat off Gareth last night.
She sighed in frustration. Was there not one garment that had not been ripped, torn, or destroyed? She padded barefoot over to the armoire that stood on the far side of the room and opened it gingerly, trying not to make a sound. Inside she discovered a silk robe in a shade of midnight blue. It was far too large, but she wrapped the belt twice around her waist and pulled tightly.
Satisfied it would stay in place, Amelia moved quietly toward the door. On her way she noticed a rumpled strip of white linen thrown on the rug. It was Gareth’s cravat, the one she had used so naughtily as a blindfold.
Without a second thought she scooped it up and shoved it in the pocket of the robe. Then she carefully threw the door latch and eased out of the room. Swift feet carried her to the opposite wing of the large house.
Breathless, Amelia entered her empty bedchamber. She walked soundlessly to the window and threw back the draperies, flooding the room with sunlight.
It was later than she thought. The other guests would soon be stirring and another day of mindless activities would begin. If only—
Amelia gasped as a shocking realization suddenly entered her mind. She had remained unseen by any guest or servant leaving the viscount’s bedchamber and on her long walk back to her own room. She covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly.
It appeared that her quest for scandal had gone unanswered.
Gareth awoke to an empty bed. The sight gave him a momentary pang of regret, but then the practical side of his nature asserted itself. Amelia was the type of woman who would not want to flaunt this relationship. It was therefore logical that she would leave before any of the duke’s servants or guests saw her.
After careful attention from his valet, the viscount felt ready to face the day. The first person he met upon entering the grand salon was his friend, the Earl of Danbury.
“Lucien, good morning. I have not seen much of you these past few days. I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
“It was most peaceful. And you?”
“Splendid. But I do confess to being famished. Will you join me for some breakfast?”
“It is after noon,” the earl replied in a wry voice.
“Ahh, so it is. But surely I am not the only one who slept in today? I imagine the duke’s servants have left fresh, hot food in the dining room. Will you take coffee with me?”
“Certainly.” The earl’s lips twitched. He clasped his hands behind his back and followed Gareth into the dining room. It was empty of other guests. “You seem to be taking everything rather well, Longley. I must confess, I am proud of you.”
Gareth, who was in the process of filling a dish with kippers and eggs, glanced up at his friend with a puzzled frown. “For what?”
The earl’s brow’s lifted in amusement. “Showing your face today. Pretending that all is right and well in the world.”
“I have no idea to what you are referring, Lucien.”
“Gossip, Longley. The like of which even my jaded ears has never heard.”
“About me?”
“Most definitely.”
The two men seated themselves at the table. “You know I never listen to gossip, especially when I am the main topic of conversation.”
The earl sipped his coffee. “I know that has been your attitude in the past. Yet when a lady is involved, a lady you appear to care for a great deal, I assumed your feelings would be altered.”
Gareth slowly lowered his fork. His gut twisted and his raging appetite rapidly disappeared. Through the years all sorts of shameful gossip had made the rounds concerning him and his various women. He always emerged unscathed, but occasionally a female partner’s reputation had been brutalized, ripped to shreds by gossiping tongues.
He usually felt a pang of regret, a bit of distress for these hapless females, but had never been moved to do anything about the situation.
Yet the very notion of anyone speaking against Amelia had him ready to draw pistols.
“Exactly what sort of tales are being spread about the countess?” Gareth asked, taking care to keep his face free of expression.
“The countess? Which countess?” The earl speared him with a piercing, perplexed glance. “The lady I am referring to is Mrs. Fairweather.”
“Emma? What mischief has befallen her?”
“You really don’t know?”
The viscount sighed. “Apparently not.”
Lucien grinned widely and the viscount felt a prickle of unease skitter down his spine. “I had honestly felt a twinge of guilt over the matter since it was such good news for me and such devastating news for you. Or so I believed.”
“Are you going to tell what has occurred, Lucien, or will you just continue to torture me?”
“Sorry.” The earl grinned again. “I have won a tidy sum of money, thanks to you. Mr. Fairweather arrived late last night and hauled away his errant wife, who apparently left sobbing pitifully while denying all his adulterous accusations.”
Gareth blinked. “So Mr. Fairweather really does exist?”
“Indeed.” The earl cocked his head. “Given your dogged pursuit of Mrs. Fairweather the entire Season, I thought this news would distress you.”
Gareth leaned back in his chair and considered his emotions carefully. “No, Lucien. It does not bother me in the least.” Appetite restored, the viscount picked up his fork and resumed eating his breakfast.
When his meal ended, the two men parted company. Gareth, to search for Amelia, and the earl to search for some of the gentlemen attending the house party who had foolishly wagered against the existence of a husband for Emma Fairweather.
The viscount’s quest brought him out-of-doors to the east side of the manor house. He knew Amelia admired the formal gardens in this section of the estate. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to find her here alone. If memory served him, Gareth recalled a particularly challenging boxwood maze that could provide some tantalizing privacy, a place to steal a kiss or two or even engage in more sensual delights if Amelia was so inclined.
He followed the path beyond the circular fountain, admiring the flowering plants and roses. For the first time in many years he thought about his estate, the property from which he collected a handsome annual profit, yet never visited. He wondered what sort of gardens were planted on the grounds. And if they were properly maintained.
Turning the corner of a waist-high stone wall, Gareth spotted Amelia in the distance. She stood in the center of what appeared to be a miniature meadow, ablaze with summer blooms. It was an enchanting sight to behold. However the countess was not alone. There was a man with her. A gentleman, by the look of his fashionable clothes.
They appeared to be engaged in earnest conversation yet even at this distance Gareth could see that they were arguing. He quickened his pace.
Amelia turned her head and walked deliberately away from her male companion. He stomped behind her, grasped her arm, and whirled her around to face him. The expression on Amelia’s face revealed her own anger, but she seemed in control of her emotions.
The same could not be said for the man who held her in his grasp. His mouth opened wider with each word he spoke, his face was twisted with rage. The words were still indistinguishable, but the intent was clear.
Gareth broke into a run.
Suddenly he saw the man raise his arm as if to strike Amelia. Blinding rage consumed the viscount. He ignored the pathways and roared through the flowering bushes at a frantic speed, descending on the pair like an avenging angel.
They turned simultaneously to gape at him. It was at that moment that Gareth noticed Amelia’s hand clasped to the man’s forearm.
“Did he strike you?” Gareth demanded to know.
“No.”
“Then I will allow him to live.”
“Such gallantry, my lord,” the man exclaimed in mocking tones. “One would hardly expect a nobleman to defend his whore so vigorously. She must be quite a tasty morsel between the sheets.”
Gareth lunged toward him, fists raised, but Amelia stepped between them. “Stop it, please.” She pressed herself forward, then pitched her voice low, so only he could hear. “I know this is difficult, but if you have any compassion for me at all you will cease this barbaric behavior at once.”
The viscount hesitated for a moment. This rude, arrogant man was dangerously close to having his head bashed against the nearest tree trunk, but the distressed look in Amelia’s eyes helped Gareth master his rage.
The viscount stepped back, but he took Amelia with him. Together they faced her adversary.
“I am Viscount Longley. Who are you?” The question was uttered in a harsh tone.
“I am the Earl of Monford, the dowager countess’s brother-in-law.” His expression was severe. “You have interrupted an important discussion of a family matter that does not concern you. Please leave at once.”
“No.” Gareth set himself back on his heels and folded his arms across his chest.
“Amelia?” The earl appealed to his sister-in-law.
Gareth felt her tremble slightly, but her voice was strong and steady when she spoke. “There is nothing left for us to say, Roger. Mr. Bascomb has recanted his offer of marriage. Even if I wanted to, I am powerless to change his mind.”
The earl laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “You think you have won, Amelia. But we both know that this is just the beginning.” He turned to Gareth. “You are welcome to her, Longley. For now. I am a patient man. I shall be waiting to take her back when you have cast her off.”
Gareth’s fist itched to bury itself in the earl’s smug face, but the gentle pressure of Amelia’s fingers on his wrist kept his clenched hand by his side.
He waited until the earl faded from the distance, then turned to face Amelia. “Who the hell is Mr. Bascomb?”
Her brow rose fractionally, from either his tone or language, but Gareth was too distraught to care.
“Mr. Bascomb is a wealthy merchant Roger had hoped I would marry. Those hopes have now been dashed.”
“How?”
“You just heard me explain it to Roger. Mr. Bascomb withdrew his offer of marriage.”
“Why? Why did he decide not to marry you?” Gareth hated the edge of despair in his voice, but was unable to completely hide the distress he felt. “And why have you never spoken of Mr. Bascomb before?”
“I did not mention Mr. Bascomb because he was unimportant.” Amelia cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I never intended to marry him. That was Roger’s desire, not mine.”
Gareth struggled to maintain an impassive facade. There was more to the story than she was revealing. He realized then how little he really knew of this woman who had suddenly come to mean so much to him.
“Why has Mr. Bascomb changed his mind?”
The smile she was trying to force disappeared. “He now knows where, and with whom, I spent last night.”
“What?” Gareth shouted. “How is that possible?”
“I told him. Actually I told a room filled with people, including our hosts. The duke and duchess were quite shocked, but far too well bred to make a scene. Still, I feel I should probably take my leave this afternoon, so as to make it less uncomfortable for everyone else.”
“Have you lost your senses?” Gareth scowled. In confusion, in anger, in shock. “What could have possibly possessed you to make such a rash, irresponsible declaration?”
“It was the truth. And it was the only scheme I could devise to force Mr. Bascomb to back away. I knew Roger would insist upon the match and I knew I could never sanction it.” The defensive glint in her eye softened. “I am sorry to have brought you into this scandal, but I feel my revealing our night of passion aided you in some small way.
“There was wild speculation that Mr. Fairweather had found you naked in bed with his wife last night and had challenged you to a duel, but you refused. I could not let anyone believe you capable of such a deed. You are many things, my lord, but you are not a coward.”
Bitterness spread through him. “Is that why you surprised me in my bedchamber last night? To create a scandal?”
&nb
sp; “Yes.” She hesitated. “I am very sorry if I have angered or offended you in anyway. That was never my intention.”
Angered? Offended? Gareth nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of those remarks. She had done far more than that. She had hurt him in ways he had never imagined he could be hurt. She had deceived him. She had pretended to be his friend, pretended an interest in his person, in his life and future. She had looked beyond his reputation and claimed he was meant for better things, for a higher purpose. And then she had used him.
If he was not filled with such pain he would admire her skill. She was as clever and heartless as any rogue. Certainly more clever than he.
“You said you are leaving this afternoon. With your brother-in-law?” Despite telling himself her welfare was none of his concern, the notion of her under that brute’s power rankled.
The color in her face deepened. “I will be traveling to the home of my dear friend Lady Gooding. She has kindly offered me her hospitality. My maid and I plan to stay with her until the repairs on the Dower House are completed.”
He jerked his head down in a curt nod. “I wish you a safe journey, Countess.”
The viscount turned to leave, but her soft voice beckoned him back. “Gareth.”
He halted, twisted his head, and looked back at her over his shoulder. Her brow wrinkled in a deep frown and she appeared to be struggling to find the right words. She closed her eyes briefly, then shook her head. “I shall miss you.”
He suspected that there was more she was trying to say. Their gazes locked, but no other words were spoken. This time when he turned away Gareth did not cease walking until he located a decanter of the duke’s finest brandy and drained most of it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Amelia had not expected that it would hurt this much. As the days turned into weeks she thought the deep, wrenching pain she felt would begin to lessen and eventually fade. Yet as hard as she tried, Amelia discovered she could not find a way to easily or quickly remove the viscount from her heart and mind.
Adrienne Basso Page 9