One Rogue Too Many

by Samantha Grace

  “Tell me about this pickle,” Anthony said through clenched teeth.

  Luke tapped his glass, the click of his nail driving Anthony to distraction. “Do you think perhaps you misunderstood Gabby? She can be unclear at times.”

  When Anthony had had her beneath him months earlier, her black hair falling around her ivory shoulders and plump breasts, she had been perfectly clear. She had wanted him, and he’d wanted her. But one didn’t tell that type of thing to a brother who could hit a target better than a sharpshooter in the Light Division.

  “I don’t believe I was mistaken.”

  “Hmm…” Luke took another drink. Another long-drawn-out one that had Anthony scooting to the edge of his seat. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, my friend, but I fear you might have misread my sister. I know she is fond of you, just as she is of Drew and Richard.”

  “Are you implying she thinks of me as a brother?”

  Luke gritted his teeth in the semblance of a smile, then cursed under his breath. “Maybe. There is someone else.”

  Anthony shot out of the chair. “Who? I know Lord Thorne has been pursuing her, but I swear her heart belongs to me. I saw her last night at the Chattingtons’ ball. She has feelings for me. Summon her. She’ll tell you herself.”

  Her brother set his drink down. “Gabby isn’t available at the moment.”

  “But she is expecting me.”

  Luke checked his watch again. “Perhaps it’s better for you to return later. Join us for dinner this evening, and I’ll allow you a moment alone to speak with my sister. If she is agreeable, we can discuss the matter of a betrothal.”

  Then Anthony’s friend, a man he’d known for most of his six and twenty years, clamped a hand around his upper arm and lugged him toward the exit. Anthony recovered from shock when they reached the double-hung doors and dug in his heels.

  “Are you tossing me out on my blasted arse?”

  “Pardon?” Luke chuckled and released him. “No, I’m not tossing you out. I invited you for dinner tonight, didn’t I?” He shoved a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end.

  Anthony’s eyes narrowed. Raking his fingers through his hair had always been a sign that Luke didn’t have the cards he needed when they played loo, and Anthony was willing to bet it meant the duke was lying now, too.

  “There is something you aren’t telling me. Where is Lady Gabrielle?”

  “My sister’s affairs are her own. If she is amenable to your suit, you must know you have my support. But if her interests lie elsewhere, I won’t try to influence her decision.”

  “Some bloody friend you are.” Anthony crossed his arms and glared. “You know I love her. I will be more than generous with her.”

  Luke sighed. “I’m not the one who needs to know how you feel. Come back this evening and tell my sister.”

  Anthony allowed Luke to usher him out of his study, but he couldn’t believe his friend was dismissing him. It was like Luke couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.

  Fists formed at his sides and a growl rumbled in his chest. “She is with Thorne, isn’t she?”

  The bloody trickster had beaten him to Talliah House.

  “We will expect you at eight.” Luke grinned, then closed the door in Anthony’s face.

  “Count on it,” he shouted to be heard through the thick doors.

  Muffled laughter floated from the study followed by what might have been the word “splendid.”

  Bollocks! This hadn’t gone as planned, but then again, nothing had since his proposal to Gabby. His trip to Wales should have been without complications, which would have placed him back in London long before Easter. He should have been married by now. He should be happily trying to fill his nursery. But no. He was back to trying to win the favor of the minx who had stolen his heart long ago. And she had already agreed to marry him, for God’s sake!

  Grumbling, he spun on his heel and stalked toward the staircase. He was still complaining under his breath when the butler handed him his hat and walking stick.

  “Good day, milord.”

  “According to whom?” Anthony shoved the hat on his head. He was halfway down the steps when a carriage drove through the gates of Talliah House. An invisible fist slammed into his gut.

  It was that damned scoundrel Thorne, and he was with Anthony’s woman. After he’d promised to give up his pursuit if Anthony beat him this morning.

  Anthony sauntered down the remaining steps, then leaned on his cane as if he hadn’t a care. He even forced out a smile when the curricle rolled to a stop in front of him. It wouldn’t do to allow Thorne to see his weakness, or he would be even more determined to pursue Gabby.

  “Lady Gabrielle, how nice of you to arrive in time for our audience.”

  Thorne’s lips curled as his tiger, a slight boy with much energy, hopped from his seat to secure the horses. Thorne alighted from the curricle before reaching up to assist Gabby. When the man’s hands circled her waist, a red haze engulfed Anthony. There was no need to touch her so familiarly. Anthony jerked up his cane, testing the weight.

  Gabby’s eyes rounded and his impulse to pummel Thorne died away, although it was a slow death. He placed his walking stick back on the ground and exhaled, counting to ten.

  Then twenty.

  And finally, forty, for good measure.

  Once her feet were on the ground and Thorne had released her, Gabby arranged her skirts. “Was our appointment today, Lord Ellis? I hadn’t realized I should count on a set date.”

  “I did say I would call today.”

  She shrugged. “One never knows whether to take you at your word, my lord.”

  Anthony’s teeth ground together. He wouldn’t be surprised if steam was rising off his head. She had a way of heating his blood, whether it was from anger or passion. Since he preferred the latter, he refused to show his rancor and provide her with a reason to refuse to speak with him. After her brother’s proclamation that Gabby must choose him in order to earn Luke’s blessing, his confidence in settling the matter quickly was faltering.

  “Perhaps your mind will be at ease now that I have proven capable of keeping my word,” he said.

  “Perhaps.” She smiled sweetly and linked her arm with Thorne’s. “Unfortunately, I fear I must postpone our audience. I’m tired after the lovely ride with Lord Thorne.”

  Tired? What type of ride had the baron given her?

  Thorne smirked at Anthony. “Allow me to see you safely inside, my lady.”

  “That is kind of you, sir.”

  Anthony’s jaw dropped when Gabby and Thorne swept past him and disappeared into the house. Dismissed twice in one day? What the hell was going on?

  ***

  Gabby’s stomach fluttered and her knees knocked together—the aftereffects of seeing Anthony again. Her heart had nearly bolted from her body when she and Lord Thorne had driven past the gates to find Anthony waiting in the drive.

  By early afternoon, she hadn’t known whether to believe he would actually come. She hadn’t wanted to sit around any longer hoping he would, so she had accepted the baron’s invitation for a spin around Rotten Row.

  She had been happy to see Anthony at first, but then she’d remembered his promise to kiss her, and it had scared the daylights out of her. When Anthony kissed her, she lost control of everything. Her thoughts, her ability to breathe normally, her hands…

  She almost groaned aloud, recalling how sculpted and firm his buttocks were.

  Lord Thorne glanced down at her. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes.” She bit her lip and looked around for Wesley. Being alone with Thorne seemed unwise, as if they had an understanding. “Thank you for another lovely afternoon.”

  He took her hands in his. His dark gaze caressed her and he smiled softly. “When will I see you again?”

  “I—” She cleared her throat and eased her hands from his grasp. “I will be at Lady Dewhurst’s musicale tomorrow evening. Perhaps we will cross paths the
n.”

  There was a troubled flicker in his eyes, but it disappeared so quickly she thought she might have imagined it.

  She suppressed a sigh. Why couldn’t she care about Thorne like he seemed to care for her? He was kind and attentive, and so far, reliable. There was no reason to reject his suit.

  No reason but one.

  “Lord Thorne, I think it’s only fair—”

  “Shh.” He held a finger to her lips. “As you said, we had a lovely time together. Allow me to savor it.”

  He wasn’t making this easy. “But you should be aware—”

  “That I have competition. I understand and I’m undeterred.” He lightly grasped one of her curls to rub between his thumb and finger. “My parents didn’t love each other when they spoke their vows, but a short while later, they were inseparable. Love can grow over time, Lady Gabrielle. And it can be the type to last forever.”

  Love sounded so logical when he spoke of it. And he was correct. Many people married without love, and some grew to care deeply for each other.

  She reached up to hold his hand, hoping he wouldn’t see her move for what it truly was. She wanted him to release her hair.

  “I don’t know if I can become one of those people,” she admitted.

  “You will only find out if you allow me into your life.” He pulled her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “And if you discover you cannot, I will love enough for both of us.”

  Her heart softened. When he looked at her so earnestly, she thought perhaps he really did hold some affection for her. If only she could return it.

  “I can’t make promises, my lord.” She carefully extracted her hand from his hold.

  A slow grin inched across his face. It was the smile of a man celebrating victory. “And yet you haven’t tossed me out.”

  She chuckled. “An oversight, I assure you. Good day, my lord.”

  Five

  Anthony paced the front drive, his boots creating an angry staccato against the cobblestones. It was taking Thorne a blasted long time to say his good-byes to the lady. When the door finally swung open, Anthony advanced on him.

  “Gabby is mine. I won.”

  Thorne simply smirked and stepped around him. “I thought you weren’t going to allow a sausage to determine your fate.”

  “But you convinced me otherwise.”

  Tugging on his gloves, the baron continued toward his vehicle. “Now, now. You couldn’t really think I’d allow a bet to decide my future wife. That’s ridiculous.”

  “But you are ridiculous. Come back here,” Anthony called to his retreating back. “We will settle this now.”

  Thorne stopped beside his carriage and slowly turned to face him. “Very well, Ellis. If the lady is yours, as you claim, why did she spend the afternoon with me?”

  Anthony gripped his walking stick so hard, it was a wonder it didn’t splinter. Damned if he knew the reason Gabby had agreed to a ride in the park, but she belonged with him. Thorne had agreed to leave her alone.

  His teeth gnashed together. “She. Is. Mine.”

  Thorne sauntered toward him with that bloody smirk Anthony wanted to knock from his face. “But I plan to make her mine.”

  Anthony growled and swung his fist. Thorne ducked. Infuriated by his miss, Anthony charged, but the baron was too quick on his feet. Momentum drove Anthony to slam into the carriage. Pain shot through his ribs like a spear.

  Thorne laughed.

  “Damn you!” He came at him again. His opponent jumped back, but this time he wasn’t fast enough. Anthony’s fist connected with his chin. The baron’s head snapped back.

  “Damn you, Ellis!” Thorne rubbed his face, a severe frown aimed at Anthony. “What has gotten into you? Two suitors resorting to fisticuffs on her front drive is likely to make her swoon.”

  Anthony scoffed. Gabby wasn’t some fragile dove. Her father’s death had tested her strength and not broken her. Thorne knew nothing about her.

  But he was right about one thing. Fighting was below him. He lowered his fists. Gabby and Anthony loved each other, and they were better suited. She wouldn’t choose Thorne over him, no matter how angry she might be with Anthony for being gone.

  “Set your sights on someone else. Lady Gabrielle is marrying me.”

  Thorne shook his head as he climbed into the curricle. “You really are dicked in the nob.”

  “You have been warned. When she becomes my wife, you will be left looking like a fool.”

  The baron grabbed the reins and signaled to his tiger. “That sounds like a challenge, Ellis.”

  “I already won the challenge, remember? Now, be gone, you bloody mongrel.”

  “I’m not the one foaming at the mouth, my friend.” Thorne flashed a jaunty grin and snapped the reins. The curricle lurched forward with a loud creak, gained momentum as it sped through the gates, and turned onto the boulevard.

  Anthony dusted off his hands. Well, that was settled. But if Gabby’s brother thought he was going to wait until that evening to speak with her, Luke was mistaken. They had been apart long enough, and she wasn’t likely to forgive him if he gave up so easily.

  He reentered the foyer without knocking and thankfully found it abandoned. Pausing inside the threshold, he considered his next move. His gaze locked on the stairwell. Her chambers were situated on the second floor. But he couldn’t, could he?

  Before he could attempt anything too reckless, a maid swept into the foyer with charcoals and a sketchbook hugged to her chest. The same young woman who had taken care of the bouquet he’d brought for Gabby. She afforded him a curious glance but didn’t allow his presence to disrupt her mission.

  When she disappeared through a doorway leading to the conservatory, he forced himself to stay put. He couldn’t follow and expect the chit wouldn’t notice. Several moments later, the maid reappeared empty-handed. This time she gawked as she slowly crossed the marble floor.

  Anthony readjusted his hat and reached for the door handle. “I must be off now. Good day.”

  He opened the door as if he was leaving, then quietly closed it again when the servant was gone. Before anyone else discovered him skulking about, he strode toward the conservatory, where he was sure Gabby was practicing her art.

  Her back was to him, her head bent over her drawing as he entered. Her hand flew across the page in fast, graceful strokes. His throat suddenly felt tight. When had he last watched her sketch? Perhaps around the time his mother had died.

  Gabby was so intent on whatever she was drawing she hadn’t realized he was there. Sunlight streamed through the windows, igniting the auburn in her dark hair. The color was always subtle and unexpected.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  She gasped and twisted around on the settee. Her rosebud lips were parted and all he could think about was kissing them until they were swollen and pliable.

  “Anthony.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She tossed her sketch aside and shoved it under a pillow. “I thought you’d left.”

  He pulled the door closed, then sauntered toward the settee. Her fingers clutched the charcoal as she looked up with wide gray eyes. Corby had been correct. She was an orchid among common roses, exotic and intriguing. God, how he had missed her.

  He smiled. “I came to see you. Why would I leave before I’ve accomplished my aim? It is good to see you again, my love.”

  He sat beside her and she quickly scooted over to create a sliver of space between them. He could still feel her body heat, however, and revel in her lingering perfume. Lavender. The scent was fiery and soft all at once. It suited her.

  Her knuckles were turning white from gripping the charcoal.

  He affectionately bumped her shoulder with his as he’d done many times. It was his way of telling her everything was all right.

  “Cat got your tongue? I’ve never known you to be this quiet.”

  She pursed her lips. “You seem uncommonly concerned with my tongue, my lord. First it is to
o sharp and now you insinuate I’ve become a mute.”

  “Well, you just disproved the latter, but I maintain you have a sharp tongue,” he said with a wink.

  “The better to give you a proper dressing-down for stealing into the conservatory when I am not properly chaperoned. What are you doing here?”

  “Aren’t we beyond the need for a chaperone?” He reached for her hand, but she pushed to her feet and hugged her arms around her body.

  “And why is that, Lord Ellis? Correct me if I’m wrong, but we are not betrothed. You missed your appointment with my brother weeks ago.”

  He winced. Although he had known he would have to answer for his prolonged absence, he hadn’t expected to be scolded. “I promised to return, and here I am.”

  “You promised to return before Easter, and there was no word from you. Did you expect me to read your mind to know you would be late?”

  “I expected you to trust me.”

  “Trust you.” She shook her head and walked to the window, presenting her back. “It wouldn’t have been the first time you misled me.”

  He sighed. “Not this again. We aren’t children any longer. When are you going to stop holding me accountable for things I did as a boy?”

  She glared over her shoulder, then turned back to the window. Well, one of them was no longer a child.

  His gaze slid down her narrow back and tapered waist, and feasted on the roundness of her hips. No, she was definitely all grown now. The realization that she was a woman and no longer a little girl had hit him at her father’s birthday celebration three years earlier. A forbidden desire he had buried had resurfaced.

  The day he had received her letter expressing her love and imploring him not to marry Camilla, he had known he loved her too. But it had been wrong. Gabby had been too young, their age difference too large. To love his best friend’s little sister was depraved. Besides, he had been engaged to a woman he thought would complete him.

  He’d been wrong, because that woman stood before him now. Walking away from Gabby had been a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  He went to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened in his embrace, but he didn’t allow that to deter him. His lips grazed her ear, then trailed loving kisses along her neck. “I missed you, Gabrielle.”