“Here we go,” he said, accompanying Sabrina into her bedchamber. “Let me help you out of your dress.”
Sabrina laughed. “Do you never stop trying?”
Gideon grinned. “Never.”
“I suppose I should take that as fair warning.” She drew her hair over her shoulder and turned to present him with the row of buttons down her back.
Gideon regarded this woman, who had caught his imagination the first moment he saw her, as something of a gift to unwrap. And like an excited child at Christmas, he hardly knew where to begin.
In fact, he did not begin. He stepped close behind, put his arms around her and rested the flat of his hands upon the haven of her child. What would life be like, he wondered, if this were his child, too?
But he could not imagine it. Not yet, at any rate.
“How is he?” Gideon spoke softly, at Sabrina’s ear.
She lay her head back, against his shoulder, and closed her eyes. “He is sleeping now. He performs only during the night.”
“Performs?”
“Acrobatics, jigs, reels, that sort of antic.”
“Then this should be a good time for you to catch up on your sleep. I will undo your buttons quickly, shall I, before he wakes?”
“Yes, please.”
Gideon especially admired her beauty as she lay back against her pillows, wearing nothing but her shift. He sat on the bed beside her and took her small hand in his, liking the notion that together they, alone, belonged to this intimate moment.
He supposed that he simply liked her attention, however and whenever he could get it. He had wanted her from the first, after all.
Never having had an opportunity, previous to this, to examine his bride at his leisure, Gideon feasted to his heart’s content.
He found her flawless and marveled at the richness of her beauty. Exotic eyes, violet as an island sunset and just as fathomless. Lips, full and pouting, exceptionally kissable.
But what Gideon decided intrigued him most about this new wife of his was the sparse dusting of wayward freckles that danced beneath her eyes and across the top of her nose. With his fingertip, he skimmed each beauty mark, as if connecting them one to the other.
Without them, she would seem altogether too perfect, untouchable. Imperfect as she was, she presented a surprising blend of porcelain doll and flesh and blood woman, vibrant and alive.
Allure and vulnerability, all in one package.
Gideon wanted to touch, and more.
“You make me want to pull the blanket up over my head,” she said.
Gideon shook his head at her cryptic comment. “Do I, by God? And why would you want to do that?”
“To save you from having to look at me.”
“From having to?” He knuckled the crest of a breast, at the edge of her shift. “My darling wife, no one, not even you, could stop me from feasting on your beauty.”
Her laugh reminded him of a songbird that brings joy to all who hear it. “Does that kind of talk work on your other women?”
Gideon wrapped himself in dignity. “Excuse me?”
“Ah, the haughty Duke returns.”
All his life, his aristocratic arrogance had served to put people in their proper places. And now, behold his bride, happily oblivious to his awesome presence.
Gideon released an exasperated breath. “Let us set your mind at ease concerning my, er, other women, shall we?”
“Oh, yes. Let us, please.”
Gideon raised a brow but refused to respond to her caustic gauntlet. “I have employed—one at a time, mind—several mistresses over the years—”
“How many is several?”
Gideon raised a brow. “Five.”
Sabrina nodded. “A good conservative number,” she said. “I approve. Go on.”
Gideon coughed and cleared his throat. “As it happens, I dismissed my latest, and my last, in your presence, after our wedding, yesterday. Unfortunate timing, that. Again, I apologize.”
“You are forgiven. Did I not say so, then?”
He quirked a brow, and his bride closed her mouth and schooled her features.
Gideon kissed her hand and held her gaze. “I am now devoted to one woman—you. And I shall keep only unto you, till death parts us.”
Gideon watched keenly for his bride’s reaction to his vow, but he perceived nothing in her demeanor to reveal that she had heard him. “You doubt me.” It was a statement, not a question, and the only possible reason for her lack of response.
“I doubt … me,” she said after a moment, and he suspected she was being as honest as she could, given their situation.
But he was confused. “Explain, please.”
“I have never managed to inspire...fidelity in a man, so I...worry that this marriage will be no different.”
“Then, we are of like mind. Identical, actually.”
Sabrina rose on her elbow. “I vow that I will remain faithful to you.”
If only he could believe it, Gideon thought, regarding their clasped hands, because he did not want her to see how deeply her naïve declaration affected him.
After he collected himself, he raised her hand to his lips and returned his gaze to her. “I promise the same, Sabrina. I would inscribe and sign the vow in blood, if such would help you believe me.”
Sabrina let go of his hand, lay back against her pillows, and closed her eyes. But after a minute, a single tear escaped from between her lashes. And Gideon knew that she could no more believe him than he could believe her. Had she also lost her ability to trust after having it stripped carelessly away?
If so, perhaps they could heal together.
Gideon rose and pressed his lips to the tear trail on her cheek. “Sleep.”
Gideon went to his bedchamber to change, then to the mews. He wanted to take Deviltry out and run him fast and furious, faster and farther than his need—his desire, damn it—for a wife who frightened him with the strength of her inscrutable hold on him.
As he neared Deviltry’s stall, Gideon stopped in his tracks. There, stroking his steed’s silken muzzle was the child he had seen in the night. “You, there. What is your name?”
The child bolted, faster than a jackrabbit, and disappeared just as quick.
Where was the stable-hand? “Harry! Har— Oh there you are. The lad who was just here? Who is he? What is his name?”
Harry scratched his head, his chin, beneath his arm, and he was going for his ballocks when Gideon ran out of patience. “Damn it, Man, take a bath!”
The shocked expression on the stable-hand’s face drained the pique right out of Gideon. “‘Twas a simple enough question,” he said. “Surely small boys do not wander in and out of my stables at will. You must know who he is.”
“Sure, I know him well enough; I just don’t know his name is all.”
“Well, where does he live?” Gideon asked, losing patience, again.
Harry made to scratch his head, caught Gideon’s expression and stopped. “As to where he comes from, your grace. I am sure I...cannot say.”
Gideon cursed and turned to leave.
“Were you wanting to ride, your grace?”
“No. I changed my mind. Thank you.”
To Gideon’s surprise, not five minutes later, he spotted the boy outside the servants’ entrance to his own bloody kitchen. And this time when he approached, the urchin did not bolt.
Gideon bent on his haunches to address him. “How did you get back here so fast? I could swear that I saw you disappear in the opposite direction.”
The boy shrugged. He had dark hair and darker eyes and so much dirt on his face, you could hardly tell where the grime ended and the freckles began. His serviceable, nankeen playsuit looked to be as dirty as his face and hands, as was his short serge jacket. Gideon could not help think that the boy reminded him of someone, but he could not, for the life of him, imagine who. “Are you from around here?”
“No sir.” The boy shook his head, not seeming the le
ast inclined to scamper.
“Funny, I could have sworn I saw you in my bedchamber last night.”
The boy laughed a happy little boy sound. “Not me, Sir. If I did such a thing, Mama said she would— ‘Twas not me, Sir.”
Just from his ease of speech, Gideon knew the boy was speaking the truth. “Where is your Mother?”
“Right now? I cannot say for certain, but I do know she must be working. She works all the time.”
Taking in laundry and such, most likely, when she should be caring for her son. Gideon wondered how far the lad had wandered to get here. “I am on my way to the small kennel we keep here in town,” he said. “Would you like to come and see the puppies?”
The boy shrugged but fell into step beside him. Along the way, they talked about dogs, and Gideon was glad he had been inspired to offer the impromptu outing.
If only to prove to the members of his household that there was nothing they could, or should, keep from him, Gideon very much wanted to unearth their secret, and he was certain that this boy held the key.
His name was Damon and he was four. Cute little tiger. Bright. Loved the puppies, and they loved him. Giggled in the way all little boys should, easy and free, without restraint, the way Gideon had never dared.
This child was loved, unconditionally, unreservedly; that was clear. Gideon need not worry about Damon’s upbringing or the momentary absence of his mother. He lacked nothing but a recent face-wash. Hell, little boys needed their faces washed about every ten minutes, did they not?
A shrill whistle split the air, and Damon stood like a shot. “Gotta go,” he said even as he ran. “Thank you,” he called back.
Gideon found himself smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the house, looking forward to seeing—well he was looking forward to talking with...someone—anyone would do. Though Sabrina was his wife now, so he supposed she would be the logical choice.
He took the stairs two at a time but slowed at her bedchamber door. He went softly in, disappointed to find that she was still sleeping.
Not disappointed, actually. It was not as if he needed her, or anyone. He had simply hoped to lie down and wrap his arms around her, perhaps attempt a bit of playful seduction, to keep his skills honed. He did have a challenge to rise to, after the baby was born, and he needed to learn all he could about this new wife of his, like what was most likely to melt her resolve.
Damn, he had become hard just watching her sleep.
Gideon backed away from the bed and carefully closed the door between their rooms. She needed to rest. He needed to cool down.
He stripped out of his clothes. He may not have returned smelling of horse, but the pungent aroma of puppy clung.
One of the beagle pups, to his absolute horror, had lifted a leg and drizzled on his boots. Even Gideon’s inexpressibles had been sprinkled in the onslaught.
When it happened, Damon had fallen to the ground in a paroxysm of childish giggles.
Gideon chuckled now, remembering, his heart lighter than it had been in some time.
CHAPTER TEN
Sabrina awoke, from what turned out to be a three-hour nap, dressed, and slipped up to the nursery to check on Damon and Rafferty. While Miss Minchip dozed in her rocker, the boys sat in the far corner, spillikin sticks scattered on the floor between them.
Unfortunately, they looked less like they were playing and more like they were conspiring. “What are you two whispering about?” she asked.
Just their tight faces and tighter lips told her that she had reason to be suspicious.
“Out with it,” she demanded, hands on hips.
“With what, Mama?”
At what point had they conquered the art of apparent innocence? “Damon?”
“Mama, can I have a puppy?”
Sabrina allowed herself a great mental sigh. Her life was complicated enough, keeping two energetic little boys entertained and quiet, never mind throwing a yapping pup into the mix. “What brought that on?”
“The kennel man showed me the puppies.”
“I see.”
“He said they need homes.”
“I am sure he did.” Wonderful. For her boys’ sakes, she would inquire of Miss Minchip, later, which of the servants cared for the kennels and how the man dealt with children. Meanwhile...
Sabrina sat in the nursery rocker and took a hand of each to pull the boys closer. “Boys, listen, I am sorry, but we cannot have a puppy, not right now. I am not even certain you should go back to visit the kennels.”
“But Mama?” Identical twins, identical entreaties, quadruple the maternal guilt.
Sabrina sighed. “Tell you what. Perhaps we can hunt you up a cat. Cats are quiet. And perhaps we can come to a compromise on the kennels. If Miss Minchip approves of the kennel man, and if you promise to always tell me where you are going, I will let you visit the puppies again.”
That concession earned her two kisses and four hugs. Not bad for half an hour’s work. Before she left, Sabrina kissed both boys one more time and woke Miss Minchip to inquire about the kennel man and give her decision concerning puppy visits.
Once she knew the boys were settled, she went in search of her husband.
She found him sitting on the settee in the library, reading the London Times, but he looked up and rose when he saw her, folded the paper and tossed it on a table. “Good,” he said. “He checked his pocket watch. Dinner will be ready shortly. I was just about to go and fetch you. Come. Sit beside me.” When she reached him, he surprised her by kissing her cheek, rather than her hand.
She sat on the settee, he, beside her, and she wished she could tell him how nice she found the experience of anticipating her husband’s company, rather than dreading it.
“What?” he asked.
But she shook her head. “Woolgathering,” she improvised. “Sorry.”
“Still sleepy? Did you not have a good rest, then?”
“I did … until the baby started doing the Highland Fling.”
“Smart little tiger. Is he still flinging?”
Sabrina carried her husband’s hand to her belly. “See for yourself.”
Gideon winced as he felt and saw her child’s wild contortions. “Does that not hurt?”
“Not at all.”
“I think he is trying to break out.”
“Soon enough, he will. How do you think you will feel about having a little one in the house?”
“A babe could make life interesting.”
“No emotion stronger than interest comes to mind?”
“Such as?”
“Pleasure, panic, anger, elation, dread?”
“I assume the babe will not be leaving puddles on the carpets, or anything like … correct? The reason I ask is because a hunting dog lifted a leg against my boot this morning.”
Sabrina laughed. “In that case, I will be very careful that the baby does not do the same.”
“Then I am still open to the experience.”
“Open to the experience,” Sabrina said, considering. “I like that far better than plain old interest, because interest can result either positively or negatively, you know, and sometimes we do not even—”
Gideon kissed her, and when he had her silence, he crossed her lips with a finger. “I know you are not willing to share your past, yet, but I perceive in you an emotion akin to fear. So let me give you my promise that you have nothing to fear from me, and neither does your child.”
Before Sabrina could respond, she needed to swallow the emotion that welled up in her at his unsolicited vow. “Thank you, Gideon.”
“Gideon! She calls me Gideon. Finally. And not just to stop me in our bed.” We make progress, I think.”
“Yes,” Sabrina said, blushing. “I believe we do.”
“Good. Now I am going to pour myself a glass of sherry before dinner. Would you care for one?”
“No, thank you, but go ahead.” Sabrina could not help remember the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, on
this very settee, and how frightened she had been—”
“Woolgathering again,” he asked from beside her, and she jumped.
But she turned to face him. “I was remembering how frightened I was last night, especially when you came charging down the balcony stairs.”
“Are you saying you are less frightened of the marriage act now?”
“No. I am saying that I am less frightened of you, now.”
“I suppose that must suffice as a beginning.”
“I expected you to be terribly upset when I informed you of my feelings concerning the...intimate side of marriage, but you were not.”
Gideon barked a laugh. “I shall take that as a compliment to my equanimity. But for your information, I was very, terribly bothered, for about ten minutes, then I decided to handle the situation in the way I usually do. Did I not make my intentions clear to you at that time?”
“Uh, no, I do not believe you did.”
Her husband shrugged. “I considered the possibility that you told me how much you dislike marital intimacy as a way of throwing down the proverbial gauntlet, and I decided to take it up.”
Sabrina raised a brow in question.
“As in...accept your challenge? Change your mind?” Gideon set his drink on the table and decided to show his wife what he meant, by taking her into his arms. “I am going to make you ache for me, Sabrina St. Goddard. And when we do consummate this marriage of ours, you are going to enjoy the remarkable experience so much, you will beg me for more.”
Sabrina did not know whether to laugh or cry, but when she made to speak, Gideon opened his mouth over hers, and his sculpted lips worked their magic.
Her first kiss ever, a mutual and spontaneous burst, had taken place the night before on that very settee, in the heat of passion, but it was more of an inferno than this slow, sweet sizzle.
This kiss went on, and on, while temperatures escalated, and Sabrina happily sizzled.
Before she knew what Gideon was about, he was lying on his back, her draped over him like a rug—a lumpy rug—her knee soothing his erection, his face between her breasts.
Sabrina pulled away a bit, and they regarded each other, with more of the heat lighting sparking between them as had visited them the night before. “Hefty blanket you have here,” she said, when her breathing caught up with her heart.
Undeniable Rogue (The Rogues Club Book One) Page 9