A Winter Scandal

by Candace Camp

  Absurd as it seemed, his time with Thea appeared to have spoiled him for anyone else’s company. The loneliness and the boredom were bad enough, but worst of all, he could not keep from lusting after her. The rides from village to village left him with ample time to think, and most of his thoughts consisted of recalling the all-too-brief occasions when he had made love to Thea. These were broken up primarily by visions of coupling with her in the future, along with a smattering of innovative ideas concerning ways to get her alone. As a result, he had spent almost his entire trip in frustrated arousal.

  He had done his best to stop thinking about her mane of wild curls and how it had looked floating down around her shoulders and over her breasts, the tendrils parting just enough for the pink-tipped nipples to peek through, tantalizing and beckoning, as she sat astride his hips, riding him to her climax. Or the way her hair had tumbled over the pillow, spread out like a fan from her head, as he sank deep within her, driven by a heated desire so intense it was almost pain. He remembered the glisten of her nipple, damp from his mouth, the slick satin of her nether lips beneath his fingers. He remembered the soft touch of her fingers on his bare skin, the taste of her tongue in his mouth, the soft moan of her passion in his ear.

  It had been the very devil getting to sleep every night. He told himself to choose a likely wench from the tavern to slake his thirst. That had always been his way in the past if he lusted after a lady he could not have, and it had worked well enough. But no longer, apparently. None of the women he saw about him appealed—this one was too short, that one too coarse, the other too overripe. The truth was, not one of them caused a single spike to his desire, and he had the distinct suspicion that if he bedded any of them, there would be no lessening of his need for Thea. What he wanted was to feel her long legs wrapped around him, her lips exploring his skin, her sweet mysteries opening to him.

  The realization was astounding … and just a bit frightening.

  Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life on this knife edge of desire? Desperate and hungry, panting after a woman whom only two or three weeks ago he had scarcely noticed? It was mad. Nonsensical.

  What he ought to do, he told himself, was go back to London until this madness passed. There, among the beauties of the city, he would forget those cool gray eyes and the way they sparkled when she was amused. His fingers would stop itching to sink into her hair and pull it down, sending the pins flying. He would not spend every waking minute dreaming of losing himself in her, vaulting into that dark, blissful abyss.

  But it was even more nonsensical to tear himself away from her when all he wanted was to see her again. What he really needed, he knew, was to find some way to be with her all the time, to drink his fill, to expend his lust in long, heated nights of lovemaking. The answer would be a week or two … or three … alone with her. What he wanted was something like a … a honeymoon.

  That idea brought him up short. Was he actually thinking of marriage? Surely not. He enjoyed his life as a bachelor. Someday he would marry to carry on the line, but that would not be anytime soon. One did not marry simply because a certain woman drove him mad with lust. There must be much more than that … companionship and similarity of interest, for example. Love, if one was lucky. Gabriel had come to a stop, deep in thought, and now he glanced around himself. He had reached the graveyard of the church. He looked across the river, where the dark block of the vicarage lay. A warm light burned from behind the windows. He looked up at the second floor, wondering if the lit window there was Thea’s bedroom.

  Desire, never far from the surface lately, surged up in him. Whatever was he doing, standing among the gravestones, when the woman he had been thinking of for the past three days was only a few yards away from him?

  He strode rapidly past the church and across the bridge. His knock on the front door came quite close to pounding. He waited, every nerve raw, until the door swung open. Thea stood in the doorway, light bathing her from the candelabra on the table beside her. She wore a plain dark dress, and a kerchief covered her head.

  She looked utterly beautiful.

  “Thea.” He stepped inside, sweeping her up into his arms in the same motion, and fastened his mouth to hers.

  She threw her arms around his neck, fervently returning his kiss. Frustrated by his heavy coat, he reached between them, undoing the buttons and shoving the sides apart. He could feel the swell of her breasts as she pressed into his chest, the pert, hard thrust of her nipples. Gabriel tore the kerchief from Thea’s head and plunged his hands into her hair, holding her head still as his lips found hers again.

  Gabriel kissed her as if he would consume her, his mouth leaving hers only to change the angle of their kiss, and all the while he kissed her, his hands roamed her body hungrily, sweeping down her back and curving over her hips. When Thea pulled away, he reached instinctively to draw her back, but she took his hand and tugged, leading him down the hall and into the sitting room.

  Thea closed the door behind them, saying, “Daniel is away; he won’t be back—”

  Her words were cut off by Gabriel, who, having shrugged out of his topcoat and dropped it on the floor, took her in his arms again. “The others?” he asked thickly, raining kisses over her face and neck.

  “They’re in the kitchen, making supper.”

  He walked her back until she came up against the door, continuing to kiss her. Bunching her skirts up, he slid his hands beneath her petticoats and in between her legs, caressing her through the cloth of her undergarments. Finding the tie of her pantalets, he jerked it loose and shoved them down and off, his hand seeking out the soft, slick folds of flesh. The sound of Thea’s breath catching in her throat sent his hunger surging even higher.

  “Sweet heaven, I’ve missed you,” he breathed. “I could think of nothing but you.”

  Her answer was only a soft moan as his fingers teased and stroked, bringing her to the trembling edge of satisfaction. He reached down and unbuttoned his breeches, and his engorged manhood sprang free. Thea’s fingers curled around him, and he stiffened all over, struggling to hold on to his control. Her fingers were maddeningly soft and caressing as they moved slowly over him, and his passion swelled even higher.

  He reached beneath her hips, lifting her, and Thea went to him eagerly, opening her legs and wrapping them around him. He slid into her with a motion so achingly pleasurable that he had to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep from crying out. Gabriel braced her against the door and began to move inside her. He dropped his head to her neck, muffling his hoarse, muttered words against her flesh. The need was so fierce in him he thought he must explode, and yet it continued to build, pushing him ever closer to the edge. There was nothing in the world but this moment, Thea’s body surrounding him, her long legs clasping him to her, his driving need buried deep in her softness, the two of them melded together in a white-hot joining.

  He heard the soft noise that issued from Thea’s throat as he felt her convulse around him, and the world shattered into pleasure. Passion swept through him in a massive wave as he shuddered against her, his seed pouring into her.

  Gabriel was not sure how long it was before he returned to reason. They could have stood there, pressed against the heavy door, for a minute or an hour; it was all the same to him. Slowly he released her and moved back, letting her slide down to the floor.

  “I would say I am sorry,” he said hoarsely, his breath labored, “but I am not.”

  “Nor am I,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “I am accustomed to having more control. But there is something about you that drives me nearly mad.” He smiled and kissed her lightly on each cheek. “I had not meant to greet you quite this … effusively.”

  Thea giggled and reached up to touch her hair, where several strands had escaped and fallen down. “I must look a mess. I was cleaning upstairs when I saw you walking up the path.”

  “You look beautiful.” It astonished him that he had once thought her lo
oks only passable. She dazzled him now.

  Thea colored prettily at his words. “I should …” She made a vague gesture toward her clothes.

  He turned away and righted himself, giving her a bit of privacy to adjust her own clothes. When he turned back around, Thea had gone to the mirror against the far wall and was busy trying to pin her hair back in place. Gabriel dropped down into a chair and watched her, enjoying the intimacy of the scene. He felt happier than he had in days.

  Thea gave her hair a final pat and pivoted back to face him. She looked put together again, but the flush in her cheeks and the soft curve of her mouth gave her away. Gabriel’s smile widened, and her cheeks reddened a little more, but the flashing look she gave him did not seem displeased.

  She went to the door and opened it, casting a quick glance out in the hallway. Turning back, she said, “Daniel is in Lower Leckbury today. There is a smaller parish there that he visits once a week.”

  “Smaller than Chesley?”

  “Yes, though you may not believe it. They have a church; it used to be a bit larger. But they have no pastor. So he will not be home until rather late. I was planning on having supper at the table in the kitchen, but perhaps you would like to stay and dine with me? It is quite informal, I’m afraid.”

  He smiled, amused by her attempt at polite small talk after what had just occurred between them. “I should enjoy that very much, Miss Bainbridge.”

  Thea grinned and sat down in the chair across from him. “How was your journey? Did you find any information?”

  “No.” He sighed. “There was one man who was having supper in the tavern in … I cannot recall exactly, a village on the road to Oxford, in any case. He thought that he had seen a woman with a baby in the inn a week or two ago. Apparently he frequently eats there. He cannot be sure of the date, though he is fairly certain it was before Christmas. He does not remember two women, however, and he was unsure whether she had brown hair or blond, so I cannot put a great deal of faith in his account.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Thank you. I suppose it was not entirely a waste. I don’t believe that Jocelyn and Hannah are currently at an inn in any of the nearby villages. Which leads back, of course, to their being somewhere in Chesley or the countryside around it. I would have thought we had checked everywhere close by, but obviously they must have gone aground somewhere.”

  “Something will turn up,” Thea said consolingly.

  “How have things been here? How is young Matthew?”

  “I will go fetch him.” Thea popped up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with the baby.

  Matthew greeted Gabriel with a squeal of delight, and Gabriel spent the next few minutes swinging him up above his head while Matthew erupted with laughter. Afterward, he set the baby down on the rug, and Thea handed Matthew a wooden rattle. He seemed uninterested in it, however, and was soon on all fours, rocking back and forth. Then, surprising them all, including himself, Matthew stuck out one hand, then another, followed by his legs.

  “Look! He’s crawling!” Thea cried.

  Gabriel laughed as the baby stopped, looking shocked, then moved forward again. “Good boy!”

  Gabriel stood and pulled Thea into his arms, inexplicably filled with pride. Thea laughed and hugged him back. “That is the first time he’s done more than rock there as if he’s going to launch himself forward.”

  “You will doubtless never have a moment’s peace from here on.” Gabriel watched the baby traveling on, already almost to the edge of the rug.

  At that moment a knock sounded on the front door, and Thea and Gabriel glanced at each other in surprise. Thea started toward the front door, and Gabriel followed her, pausing to swoop Matthew up and take him along. As Gabriel stepped into the hall, he heard the front door open and Lord Rawdon’s voice saying, “Good evening. I hope I am not disturbing you. I had thought to see young Ma—”

  Rawdon’s gaze went past Thea to Gabriel, standing in the hallway with the baby. “Oh.”

  “Rawdon.”

  The other man inclined his head briefly toward Gabriel. “Morecombe.” He turned back to Thea. “Please forgive me, Miss Bainbridge. Perhaps I should come back another time.”

  “No. Wait.” Gabriel went forward quickly. “Stay. I would like to speak to you.” He glanced at Thea. “I mean, if that is all right with you, Miss Bainbridge.”

  “Of course.” Thea looked from one man to another. “Please allow me to take your coat, Lord Rawdon. Why don’t you gentlemen talk in the sitting room?” Thea hung Rawdon’s coat on the rack and went to take the baby from Gabriel. “I’ll just, um, see about some tea.”

  With those words, she whisked the baby down the corridor and through the door into the kitchen. Gabriel regarded Rawdon for a moment, then led him to the sitting room. Rawdon went to the fireplace to warm his hands.

  Gabriel stood for a moment, then said stiffly, “I must apologize to you.”

  Rawdon looked up at him, surprise registering on his face.

  “I tried to tell you the other day, after I read Jocelyn’s letter. But you had already left Chesley. I was wrong to assume that Jocelyn left because of you. Or that you were the father of her child. I greatly compounded that error by concluding that you must have forced her. I sincerely beg your pardon.”

  Gabriel waited, watching Rawdon. It had never been easy to read Rawdon’s face, but the man was utterly inscrutable now.

  “In your place, I probably would have thought the same thing.” Rawdon gave a careless shrug. “The world knows that the Staffords are a bad lot.”

  “I did not judge you on your family.”

  “No?” Rawdon turned his attention to picking a bit of lint off the sleeve of his jacket. “It must have been on the basis of the wrongs I had committed on you then.” He raised his head and focused on his gaze on Gabriel, the firelight glinting in his light eyes.

  The implication of Rawdon’s words stung. “I am well aware of the quality of your friendship. Your loyalty,” Gabriel replied stiffly. “But I did not judge you without good reason.”

  “Indeed?” The corner of Rawdon’s mouth lifted cynically. “Ah, yes, those rumors and innuendos regarding my bad behavior.”

  “You are not one to accept an apology gracefully, are you?”

  “I have little interest in grace. I am more enamored of honesty.”

  “Honesty? You want honesty?” Gabriel stiffened, stalking toward Rawdon. “Very well then, yes, I had heard a great many rumors regarding your family. I paid no attention to them, for I knew you. Even when I heard rumors that you did not treat women as a gentleman should, I ignored them. Because I knew you. I trusted you as a man, as a friend; I trusted you so much I was willing to give my sister to you. I believed you would care for her, honor her, protect her. But when a woman runs away only weeks before her wedding, when she flees her home and family and the life she has always known because she cannot bear to marry a man considered by most to be one of the most eligible men in Britain, it becomes harder to ignore stories of that man’s mistreatment of women!”

  “I have never mistreated a woman!” Rawdon roared, his eyes flashing and his hands doubling into fists, and he took a long stride forward.

  Gabriel did not back away, but moved to meet him. “I might have believed that then—if you had reacted with the slightest anxiety or pain or even concern for that nineteen-year-old girl whom you professed to love. But when I came to you, when I asked you if you knew where she had gone or why she had left, you sat there, as cold as always, playing cards, without a care in the world. You shrugged—shrugged, as if Jocelyn was as unimportant as one of the fobs on your watch chain—and said you were not going to mourn because ‘some girl decided to cry off.’ And I realized then that I had been deceived in thinking you a friend. Or the man to whom I should entrust my sister.”

  “You did not ask! You accused! You shouted at me that I had hurt Jocelyn, that I had driven her away. You demanded to know what had happened.
What was I supposed to say? That she had ripped my heart from my chest and trampled on it?” Rawdon’s eyes were blazing blue, electric in his pale face.

  “Your pride was hurt.” Gabriel’s lips curled. “The woman you said you loved was missing, and you did not bother to look because your pride had taken a fall.”

  “Of course I searched for her. Are you mad? I sent men out in every direction I could think of—agents and grooms and Bow Street Runners, all looking for her.”

  “But not you yourself.”

  “No. Not me.” Rawdon’s stiff form sagged a little, his fists loosening at his sides. “Not at first. I thought, if she wants to throw me over, then I would bloody well let her go. I refused to beg a woman to marry me. Not even Jocelyn. Later …” Rawdon shrugged and turned away. “When I saw that she had run from you as well, when my agents could not find her, I … looked for her. I drove down every blasted road out of London. I went to Southampton, to Liverpool; I went to bloody Gretna Green.”

  “You thought she had run away with someone.”

  “I thought everything. I even sent inquiries to Paris and Rome. To Brussels.”

  Gabriel looked at his former friend, half-turned away from him. Something about Rawdon’s powerful frame was forlorn. Gabriel hardened his jaw. “And what of Grace Fortner?”

  “Who?” Rawdon glanced at him. A puzzled frown began to form on his brow.

  “Grace Fortner. She was the daughter of a gentleman from Sussex, the cousin of Anne Buntwell, and she came out with Anne two years before Jocelyn made her debut. You fancied her for a while.”

  “Oh.” The other man’s face cleared. “Yes. I remember her. A pretty girl. Why do you ask?”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Happened? I don’t know.” Rawdon paused, thinking. “She—wasn’t there some sort of scandal? She left London, didn’t she? I believe I heard she married some fellow in Sussex.” His gaze narrowed, the frown returning. “What does it matter?”