A Riding Crop for Two (5 page)

“Well? Speak, boy, why
are you here? Need money? Get one of your whores pregnant? Did you beat one of
the lads you bugger into a bloody pulp and need my help to hush it up? Do not
look so indignant, I know where your cock has been, ‘Lord Craven’. You disgust
me.”

Gideon tightened his
fists, willing his anger back. Damn his father. Damn him to hell.

“I have come to inform
you I intend to marry,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Have you, indeed? Done
sowing those oats, I take it? About time you set aside your debauched ways and
set up your nursery.”

Gideon watched his
father pace about sipping his brandy. If they were back in medieval times, he
could imagine sitting in the castle keep while his father butchered and skinned
a dead stag while they spoke.

“I have a list of a few
suitable names, young women of good breeding. You will chose one, marry her,
get her pregnant with an heir and a spare, then you may continue your depraved
and corrupt way of life. It is no matter to me, but the line must be secured.
And before you are thirty.”

“I have a woman in mind.
She is a vicar’s daughter...”

The duke barked a
cynical laugh. “Does she have any idea what you have done these last ten
years?”

“I have told her of my
past, and she has told me of hers. We are moving beyond it.”

“What dissolute history
could a vicar’s daughter have? Come now, you did not meet this young lady at a
vicarage. She is one of your whores, is she not?” The duke’s eyes narrowed.

“She is not a whore. I
met her in
Whitechapel
...”

His father held up his
hand. “Enough. You will not follow through on this lunacy. You are an heir to
one of the richest dukedoms in the realm. You think to sully our family with an
alliance with a damned slut? If the way she sucks your cock pleases you, keep
her as a mistress. But marry and see to your heirs first.”

“Unlike you, father, I
want to marry for love. No one has to know of her past.”

The duke slammed the
snifter on the table, and brandy sloshed out the side of the glass.
“Even if you could veil her sordid past, a vicar’s daughter?
She could marry a schoolmaster perhaps, but not the heir to the Duke of
Whitstone
!” his father thundered. “Damn, if she’s that good
in bed, fuck her and have done with her. But you will
not
marry her.”

Gideon’s fury broke
through. He stood and faced his father toe-to-toe.
 
“I will marry her, if I have to go to
Scotland
to do
it. I thought myself incapable of any feeling or compassion, or passion for
that matter. Olivia has changed all that. I refuse to live the rest of my life
as an icy husk. I came out of courtesy to inform you. It will be done, and
nothing you say will sway me.” He rubbed his forehead. “I will catch the train
back in the morning. For now, I will lie down for a bit. I assume my room is
still habitable?”

“It is. I am told you
traveled alone. Where is your valet?”

“I have given the man
some deserved time off. I am capable of looking after myself.”

The duke waved his arm
dismissively. “One of my footmen will attend you while you are here.”

Gideon was in no mood to
argue.

 
“See you at dinner, Father.”

****

Whitstone
watched his son leave the room with his chin held
high.
Insolent pup, whom did he think he
was dealing with?
He marched to the wall and pressed the bell. When his
butler entered, he demanded to see one of his men.

The burly ex-convict,
Williams, lumbered into the library.

“You are to go to
London
, to my townhouse at 34
Hyde
Park
Corner. You are to evict the whore called Olivia by any means
necessary and dump her back in
Whitechapel
where she
belongs. Inform the bitch if she dares to contact my son again, you will cut
off her pretty tits and slit her throat for good measure.” The duke paused.
“Tell her it was
Cravenbrook
that gave this order. He
wants nothing to do with her ever again. Go now.” He tossed a bag of coin at
the brute. “Take someone with you, someone who can keep his mouth shut.”

“If you wish, Your
Grace, we can slit her throat for real. Whores are always turning up dead in
Whitechapel
, sure as brass.”

Whitstone
contemplated the suggestion. He gave a nonchalant
shrug. “No. We will be civilized and give her a warning. But make sure she
understands the consequences. My son travels back to
London
in the morning. All trace of her is to
be erased from the townhouse, understand?”

Williams touched his
forelock. “Leave it with me, Your Grace.”

Chapter Five

Gideon tossed and turned
and napped fitfully, his father’s cold words still ringing in his head. He
inhaled. The room smelled musty, as if it hadn’t been aired out in some time.
However, it seemed clean enough. It would do for tonight. Already he missed
Liv
, the feel of her soft body next to his. Last night was
one of the best sleeps of his life. She gave him comfort and a surcease to all
the wretched thoughts of self-loathing and lonesomeness that often rattled
about in his brain.

While the sex was beyond
his experience, he knew what he felt consisted of much more than carnal lust
alone. The constant ache in his chest, the excitement at even seeing her proved
his point. He derived great enjoyment just speaking with her. Sharing breakfast
and conversation with her this morning had such a domestic intimacy that he
yearned for more.

The overwhelming
primeval need to go forth and kill a wild animal, cook it and feed it to
Liv
with his fingers, surprised him. He wanted to do
everything for her. This
must
be
love. He always laughed cynically at his acquaintances when they spouted
flowery words about their lady. He certainly thought those few men complete
idiots if they had fallen for a woman in one night. Now here he lay, smitten,
bewitched and—he glanced down at his crotch—perpetually sporting an erection.
Even conjuring
Liv
up in his mind sent blood rushing
to his cock and caused his heart to thump extra beats.

He thought back to his
past. As he told her, it all meant nothing. The orgies, the women and even the
few men he’d fucked were lost in memory. He and
Liv
were still strangers regarding the length of time they had spent together.
Olivia Durham did not feel like a stranger. The combination of strength and
vulnerability she possessed stirred such a maelstrom of emotions in him. He
supposed—or at least hoped—she felt the same. They had not really discussed it
in any great detail. They showed how they felt last night in bed.
On the floor.
Against the wall.
In the bath.
He groaned aloud at the erotic recollections.

Tamping down his desire,
Gideon swung his legs around and sat upright.
Might as well
go downstairs to dinner before he was summoned.

****

As he always did, Gideon
waited at the table. Since childhood no one ate until the duke deemed to make
an appearance. His father walked in dressed for dinner in his black evening
coat, silver waistcoat, and crisp, snowy cravat. A diamond stickpin glittered
in the cloth. One thing he did receive from his father was his love of dressing
well for all occasions. His gaze roved over the severe countenance of his
father. They looked nothing alike. The duke had golden-brown hair, now threaded
with gray, and a sharply angled face. Gideon must resemble his mother. There
was no portrait in which to compare, and the memory of his mother faded with
each passing year.

 
The footmen jumped to attention and served the
soup.

Gideon stared into the
bowl. God, he hated Minestrone soup. His father obviously had not changed his
eating habits the last several years.

His father reached into
his side pocket and pushed a meticulously folded piece of stationery toward
him.

“I have taken the
liberty of writing down a few names of suitable women for you to consider.”

Gideon glanced at the
paper then looked away. “Sorry, Father. I’ve made my choice. Do you not wish me
to marry for love?”

The spoon halted halfway
to the duke’s mouth. “What in hell does love have to do with marriage?”

“I take it you didn’t
love mother, then?” Gideon knew the answer; he wanted his father to admit it.

“No.
Never
even liked her.
But twice a week for seven years I went to her bed and
performed my duty. She finally got pregnant only to have the temerity to die in
childbirth and take my son with her.”

Gideon’s jaw dropped
open in shock. He had no idea his mother died giving birth to his brother.

“You told me she died of
consumption.”

“What does it matter
what she died of? She’s moldering in the ground with her infant. At seven years
of age, you wouldn’t have understood.” the duke replied dismissively.

“Christ, you could have
told me when I came of age. I barely remember her!”

The duke slurped his
soup noisily. Then he hesitated, and responded with a chilly coldness, “She
isn’t worth remembering.”

Fury boiled in his
veins. Good God, the man was even more of a monster than he had believed.
Gideon dropped the spoon into the bowl in disgust.

“I do not want that life
for me. I crave more. I want love.”

His father’s frosty eyes
narrowed in obvious annoyance.
“Love.
Stuff and nonsense and the fiction of drunken poets.
You
claim to love this whore. You know nothing of what love is. It is duty and
honor. That is all.”

Gideon shook his head in
disbelief. “If I know nothing of love it is thanks to you. I would hazard to
guess you’ve never had a tender feeling in your life, Father. Not even lust,
I’ll wager.”

“I feel lust. Unlike
you, I am discreet in my affairs. I do not fuck everything that moves or
breathes. No scandal will land at my door. Can you say the same, boy?”

Gideon pushed the soup
bowl away. “We are talking in circles. What I know of love I learned from
Olivia. I do love her, and I am going to marry her with or without your
blessing.”

The footmen scurried
over to remove the bowls and then brought platters of sole to the table. Jesus,
he hated sole as well. Gideon picked up the smallest slice with the serving
utensils.

“How long have you known
this—vicar’s daughter?” his father sneered.

Gideon exhaled
.
“A few nights.”

The duke’s booming
humorless laugh filled the cavernous dining room. “You really are a fool. That
is not love, you are
cunny
-struck. We will talk no
more of this. You will look that list over, choose a couple of names, and then when
you are back in
London
you will make the necessary introductions to the fillies’ eager papas and make
a selection.”

Be damned if he would.
With great disinterest, he
flaked
the fish with his
fork. Hell, what kind of barren, loveless life did his poor mother have? Try as
he might, he could not conjure a single memory of her except one. The faint
reminiscence had a hauntingly beautiful, raven-haired woman sitting alone in
her morning room with a few tears streaming down her cheeks. At seven years of
age, he had no idea what could possibly make his mother cry. He glanced at his
stern, implacable father.

Now, he knew.

****

 
Olivia decided that night to sleep in
Gideon’s bed. His scent gave her comfort in his absence. Already she missed
him, and he had barely been gone twenty-four hours. She snuggled closer into
the pillow and inhaled.
A spicy, musky odor that appealed to
her.
A pleasant ache throbbed between her legs. Together last night,
they had managed to make love many times. Truly, she had no idea sex could be
so—enjoyable.
So soul-stirring—so heartbreakingly intense.

Gideon concealed his
emotions much the way she did. When they were alone together, the walls around
their hearts disintegrated. She had seen the change in him. In bed, he was
wild, yet tender, brash, yet concerned for her feelings. His stamina surprised
even her, and she had heard plenty of the salacious stories of Lord Craven’s
adventures. She’d also heard of his cold disregard for people in general. At
breakfast this morning, she’d seen a glimpse of that side of him when he spoke
to the footman. Yet he turned to her and the ice in his cool, black eyes
melted. His smile looked as glorious as an early morning sunrise. Two people
resided inside him, Gideon the compassionate man and passionate lover, and the
domineering, haughty Lord Craven. Perhaps it was the one thing she feared, that
Lord Craven would take over and Gideon would cease to exist.