Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (17 page)

Gillian sat in brooding silence as
she swayed with the motion of Mr. Sutherland’s―drat it all―
Drake’s
horse. She did not know why it was so hard to think of him on intimate terms.
It hadn’t been difficult to think of Alex on personal terms. She gritted her
teeth and struggled simply to relax into Drake. Loosening up enough to seduce him
was proving no easy task. A persistent image of Alex staring at her as she rode
off with Drake kept popping into her mind no matter how she tried to
concentrate on the man behind her.

After nearly half an hour she shook
her head. This line of thought was not helping. She studied the broad expanse
of Drake’s back. Was it sneaky to pursue a man who she truly believed in her
heart would make her a good husband and who she fully planned to make an
excellent wife? Even if it was, she could not see how she had a choice. Drake
had the power to help her take Whitney far away from here. Gillian touched his
shoulder. “Do you mind stopping for a moment?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied
and brought the horse to a slow stop.

Her jaw fell open at his comment.
Thank goodness he could not see the surprise on her face. He had been waiting
for her to say something. Wasn’t it a man’s place to take the initiative?

He dismounted, then reached up and
grasped her around the waist to help her off the horse. She gulped a deep
breath and concentrated on the man before her. He was not as tall as Alex, but
that would make dancing easier. Instead of her gaze being level with the base
of Drake’s neck as it had been with Alex’s, she stared at his chin. It was a
nice chin, not too pointy, but his jawline was not nearly as strong as Alex’s.

She twined her hands in Drake’s hair
and brought his head close to hers. “Kiss me,” she demanded, throwing caution,
decorum and hopefully the images of Alex clouding her observations to the wind.

A smile lit Drake’s face, and he
wound his hands into her hair to tilt her head back. “You’re an unusual woman,
do you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” she murmured,
wishing he would just get on with the kiss.

His lips came over hers, soft, warm
and timid. Why weren’t her toes curling? Why wasn’t her heart pounding? Maybe
kissing was not his greatest accomplishment. When the kiss ended, he drew her
toward his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist. She refused to compare
their kiss to the searing one she had shared with Alex. The cad had probably
kissed hundreds of women, whereas Drake may have only kissed a few. She would
teach him how it was properly done, given enough time. His embrace was warm,
solid and comforting. The spark would come later.

He tilted her chin back, and she met
his eyes. Before he could say anything, the sound of horse hooves broke the
silence. His arms dropped from around her, just as she whirled around to face
whoever approached. Narrowed obsidian eyes were trained on her. All the warmth
left her body, replaced by a bone-chilling cold. Lord Westonburt’s dark scowl
made him look as if he wished to wrap his hands around her neck.

“Who is that?” Drake squinted in Lord
Westonburt’s direction.

“That would be my fiancé.” Gillian shuddered
involuntarily as the words left her mouth.

Drake’s eyes narrowed slightly; then
a smile tugged at his lips. “Your fiancé has terrible timing.”

“My sentiments exactly,” she replied,
wanting to kiss Drake then and there for the casual way he handled her
betrothal. Lord Westonburt jerked up on his steed’s reins and slowed the
foaming-mouthed beast. He dismounted and strode toward them, gaze flickering
from Gillian to Drake. She held his stare, though her stomach turned. How
dreadful. She didn’t even have time to explain her complicated situation.

“Who is this?” Lord Westonburt
snarled, coming to stand so near she could smell the stench of sweat that
emanated from him. She swallowed convulsively before settling herself.

“Lord Westonburt, may I introduce Mr.
Sutherland.”

“We’ve met,” Drake said. “Business is
business,” he said and stuck out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

Lord Westonburt wrapped his fingers
around Gillian’s arm and drew her near. She had the urge to kick out at him and
flee his side, but he was certain to tell Father if she did. Fleeing to America
would be deuced hard if she was locked in her bedroom.

“I don’t abide men standing so near to
what is mine,” Lord Westonburt said.

“Your horse?” Drake waved a negligent
hand in the horse’s direction. “The beast is over there.”

“You know perfectly well I meant Lady
Gillian.”

“You don’t own her,” Drake said.

Gillian had to bite the inside of her
cheek to restrain her grin.

“She’s mine,” Lord Westonburt
snarled.

Drake’s eyebrows rose upward. “Then
I’ve misunderstood. The two of you are married?” He glanced from Lord
Westonburt to Gillian.

She could not resist shaking her
head.

“We are engaged,” Lord Westonburt
said. “And in England that makes her mine.”

“It may make her yours here, but in
America the lady is fair game until she’s wedded, bedded and bound for the
birthing chair.” Drake winked, and Gillian coughed to cover her laughter. Had
he just declared he wanted to court her?

Judging by the near purple color of
her fiancé’s face, he did not think it nearly as funny as she did. Lord
Westonburt had never had a sense of humor, even as a child. Simple teasing had
always sent him into a tizzy and ended with him trying to beat the other child
to death. And she knew from the rumors what violence the man was capable of
now. A shiver tingled over her sensitive skin, and she reached up to rub her
arms.

“Take your leave,
Mr. Sutherland.
My
fiancée has no further need of you.”

How dare this man think he had leave
to rule her life before they had ever said any vows? “There’s no need for Drake
to leave. We can all ride back together.”

“The need is a simple one, my dear.” The
cad trailed his finger across her cheekbone. She flinched despite her effort
not to move. “I wish to be alone with you.”

“That’s highly improper,” she
retorted, choosing to ignore the fact that she had been alone with Drake.

“I’m in agreement with the lady,”
Drake added.

Lord Westonburt took her hand in his and
pressed his lips against the material of her glove. “Your father granted his
permission for me to spend some time alone with you today.”

She snatched her hand away. Tonight
she would discard the gloves she wore. “When did you see him?”

“At your house. No doubt he’s here
now with your aunt if you care to ride back and gain his consent for yourself.”

The air released out of her lungs,
leaving her deflated and sad. What had she done to deserve the cold, uncaring
treatment her father continued to lavish on her? She was trapped, and she knew
it. She wanted to curl up and hide. Instead she straightened her spine. Whatever
lingering misgivings she possessed about fleeing to America and abandoning her
father no longer mattered. But until she could leave, she had to be very
careful. Father didn’t like disobedience, and she wasn’t at all certain what he
might do if he found out about her plan.

“Drake, please go ahead. Lord
Westonburt and I will be along shortly.”

Drake’s eyes held a world of concern,
and she was grateful to see he was a caring man. Hopefully she could steal a
moment alone with him later and explain everything. Perhaps he would think too
many complications came with pursuing her. A tiny sliver of worry wormed its
way into her head.

He raised her hand to his lips and
brushed a soft kiss across her glove. “Will you be coming back to your aunt’s
tomorrow?”

She dearly wished he had not asked
her that question in front of Lord Westonburt. She didn’t want her betrothed to
stay for the house party, but she felt certain he now would. Undoubtedly,
father had mentioned it to him.

“Of course,” she replied, left with
no choice but to tell the truth.

“Then I look forward to seeing you
tomorrow,” Drake said, proffering a quick bow, mounting his horse and riding
off. It did not escape her notice that Drake had purposely ignored Lord
Westonburt, and based on the stony silence coming from her betrothed she knew
the slight had not escaped him either.

As Drake rode out of sight, Lord
Westonburt turned her to face him. “You’ll not speak to that man again, do you
hear me?”

She wrenched her arm free. “I hear
you.” She’d never hated a man before now, but surely it was hatred coursing
through her veins, making her see red.

He reached out and crushed her to his
chest, locking her against him. “You need to take care with your tone.” His
mouth came down on hers in a bruising kiss while his hand found her breast. But
before she could react, he was wrenched away, and she stared openmouthed at
Alex’s fist connecting with a crack against Lord Westonburt’s nose.

“Are you hurt?” Alex asked, assessing
Gillian.

“I’m fine.” She ran a hand through
her hair, attempting to tuck the escaping wisps back into order.

The knot inside Alex’s chest loosened,
but the red veil over his vision remained. Losing his soul in exchange for
Westonburt’s death seemed a fair trade at this moment.

Westonburt whipped out a handkerchief
and pressed it to his nose. “Why the hell did you charge in here and punch me? I’m
her bloody fiancé.”

“You appeared to be mauling the
lady,” Alex replied, thinking of Lissie.

“I was not mauling her. Passion swept
us away. Ask her.” Westonburt flicked his gaze to Gillian. “She’ll tell you
we’re to be married, and we were simply getting to know each other.”

“I know you well enough already,” she
replied blandly. “And if you call what you just did to me passion, I’d hate to
ever feel the touch of your anger.”

Alex grinned at Gillian’s show of
spirit.

Westonburt removed his handkerchief. “You’re
my fiancée and soon you will be my wife. So watch your shrewish tongue lest you
anger your father or me. You’d be wise to remember I’ve every right to
discipline you once we’re married.”

Alex surged forward to wring the
man’s neck, but Gillian scrambled in front of him and shook her head. Her hand
pressed hard against his chest. Her eyes held his a long moment, her silent
plea for him to stand down obvious.

“Heed the lady, Lord Lionhurst. You
caught me unaware with that first punch, but that won’t happen again. Why the
hell do you even care what transpires between me and my fiancée?”

“Because it’s clear to me you have no
clue how to make a woman happy,” Alex answered.

“And you think you can make my fiancée
happy?”

“I’m sure of it,” Alex replied,
allowing his gaze to roam over Gillian’s face, her breasts and down lower to
where he would dearly love to part her creamy thighs and plunge within. He
tensed at the unexpected thought.

“You bloody sod,” Westonburt snarled
before he barreled toward Alex and threw a punch. Alex ducked and stepped to
the side.

“Tsk―tsk―tsk, Westonburt.”
Alex wagged a finger. “Don’t you know I’m the reigning boxing champion at
Gentleman Jackson’s five years running now?” Alex flashed a smile meant to
irritate. “But if you really want to try me―” He began to remove his
jacket, praying and hoping that Westonburt would take him up on the offer. Just
as he got one arm out of his coat, a lone rider came bumping down the road,
waving an arm in the air.
Who the blazes was that
? Alex squinted, trying
to get a clear picture of the face, but the late afternoon sun made it hard to
see his hand in front of his eyes.

“Oh, good!” a familiar voice called.
Alex ground his teeth.

Lady Staunton flourished an arm
draped in an absurd creation of purple bejeweled silk at them. Her ability to seek
him out was amazing in a most unfortunate way.

Before he could ask what she was
doing there, Gillian spoke. “Lady Staunton, how surprising to see you here.”

Alex jerked his gaze to Gillian. He’d
already deduced she was clever, but her ability to make a general statement
while filling her tone with disgust was brilliant.

“Your aunt invited me, and I could
hardly refuse when I heard who would be in attendance.”

Alex longed to drag Lady Staunton off
her horse and shake some sense into her. The woman was married. And even if she
wasn’t, there would never be a future that involved the two of them again.
“Where’s your husband?” he asked, giving her a pointed look.

“Not feeling well. I suppose he’s
napping or something. He’s always ill.”

“Your compassion is astounding as
usual.”

“You’re being cruel, and here I came
looking especially for you.”

“During the middle of a hunt?”
Gillian said. “How very odd.”

Alex had never known Lady Staunton to
be embarrassed about anything in her life, but a blush stained her cheeks. He’d
already developed a liking for Gillian, but anyone who could put Lady Staunton
in her place had his utmost respect.

“Your aunt assured me the hunt should
be concluding, and there are several games of whist going on in the card room. I
simply had to find Lord Lionhurst. I must have a partner as my husband has
begged off. No one will do but Lord Lionhurst.” She wrapped her possessive fingers
around Alex’s arm. “We used to play all the time. Remember? Remember what fun
we had and how good we were together?”

Alex brushed away her hand. “Your
recollections are different than mine. I detest whist.”

“I’m unbeatable,” Westonburt said. “Maybe
we can partner tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Gillian repeated, the
color leaving her face. “You’re staying for the house party, then?”

“Certainly,” Lord Westonburt replied,
taking her arm and putting it through his. “Wherever you are, my pet, I’ll be.”

Her flinch made Alex want to toss
Westonburt away from her. “I’m going home to rest,” Gillian said. “I feel a
headache coming on.”

Alex really needed to teach her how
to lie properly. As soon as he got her alone he’d give her a lesson.

“Shall I ride with you to introduce
you to my aunt and secure your room?” she asked Westonburt.

“I thought I’d stay with you,” he
replied.

Alex clenched his fists. He could only
imagine what Westonburt was scheming.

Gillian shook her head. “Oh, no. That
wouldn’t be proper, and Auntie would be offended as well. You are
her
invited guest, after all.”

Alex suppressed a chuckle at
Gillian’s overt slight of Lord Westonburt, but his amusement died on his lips
as his enemy led Gillian to her horse and hoisted her up.

Gillian smiled in Alex’s direction,
but he could see by the lines between her brow that her smile was forced.
“Until tomorrow,” she said with a wave.

He watched helplessly as Westonburt
rode off with Gillian. It wasn’t until they were out of sight and Lady Staunton’s
fingers touched his hand that he remembered the lady was even standing beside
him.

“Alone at last,” she purred.

He flicked her hand off his and
quickly mounted Braun. “Quit seeking me out,” he snapped and rode off before
she could utter a word.