Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (18 page)

Gillian dressed with care the next
morning. She wanted to keep Mr. Sutherland’s notice, but she could not afford
to alert her father or Lord Westonburt to her game. She came into the breakfast
room prepared to be lectured by her father, but found Whitney sitting alone at
the long table.

“Where’s Father?”

A smiled tugged at Whitney’s lips.
“Too much riding yesterday. He’s in bed with both feet propped to ease his gout.”

“How awful,” Gillian said, working to
control her own giddy relief as she piled eggs on her plate. Sitting next to
Whitney, she met her sister’s gaze and worked to control her smile. It was
useless. They both burst out laughing.

“We should say a prayer for his quick
recovery,” Whitney said between gales of laughter.

Gillian nodded and glanced up to the
ceiling. “May he recover
next week
.”

“Amen,” Whitney added, taking a bite
of her bacon. They both burst into a fit of laughter again. Once their noise
died down, they ate in congenial silence, until Whitney set down her fork and
said, “You still have Lord Westonburt to contend with.”

Gillian set her own fork down and
studied her sister. “I’ve thought about that. I think I have just the answer.”

“What?”

“Auntie has two activities planned
for today. I want you to make sure Lord Westonburt thinks I am going to tour
the village with the other guests. Tell him I had to take care of Father, but
that I will be joining all of you in the village.”

“But of course you won’t be.”

Gillian smiled. “Of course not. I
have every intention of hunting with the men again. By the time Westonburt
realizes I’m not coming, he certainly won’t be able to leave Auntie’s touring
party without appearing completely rude.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Thank you. Let’s just hope it
works.”

An hour later, full of excitement for
a chance to finally be alone with Mr. Sutherland, Gillian rode Lightning up to
the group of men gathered at the stables and glanced around, puzzled. Her gaze
drifted from Trent to her cousin Cameron and their friend Lord Dansby. Finally,
she met Alex’s eyes, and her heart lurched a little. Anyone’s would, really,
she assured herself.

An easy smile stretched his lips and
his eyes bore into hers as if he wanted to know the secrets of her heart.
He
looks at all women that way, you ninny
. She licked her suddenly dry lips.
“Where’s Mr. Sutherland?”

“Your aunt insisted he come with her
on a tour of the village since he’d never seen it.”

She turned an accusing glare on Trent.

“I tried to talk her out of it,” he
said.

Gillian gritted her teeth in outrage.
She certainly couldn’t protest in front of Cameron and Lord Dansby.

“Do you wish to join the village
party?” Alex asked gently. “You can probably still make it.”

It would do her absolutely no good to
join Mr. Sutherland on a tour of the village since her betrothed would be
touring the village as well. In fact, it could harm her. “No.” She shook her
head. “I prefer to best the three of you in hunting.”

“That’s the spirit,” Alex said.

A few short minutes later, the four
of them were off racing through the wind and following the dogs once again.
Alex quickly took the lead, but Gillian was determined to beat him.

She took an unused path to gain a
lead and charged over some rocks. As she crossed the last rock, Lightning
jerked to a halt with a loud neigh. Gillian cursed herself for her recklessness.
She jumped off her horse and bent down to inspect the leg Lightning was bending.

Blast and damn
. His shoe had come loose. She
glanced around, listening. Not a sound but the normal ones of the woods greeted
her.
Now what?
She couldn’t ride Lightning like this. The only choice
was to walk back to her aunt’s and have someone take her to get Mr. Ganter so
he could fix Lightning’s shoe.

With a sigh, she found a sturdy tree
to tie Lightning to, and once the task was complete, she started walking back
the way she had ridden moments before. Within twenty minutes, perspiration
rolled down her back and beads of sweat dampened her scalp. Grumbling to herself,
she pulled off her riding gloves, rolled up her sleeves and yanked off her jacket.
That was better. At least she wouldn’t perish from the heat this way. At a
noise rumbling in the air behind her, she whipped around, surprised and
grateful to see Alex riding toward her.

Her stomach fluttered at the sight of
him. With his black hair fanning away from his face and his powerful shoulders
bunched over his horse in determination, he looked more like a dark god than a
noble Englishman.

He pulled his horse up in front of
her and jumped down. “What happened?”

“In my excitement to win the race, I
got careless and rode Lightning where I shouldn’t have.”

“Over the rocks?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Did
you do it too?”

He nodded. “I did. I was just luckier
than you. I saw your horse. He’ll be fine. He just needs a new shoe.”

“I know.”

Now he looked surprised. “How do you
know?”

“I checked. My stable master taught
me long ago all about horses.”

“I’m impressed. Most women don’t know
the first thing about horses.”

“I’m not most women, Alex.”

“I already know that, peach.”

Nothing he’d said was scandalous, but
it was the
way
he said it. His tone held the promise of illicit actions.
Heat unfurled in her belly and made her curl her toes. Her eyes wandered to his
lips. What sort of forbidden things had he done with those lips?

His chuckle broke her musings, and
she hurriedly drew her gaze farther up. Big mistake. His eyes burned into her,
and she felt as if he undressed her layer by layer.

“It’s hot today, isn’t it?”

She nodded. There it was again.
Something forbidden in his tone. Maybe she was imagining it. “Why did you call
me peach?”

“Because your lips are full and pink
like a ripe, juicy peach.”

Heat not only uncurled in her belly
this time, it engulfed her entire body. She had never experienced desire, but
she desired Alex. She was certain of it. She was also certain to act on it
would be the greatest folly and act of selfishness. “You mustn’t call me
peach.”

“I know. I won’t again. It slipped
out.” He grinned like a mischievous child.

“Do you call all your women by
nicknames?” Dear God, why had she asked that?

A hard look crossed his face. “I
don’t have a harem of women, Gillian. I usually keep one mistress. I am loyal
when I’m with her. And no, I never give any of them nicknames.”

For some inane reason, his admission
pleased her. It was stupid really to be pleased. His words meant nothing for
her. She was not special to him. She did not want to be special to him. “Can
you take me to my stable?”

He nodded and without warning lifted
her off the ground and swung her onto his horse. Within seconds he was settled
in front of her, and they were galloping back toward her house. She had no
choice but to wrap her arms around him or risk falling backward off his
stallion. Heaven help her, but touching him sent an unwelcome thrill through
her. He’d taken his jacket off, like her, because of the unusual heat, and the
only thing separating her bare fingers from his bare skin was his shirt.

The muscles of his stomach rippled
underneath her fingertips, and she found herself wondering what he would look
like with his shirt off. No doubt breathtaking. She tried very hard to think on
anything other than him, but it was hopeless. Nothing else held the appeal he
did. His broad shoulders and powerful thighs fascinated her. How did a man who
stood in line to become a duke become so fit? Most Englishmen were soft and not
well developed. “Do you work at the shipping yard a lot?” she asked. She had to
press close to his ear to ask him the question, and when she did she got a
whiff of pine and leather. He smelled just as manly as he looked.

“How do you know about the shipping
yard? My working there is supposed to be a secret.”

“Trent told me. He finds it admirable
that you took the time to learn what the men you employ actually do.”

“I’m glad he doesn’t consider me a
fool as most in the
ton
do.”

“Does it bother you that they look
down upon you for owning a company?”

“No. Their opinion doesn’t concern me
at all. But your cousin’s does. He is one of the few people I admire. He’s done
exactly what he wanted with his life, regardless of what Society expected.”

“I admire him too,” Gillian admitted.

“Is your father about?” Alex asked as
her house came in sight.

“Yes. So if you don’t mind, we’ll go straight
to the stables and not the house.”

Alex swerved his horse to the right.
“I don’t mind. I thought as much.”

As they approached the stables, Mr.
Ganter appeared. “My lady, where is Lightning?”

“He’s got a loose shoe because of my
carelessness. Can you come fix it?”

“Certainly, I’ll just get my tools.
But I’m surprised at you. I taught you better, didn’t I?”

“You did. I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Well, don’t be telling me, tell
Lightning.”

As Mr. Ganter disappeared into the
stable, Alex turned in the saddle to look at her. “Your stable master is very
familiar with you. Does he always dress you down?”

“Only when I need it,” she said. “He
really is like a father to me.”

“Strange since your real father is
alive.”

Mr. Ganter thankfully came out at
that moment and saved her from having to explain herself to Alex. They returned
to Lightning at an even quicker pace than they’d come, which prevented
conversation with Alex. No doubt a good thing since the more time she spent
with him, the more personal information she seemed to reveal. She didn’t want
him asking too many questions.

Once Lightning’s shoe was fixed, they
rode back quickly to her aunt’s house and parted ways with Mr. Ganter as they
entered the courtyard.

Gillian was surprised to see her aunt
pacing there. Auntie rushed toward them as they approached, sending dread
ricocheting through Gillian.

“Stop the horse,” Gillian demanded,
sliding off the steed the moment he stood still. She ran to her aunt. “What is
it, Auntie?” Gillian asked, grabbing her aunt’s hands. Alex’s boots clopped to
the ground as he dismounted. Then he stood behind her, a calming, reassuring
presence.

“You need ask?”

“Is it Whitney?”

“Whitney? No. Your sister is being
rowed in the boat by that American.”

“Mr. Sutherland,” Gillian supplied,
fully aware that her aunt was not pleased with the idea of Gillian wedding Mr.
Sutherland and moving so far away. But her aunt had seemed to settle to the
idea when Gillian had refused to be swayed.

“Your betrothed is livid. We returned,
as did the hunting party. But guess who was not here.”

“Me,” Gillian whispered, knowing
exactly where her aunt was going.

“Yes. How clever you are, my niece.
That wouldn’t have been so terrible except he”―Auntie cut her eyes at
Alex―“was missing as well. And your dolt of a cousin told your betrothed
that he”―she cut her eyes at Alex again―“had raced into the woods
to find you when you hadn’t shown up at the hounds and neither of you had come
back.”

Gillian glanced at Alex. “You raced
to find me?” Had he been worried for her?

He shrugged. “I couldn’t let harm
come to my secret weapon.”

“What do you mean?” Auntie demanded.

“Nothing,” Gillian assured her. “He
means nothing.” How stupid of her to think for a second that he’d been
concerned for her actual welfare. Of course he was only concerned that she be
fit to help him carry out his revenge. “Shall we go in and get refreshments,
Auntie?”