Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (24 page)

Alex met Gillian’s gaze. The rigid
set of his jaw told her he was upset. At her or himself, she couldn’t tell. Yet
when he took her hand, again he squeezed it. “This was nothing. Don’t think on
it again. I’m a rake and a cad and could lead the most virtuous woman astray.”

God, she was a fool. She was a whirl
of confusion over a man who played the same game with her he played with every
woman. She forced herself to smile, though her face felt like cold marble. “Don’t
be silly. You’re not leading me astray or anywhere else, for that matter. We got
carried away. We won’t do it again.”

She wanted to hate him for the way he
made her burn and hunger for him, but she focused on being disgusted with
herself. She could not trust her judgment when he was near. The blame was hers.
“I’m going out now. Wait and follow me after a few minutes. If anyone were to
see us…”

“You’d be ruined, and then you would
have to marry me.” He grinned at her.

Gillian swallowed at the little
thrill the thought of marrying him gave her. “A tragedy, indeed.”

Before he could reply, someone pounded
on the door.

“Gillian Clare Rutherford, open this
door at once,” Auntie hissed from the other side of the dark paneling.

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Gillian
moved toward the door. But before she could unlock it, Alex grabbed her hand
and motioned toward her hair.

He ran his hands through her tresses.
“You’ve quite a mess there.” She shivered as his fingertips brushed lightly
over her scalp. Longing sprang up in the pit of her stomach, warming every inch
of her body. Warming places that had no right to be warmed by any man’s touch,
save her fiancé. And heavens, her aunt stood on the other side of the
threshold. She raised her hands to still his, though she wanted more than
anything to allow him to keep caressing her. His touch was the very thing she
had always longed for―gentle, undemanding and loving. But that couldn’t
be right. Her brain must still be addled from his kiss.

She gently pushed his hands away.
“Thank you.”

He smiled while shaking his head. “I
seem to be having a bit of trouble keeping my hands off you.”

She laughed aloud at his innocent
admission, then slapped her hand over her mouth.

“I’m waiting,” chirped Auntie.

“Me too,” came Whitney’s voice.

“It seems I have a loyal, nosy
following.” Gillian flung open the door.

Aunt Millicent brushed past her and
stopped in the middle of the study. “Ah-ha! Just as I thought,” she pronounced,
looking at Alex.

If it wasn’t so embarrassing, Gillian
would have laughed at Alex’s completely disheveled appearance. His shirt was
half-untucked, his cravat hung loose, and his hair looked as if someone had run
their hands through it repeatedly. Which was exactly what she’d done. Dear God
above, what Auntie must think of her now. “Auntie, I can explain.”

“Explain what, dear?” Aunt Millicent
strode past Alex to her desk. She reached over and picked up a book, which she
waved in the air. “I just came to get this book. I positively cannot ever go to
sleep without reading, and I’m right in the middle of a chapter. Starting
something else would be unthinkable.”

Gillian shook her head. She knew her
aunt was lying by her twitching right eye, but she would confront her when they
were alone. Whitney was another matter. She crossed her arms and stared at her
sister. “Why are you here and no longer dancing with Drake?” She wasn’t
jealous, but she did want to know what Whit was up to.

“He’s retired for the night,” Whitney
murmured, blushing furiously.

Gillian barely held her own smile
inside. If Whitney was interested in Drake and he in her, then they could marry.
That would solve a great deal. Drake could whisk Whit to America, and Gillian
would break her betrothal to Lord Westonburt without having to fear the
repercussions to Whitney. Whatever else happened, if Whit was safe, Gillian
could survive.

“So Drake went to bed without saying
good night? He must have been quite befuddled from his dance with you.” Gillian
studied her sister, looking for a hint of interest or happiness.

“He was very tired.” Whitney’s face
took on the mutinous look Gillian knew well from their childhood. If Whit did
like Drake, she certainly wasn’t going to announce it here and now.

A broad smile covered her aunt’s face,
lighting up her green eyes and reminding Gillian of how Auntie used to look
when she was pulling the wool over Uncle Gene. Her aunt was still scheming, and
now she had Whitney involved. Gillian rubbed her head, which was beginning to
pound.

“I think I’ll follow Drake’s lead and
depart for home and bed. I’m rather tired.”

“I bet Lord Lionhurst is tired too,”
Whitney said.

Gillian glared at her sister. “I’m
sure you are too. Jumping fences, wading in streams and vigorous dancing must
surely wear a young lady to the bone.”

Whitney’s eyes nearly popped from her
head. Good. Maybe she understood that Gillian saw the attraction Whit had to
Drake.

“You’re testy tonight, niece.”

Gillian frowned. Her aunt had no
idea.

Auntie moved in a blur, pushing Alex
toward the door. “I’ve had your things moved, Lord Lionhurst. You’ll be in the
last room on the right tonight.”

“Why did you move Alex’s things?”
Gillian demanded suspiciously.

“Because, dearest. You and your
sister are sleeping here tonight, and I could not very well have the two of you
in the room next to him. Highly improper.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of
Alex’s lips. “Do you think I’m not to be trusted?”

“You? Heavens no, dear. You’re not
one of the lovebirds, are you? But I couldn’t move Mr. Sutherland and not you.
Though you are simply an innocent bystander caught in their game. Or am I
confused? Are you part of the game?”

“I’m part of the game.” Alex caught
Gillian’s gaze.

“Oh?” Auntie waved her hand out the
study door and Perks, her butler, magically appeared. “What’s your part, Lord
Lionhurst?”

“Helper.”

Aunt Millicent gave him a shove
toward Perks. “It does appear you are helping. But whether it’s yourself or
your friend remains to be seen.”

Before Alex could respond, Perks
tugged him out the door.

Aunt Millicent faced Gillian as the
men departed. “I sent your father home.”

“You’re full of surprises, Auntie.
How did you get him to agree to go without Whitney and me?”

“It was simple enough.”

Whitney rushed to their aunt’s side.
“You’re being modest, Auntie. It was brilliant, Gillie. Father had come to
fetch me, and Auntie was with him. I was just about to come find you when
Auntie swooned in Father’s arms. He was flabbergasted. When she insisted she
needed both of us to stay and attend her, he readily agreed. You know how
Father hates weak females.”

Gillian nodded. She knew too well.
“What game are you playing at, Auntie?”

“I’m giving you the time you wanted
to get to know Mr. Sutherland. He’ll be here in the morning and so will you.
You two can go for a ride or a picnic. Won’t that be lovely?”

She did not believe for a moment her
aunt was doing any such thing but arguing would be pointless. She would spend
tomorrow with Mr. Sutherland if it was the last thing she did.

Auntie yawned. “I’m exhausted. Off to
bed with the two of you, but not without a hug and a kiss.”

Gillian embraced her aunt, clinging
for a moment. She inhaled her aunt’s scent of roses. This woman had been her
true mother since the day her own mother had decided she didn’t really want the
position. “Auntie, I’ve never understood why you and Mother were close. You
were so different.”

“Not so different, dearest. Your
mother was a woman who loved greatly and never recovered from the loss. I loved
greatly too, so I understood.”

Whitney scrambled to Gillian’s side.
“Are you saying Mother loved Father greatly?”

“No, but that’s all I’ll say for
now.”

“But Auntie―” Gillian and
Whitney cried in unison.

“Don’t bother pleading. There’s a
time and a place for the past to be set to rights. Now is not the time, nor the
place, and I’m still undecided as to whether I’m the person to shed the light.”

Gillian glared at her aunt. “I refuse
to leave this room until you have told me what you know.”

Gillian punched the pillow on her bed
in anger and frustration. Her aunt was a stubborn, unpredictable woman. Who
would have thought she would make good on her threat to have the butler
forcibly remove Gillian from the study and deposit her in her bedroom? Who
could Auntie have been referring to? Who had Mother loved greatly?

“Gillie, are you thinking about
Mother?”

Gillian turned onto her side to face
Whitney. “Yes, but I’m thinking about you too.”

“Me?” Whitney flopped around with her
covers and settled back into her own bed.

Gillian took a deep breath. “Do you
fancy Mr. Sutherland?”

“No.”

Disappointment flooded Gillian. “Then
why the jump on the horse, the wading in the stream and the dance with such
evident devotion earlier this evening?”

Whitney turned her face into the
pillow. “The jump was accidental. May got spooked by something and just took
off. I couldn’t stop her.”

“Well, that’s certainly more
believable than you suddenly turning into an expert horsewoman.”

“I’m glad you take my near death so
lightly.”

“I take nothing regarding you
lightly,” Gillian murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” Gillian
prayed her sister wouldn’t question her further.

“Gillian Clare Rutherford, if you’re
mad about me wading into the stream you don’t know me very well at all. I only
went into the stream because I developed a huge blister on my foot that was
bleeding. And as for me dancing with Drake, he spent the entire time asking me
questions about you. I don’t want him, and he certainly doesn’t fancy me, so
quit worrying.”

Wrinkling her nose, Gillian flipped
onto her back and groaned. It had been ridiculous to hope for such an easy
solution as Whitney caring for Drake.

“Gillie, what’s wrong?”

Gillian drew the covers over her
head. What could she say? I have to marry Drake to protect you, but I think I
may be falling in love with Alex? Dear God. She gripped the sheet to her. Was
she falling in love with a man she absolutely knew she could not allow herself
to fall in love with?

“You like him, don’t you?” Whitney
asked.

“Of course,” Gillian automatically
responded from within her cocoon before tugging the covers down to her
shoulders. “I like him. I’m trying to get him to fall in love with me, aren’t
I?”

Whitney snorted. “I don’t mean Drake.
I was referring to Lord Lionhurst. You can deny it, but I know you like him.
And so does Auntie.”

“Quit scheming with Auntie. I intend
to marry Mr. Sutherland.”

“But you like Lord Lionhurst!”

Gillian wanted to spill all her
secrets, but she had to keep protecting her sister. “Good night, Whit.”

“I’ve one more thing to say.”

When Gillian didn’t answer, a pillow
hit her head. “What is it?”

“You know the painting in the great
hall downstairs? It’s the one where Mother actually looks happy.”

“Yes.” Gillian knew the exact
painting of which Whitney spoke. It was completed five days before Mother died.
She wore an emerald-green gown cut deep to show a vast amount of olive skin.
She displayed no jewels except a choker of blood-red rubies. Not even her
wedding ring adorned her hands, which were folded serenely in her lap with a
deep, red rose clasped between them. Her beautiful shining eyes, which the
painter had captured to perfection, took Gillian’s breath away every time she
passed the painting. They reminded her of summer moss.

“Are you picturing it?”

“Yes.” Gillian’s heart thumped
against her ribs.

“I think Mother must have already
been in love with the man Auntie referred to,” Whitney whispered as if someone
besides the two of them were around to hear the secret.

Gillian squeezed her eyes shut, remembering her mother
in the dark night by the river with a man. Who had that man been? Mother loved
him. She must have loved him desperately.

Tears slid down Gillian’s face, and she quickly swiped
them away. She never once stopped to consider how their mother must have felt
in love with one man and married to another. How wretched it must have been.
Remorse and understanding filled her.

“When you look at Alex, your eyes
look just like Mother’s do in that painting,” Whitney said softly. “And you
have just met him. Just think how it could be between the two of you in time. I
don’t want to see you end up like her—married to the wrong man.”

Gillian didn’t want to end up like
Mother either, but even if Alex was the right man for her, he did not want her.
Besides, her fate was set—sealed by a secret she shared with her father.

* * * *
*

She awoke in the morning bleary-eyed,
grumpy and alone. She frowned as she stumbled out of bed toward her clothes,
surprised that Whit was already up. Where was her sister? By the rays shining
through the window, it had to be early morning. Possibly nine. Whitney hadn’t
risen early on her own accord before the hour of ten since she was a child. So
where on earth had she sneaked off to now? And sneak she surely had. Her little
sister was knee-deep in a desire to make mischief. A behavior she definitely
learned from Auntie.

Gillian shoved her arms in her dress,
her feet in her slippers, and was four steps to the door before she paused. She
didn’t want to chance running into Drake with mussed hair. With a quick glance
in the mirror, she winced at her pitiful reflection. A brush was definitely a
must. A few quick strokes later and she was out the door. She had to find
Drake, and if possible, avoid Alex. In the sleepless hours of the night, she
had decided she simply needed more time alone with Drake and less time with
Alex.

Of course she was attracted to the
devilish man. He was handsome, suave and an astonishingly good kisser. And she
had spent a great deal of time alone with him, more than Drake. She had not had
time to develop a tendre for Drake. That was all. Simple and fixable. She
hurried down the stairs toward the dining room intent on fixing her problem.

She strode into the dining room and
stopped at the sight of Alex leaned back in his chair, shirt hanging casually
open to reveal the top of his chest and his hair disheveled in a way that made
Gillian want to go to him and run her hands through his tresses. He looked
lovable, kissable and rakishly handsome. Gillian frowned. How was she supposed
to avoid Alex when he was the only one in the room? “Where is everyone?”

She strode to the opposite end of the
table, where a servant hovered, and motioned him to pull out the chair. The
farther away she was from Alex, the better. “Eggs and bacon, please,” she said,
sitting down and adjusting her dress. When she finally looked up, Alex stared
at her with a furrowed brow.

“And a good morning to you too,” he
drawled. “Are you always this friendly in the morning?”

She picked up her own cup of steaming
coffee, which had just been poured for her, and took a small sip while thinking
exactly what to say. “I’m sorry. I was hoping to run into Drake first thing
this morning. I want to arrange some time alone with him.”

“That’ll be difficult,” Alex replied,
walking toward her, plate in hand.

“What are you doing?” Alarm raced
through her as he advanced toward her. She set her coffee cup down for fear she
would spill the liquid. He could not sit near her with his shirt undone, where
she could see the tan skin of his chest and the hint of muscles she felt last
night. She trembled just thinking of how those arms had felt around her.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up, but he did
not cease in his advancement. He set his plate next to hers and waved the
appalled servant out of the room. He settled into his seat, his masculine scent
invading her senses as it always did. “I’m merely making conversation more manageable.
Is there a reason you chose the furthest seat from me?”

She shook her head, snatched her fork
off the table and attacked her eggs.

“Hungry?”

“Famished,” she murmured between
mouthfuls of egg. The faster she finished, the quicker she could get away from
him. Every second near him made her pulse beat faster, her breath come quicker.
At this rate, she would have an attack and die. Did people die from desire? If
not, she’d be the first. Immortalized forever in some book because she was an
oddity. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but instead she breathed him
in. This morning he smelled of rain, grass and the earth. She wanted to run
before she attacked him.

She shoved the last bite into her
mouth, while her stomach rolled in protest. Her fork clattered against the
plate, and she shoved her chair back to leave. “Where did you say Drake was?”

As she rose, Alex clamped a hand
around her arm, holding her in place. “I didn’t say. Sit down, Gillian.”

It was a command, and by the thread
of steel underlying the tone, it was one she guessed pointless to try to
ignore. She sank back into her chair, and he released his hold at once.

“Look at me, please.”

She turned her gaze toward him and
sighed. Black stubble covered his unshaven face and the blue of his eyes blazed
brighter because of the contrast. Lord, but he was lovely. She wanted to run a
finger over his stubble, down the line of his strong jaw, and end at his full
lips. She shivered but did not look away.

“Are you trying to avoid me?”

“Certainly not,” she lied. She was
not about to tell him the effect he had on her, though after she let him caress
her last night, he probably had a fairly good idea that he left her senseless.
Of course, he did. The man left all women senseless. Devil take him.

“Then why did you sit at the other
end of the table, refuse to look at me, and shovel food into your mouth? At a
rate, by the way, that I’ve never seen a man match. And after that amazing
performance of consumption, you attempted to dash out of here like a fire licked
at your heels.”

“I suppose I’m a trifle embarrassed
about what occurred between us last night,” she whispered, offering a partial
truth. She studied him, trying to discern by his features how he felt about
last night. But his look was unreadable.

“I’ve forgotten about it. So should
you.”

She picked at a nonexistent piece of
lint on her skirt while swallowing down her hurt and embarrassment. His blunt
words left a hole of disappointment in the middle of her gut. How silly of her.
She should be glad he had forgotten the kiss. She forced a smile to her face.
“I expect you find yourself with women in your arms quite a bit.”

“Let’s not discuss other women.”

She nodded.

“There’s no need to avoid me. We got
carried away. But we won’t again.”

“No, we won’t. I’m going to marry
your best friend, after all.
I hope
.” Something flashed in his eyes, but
it was gone so fast she could not fathom what the spark had been.

“Of course you are. And you will love
him.”

She nodded at his words. “Of course
I’ll love him.” Her words sounded unsure to her. She peeked at Alex in the hope
he had not noticed. His gaze met hers, and it felt as if he could read her
secret thoughts. Her cheeks warmed ,and after clearing her throat, she spoke
again. “I will love him,” she reiterated.

The words were strong, but her tone
rang false.
Blast and damn
. This time when she glanced at Alex the look
of satisfaction that crossed his face was unmistakable.