Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (17 page)

“That’s the usual way one becomes a
signora,
Helene. Her
husband stays in their villa in Venice, and she plays among the
gentry in London. She’s never shy of company, though. I assure you.”

“Including you?”

He shrugged and stared over the horse’s head.
“There’s no accounting for taste, Helene, my love. And yes. I’ll admit
a certain weakness for blondes.”

“You’re disgusting. I suppose you admit to a weakness
for...Helen, too?”

“That’s the usual way to find oneself in Helen’s alleged
condition.”

The ribbon was going to come off at the way she yanked on it
. Helene forced herself to calm. She did not love him. She was not jealous. She didn’t care who he bedded and how many. She did not love him.

But she was lying.

“I’m rapidly losing my desire for your company, My Lord.”

“Oh, come now. When did you ever desire it?”

“Last night,” she replied.

She hadn’t planned on answering at all. And the moment she did Gil flicked the reins, bypassing the front of the Tremayne townhouse as he drove on.

“You’re different, Helene,” he said finally.

“I know. Unlike your preference, I’m not a blond by any
stretch of the imagination.”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

His voice was a
bit higher pitched than she remembered. She wondered why
.

“Do I? To your way of
thinking, it’s perfectly correct for a married woman to have affairs…and
I’m still reeling with shock. Marriage means...I don’t know! I only
want what my parents had. They loved each other! My mother would never even look at another man, and she’d never entertain one at tea such as that trollop does
. And I have to tell you, she might not charge, but
she’s certainly not very discriminating.”

“My thanks. Compliment taken.”

“You should take
me home now, My Lord.
It’s starting to rain. Here we are, flirting with a soaking, and after a warning from that woman, too. Where are our wits?”

She looked away, working to get her
breathing under control as the first raindrops touched her face.

“You’re jealous.”

She heard the smirk in his voice. It made her answer harsher.

“No! I—! Never!” 

“Liar.”  

The clouds punctuated
the word by opening up.

“You love me,” he said.

“Oh, no. Never!”

“Yes you do. Say it. You love me.”

“I hate you!”

“Love me.”

“Hate you!”

“Love me, damn it!” he shouted.

“I can’t stand the bloody sight of you!”

And that time, she shoved him.
The perfect circle of his mouth would’ve been amusing as
he fell, except that a lightning bolt
shattered the air nearby, startling the horses, and everything happened at once. H
elene grabbed for the reins, but they slipped over the foot
rail, and she never had a chance. His horses were perfectly
capable of running anywhere they wished. Screams
didn’t make the animals any calmer. A row of
perfectly groomed trees flew by.

Lord Tremayne’s driving curricle was well-sprung
. That was the only thing keeping it on its wheels as the team reached the end of the park and turned back
in the other direction. Helene wasn’t screaming anymore. She was clutching the back
rest, and finding it hard to breathe through a cloudburst that was starting to weigh down her ensemble, too.

She ducked a branch, but her bonnet wasn’t so lucky, and then
she couldn’t see for an entirely different reason. Gillian should’ve
hacked off all her hair if what he’d saved was about to get her
killed. Another branch barely missed her head. And another. And then she realized the obvious. She had to save herself. Nobody else was going to do it.

Again.

Her chance came almost too soon. She grabbed the next branch, nearly sliding from it before hooking a leg. And there she clung, while the branch swayed with her weight.
The ground looked too far away to jump, so she climbed atop the limb and just clung there. Gathering her wits. And her breath. Sounds of the
carriage coming to an ignoble end came through the rainfall. Helene couldn’t see, but t
he crash sounding none too gentle for any female
passengers aboard.

Then she heard Gillian, and the horror in his voice stopped her heart for a moment. Water filled her skirts, weighing her down.
Bark dug into the palms Mrs. Wright had spent so much time on. She knew it had also destroyed her stockings, mutilated her
petticoats, and shredded her skirt. Her thighs felt scraped. But before she could assess further damage, she heard a shot and almost fell.

A shot?

“Gillian!” 

Her shout didn’t make much sound. It would help if she could see, or if anyone was about to assist. But that was never her luck. Her
future health depended solely on herself once again.
Trees hadn’t the shape or consistency of the drain pipes she
once climbed with the grace of a thief, but they
proved just as slick. Helene lost a slipper. And then the other. While the limb bent and swayed beneath her.

“Ah. Good! A groom. Fetch another mount! And see to
the carcass, will you? No. I doubt a sawbones will be needed.
She’s not hurt — not yet, anyway. The last I saw, she was up a
damned tree.”

Gil’s words whistled past, paralyzing her.
Carcass? Oh, Lord! He put one of those beautiful horses to death?

Shaking overtook her, rocking the bough with it.

“Ah, Helene. There you are,” Gil said somewhere below. “Really, darling…if you
wished to climb trees in the rain, I’d have given my permission.”

He may be drawing out the words, but there was anger behind
them. Rain plastered hair to his head and clothing to his body. He had
two deep rents down his shirt, and one knee of his trousers was split
.

“I’m having another mount brought, since I had a bit of a
problem with my chestnuts.”

“I...am sorry, My Lord.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I said I’m sorry!” The branch rocked
.

“Oh. Not yet. But I’ll be certain you are.”

Helene’s nose pressed against the bark and she hugged into it.

“Do you need a hand down?”

She was four feet over his head, yet it seemed like three
times that distance.

“I’m waiting to assist you…but if you delay much
longer, you’ll probably be mistaken for a woman of loose morals
.”

She lifted her head and whispered, “Go away!”

“Not by a long, bloody shot, my dear.”

“I don’t need...your...assistance.” Her teeth
chattered, ruining the statement.

“You expect me to believe that? Now, come along. Jump down like a good
girl.”

“
No.”

“Does everything have to be a bloody fight with you? I’m
soaked to the bone. My dignity wasn’t the only thing bruised
when I fell. I just had to shoot a very valuable and beautiful
animal, and I don’t have any patience left to deal with you!”

“That’s why...I’m...not coming down.”

“You’d rather stay up there?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“Hogwash. I’ll tell you what. You’ve a very shapely leg. Even with ripped stockings. And I’m not immune to your
charms.”

Helene gasped and lost her tenuous hold. F
ear closed off her throat and stifled any scream. Then she landed. Right in
Gil’s arms.

“Very nicely done…and here I was beginning to
doubt my charms.”

“I...I can walk, My...Lord.”

“And you can hush, too. Just hold onto me. The
least you can do is share some comfort with me.”

He nuzzled her
collarbone and then her lips, and the next moment he collapsed onto the grass with her astride him. And that’s when she brought Brandy in to save her. Because someone needed to.

“Sharing comfort it’s called now?” she asked. “Just
when I think I’ve about...got yer figured out, my fine dream man…ye have to go and get drastic.”

“Well, drastic times require drastic measures.”

But Brandy wasn’t much help. She was helping him kiss her, greedily sucking rain from his lips.
It felt wondrous.

“You’re a witch, Brandy love. You know that?”  The words were whispered against her
cheek.

“Aye…and yer a silver-tongued devil.
Someone should’ve warned Brandy about ye.”

He spat out strands of sodden hair and grinned. Her
heart leapt, her breath caught, her senses reeled. She’d fought it long
enough, and he was right, damn him. Even Brandy couldn’t hide from this truth.

She did love him. Excessively.

“Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me you like my
punishments.”

“I like ‘em fine. Punish...at will.”

“It’s too blasted wet, and starting to chill. What say…you
take the bottom and spare my britches?”

She laughed and somehow got her legs to work enough to stand, albeit shakily. He
probably
was
feeling every bit of that, although where she’d been sitting had been perfectly warm, if a bit damp.
She averted her eyes as he stood, straightened his apparel, and then turned his head as not one, but four grooms arrived, with as many horses.

Gil walked over to one, placed a foot in the stirrup and mounted. And then brought the horse over to her.

“Come along, darling,” Gil said. “Join me. And as soon as we reach the house, I’ll order a bath. A hot one. Because that’s what I’ve decided for you
— a very hot bath. Give her a lift up someone, and let’s ride. We’ve given enough of a show for one day.” 

Reaction was setting in. She didn’t feel the groom’s hands about her waist as he lifted her, and by the time they reached the townhouse, she couldn’t feel her feet or lower
legs, either. Gil
must’ve sensed it, because he held her in place on his saddle until he was
dismounted, then pulled her off and into his arms again.

“Good heavens, Gillian!”  His mother’s words met them even before they entered the
house. “We’ve been distraught with worry. They said there’d
been an accident, but no one had any answers. You’re not hurt? Either of you? Thank the Lord. Why I’d have—”

“Mother, have a hot bath sent up to Helene’s rooms.” Gil walked
past his mother.

“Of course, darling. I’ll have it seen to immediately. The
poor dear will be all right, won’t she?”

Helene rubbed her nose against Gil’s sopping cravat and actually felt him gulp before answering.

“The bath, Mother?”

“Of course, dear. Of course! It’s already seen to.”

The fire was being lit as they walked in. The chambermaid
blushed and curtsied after Gil shoved the door open with his shoulder and just stood there, dripping on the polished wooden floor. Helene didn’t watch beyond the first glimpse. It was better to just snuggle against his neck, breathe in his scent. Numb her mind. She knew when the maid left by the way he swiveled to let her pass.

“You can put me down now, My...Gil.”

“I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready. And I’ll let you
know when that is.
Besides, I’m beginning to think my arms are locked in this
position.”

“Yer compliments turn me head, me fine gent.”

He slid his glance sideways at her. Their gazes connected. And something happened. Her heart reacted with it, flooding her cheeks with heat. And then her bosom. And then her entire form until she wasn’t remotely cold.

Anywhere.

“Hold that thought for a little longer, would you, darling?” 

She nodded. He twisted his head toward the hall.

“
What the hell’s taking so long?”

As if his shout was the signal, a stream of servants entered, the lead two carrying the most enormous tub she’d ever seen, while the others bore cans of boiling water. They traipsed into the room over and over again while steam started warming the area. G
illian leaned against the bedpost, holding her close to him
the entire time. He was probably
keeping water damage to a minimum, but she
ignored the idea the moment it surfaced.