Captive of Sin (15 page)

The richest heiress in England?
Hell and damnation, what had he got himself mixed up with?

The blasted girl had hidden a lot from him. None of which shook his determination to help her. He wouldn’t hand a stray cat over to the Farrells, let alone a woman he admired and…cared for.

“Do you doubt my bond, sir?” Gideon rose to his full height.

Burkett was big and brawny, but Gideon topped him by several inches. Gideon also had the steel lent by years of living with endless danger. Burkett didn’t frighten him in the least. He could break the overweening bully without a thought.

As Gideon had expected, Burkett backed down. “You haven’t given us your word.” He sounded sulky.

Gideon’s voice was firm. “I give you my word the girl I knew as Sarah Watson ran away in Portsmouth. There’s no guarantee the chit I encountered is even your sister.”

“What did she look like?” Lord Felix asked.

“Small. Skinny. Bruised. Light brown hair. Spoke with a rough accent.” It was possible someone had got a close look at Charis. He couldn’t stray too far from the truth without awakening suspicion. “I can’t for the life of me imagine she’s an heiress. Her clothing was poor and her manners deplorable.”

“She played a part,” Felix insisted.

“I have no idea. What I do know is she took off after the brawl, and I haven’t seen her since. If you believe this girl really is your sister—which I take leave to doubt—you’d be better concentrating your search in Portsmouth.”

“Can we check the house?” Burkett asked stubbornly.

“No, by God,” Gideon snapped. “I’ll be damned if I let a
pair of strangers march through my private rooms on a wild-goose chase after some featherbrained bit of muslin.”

Burkett puffed out his impressive chest. “You insult my sister, sir.”

“I do no such thing. Confound it, I don’t know your sister. The world has come to a pretty pass when a man is harassed on his own property for offering aid to a distressed maidservant.”

“Sir Gideon has given us his word,” Sir John said placatingly. “Surely that’s good enough.”

Felix spread his hands to indicate his benevolent intentions. “Sir John, we act purely from brotherly concern. If we satisfy ourselves she’s never been in this house, we’ll leave Sir Gideon in peace, with our gratitude and apologies.”

Good God, but the younger Farrell was a slimy customer. He sounded so reasonable. If Gideon hadn’t seen the marks on Charis’s face, he’d almost believe the weasel’s protestations.

“Sir Gideon, surely under the circumstances…” Sir John looked across at him hopefully.

Time to play the hero card. Gideon straightened and let outrage infuse his reply. “When I left this country to risk my life in its service, an Englishman’s home was his castle. Unless you intend to invoke the full power of the law, Sir John, I must on principle refuse this monstrous imposition on my rights. I have returned after years of danger and deprivation beyond mortal imagination. Was it to face tyranny in my own homeland? Surely not. If so, His Majesty will hear of it. When he knighted me for my services to the Crown, he was most effusive about his gratitude and favor.”

“So you refuse?” Felix’s voice was dangerous. His eyes didn’t waver from Gideon.

“Look here, Lord Felix,” Sir John said. “Sir Gideon is a national hero. You can’t barge into his house unannounced and insist on turning the place upside down. Good Lord, man, we’re not even sure the girl he picked up in Winchester is Lady Charis. Sir Gideon’s description leads me to believe
she can’t possibly be a lady. He’s a man of great perspicacity. If he says she was a serving wench, my bet is that’s exactly what she was.”

“We only seek to confirm your story,” Lord Burkett said sullenly.

“A gentleman’s statement should suffice.” Gideon turned toward the door. “Now I am no longer at leisure.”

“You haven’t heard the end of this, Sir Gideon.” Felix spoke as if addressing a minion.

The urge to knock Felix to the ground was so strong, Gideon could taste it. With difficulty, he maintained his lordly tone and kept his hands to himself. “I suggest you return to Portsmouth and pursue more fruitful leads there, my lords. You’ve come a long way for nothing.”

“Topping idea.” Sir John rubbed his hands together nervously as he stepped up to Gideon, obviously eager to end this encounter. “I’m sure the lady is in Portsmouth. Or safe at home, now she’s discovered life away from her family is no picnic.”

Felix pulled on his leather gloves with a slow deliberation Gideon knew was meant to constitute a threat. His tone was deliberate too. “We’ll return to Portsmouth to pick up the trail. But if it leads us back here, my dear Sir Gideon, your renown won’t save you from the consequences. Good day, sir.” After an insolent bow, he strode out, his older brother shambling in his wake.

Sir John stayed behind and muttered under his breath. “Sir Gideon, most regrettable incident. Two unpleasant young men. I pray they find their troublesome sister and don’t bother us again. The Farrells always were a thoroughly bad lot. Father was a drunkard and gambler. Left the sons nothing but a mountain of debts and the wardship of young Lady Charis, the Earl of Marley’s heiress. Hope the poor chit is safe.”

“You’re very well informed, Sir John.”

“The late Lord Burkett was notorious. The sons are chips off the old block. I wouldn’t trouble you, except they have their rights. They’re the chit’s legal guardians. Lord Felix was
correct. Anyone keeping her from them breaks the law.” He paused and frowned. “Of course, I knew a gentleman such as yourself couldn’t possibly be involved. Good God, you’ve hardly been back in the country a month. Barely time to unpack, let alone get entangled with a runaway heiress. That’s what I told those two braggarts. But they wouldn’t take the word of a mere country squire.” He put on his hat with a disgruntled gesture and collected his stick from near the mantel. “Come to dinner once you’ve settled in.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Gideon said, showing Sir John the door.

Outside in the foyer, Tulliver stood stolidly guarding the two Farrells, who looked annoyed. Gideon guessed they’d tried to take advantage of his conversation with Sir John to do some reconnaissance.

“Good day, Sir Gideon. Our apologies for disturbing you.” Sir John ushered his companions outside. Gideon followed and stood on the steps to make sure the Farrells left. He sent a groom after them to confirm they didn’t return. He trusted Charis’s stepbrothers as little as they trusted him.

“Get the girl out of her hiding place,” he said to Tulliver, when they were alone.

“Do you want to see her, guvnor?”

“Not immediately. Tell her I’ll talk to her in the library before dinner. In the meantime, have my mother’s trunks brought down to her room and tell the maids to burn that rag she’s wearing.”

“What do I say about yon smarmy buggers?”

Gideon stared down the drive, empty now of Felix and Hubert and the reluctantly involved Sir John. When he replied to Tulliver, his voice was steady and very sure. “Tell her I’ve pledged myself to her safety. She has nothing to worry about.”

With a sudden spurt of energy, he leaped down the steps to the courtyard. He turned left through the stone arch and headed for the windswept cliffs.

H
er stomach somersaulting with nerves, Charis approached the library. This afternoon from behind the wall, she’d listened to Gideon keep Felix and Hubert at bay. She’d silently cheered his cleverness and bravery. But how would he greet her this evening? He’d discovered she was the richest heiress in England. Would she glimpse greed in his eyes as she’d glimpsed greed in so many men’s eyes?

Or worse, would she see disgust as he recalled the way she’d flung herself into his arms?

Sick humiliation made her hesitate, trembling outside the closed door. For one blazing moment in the attic, she’d believed he felt the ineffable connection between them. It had been a mistake she’d bitterly repented since.

Courage, Charis.

Stiffening her shoulders, she wiped her damp palms on her skirts and quietly let herself into the dimly lit library.

Gideon didn’t immediately notice her arrival. He stood near the grate, staring down at the fire with a somber expression. From the shadows on the edge of the room, her
gaze hungrily traced the flame-gilded angles of his face, the lean power of his body. He was dressed more formally than usual, in a dark blue superfine coat and biscuit trousers. He looked like the elegant man she’d met rather than the dashing, disheveled pirate she’d come to know at Penrhyn.

The memory of the brief, dazzling heat of his mouth overwhelmed thought. Then she recalled how he’d wrenched away as if she carried some contagious disease.

Shame choked her. She could hardly believe she’d launched herself at him like that. But he’d been so close, and she’d longed so keenly to feel his embrace. And for one doomed, misguided instant, she’d imagined he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Poor pathetic fool she was.

Slowly, Gideon looked up, as though reluctant to abandon his reflections. He must also be reluctant to face the woman who had forced herself on him.

She braced to confront anger or scorn, but his serious black gaze focused on her without a hint of condemnation. Or covetousness.

“Good evening, Lady Charis,” he said calmly.

She was heart-stoppingly aware this was the first time he’d used her real name. In spite of all her stern lectures to herself, she shivered with pleasure when that dark velvet voice said
Charis.

“Good evening.” On unsteady legs, she inched farther into the room. She was torn by painful longing to be with him and a cowardly desire to flee.

Gideon’s eyes widened as she entered the circle of light cast by the candelabra, and he at last took in her appearance. Because she’d felt like she faced an executioner, pride prompted her to dress in her best. Or in his mother’s best. A wide blue silk ribbon fastened the filmy white gown under her breasts. With Dorcas’s help, she’d put her hair up in a loose mass, leaving strands to curl around her shoulders.

A flame lit Gideon’s dark gaze, kindling answering fire
inside her. Familiar tension extended between them. A tension she’d learned in the most painful fashion not to trust.

How could he stare at her as if she took his breath away when he found her nearness unbearable? It was cruel.

She straightened, fighting the insidious yearning his presence invariably aroused, and spread her hands in apology. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. My inheritance makes men greedy.” She should have long ago recognized Gideon was the exception to that rule.

“No matter.” He laid one gloved hand on the carved marble mantelpiece. The misleading flash of desire had vanished, and his expression was cool, uninvolved. “And while I admit it’s an unpleasant surprise to discover my adversaries are a marquess and his younger brother, I’d do little differently if I had the chance again.”

“I nearly told you the truth so many times.” Guilt was a sour taste in her mouth. What had seemed so imperative at the time now struck her as a childish, dangerous deception. Still, she tried to make him understand. “It wasn’t just fear of how you’d react to who I was. I liked being Sarah Watson. She had more freedom than Lady Charis Weston ever enjoyed.”

“Believe me, I understand the lure of freedom.” He bent his head in thought, then glanced up to focus unwaveringly on her. “You have my word I’ll do my best to keep Lady Charis at liberty too. Then in a few weeks, Lady Charis will have all the freedom she wants.”

The irony was Lady Charis wanted only to stay here with Gideon. She was miserably aware that once she reached twenty-one, he had no further reason to keep her at Penrhyn. The prospect of leaving tore her heart to bleeding pieces.

“If my stepbrothers don’t get me first.” Fear thickened her throat, turning her voice husky. She tangled her trembling hands in her filmy skirts. “I heard you send them away, but…”

“They’ll return. With full legal backing. I know.”

“Your generosity to a stranger might cost you dear.” Like a moth lured to a candle, she ventured closer. Not too close. She’d learned her lesson on that front. “You could go to prison for helping me.”

“Didn’t you hear Sir John? I’m a national hero.” His voice was caustic and his expression bleak. “I doubt I’ll be carted off to the clink. The public outcry would be deafening.”

“I still shouldn’t have involved you in this mess.”

He sent her an uncompromising look under his marked black brows. “I despise bullies, Charis. Your stepbrothers deserve to lose.”

She clenched her hands at her sides. “I can’t stand the thought of your being harmed,” she said fiercely. “If you come to disaster because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.”

His face contorted with sorrow, and he took a step toward her. “I’m not worth your pain.”

“Of course you are.” His constant self-abnegation infuriated her, made her ache with angry pity. He was so brave and strong and good, yet he seemed completely unaware of his true quality.

Impulsive, unstoppable words bubbled to the surface. Words she’d come close to saying so many times before. She spoke in a heated torrent before she thought to censor herself. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known. You’re magnificent. Unlike anyone else. You must know I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I’ve only come to love you more every day since.”

The headlong admission scorched the air from the room. Her heart slammed to a stop against her ribs. Her cheeks burned with shock and humiliation. She stood stock-still, as if her slightest movement might shatter her into a million pieces.

Dear heaven, what have I said? What have I done?

Hadn’t she learned her lesson that afternoon? Her awful, awful gaucheness made her want to vanish into the floor. She’d give every penny she possessed to take back what she’d just done. But the declaration had been made. It was
too late to deny it, even if she could bring herself to speak such a lie.

She did love him. She always would. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t even bear to touch her. But nothing changed the ineluctable truth of what she’d said.

Gideon recoiled and stared at her with what she could only interpret as horror. “Hell,” he breathed.

Blindly, he fumbled toward a leather armchair and dropped into it, burying his head in his hands.

Charis felt like she suffocated. At best, she might expect her impulsive declaration to evoke understanding, at worst pity. But this broken desolation was beyond comprehension.

“Hell, hell, hell.” His quiet despair reached far inside her like a hand closing around her heart and crushing it.

She was paralyzed with embarrassment. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe. Remorse, concern, self-castigation, all tangled like hissing snakes in her breast.

If he hadn’t seemed so lost and tormented when he claimed his essential unworthiness, she’d never have made the reckless declaration. But the sight of him looking as if he didn’t have a friend in the world had made her want to die. “I shouldn’t have spoken,” she said in a raw voice.

His shoulders tensed, and he raised dull eyes to look at her. “Your honesty does you credit.”

Her mouth compressed as she fought not to cry. Tears wouldn’t help her through this agonizing moment. “Well, I suppose that’s one response to a declaration of love.” Her tone was flat with control.

A muscle flickered in his cheek. “I can’t give you what you want. I’m sorry.”

The lump in her throat was like a great, jagged boulder. It hurt to force words past it. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t help.”

As compassion filled his eyes, she realized she’d been right to fear his pity. She loathed the way he looked at her right now. It made her want to curl up in a dark corner and never emerge into the light again.

“You’ll hate hearing this. And I know you won’t believe
me. At least now.” The kindness in his voice made her cringe. This was even worse than she’d expected. She guessed what he meant to tell her before he spoke.

“Charis…” He paused and closed his eyes as if struggling to find the words. “I’m touched and flattered by what you’ve said. Any man would be. You’re a remarkable girl. You’re…”

She felt sick. He lied to spare her feelings, and every false word flayed another strip from her soul. She took a step back and raised her hands to fend off his words. Why, oh, why had she let her foolish tongue run away with her? “Please, don’t say any more.”

Gideon’s jaw firmed, and he leaned forward. Pain flared in his dark eyes and his voice was urgent. “I must. I hate to see you hurt. But what you feel, it will pass. You hardly know me. You can’t love me. Not really. The way we met, it’s given you a false impression. You’ve barely had a chance to catch breath since. When you return to a normal life, you’ll…”

“What? Forget you?” Resentment at the futility of her dreams frayed the question.

“No.” Drawing an unsteady breath, he made one of his familiar truncated gestures. “But you’ll see more clearly. Right now you imagine I’m some sort of hero, but you’re wrong.”

“You
are
a hero.” Her rubbery knees threatened to collapse under her as she ventured closer. She knew he hated that she argued, but she had to make him see himself as she saw him. “You’re the famous Hero of Rangapindhi. Even my stepbrothers know who you are.”

He flinched against the chair as if she struck him. “The reality of Rangapindhi was far from heroic, Sarah.” He paused. “Charis. I’m sorry. You’ve always been Sarah to me.”

She swallowed more useless tears. Her response emerged as a cracked whisper even as she knew nothing she said would convince him she wasn’t victim to a childish fancy. “Call me what you like. But don’t mistake my sincerity. That’s cruel and unjust.”

He rose, the muscle still dancing erratically in his cheek. “It’s cruel and unjust to let you eat your heart out over a cardboard imitation of a man.”

“You’re not a cardboard imitation of a man,” she said in a low, shaking voice. “And I love you.”

He curled his gloved hands tightly around the back of the chair. Grief ravaged his black gaze. “Never say that again, Charis. For both our sakes.”

“That won’t make it less true.” She brushed stinging moisture from her eyes. She refused to break down in front of him. He already thought she was immature and impulsive. A loss of control would only prove that beyond all doubt. He didn’t believe her love, and she was fatalistically aware that nothing she said would change his mind.

“I know this is painful.” The aching pity in his voice made her want to die. “But one day you’ll see…”

She glared at him from burning eyes. At this moment, she hated him almost as much as she loved him. “Don’t!”

He drew himself up to his full impressive height, and his hands flexed on the chair. She read his withdrawal as though he wrote it on the air in letters of fire. “Very well.”

A turbulent silence fell. He released the chair and began to pace, settling near the desk, where he picked up the bust of Plato and pretended to examine it. Eventually, she couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. She turned to stare at the bookcases, although her blurry eyes couldn’t read the gilt titles on the leather spines. She raised shaking hands to catch her tears before they fell.

She could no longer tolerate the tension. “I’ll go upstairs. I’m not…not hungry tonight.”

He sighed with a heaviness she felt in her bones. “I know you wish me to the devil right now. But before you go, there’s something we need to discuss.”

Still, she didn’t look at him. If she didn’t escape soon, she’d start bawling and make more of a fool of herself than she had already. “Can’t it wait?”

“No.”

The uncompromising negative made her turn in surprise. He leaned against the front of the desk, his hands curled over the rim on either side. Strain tautened his body, and his face was more serious than she’d ever seen it. Foreboding clanged like a tocsin, overwhelmed even her embarrassment and chagrin.

“What is it?” She thought she’d clawed back a measure of calm until she met his fathomless black gaze, and hurt and humiliation washed over her again.

“Please sit down.”

He gestured to the chair he’d vacated. Silently she obeyed, trying not to notice the trace of warmth lingering from his body.

“I saw immediately what your stepbrothers are,” he said heavily. “Swine in fine clothing.”

She wanted to tell him how wonderful he’d been this afternoon but he wouldn’t welcome her praise. Instead, she raised her chin and spoke in a hard voice. “We can beat swine.”

“Yes.” He paused. “But I’m afraid the measures will be more drastic than either of us imagined.”

She tilted forward, her hands fisting on the chair arms. “Do you intend to kill them?”

In spite of the fraught atmosphere, that startled a soft laugh from him. “What a bloodthirsty wench you are. No, I don’t intend to kill them. Or only as a last resort. I have no wish to dangle from the hangman’s rope when this is over.”

She spoke from the quaking depths of her heart. “Will it ever be over?”

“Yes.” He paused again, sending her an unreadable glance. “And no.”

She frowned. She didn’t know where he went with this. His expression told her nothing. “You speak in riddles.”

With sudden restless energy, Gideon swung away from the desk. A few long strides, and he reached the windows. The night outside was dark, haunted by the sea’s eternal thunder. Although they no longer spoke of it, her declaration of love
lay heavily in the air between them. She supposed it always would. Again, she cursed herself for her impulsiveness.