Jessie's Jewels [Submissive Sirens 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (6 page)

No. I will not let them ruin my evening.

Jessie drew a deep breath, set her shoulders, and started forward to greet the man who had jilted her...and his wife.

Jessie walked deliberately to the punch bowl, pouring herself a glass before turning back to the blond couple who were chatting quietly, not having noticed her yet. Jessie took a deep breath and glued a small smile to her face, but her greeting died on her lips as she heard the whispers around her, observed the women talking behind their hands as they watched her with rapt attention. She looked more carefully at the crowd and spotted Dame Violet, the woman hosting the party. Violet’s eyes darted back and forth between Jessie and the other couple, and her mouth moved a mile a minute as she narrated what was happening to the woman standing beside her. There was no compassion in her gaze—to Jessie, she looked positively gleeful—and a small, victorious smile played on her lips.

In that moment, Jessie knew how badly she’d been set up that evening—set up to be the entertainment. She was sure now that Violet had arranged things deliberately so that Jessie would be present when the pianoforte was auctioned off, and she was even more certain that she’d been included on the list of invitees because the crowd hoped for a delicious morsel of gossip at her expense. This was likely Violet’s second plan of attack since Jessie’s reaction to the sale of the pianoforte had been lackluster, and Jessie wondered how many ways Violet had devised to torture her.

She smiled grimly to herself. She wasn’t about to turn tail and run. It would be exactly what Violet and the gossips were looking for. Unfortunately, the alternative meant that Jessie would have to brazen out the whole evening, acting like nothing bothered her and pretending to have a wonderful time. She mentally thanked Gabriel for rescuing her from what could have been an awful scene with the pianoforte, and she reminded herself that she had a new jewel case for her meager collection of baubles. Meager, she reminded herself, but still sparkly.

With a sure step and firm voice, Jessie made her move.

“Good evening, Edward. How do you do, Philippa.”

Edward Poole turned around, his aristocratic features becoming pinched as he saw who had greeted him. “Why hello, Lady Jessamy.”

Philippa murmured something by way of greeting, staring at Jessie with a vapid smile.

“It seems,” Jessie said, smiling with a friendliness she didn’t feel, “that we’ve been created as this evening’s entertainment. Shall we put a wrench into Dame Violet’s plans?”

Edward’s face flushed a dull red, and Jessie knew she’d played it perfectly. There was nothing Edward hated more than negative attention.

“I’d say that sounds like the best option.”

Forging forward, Jessie prepared to spend ten minutes she’d never get back. “So how have you been? Well, I hope?” She glanced back and forth between Edward and Philippa, hoping her face didn’t betray her discomfort.

“Tolerably well, thank you.” Edward’s embarrassment had given way to his usual haughtiness, and his mouth had settled into its usual sneer. “And you?” He yawned slightly, showing Jessie that he really didn’t give a damn how she was.

Jessie wondered what she’d ever found attractive about this man. She supposed when she studied him that he really was handsome, although in a prissy, fastidious way, and she remembered when his sneer had seemed more like a smirk that was permanently in place for him to display his witty sense of humor.

Now that Jessie was on the other side, though, she could see him for what he was. His sense of humor was cutting and he had an inflated sense of himself. And his wife, Jessie acknowledged, turning her attention to Philippa, was a complete idiot.

“So, how are your parents?” Jessie addressed herself to Edward since Philippa seemed too engrossed in looking around the room.

Edward’s mouth actually turned down at the corners, and Jessie had a sudden glimpse of how he was going to age. It wasn’t pretty.

“They’re well. They’re still exceedingly pleased with their daughter-in-law.”

“And Philippa? Are you enjoying your champagne?”

Jessie managed to curb her instinct to roll her eyes as Edward’s wife giggled, raising her glass to her lips for another sip. “I love champagne! Although”—Philippa leaned conspiratorially close to Jessie despite her husband trying his best to haul her back—“I’m sure Edward wouldn’t give me anything I wouldn’t like to drink. He knows my tastes so well.”

Looking pleased with himself, Edward raised his wife’s hand, kissing the back of it. He raised his head and pinned Jessie with his gaze. “I always have had the most impeccable taste. With only one exception, and that was remedied easily enough.”

Jessie blushed. She knew he wasn’t talking about champagne anymore, and frankly, she was pleased she’d been able to talk to him for this long before he brought up the crash and burn of their engagement.

“And how is your...punch?” Edward managed to inject his sneer into his words, telling Jessie how unrefined she was for selecting the colorful drink rather than the champagne he and his wife were sipping daintily.

Before Jessie could draw breath to respond, she felt the stroke of a hand across her lower back.

“There you are, love. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” And with that, Gabriel Hartley injected himself right back into Jessie’s evening. “Not to worry. I won’t leave your side for the rest of the evening since you look far too tempting by half, and I wouldn’t want anyone to reach an incorrect conclusion.”

Jessie stumbled over how to respond, since it seemed to her that Gabriel was causing people to reach that very conclusion with record speed. She blushed and ducked her head, not sure what to say.

Gabriel wrapped an arm around her, resting his big hand on her hip where his fingers stroked idly. “How’s the punch, love?”

Jessie looked up at him incredulously. What the hell was he doing? “It’s very good. It’s the perfect combination of sweet and sour.”

Gabriel’s lips grazed her temple, and he turned to look at Edward and his wife. Edward was staring back and forth between them, his mouth open and his composure gone, and Philippa stood as nonchalantly as before, still sipping her champagne.

“I really think punch making is an art. Don’t you? It’s difficult to balance the flavors, and I love how sophisticated the end result can be.” Gabriel snagged Jessie’s cup, taking a deep swallow of the ruby liquid and draining the glass. “Mmm. A fine specimen.”

Jessie stared at him, not wanting to admit how much she’d enjoyed watching the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed.

Edward seemed to have recovered his equilibrium, his narrowed eyes causing Jessie to inhale sharply. She knew that look, and knew it was only a matter of moments before he said something scathing.

True to form, Edward wasted no time. “I prefer something a little more...refined. You know, something that doesn’t seem too inexpensive. I believe we’ll stick to our champagne and leave the sampling of punch to the two of you.”

Jessie cringed, Edward’s words offensive on so many levels. She looked up at Gabriel as he began to laugh.

“Any ponce can open a bottle of champagne. It takes a true connoisseur to appreciate the levels of flavor in a good punch.” Gabriel slapped Edward on the shoulder in camaraderie, as if the two had shared a great joke. Jessie thought it could have been her imagination, but she really thought Gabriel had slapped Edward a little harder than necessary.

They were all spared Edward’s rebuttal as a servant approached carrying a silver tray of tiny glass bowls, each with a minute spoon.

“My Lords and Ladies, would you like to try the ices? Dame Violet had them brought special from Italy.”

Jessie perked up immediately. She loved gelato! “What flavors do you have?”

The servant smiled at her, warming to his subject. “I’m afraid I don’t have many left, and if you like I’ll go and fetch others. Here I have vanilla, as well as tart cherry and chocolate-cayenne pepper.”

“Oh, I’ll have the tart cherry if no one else would like it, since there’s only one left.” Glancing at her companions, Jessie was delighted when Edward and his wife shook their heads, and Gabriel reached for the tiny bowl and handed it to her, putting her punch cup on the servant’s tray in exchange for the little confection.

“We’d like vanilla.” Without so much as glancing at his wife, Edward scooped up two of the tiny bowls, handing one to Philippa and keeping one for himself. He, too, put their empty champagne flutes onto the tray.

Jessie snorted quietly. She could have predicted Edward would choose vanilla. Her snort ended in a gasp, though, as Gabriel suddenly pinched her side, causing her to jump toward him from the ticklish sensation he’d left just above her hip. She squirmed against him, wanting to rub her side where he’d pinched it, but unable to because of the spoon and bowl she now juggled. Gabriel rubbed her side soothingly just before picking up a bowl of the chocolate-cayenne pepper ice, and Jessie looked at him incredulously once more. He smiled guilelessly at her as he lifted the spoon to his mouth, and Jessie tore her eyes away. Watching that tiny spoon disappear between his lips had done interesting things to her libido, and she could feel a warm sensation start to spread outward from her core.

“How’s the ice, love?” Gabriel’s voice washed over Jessie like warm chocolate.

“It’s delicious.” Jessie spooned up another mouthful of the ice, loving the vivid pink color and sweet-tart taste.

Edward snorted. “Of course, that flavor is perfect for you.”

Jessie felt her face begin to flame, and she felt Gabriel go very still beside her. She didn’t know where Edward was going with this, but she didn’t think it would be somewhere pleasant.

“And what does that mean?” Gabriel’s voice was deceptively mild, but Jessie could hear the steel underneath. Edward, evidently, could not.

“Well, you know the old saying ‘you are what you eat.’ I was just thinking that Jessie chose well for herself.” Edward’s eyes bored into Jessie’s.

“It’s interesting if we apply the same theory to you and your wife.” Gabriel deliberately ate another mouthful of his ice, letting the full impact of his words sink in. Unfortunately, Edward seemed to be incredibly dense when it came to this sort of repartee, and Jessie almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

“Why on earth would we be ashamed of our gelato? Vanilla is a perfectly respectable flavor. It’s refined, elegant, and universally liked.” Edward looked at his wife and smiled smugly at Jessie and Gabriel, puffing himself up like he’d scored an incontrovertible point in his favor.

“Vanilla is bland.” Gabriel calmly continued eating. “That’s the only universal thing about it. It’s plain, and it often needs something to spice it up.”

Edward began to laugh, although to Jessie, his laughter rang hollow. “Well, then, I must say you two are perfectly well matched.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Jessie was afraid she knew where this was going, and she felt powerless to stop it, like she was caught in the path of a speeding locomotive.

Edward smiled triumphantly. “Well, as I said, it’s perfect that Lady Jessamy’s flavor is...tart. It really suits her.”

Jessie decided Edward really was an idiot, because even he didn’t understand the precariousness of his position.
Either an idiot, or incredibly brave.

“And it’s well known,” Edward continued, blissfully unaware of the pissed-off MI6 agent ready to tear his head off, “it’s well known that Your Grace’s tastes run to the...ah...exotic.” With that, Edward smiled primly at them as if he’d scored a major coup, and he lifted his gelato—his boring, plain gelato—to his mouth once more.

Gabriel was nonplussed. Jessie could tell he was fighting an internal war with himself as to whether or not to break Edward’s nose, but as awesome as that move might be, Jessie didn’t want to give the gossips the satisfaction of a scene.

The tinkling sound of Jessie’s laughter brought all eyes to her, and she reached out and deliberately stroked Gabriel’s cheek. “And here I thought my flavor was perfectly matched to you because I know how much you love cherries.”

Gabriel stared at her a moment, seemingly stunned, then he threw his head back and laughed. He leaned down and nuzzled the top of her head, still chuckling.

Jessie tilted her head coquettishly, looking up at Gabriel. “And what does chocolate-cayenne pepper say about you, Your Grace?” Jessie heard Gabriel inhale sharply at her use of his formal title, and it struck her suddenly that he liked when she referred to him like that. She filed the information away for future use.

“I think,” she continued, her eyes twinkling merrily, Edward and Philippa forgotten in the moment, “I think your gelato is just like you. Hot, dark, and rich.”

Gabriel’s laughter drew every eye in the room, and Jessie risked a glance at Dame Violet. The woman looked positively defeated, and she gazed enviously at the couple commanding the lion’s share of attention.

“I believe, sir”—Gabriel pinned Edward with an icy glare, now that his laughter had subsided—“that we’ll leave you to your vanilla evening. Good night.”

With that, Gabriel swept Jessie away on his arm, and Jessie acknowledged that she was just as happy to have his company. They set their bowls down and made their way to Dame Violet and her husband, and before Jessie could say anything, Gabriel squeezed her hand warningly. Jessie zipped her lips, content to let Gabriel take the lead.

“Your Grace!” Dame Violet’s hands fluttered nervously. “You are not leaving so soon?”

Gabriel’s look was intense, and Dame Violet quailed visibly beneath his scrutiny. “Yes, Your Ladyship, we are.”

Jessie noticed that Gabriel had placed the tiniest emphasis on the “we,” and she could tell that it hadn’t been lost on Dame Violet, either. The woman’s eyes widened as she looked back and forth between them, and as she glanced over toward Edward and Philippa her eyes darted back to Gabriel and she blanched. Gazing up into his face, Jessie was grateful that the coldness in his eyes wasn’t directed at her.