One Rogue Too Many (25 page)

“I don’t believe there was any muddling involved.”

He shrugged, his smile growing wider. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sweet on me now?”

She shrugged too and picked up the second apple. There had never been a question of her holding a
tendre
for him. He had been the reluctant one.

Questions bubbled up in the back of her mind, and she settled on the one that had been haunting her for years. “Why did you marry Camilla?”

His grin faded as he turned his gaze to the landscape outside. “Looks like we might run into rain.”

The sky had darkened, and from Gabby’s vantage point, she could see voluminous clouds churning in the distance. Their shapes were changing and expanding at a rapid rate.

“More like a thunderstorm,” she said.

He craned his neck to see what she had spotted behind him. The sky lit up, outlining the angry black clouds on the horizon. He turned back to her with a frown. “We should find shelter before long.”

It seemed far enough away to her. They might even avoid it entirely.

“Shouldn’t we press forward? Luke can’t be too far behind. As clever as it may have been to take a different road, my brother is no dimwit.”

“I told you I would always take care of you, and it’s safer to find shelter.”

She could argue her oldest brother was as dangerous as anything Mother Nature could dole out, but Anthony had squared his jaw. Any further discussion was pointless.

She suppressed a sigh. Her worry was likely for naught. Luke would listen if she told him she had changed her mind and wanted to marry Anthony. Having her brother think her a fickle twit didn’t sit well with her, but she had no other option.

She looked out the window and chuckled.

Anthony narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not laughing at you. Come see.” She waved him over to her side and pointed out the window. “In the clouds, there’s a man laughing and a little dog leaping from his mouth.”

“I don’t see it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, Anthony. How can you be so blind?” Drawing an outline of the figures in the air with her finger, she provided verbal cues of where to look. His head brushed against hers as he bobbed to make out what she saw. He too burst into laughter.

Wrapping his arm around her, he placed a kiss at her temple. “Only you, Gabby. Only you.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. They continued in silence as she savored his heat. His cologne had worn off long ago, but his scent was familiar and comforting.

His hand made slow passes over her arm from shoulder to elbow. “I was at the age when a man took a wife. Camilla wasn’t the most-sought-after debutante, but she was accomplished enough.”

Gabby held still, praying he would continue.

“There were times during our courtship that I found her petulant and difficult, but I ignored the signs that we didn’t suit. Her father was pleased she was marrying into the upper ranks, and I assumed she was happy with the match as well.”

Gabby swiveled on the seat to face him. “Camilla didn’t want to marry you?”

“It seems not,” he said with a grimace. “Perhaps that answers your question, but I suspect what you really wish to know is the reason I chose her over you.”

Her breath caught in a noisy wheeze.

He smiled ruefully and pushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. “I didn’t mean to shock you, but that is what you wish to know, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” It seemed pointless to deny it.

“You were still a girl.”

She had been fifteen. “I was old enough to know my mind.”

“And young enough for me to think you didn’t. Your likes and dislikes changed frequently. One day you preferred Mozart. The next Beethoven was your favorite. Besides, dangling after your best friend’s little sister isn’t right. I thought it was best if I found a lady closer to my age.”

Even now, his words cut deep. He hadn’t even acknowledged her letter. “And was it for the best?” she asked, a note of bitterness creeping into her tone as she eased away from him.

His arm tightened around her back and pulled her back in place. Lifting her chin up with the tips of his fingers, he traced her lips with his thumb. “You already know the answer.”

A crack of thunder echoed on the air, but it barely registered as she stared into his eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you, my love. Had I known my wedding would bring you pain, I would have arranged for a private ceremony.”

She frowned. “But you still would have married her.”

“I was young and stupid, Gabby. I can’t change the past.” Another loud boom startled them. His hand fell to his side. “It doesn’t appear we’ll make it to the next village in time. I’ll have Geoffrey look for someplace close to wait out the storm.”

Twenty-five

Even from a distance, the forbidding structure on the hill appeared abandoned. Lightning reflected off remnants of broken glass left standing in the windows of the crumbling walls as the carriage bumped along the overgrown road. Charring marred the ruins.

“Fire,” Anthony mumbled.

They might not find shelter in the castle, but perhaps an outbuilding would keep them dry and out of harm’s way. As the carriage rounded the last curve, a second wing came into view, the roof still intact.

Hopefully, the fire damage hadn’t spread beyond the west wing.

The carriage rolled to a stop outside the iron gate and Anthony climbed out. He needed to determine if it was safe before bringing Gabby inside.

She shivered when he assisted her from the carriage. “It’s eerie to see a place like this abandoned. What do you think happened to everyone?”

Anthony playfully tweaked her nose. “Don’t let your imagination run wild. It’s hard to maintain a home this size. I’m certain it made more sense to leave than try to restore it.”

Unruly shrubs scraped against the walls as the wind kicked up, and dark clouds rolled like ocean waves, bearing down on them. There wasn’t time to stall. “Wait here while I determine if it’s sturdy enough to enter.”

He and the outrider pushed through the gate and headed for the intact wing, passing through a large arch to reach the weathered door. A quick walk around the outside revealed no cracks in the stone exterior.

“Let’s look inside.”

After a couple of good pushes, the sticky door gave way with a loud crack. Inside, debris littered the bare floors and a smoky smell hung on the air, but at a glance the wing appeared to have been untouched by the fire. Anthony made a round of the lower floor, looking for sagging ceilings or defects in the rafters. When he was satisfied the structure wasn’t going to cave in on them, he returned to the carriage to collect Gabby.

The wind whipped her skirts at her ankles and a strand of ebony hair blew across her face. She pushed it aside, her eyes questioning.

“It will do,” he said.

She shuffled closer to him as they approached the front door, but her death grip eased once they passed through the threshold. “It’s not as bad as I expected. Just a bit chilly.”

“An imagination can be a dangerous thing,” he said with a wink. “Come this way. The drawing room is warmer and there’s a place to sit.”

He led her toward the room he’d discovered on his prowl through the first floor. Dim light trickled through the bank of smudged windows to cast the area in shades of gray. Dingy sheets draped the furniture as if someone expected to return when the home had been abandoned, but the thick layer of dust suggested no one had been there for a long time.

She released his arm and moved farther into the room. “Do you know who owns the house?”

“No, and I didn’t see evidence of anyone living in the caretaker’s cottage.”

Gabby wandered the room, inspecting the contents. “What do we do now?”

Anthony ripped a sheet from a fainting couch, slumped down on the lumpy piece, and rubbed his gritty eyes. “We wait.”

Gabby may have gotten a good night’s sleep, but he hadn’t. Every rut in the road had jostled her against him and kept his body alert and at the ready. The blasted traitor.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You look tired. Perhaps you should rest.”

“And what do you propose to do?”

“I’ll find something to entertain myself.” She opened a drawer to the writing desk and dug inside. “Aha! Paper.” The single sheet was curled at the edges and yellowed, but she beamed as if she’d uncovered treasure. She rifled through the other drawers, frowning. “But I don’t see any ink.”

Anthony lugged himself from the couch to search the fireplace. Finding a stick that hadn’t burned all the way, he retrieved a letter opener and whittled one end. “In lieu of charcoal,” he said as he handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She held up the stick for inspection and wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I can’t afford to be choosy. I’ll sketch while you rest. Go lie down.”

Needing no further encouragement, he stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. Gabby’s skirts rustled as she moved around the room until she finally settled.

His arms and legs were as heavy as lead, but despite his exhaustion, sleep didn’t claim him. Rain pelted the windows; just a few pings at first, soon followed by the steady drumming of a downpour. Thunder shook the ground, but nothing to cause him concern.

An odd sensation, as if he were being watched, made his eyes flicker open. Gabby’s gaze slid over him, a fine line of concentration between her arched brows. She pressed her lips together as she turned her attention to her paper and made light, careful strokes.

Was she drawing him?

His heartbeat sped up. He closed his eyes and lay still so she wouldn’t stop working. The crude charcoal scratched against the paper, each sound vibrating in the room. His breathing shifted, becoming as volatile as the weather outside.

To have her gaze on him, knowing she took in every detail of his form, was arousing. How long would it take her to notice that rather telling detail? Well, he could do nothing about it. He imagined her hands exploring his body instead of her eyes, and his fingers itched to touch her. When he could no longer resist looking, he found her staring back with stormy blue-gray eyes.

He cleared his thick throat. “Are you sketching me in the nude?” he teased.

She answered with a sly smile and abandoned her drawing. “Perhaps.” She lowered beside him on the couch and wound her fingers in his cravat. Her thigh pressing against his hip made his blood simmer. “It would be easier”—she untied the first knot—“if you had on fewer clothes. For the sake of art, of course.”

His laugh sounded gruff. “For art,” he agreed.

He forced himself to stay still while she fumbled with his cravat. Her inexperience made him smile, even as she tried to hide it behind a flirtatious smile. When she moved to the fastenings of his waistcoat, a low groan escaped him.

“Do you really intend to draw me in the nude?”

She shrugged one shoulder, shyness showing in the hesitation of her fingers. “Shouldn’t I at least be afforded a peek? We are to be married soon.”

No, she most certainly shouldn’t be allowed a peek. That was for their wedding night. Her brothers would kill him otherwise. At this point, he was only risking permanent maiming for stealing away with her. But she looked so damned alluring with her mussed hair and flushed cheeks.

Oh, hell
. He could hold his own against her brothers.

Capturing her at the nape, he pulled her down to cover her mouth with his. Her lips moved with his, returning his attack with vigor. She shifted on the couch and climbed atop him to work more furiously at unfastening his waistcoat.

He breathed her in, her essence filling him and giving him new life. Her taste and sweet scent always felt like coming home. This was how it was with Gabby. No one else had ever measured up.

When she finished with his waistcoat, he sat up, cradling her bottom so she didn’t tumble from the couch. She grappled with his coat and pushed it down his arms. He shrugged out of it and his waistcoat, then tore his shirt over his head.

“Oh,” she said on a breath. Her eyes roamed over him with an appreciative glint. “I’d forgotten how magnificent you are.”

He’d never been a vain man, but her admiration made him hungry for more.

He eased back on the couch as she traced his muscles. Fire followed in the wake of her touch. It felt good to have her hands on him again.

His abs twitched as her exploration traveled lower. She slid a finger into his waistband and caressed him from one side to the next. He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. He should stop her journey here, but he was so hard and the promise of her hand around his cock was difficult to resist. Still, a gentleman wouldn’t allow it.

Three more fingers nestled into his trousers, her knuckles brushing against the pale hairs she couldn’t yet see. God, why couldn’t he be an unapologetic rogue like most gents he knew? She wanted him. It was clear in her swollen lips and smoky gaze.

He gently circled her wrist. “Not this time, my love.”

She sat back on her haunches, her bottom snug against his groin. A deep blush rose up her chest and neck, and she didn’t seem to know where to look. “I’m s-sorry.”

He didn’t want her embarrassed by her desires any more than he wanted to keep his word to wait until they married to bed her. “Don’t apologize. If our circumstances were different, I wouldn’t stop you.”

When he’d given his word to Drew, he hadn’t anticipated this moment. She would be his wife by now if their courtship had run its course, and they would be in London, not seeking shelter among castle ruins in the middle of nowhere.

If Thorne had stayed the hell away from her.

He let loose a string of curses in his mind. Why had she accepted Thorne’s proposal? It made no sense. Before he could ask, her hand landed on his pocket where he kept his lucky talisman. His heart tripped.

Her brows arched as she probed the hard lump. “What is this?” She dug into his pocket.

“No!” He grabbed her wrist, but she already had the rock entrapped in her hand.

“Is this what you’re always fiddling with?” She uncurled her fingers, and her eyes expanded.