The Hopeless Hoyden (32 page)

             
“Miss Pendleton, is she in the library?" he asked Pickering.

             
“Indeed, my lord, though it has been a bit of a struggle to keep her there."  But that worthy's comment was said to his lordship's back as Gabriel strode toward the library where Emily stood in the doorway, making his arduous journey worth all the trouble.               

             
“Why aren't you on the sofa?" Gabriel demanded, taking her by the arm and ushering her into the room.  Glancing over his shoulder and spotting the butler's impassive gaze on them, Gabriel deliberately closed the door.  Once he saw that Emily was comfortable, he sat next to her on the sofa and availed himself of her hand.  Softly, he stroked her palm with his thumb and stared deep into her violet eyes, watching, waiting, for her to react to his blatant desire for her.  He smiled to himself as warm color flooded her cheeks.  What a passionate creature his wood sprite was.

             
“Pickering reports you've been a difficult patient, Emily."

             
“Oh, pooh, he exaggerates," Emily said, tugging on her hand.

             
“Then I take it you followed my directions to the letter?"

             
“For the most part, my lord."  Her tell-tale blush deepened. 

             
“But you are feeling better?"

             
“Oh, yes, much better."

             
“Excellent.  It would be most unfair of me to take advantage of you in a weakened state."  When Emily gave him a quizzical look, he possessed himself of her other hand and used his thumb to play with that palm, then whispered the fervent plea, “Marry me, Emily."

             
He saw from her startled expression that he'd thrown her off stride as she fought to free her hands from his.

             
“No, please, Gab.  I cannot."  She jerked on her hands from his, jumping off the sofa cushions.

             
“I don't know what will happen to me, Emily, if you deny me your laughter, your smile, your faith in me," said Gabriel, rising while she took several steps to put distance between them.  Frustrated by her withdrawal, he ran a hand distractedly through his hair.

             
“But it is like Tom said.  Your viscountess should have countenance."

             
“What nonsense is Tom spouting?" Gabriel demanded.  But now that he understood her reluctance, a spark of hope burned within his breast.  “Emily, what Tom deems as countenance toted by most London belles is nothing more than a social facade that covers their selfish, mean spiritedness.  I'd be miserable without the challenge of teaching you how to shoot, or having you show me how to cast a fishing line, or sharing the joy of spinning a tall tale.”  He chuckled softly as these memories and others came to mind.

             
“This is not a laughing matter, Gab."  Tears of frustration and pain glistened in her eyes.

             
“No, it's not."  He sobered immediately and reached for her.  “Em, I've endured all the countenance I care to for a lifetime.  I want to be happy.  I want to smile and laugh.  I want to live the kind of life I saw men die for.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

             
“But, Gab--"

             
“No buts.  Without you, my life is meaningless."  His eyes held hers, pleading for her understanding.

             
“Do you really love me?"

             
“More than life itself."

             
“Oh, Gab," Emily sobbed, rushing to throw her arms about him.

             
He'd been praying for this sort of capitulation and had braced himself, taking a half step back with his arms outspread to catch her.  Only he miscalculated, and the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch.  Before he could readjust his stance, his leg buckled, and together they tumbled over the sofa, tipping it over with the force of their combined weight.

             
Highly conscious of her injury, Gabriel, trying to keep Emily on top of him, took the brunt of the fall.  “Emily, my love, are you all right?"  When he heard her gurgling laughter muffled by the folds of his cravat, Gabriel used one hand to raise her chin and proceeded to kiss her senseless.  Several passionate seconds passed before Gabriel realized they were not alone. 

             
Tom had rushed into the room, with Lady Spivey right behind him, demanding, “What was that crash?"

             
“Good heavens!"  Aunt Esmeralda's voice sounded all aflutter.  “Look at the settee?"

             
With Emily wiggling frantically to right her skirts while lying on top of him, Gabriel was torn between a rising desire to ravish his beloved or strangle the intruders.  Logic called for a compromise.

             
“Be still, Em," he whispered in her ear.  “I'll handle this."

             
Gently lifting her aside, he rose up enough to poke his head above the top of the upturned couch.  Fixing a silly grin in place, he asked, “Is something amiss?"

             
“I'll say!"  Tom started for the couch with a purposeful stride.  “What's going on here?" 

             
“Nothing, nothing at all."  Gabriel held up a hand to halt the young man's advance.  “I was napping and . . . ."

             
But Tom looked worried.  “I thought Emily was in here.  Is she back there?"

             
“Oh, pooh," Emily's strangled cry rose mournfully from where she crouched next to Gabriel.

             
“Emily?"  The young man's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

             
“Afraid so, Tom."  Gabriel looked down on his beloved with a loving smile. 

             
“Now look here, you libertine, the knot’s not tied yet--" Tom blustered.

             
But Gabriel cut him off.  “I've been busy trying to convince your sister to marry me."

             
“C-convince her?  Good heavens!" Lady Spivey clutched her heaving bosom.  “The gel's compromised herself half a dozen times, and you still have to convince her?"

             
Gabriel smiled wickedly.  “Things were going splendidly--convincing her of all the advantages of being my viscountess, that is--until you two barged in."

             
“This ain't right."  Tom's frown deepened as Emily's honey colored curls slowly topped the edge of the overturned couch.  “I mean, it's no way to court a girl."

             
Gabriel placed a hand on top of Emily's head and pressed down, forcing her to retreat from the field of battle.  “I've told her about my other estates and tried to bribe her with a new hunter--"

             
“A new hunter!" Emily's voice broke in.  “Really, Gab?"

             
“Even told her I'd put you up for membership in the Four-in-Hand Club."

             
“No kidding?" Tom's frowning countenance instantly changed to one of awe.              

             
“Of course, Tom, if you prefer, I could discuss the particulars of the marriage contract with you.  Only, your sister hasn't agreed to marry me--yet."

             
Lady Spivey groaned before giving her succinct opinion.  “The gel's daft!"              

             
“A little more time, however, and I should be able to bring her around."  Gabriel speared Tom with a knowing look.

             
“Oh?  Oh, by Jupiter!  I think you're right."  Tom turned to his aunt.  “Emily can be squeamish at times, you know, Aunt Esmeralda."

             
“Balderdash!" Lady Spivey retorted. “The gel doesn't possess a squeamish bone in her body."
              “Still, Lindemann ought to have a chance to press his suit," Tom said with a hold on the old lady's arm, trying to drag her toward the door.

             
“Unseemly, I don’t mind telling you, Lindemann.  That is what this whole house party has been," the old lady protested indignantly.

             
Gabriel reached inside the left pocket of his jacket, withdrew white parchment, and held it over his head.  “I've a special license, Lady Spivey.”

             
“A special license!"  Emily's head popped up, a question in her violet eyes.  “Was that why you went to London?"

             
“Special license!" echoed Aunt Esmeralda.  “You have it in your hand?"

             
“Yes," answered Gabriel with another foolish grin.  He waited until Tom hauled Lady Spivey into the hall and closed the door before he waved the sheet of parchment at Emily.  “And I've every intention of using this immediately, Em."

             
With that, Gabriel drew his beloved wood sprite to him in a tender embrace, which lasted but a moment before they sank blissfully onto the carpet behind the sofa.

Other novels available by Margaret Bennett:

Deadly Lessons

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Jackson
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