To Capture a Rake Page 10

  Gideon tossed the clean shirt to the blue satin bedspread and paced the large confines of his bedchamber. He wasn’t used to idleness. At Lady Lavender’s, when he wasn’t seducing women, he was fencing, boxing…something. She liked to keep her men in the best of physical shape. She knew what women wanted, and it wasn’t a gent round in the gut with gout. No, that was what their husbands were for. Damn it all, here he only had time to think. Think about the past, about the uncertain future. He didn’t want to dwell.

  He paused at the marble fireplace, leaning his palms upon the mantel. He sure as hell didn’t want to think about the woman who had brought him here. A woman who stirred his interest like no other woman had in years. Who was Elizabeth? Merely a chambermaid? He thought not. A chambermaid didn’t speak and act like a lady. A chambermaid wouldn’t offer him a world of possibilities.

  “What if I promise to get you far, far away from Lady Lavender? What if I promise you all the money in the world so you will never be at her mercy again?”

  Leave Lady Lavender. Dare he? How many times had he and Alex discussed the possibility? If he escaped to Australia or the Americas…he just might…could possibly be free. Who the hell would come after him there? Tempting, very tempting. But he didn’t trust Elizabeth. Why was she so eager to help him? Why had she told him her secrets? His instincts said something wasn’t right.

  He reached for his shirt, intending to get out of his damp, wrinkled clothing, when he noticed the flutter of a curtain, an ever-so-slight movement. The windows were open, a soft breeze coming in from the east, but this window was facing south and only one curtain had moved. He froze, his heart hammering. There it was again. Anger and curiosity combined into a heated inferno. Had she sent people to spy on him? He wouldn’t put it past her.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, stalking toward the window.

  Gripping the dark blue velvet curtains, he threw them wide. The little girl, Cally, sat curled upon the window seat, her wide green eyes watching him warily, her little legs tucked under a frilly, blue gown of ribbons and ruffles. He wouldn’t have been more surprised if Saint Nicolas had jumped out.

  “Hullo,” she said softly, as if she feared frightening Gideon. As if it was perfectly natural for her to be hiding in his bedchamber.

  “Come out,” Gideon demanded, annoyed. Was he to have no peace? He raked his hands through his hair and paced toward the fireplace. Elizabeth probably sent the child to play at his conscience. What she didn’t realize was that he had none. He turned toward the lass. Christ, but her green eyes matched her aunt’s. Even the way she stared at him with a mixture of hope and defiance made him think of Elizabeth.

  “What are you doing in here?” he snapped out.

  Cally seemed startled by his anger and once again, for a moment, he felt guilty. He forced the disgusting feeling aside as she scrambled from the window seat and stood before him, looking very much like a soldier preparing for war.

  For one long moment she merely peeked up at him, and he was so confused by the troubling notion that he wanted to protect this child from himself that he remained frozen in place. A dark curl fell directly in front of her left eye, and the blue bow atop her head was crooked. She looked ridiculous, and damn it all, she reminded him of his sister, the memory too bloody painful to dwell upon.

  “People call me Mouse,” she whispered.

  He wanted her out, out of his room, out of his life, and most importantly out of his memories. “What are you doing in here?”

  She lifted her left shoulder and released a puff of air, blowing the curl back into place. “Hiding.”

  “From?”

  “Henry.”

  “Why?” Why the hell had he asked? Why did he care?

  She twisted her mouth into a wry smile, a smile that showed off dimples much like Elizabeth’s. “Well.” She scratched her head, and rocked back and forth on the balls of her shiny black boots, attempting to avoid his question. “I might have done something…but it wasn’t my fault.”

  Suddenly, Gideon was a child again and his own sister was pulling at his shirttails, begging him to let her play. “Come on, Gid, just this once.”

  Gideon would sigh, knowing that it was never just once. “All right, come along.”

  And they would disappear into the city, gone for hours, searching for scraps, getting into fights. It didn’t matter their lack of money, their low station in life, they’d found a way to survive and had enjoyed their adventurous world. Damn it all, he didn’t want to reminisce, but there was something about this place that made him think of home. Ridiculous, considering he’d grown up in a shack.

  “I think it best if you…”

  The door burst open, bouncing against the wall with a thump that made the room shudder.

  “Mouse!” Henry bolted forward, his face furious, his wet hair plastered to his head. Gideon barely had time to register the boy’s soaked clothing before he’d charged at the girl, leaving a trail of water across the carpet.

  “I didn’t mean to push you in!” Cally jumped at Gideon.

  For a brief moment he thought about letting her fall, but instinct got the better of him and he caught the hellion. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her high-pitched screech ringing in his ears while Henry clawed at her legs, attempting to tear her from him like she was a bloody deer and he a half-starved wolf.

  “Enough!” Gideon roared.

  The children froze. He released his hold, and Cally slid down, landing with a thud to her bottom. For one long moment both children merely stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Bleedin’ wonderful, he’d taken to scaring children. Frantic, Gideon took a step back, then two. Identical lower lips quivered with suppressed tears. Before he could stop her, Cally burst into wailing sobs that echoed irritatingly across the room.

  “Hell,” Gideon muttered, pressing the palms of his hands to his ears. Perhaps Lady Lavender had known what lay ahead and this was her way of torturing him for his stubborn behavior. Or maybe it was God punishing him for past deeds. Whatever it was, he wanted to beg them to stop their relentless torture.

  “What in God’s name…” Elizabeth appeared in the doorway like an angel of mercy. He’d never been happier to see the woman, and at the same time he blamed her for his current situation. If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth, he wouldn’t be here listening to her screaming brats and questioning his own life for the first time in over a decade.

  “Mama! He yelled at us!” Cally cried out, racing across the room and jumping into Elizabeth’s arms.

  Gideon clenched his jaw so hard, his teeth ached. He should have been thrilled to have escaped Lady Lavender’s grip; instead, he was seriously contemplating heading back to her estate. Whoring himself out had to be preferable to this nightmare.

  Elizabeth’s green gaze flashed with barely contained outrage. “Is that true?”

  Gideon wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She was looking at him as if he were the monster, when it was clear to anyone with eyes that the two demon spawn sobbing at her feet were the problem. He could not shake the feeling that God was mocking him.

  “Yes, it’s true!” Henry, the little snitch, added.

  All three of them stood in the doorway glaring as one. “Gideon?”

  Frustrated beyond endurance, Gideon exploded. “Of course I yelled at them! They came into my room like they belonged in Newgate, fighting and screaming like hellcats. If this is any indication of their typical behavior, I don’t find it the least bit surprising that your mother-in-law doesn’t think you should be in charge of them.”

  He’d learned early on to fight with words when fists wouldn’t do. To attack the enemy head-on before he was struck. His harsh words struck the target he wished. A flash of pain darkened Elizabeth’s eyes, but he wouldn’t allow himself to care.

  “Kindly keep your children,” he sneered, “out of my room.”

  He hoped he’d hurt her deeply enough that she would be haunted by his anger and leave hi
m in peace. Instead, she merely ushered the children into the hall. “Henry, Cally, head to the kitchen and see if cook has some gingerbread.”

  Damn it all, the bloody woman didn’t know when to quit.

  The children exchanged a worried glance but reluctantly moved to the hall. Elizabeth shut the door, for a long, tense moment keeping her back to him. The room felt much too small, her presence overwhelming.

  “Cally almost died,” she blurted out.

  He narrowed his gaze, wondering if this was some trick of hers. The woman was full of half truths and lies. She turned to face him. She still wore that blasted serving wench’s gown with the neckline so low, it should have been a sin. If she’d wanted him to focus on conversation instead of her body, she should have changed into something more befitting her station.

  “She was quite ill, which isn’t surprising. We lived in a one-room cottage. It was drafty. The children were starving. I didn’t know what I’d do.”

  He didn’t miss the tremble of her hands. Damn, if that tiny bit of compassion didn’t nip at his heels once more. The image of her young and lost, saddled with two babes, tugged at his measly heartstrings.

  He shoved the image aside and stalked to the windows. “Do you have a point?”

  “I hadn’t seen my sister in three years when one day she appeared, her belly swollen,” she continued on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “My sister died soon after birthing. She left the children with me. I hadn’t a clue what to do with them. Cally…she was so tiny. Like a little mouse.”

  “Her nickname.” The words slipped from his lips before he thought better.

  “Yes,” she whispered, sounding as surprised by his response as he felt. “And then he arrived. Mr. Ashton.”

  Her bloody knight in shining armor. He felt like he could see the entire shire from the windows where he stood. The view was stunning. Elizabeth’s land, and years from now it would be Henry’s if Gideon kept his mouth shut about the lad’s parentage. Why did it bother him so that Elizabeth was an heiress? Perhaps, the voice in his head mocked, because if she was titled and wealthy she was even further from his grasp.

  “He’d been married, you know, when he had the affair with my sister,” Elizabeth continued. Gideon reluctantly faced her. “It was a dreadful, unhappy marriage.” She rubbed her brow, frowning. “I’m not condoning his behavior, but I suppose trying to explain his actions.”

  “I’m sure you believe the story very interesting.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But what does this have to do with me?”

  “When Mrs. Ashton died, he came for my sister.” She paced toward the fireplace. “He had no idea that she had died as well. When he offered me a home, I had to take it.”

  “If you mean to make me feel guilty about my earlier comments, be aware that I find guilt a useless emotion.”

  She sighed, stalking toward him with purpose in her gaze and determination in her step. “We need to talk, Gideon. There are many things we need to discuss.”

  “I wasn’t hired to talk.” He started toward the sideboard that was placed thoughtfully in the far corner of his room, partly to get a drink, partly to escape her. “I was hired to fuck, so unless you want to get in bed, leave.”

  She was silent for a long moment. “Please, there is…there is something I need from you.”

  As much as he wished it, he had a feeling she didn’t need his body or expertise in the bedchamber. He poured himself a whiskey and turned warily to face her. There was a stillness about the woman that gave him pause. He wondered what was wrong, when he shouldn’t have bloody cared.

  “I thought you had already procured what you needed,” he sneered, hoping his biting tone would scare her away. Damn it all, he wanted her gone. He wanted her out of his room, out of his life.

  “No, not that.” She took in a deep breath that sent her breasts higher, threatening to spill from the low neckline. Did she wear the gown on purpose to tempt him? Then again, the woman could wear a nun’s habit and she’d bring him to the brink. It was the bloody sincerity and innocence in her eyes that caught him.

  “I’d like to hire you to protect us.”

  His gaze jerked from her cleavage to her face. He sure as hell hadn’t been expecting that. Seeing that she was quite serious, he laughed. It was so ridiculous, he couldn’t quite help himself. He was a whore, not a bloody guard. “Why?”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. She was flustered by his question. Wringing her delicate hands, she began to pace the room. “It’s obvious you’re in wonderful physical form.”

  He realized he was attractive. He realized women wanted him, but for some reason knowing that she had noticed his body stroked his arrogant ego in a way it hadn’t been stroked in some time. “Thanks for noticing.”

  She paced to the bed, glanced at it, frowned, then turned and started back toward the fireplace. “Your instincts are impeccable.”

  He took a gulp of whiskey, welcoming the familiar burn. “That’s yet to be proven.”

  She moved to the windows where he had stood only moments before. The sun shone warmly into the room, highlighting her lush body and giving her a heavenly glow. “And…and you’ve already established you have no empathy.” Slowly, she turned to face him. “Therefore I can count on you to do whatever it takes to protect us.”

  Gideon settled into the chair near the fireplace and studied her proud form. Her shoulders were thrown back, her head high. She was a veritable goddess, and he had a feeling she would do whatever it took to get what she wanted. For some reason she wanted him here. For some even odder reason, he found himself wanting to stay.

  “Very well.”

  Her shoulders sank as she released a sigh of relief.

  “But I demand payment.”

  She nodded readily. “Of course, I can work out an account with the banker. We can discuss a fee…”

  Slowly, he shook his head and she trailed off, looking confused and lost once more. “Instead of money, I demand another sort of payment.”

  Her troubled gaze grew wary. Good lass, she should be leery of him. Very leery indeed.

  Gideon swirled his glass around and around, the whiskey coming dangerously close to the rim’s edge. It was with ruthless pleasure that he stated, “I demand you in my bed when I say, whenever I want.”

  She didn’t gasp in outrage as he’d expected, as he’d hoped, but merely stared up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. “You want me to sell myself to you?”

  An eye for an eye. How very befitting. He dearly hoped she saw the irony of it all. He downed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on a side table. Slowly, so very slowly, he stood and started toward her. The woman had ample time to flee, but unfortunately for the both of them she held her ground.

  Anger and frustration propelled him onward. He didn’t stop until his toes touched hers, determined to see her back down. Gideon braced his hands on either side of the window frame, trapping her against the glass. “I shall stay as long as you please me.”

  He fully expected her to slap his face. He hoped she would. He needed the shock of violence to break the hold she had upon him.

  Unfortunately, she merely gave a quick jerk of her head, a brilliant red curl coming loose and brushing against her soft cheek. “Very well. Is…is it a deal then?”

  Her response startled him, when he had meant to shock her scared. Damn, but she’d turned the tables upon him once more. He felt the ground beneath him crumbling and knew he was dangerously close to failing. Anger surged forward, stomping down any lingering compassion. He could not let her win.

  He took in a deep breath and prepared to say the one thing he knew would make her hate him. “I don’t make deals with whores.”

  Chapter 8

  After two days of mulling over his options, Gideon was determined to get answers from the one woman who had completely destroyed his intentions. But Elizabeth, the witch, was nowhere to be found. He’d realized quite quickly that she was avoiding him, and he’d be damned
if she would bring him to this hell only to ignore him like he was one of her wayward servants, even if he did deserve it.

  He paused in the rose garden, his hands on his hips. What did she expect? That when she was done with his services, she’d hire him on as a footman? Perhaps he’d take the place of her elderly butler. Ridiculous.

  He brushed a fallen leaf from the silken waistcoat he wore. When he’d called her a whore those days ago in his bedchamber, she hadn’t slapped him. She hadn’t cried, or cursed. No, she’d done something much, much worse…she’d merely turned and left, the gleam of hurt in her gaze something he would never forget.

  Hell, he didn’t need to deal with this woman and her annoying brats. His skin crawled, his pulse hammered, urging him to go…go. Escape was just beyond those trees. But where? The thought of returning to Lady Lavender’s left a bitter taste in his mouth. If he stayed here and made money of his own…the possibilities were endless. Almost overwhelming. Gideon’s hands fisted at his thighs. He would not make the same mistakes he’d made as a child. When he left this time, his pockets would be full of coins. He would find Elizabeth and be as charming as Alex, as attentive as James.

  With a growl, he spun around and followed the crushed gravel path toward the edge of the back garden, determined to find the witch. The sun had risen a few hours ago and the day was already warm. Where could she be? Her bloody staff had led him on a wild-goose chase. She was in the kitchen. No, she’d been spotted in the conservatory. Perhaps it was the library? They might be cutthroats, but he could grudgingly admit that they were loyal to her and it was obvious they despised him.

  At the back of the garden, where the forest met the flowers and the dark trees swept wide their welcoming branches, he paused. It would be so very easy to slip into those shadows and disappear. But an odd feeling came over him as he gazed onto that mysterious, shadowed woods; a memory of when he was a lad, too wild for his own good. Sneaking out when his mum had told him to stay put.

  As if he’d lost control of his senses, he followed a winding path that curved around elms and oaks, passed a spread of brilliant bluebells that brightened the dim gloom. A path that seemed as if it had been made just for him. His boots thumped softly upon the dirt, stirring dust particles into the shafts of light that pierced the canopy of leaves above.