To Capture a Rake Page 15

  On his mount, Will reached the duel much quicker than Elizabeth. He slipped from his horse and jumped into the fray, a mass of shadows she couldn’t decipher, but certainly two against one would only be to their benefit.

  “Who sent you?” Gideon’s harsh voice demanded.

  Only silence greeted the question. Desperate to stop him from killing the culprit and gaining attention they certainly didn’t need, she struggled up the hill toward the trees and their shadows. Even if the man deserved to be killed, a murder would only court questions she couldn’t answer at the moment.

  Before Elizabeth could reach him, Gideon slammed his fist into the man’s face. His head snapped back with a jerk that made Elizabeth cringe. The man groaned.

  She’d seen too much anger, too much misery, and too much hurt to find any satisfaction in witnessing his pain. “Gideon, stop!”

  But he didn’t listen. The man practically vibrated with anger. “Who sent you?”

  “No one!” the man muttered. “I was hunting.”

  Elizabeth drew to a stop a few feet from the group, her breathing harsh as she shoved damp locks of hair from her face. He was obviously lying, she could see that in the sheen across his pale face and the way his gaze nervously flickered around the field, as if looking for assistance. Good Lord, were there more?

  Gideon paused for one long moment, and she feared he was planning how best to kill him. Finally he latched onto the man’s lapels and shoved him into Will’s hands. “We’ll take him to the estate and question him there.”

  She’d barely gotten a look at the culprit before Will ushered him away. He was young, barely twenty, his gait a hobble that said Gideon had injured him more than he wanted to let on. She knew the desperation that led men to act, yet she found it hard to find compassion for this man who had tried to kill her. If he had succeeded, the children would be without a mother, Gideon would not know his true place.

  “Gideon.” Elizabeth rested her hand on his arm, his muscles flinching. “What will you do?”

  Gideon turned on her, his face furious. Elizabeth stumbled back a step, surprised. He was angry at her, for some reason. “You said she wouldn’t try to kill you while she was here.”

  She felt the odd need to reassure him. “We don’t know if she has.”

  Gideon’s eyes narrowed into mere slits. His hair was damp and curled from the rain, his jacket soaked through, but he was a god and didn’t seem to notice, an angry god. “You hired me to protect you.”

  He certainly didn’t mean he’d go after the dowager? Did he not understand that hurting anyone would only court questions and trouble? Blast, but he would end up in Newgate! She needed him here. Elizabeth took in a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Gideon, you can’t hurt him, and you sure as hell can’t touch the dowager. You’re not the law.”

  He swept past her and started toward his mount. “I am now.”

  Chapter 11

  It wasn’t until well after midnight when Elizabeth made it to her room. After being nearly murdered, she’d had the sudden urge to see the children. But Henry and Mouse were tucked away, sleeping peacefully in their beds, and guards were not only posted outside their door but also outside their windows two stories below. Seeing them safe in their bedchamber did not make her feel any better.

  Finally alone, Elizabeth actually thought about how close she had come to dying. If Gideon hadn’t been there…

  Gideon saving her life was becoming a rather common occurrence. Trembling, she tore the pins from her hair and let the strands whisper down her back. The locks were still damp from the rain, her body still chilled. No, she wouldn’t think about death. She sank onto the stool before her dressing mirror. Yet, death would not leave her alone, constantly nipping at her heels no matter how hard she tried to outrun the beast.

  She pressed her fingers to the dark circles under her eyes, ignoring the way her hands shook with nerves and exhaustion. How much more must she endure? Until Mr. Smith found something to prove her mother-in-law guilty, she feared she would have to endure much, much more. She was at a complete loss as to what to do next.

  Elizabeth’s hands curled into fists. As much as she would love to toss her out onto her boney arse, she mustn’t let on that she knew. No, they didn’t have enough evidence to condemn the woman. With a sigh she rested her elbows atop the vanity and her head in her hands. She would find a way to prove that the dowager was guilty. She must. Her life depended upon it. Until then, the children would not go anywhere without a guard and she would do her best to stay indoors.

  Besides, they were safer with the dowager here than only God knew where. She might not realize it, but the dowager was imprisoned in this estate, surrounded. Now, if only Elizabeth could stop herself from killing the woman.

  She started to turn away when she noticed the note, a folded missive tucked up against her oval mirror. Her name was written on the front in bold, strong handwriting. Bemused, she slowly lifted the folded note and opened it.

  Per our agreement, I’m demanding your presence in my bedchamber.

  Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. He wanted her, wanted her here and now. She shook her head and drew her finger over the words. It seemed personal for some reason, seeing his handwriting as bold as he. Suddenly the exhaustion of the day fled. Dare she go to him? Dare she forget, for a moment, the danger she was in? An agreement was an agreement after all. She folded the note and stood on unsteady legs.

  She owed him.

  Her gaze went to the door, as if expecting him to come tearing through it at any moment and ravish her like in a bad horrid novel. Why did that thought not frighten her as much as it should have? She wasn’t even sure how she reached the door, but suddenly she was out in the hall. It was quiet. So very still. Yet, she swore she could sense his heartbeat calling to her. It seemed as if she and Gideon were the only two people in the entire world still awake.

  She swallowed hard and moved down the long corridor, counting the steps. One. Two. Three. She told herself she wanted answers. Four. Five. Six. She wanted to know if the murderer had admitted the truth. Seven. Eight. Nine. She wanted to know if they had found Becky. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. She wanted…blimey, she wanted him.

  She picked up her skirts and raced to the end of the hall. He wanted her, and she wanted him. If everything went as planned, they would soon be married. Why not give in to her desire now? She came to a skidding halt outside his door and froze.

  He wanted her. She wanted him. But if she entered his chamber now, he would think of her as nothing more than his whore. Dare she start their relationship out on such an unsteady foot? She lifted her fist, but the door opened even before she knocked. Startled, she sucked in a sharp breath and stared with wide eyes at the fine linen of Gideon’s shirt, fascinated with the all-too-human pulse that beat at the side of his neck.

  “You came,” he said softly.

  Elizabeth swallowed hard and tilted her head back, her gaze clashing with his. Had she imagined the vulnerability in his tone? Certainly she had. Gideon wasn’t vulnerable; he was a veritable god. “You sent for me.”

  He didn’t say a word, merely stepped to the side and allowed her entrance. It was at that moment that she realized if she had any bit of sense, she would turn around and leave. So why did her legs carry her forward instead of back? She told herself she only wanted answers, but she knew the truth.

  She wanted him.

  Suddenly cold, she went directly toward the marble fireplace where flames burned brightly, welcoming her into their warmth. She wanted to touch him, to wrap her arms around his hard body and find safety and heat within his embrace. But he wasn’t hers…not yet. Maybe not ever. And so she would take what he gave her for now. She turned, watching as he slowly closed the door.

  “What happened to your prisoner?” she asked. “Did he speak?”

  “Yes.”

  A shiver of unease raced over her skin, her gaze dropping to those large hands. What had he done in order to get him to talk? Perha
ps it was best if she didn’t know. Gideon threw the bolt on the door, that quiet click like a gunshot. Trapped in a gilded cage with a panther. A strained silence stretched between them.

  Elizabeth swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her chest. “And?”

  “And he said he was hired by someone.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders and started toward her. Elizabeth resisted the urge to step back. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She’d assumed marriage with Gideon would be uncomplicated. She’d even imagined them leading completely separate lives if need be, where both were content to do what they wanted. She hadn’t expected to be so damn attracted to the man.

  “He doesn’t know who hired him. He worked through an acquaintance. An acquaintance who has come up missing, oddly enough. Becky was a pawn to draw you out. He lured her into the woods, got her good and lost, then waited for you.”

  She felt oddly hurt. Stupid. Used. “I see. And the child is now at home?”

  “Yes.”

  Thank God.

  “They wanted you dead, Elizabeth,” he snapped.

  He sounded so angry. Why? Why did he care? She should have been focused on his words; instead, she found fascination with the way he moved. No, prowled would have been a better word. He wasn’t wearing stockings or boots, merely trousers that hugged his muscled legs and a white shirt that was untucked and open at the collar. Completely inappropriate, completely lovely. She was alive and she was here, with Gideon. That was all that mattered.

  “They hoped I’d leave the estate.”

  “They knew you’d leave.” He paused close to her. So close she could feel his heat and had to resist the urge to lean into him. “They knew how to draw you out: merely mention that one of your tenants was in need.”

  She felt like she was wavering on the edge of that cliff and only Gideon could decide her fate. She didn’t want to discuss her brush with death, she wanted him to hold her, but he, obviously, wanted to talk. “So, my loyalty was to cause my downfall?”

  “No, your loyalty saved you.”

  She was confused for a moment, then realization whispered over her like a warm spring breeze. Her chest felt suddenly tight, and hope bloomed once more. “Are you…are you saying you’re loyal to me? That you saved me because you’re loyal?”

  No, she wouldn’t believe it. He reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing down her neck, a gentle touch. The touch of a lover. “We have an agreement, don’t we?”

  His voice was husky with emotion, not desire. Yes, he wanted her, but there was something more, something deeper. Feelings she’d never seen before in his hard eyes. Indeed, something had shifted between them. He bloody well did care about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

  “I suppose,” she whispered. “But I assumed a man like you wouldn’t honor an agreement if it didn’t benefit him.”

  “But it benefits me greatly.” His gaze slid down her body and up again, leaving a path of heat behind. She should have been offended, but she wasn’t because she didn’t believe him for a moment. He was attempting desperately to cling to that indifferent, sinful façade he so enjoyed portraying to the world. But she had seen the truth; he had saved her twice because she had been right all along…he did have a soul.

  As if sensing the way of her thoughts, he moved toward the sideboard where he poured a glass of whiskey. “Something to drink?”

  “No,” she whispered, unsure what to do. Should she sit? Should she go to the bed? Undress? How she wanted to touch him. For him to touch her. But she wouldn’t beg, and as silly as it seemed, she worried about frightening him away.

  He set the glass on a side table, then glanced up at her through his thick, dark lashes. “Come here.”

  He needn’t ask twice. She started slowly toward him, the floorboards creaking through the carpet. “Shall I undress?”

  “No.”

  She paused. Had she misread his intentions? Did he not wish to be intimate? No, his note had been quite clear. He wanted her in his bed, so why was he playing coy? She’d thought they were beyond these games. As much as she was tempted to leave, she had a feeling he not only wanted her but needed her.

  He held out his hand, that large, masculine hand that could bring her to fulfillment with just a touch. “I’ll undress you,” he said. “Now come here.”

  She was surprised by his command, yet she couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement that heated her blood. Trustingly, she slid her hand into his, the friction of his touch setting her skin afire. He pulled her close, so close her skirts brushed against his legs.

  “Look at me.” His velvet voice brushed over her like a caress.

  She tilted her head back and met his gaze. For the longest time she’d felt so utterly alone. Yes, she had friends, but no one who truly understood her. But here, now, she felt at peace with Gideon, as if he knew the real her. Slowly, he reached up to the neckline of her gown. With deft fingers, he managed to undo the buttons that trailed between her breasts, his knuckles brushing against the sides of the sensitive mounds. Time stood still. Her heart pounded so harshly, she was surprised he hadn’t noticed.

  He shoved the bodice from her shoulders. The material fell to the ground with a swoosh. Still she didn’t look away. There was something in his eyes that held her enthralled. Something different…something new and warm. The real Gideon. She waited with breathless anticipation for his next movement. His hands settled on her hips, and slowly he turned her. She felt as if she floated in a dream, a wonderfully erotic dream.

  With his breath warm on the back of her neck, his fingers found the buttons on her skirt. The clothing fell to her feet, pooling in a cloud of material. She stood in only her shift and corset. She should have felt embarrassed, at the least ashamed. The only emotion coursing through her body was the desperate need to be touched. Kissed. Taken.

  Why wasn’t he touching her? Why wasn’t he kissing her? Bemused, she started to step out of the pool of material, but Gideon scooped her up and settled in the leather chair behind him before she had time. Suddenly situated upon his lap, she felt the proof of his desire pressing to her bottom. A shiver of pleasure whispered down her spine as she sank into his hard body.

  All unease fled, replaced with pure desire. She trailed her fingers down the side of his face, over the rough scruff that darkened his jaw. How she wished she could truly trust him. How she wished she knew what he wanted from her. But at the moment, it didn’t matter because at the moment they both wanted the same thing. “Gideon?”

  He cupped the back of her head and drew her to him. Their lips met, molded together in a soft and gentle kiss. He did not offer her flowers or poetry, but he offered her a sweetness she’d never expected from him.

  Elizabeth pressed her hands to his hard chest as his mouth moved over her slowly, deliberately. He was like a drug she couldn’t quite get enough of. So many emotions swirled within that she wasn’t sure which to grasp onto. His fingers flexed, sliding down her back and cupping her bottom. With a growl low in his throat, he pulled her up his lap, over that hard erection. Her shift and corset provided little protection from his heat. She might as well have been naked. She wished they were naked.

  Her heart thumped in her ears. The entire world faded away. The taste of his mouth was purely intoxicating. To hell with wine, she could easily become drunk on Gideon. She wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his silky hair.

  This was the Gideon she had prayed could exist. As his velvety tongue slid across her lower lip, blood rushed through her veins. She opened her mouth on a groan and kissed him back with all the passion that boiled within. She craved everything about him…the mint taste of his mouth, the hardness of his body, the male, musky scent of his skin.

  Their tongues met, the kiss deepening until her heart threatened to burst from her chest. Frantic for more, her fingers tightened around the silky strands of his hair. The lack of air, the heat from the
fireplace at her back, the touch of his hands…Elizabeth felt almost faint. She tore her mouth away, only to rest the side of her face against the scruff on his cheek. An erotic touch.

  His own harsh breath rang in her ears, stirring the loose locks at her temple. She could feel the tenseness of his body and knew he held back. But she wanted more, she wanted all. She shifted, rubbing her bottom against his erection, attempting to ease the ache between her legs and urging him to continue.

  Take me, she wanted to tell him. She only wanted to forget for a moment her responsibilities, to forget life and death. To know only pure bliss. Make me forget, make me sing.

  When he continued to merely sit there, his large hands moving slowly up and down her spine, she decided to take charge. “Kiss me,” she finally whispered.

  He groaned as she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his neck. The man actually groaned as if he needed her as badly as she did him. A shiver of power rushed through her body. All this time he’d demanded to be in control, but she knew better now. Her hands found the buttons on his shirt and with fumbling fingers, she had his chest bared within moments. Unable to help herself, she ran her hands down the hard muscles of his chest.

  “You will give yourself completely to me?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Yes.” She could practically feel the tension thrumming through him. He held back, but he wanted her with a desperation that shone in his eyes. Her fingers trailed down to his waistband. Gideon sucked in a sharp breath, an erotic sound that stirred her longing and made the pulse between her legs throb.

  She started to lower her mouth to his collarbone when she noticed the bruising along his ribs. Startled, she drew back. “You’re hurt!”

  “I’m fine.”

  But he obviously wasn’t fine. She shoved the shirt from his shoulders and leaned back, letting the firelight play across is muscled chest. A large bruise covered his ribs on the right side, a terrible smirch of purple and brown. “When you jumped from the horse to protect me?”