A Gentleman Never Tells (15 page)

There were only a few people in the park as they entered from the east side. That was to be expected, since it was windy, cold, and a weekday. Lord Brentwood took his time and searched for just the right place to stop, which was a level stretch of land not too far from the Serpentine. There was a crop of trees to break the wind but still sunny enough to help keep them warm.

He set the brake on the curricle and jumped down. He first helped Brutus make it down the two steps and then reached back to help Gabrielle.

She closed her parasol and laid it on the seat before taking his hand. “I don’t think I’ll need this.”

He grinned. “And I might be safer if you don’t have it with you.”

Gabrielle laughed as she took his hand and stepped down.

Lord Brentwood took the blanket that had covered her legs and spread it on the ground, and then he walked back to the carriage to get the food basket from underneath the seat. “I hope you like what my cook prepared for us. Warm—” He stopped mid-sentence when he glanced back and saw that Brutus had staked out his claim right in the middle of the small blanket and was making himself comfortable.

But without missing another beat, Lord Brentwood looked at her and said, “Warm chocolate, bread, cheese, and fig preserves.”

Gabrielle started to tell Brutus to move and would have, except on second thought, she knew her dog’s antics were working right into her plan to make the viscount see how unsuitable she was to be his wife. It was best he know that wherever she went Brutus went, and the dog always got special treatment.

“It all sounds wonderful to me,” she said to him and walked over to the blanket.

She gave Lord Brentwood her hand, and he helped her to sit on a corner. He lowered himself on the opposite side of her, leaving the food basket as a barrier between them. She slipped her reticule off her wrist and pretended not to see him looking curiously at the toe of his boot that Brutus had christened with his slobber.

After taking off his gloves and scarf and unbuttoning his overcoat, the first thing he did was to pull out a flask and pour warm chocolate into a delicate china cup and hand it to her. She sipped the drink and watched in silence as he laid pieces of bread and containers holding butter and preserves onto the napkin the cup had been wrapped in.

“Mmm, this chocolate is wonderful, my lord, but has a strange taste to it.”

“That might be because it’s laced with a little brandy. I thought it might help keep you warm.”

“I’ve never had chocolate with brandy, and it does make my cheeks feel warm.”

“It also makes them turn a lovely shade of pink.”

“Really?” she said, touching her cheek.

Gabrielle set the cup aside. She felt wonderful sitting on the blanket under a tree with the viscount. She felt so happy and so free, she did the unthinkable and took off her gloves and laid them beside her.

She broke off a piece of bread and buttered it with the small knife he’d brought. “Will you tell me what happened between you and Staunton?”

Lord Brentwood popped a piece of bread loaded with fig preserves into his mouth and swallowed before saying, “There’s nothing to tell. There were very few words spoken between us.”

Gabrielle thought for a moment. Staunton had always been a man of few words. She’d actually had very few conversations with him during their engagement. When they had first become engaged, he’d often sought her out, always wanting her to take walks with him in the garden, or if they were at parties, to go out on the terrace with him. It hadn’t taken her long to realize all he wanted to do was kiss her, and that held no appeal to her, so she’d stopped going anywhere with him. He’d soon stopped asking. And that was obviously when he started noticing her sister and fell in love with her.

“Is it true he just walked up to you and hit you?”

The viscount gave her a crooked smile. “You know, Lady Gabrielle, I have only one thing to say about my encounter with Mr. Staunton. I might have hit a man, too, if I thought he’d stolen my fiancée from me. In fact, I might have done more than he did.”

“But Staunton didn’t want to marry me because—” Gabrielle caught herself before she revealed the truth about Staunton and Rosabelle. She quickly popped a piece of bread in her mouth.

“Staunton didn’t want to marry you because of what?”

She struggled to come up with something, but words were failing her. She needed to say something that would make herself sound like a dreadful person. Without thinking clearly, she quickly blurted out, “Because I have a nasty temper, and I’ve been known to throw things.”

“At Staunton?”

She hesitated. “No, others,” she said, sensing Lord Brentwood didn’t believe her for a moment, and she was only digging the hole she was standing in deeper. “Believe me, no man should have to abide a woman as ill-tempered as I.”

He sipped his chocolate and looked at her thoughtfully. “Did Staunton ever tell you that?”

She looked at Lord Brentwood. He was still waiting for an answer, so she said, “No, not in those words exactly. But take my word for it: he did not want to marry me.”

“All right,” he said calmly. “I’ll believe you.” He added more chocolate to their cups. “But what about you? Why didn’t you want to marry him?”

Gabrielle hesitated. How had she allowed them to get this far into a conversation about Staunton? She immediately started looking for a way out of it.

“I didn’t object at first when my father told me he’d picked Staunton for me. I’m sorry he hit you and cut your lip again.”

A half laugh blew past his lips and he shrugged. “Yes, it wouldn’t have been so bad if Staunton had caught me on the other side, but his fist landed where my lip had just healed.”

Her eyes searched his. Suddenly, everything around them was very quiet. On impulse, Gabrielle reached over and touched the injured side of his mouth with the pads of her fingers. He took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it while his gaze searched her face.

“The care and concern I see in your eyes isn’t necessary,” he said. “It’s almost well and doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“But it was because of me that Staunton hit you.”

He gave her a half smile. “A small price to pay for such sweet kisses.” His gaze stayed steady on hers. “Do you mind if I kiss you right now?”

Her heart rate soared, and she felt hot, even though a cool breeze chilled the air. Why was he asking? Staunton had kissed her often and he had never once asked if he could. He would always just pull her into his arms and kiss her without any warning. But then, she had never wanted Staunton’s kisses.

Did she mind? She was eager for this man to kiss her.

“No,” she whispered.

Reaching over the basket, Lord Brentwood bent his head and lightly brushed his warm, moist, and pliant lips over hers. She tasted the sweetness of the jam he’d just eaten, and a quickening tightened her abdomen. The viscount’s kiss was gentle and satisfying, much more pleasant than Staunton’s kisses had been. She wanted it to go on forever, but it ended far too quickly.

She moistened her lips and asked, “Why did you ask permission for a kiss?”

“That’s what a gentleman is supposed to do the first time he kisses a lady.”

“But we’ve—” She stopped.

“I know,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “We’ve kissed before, but it was you who initiated our first kiss, wasn’t it?”

She nodded again and lowered her lashes over her eyes, embarrassed by how brazen she’d been that morning in the park.

“I didn’t mind, you know,” he said.

“Didn’t you think it made me seem a very loose lady to have done that?”

“Very,” he said with a slight grin as his arms tightened about her.

“And being loose makes me completely unacceptable as a titled man’s wife, doesn’t it?”

His expression turned serious, and his eyes darkened. “No. You can kiss me again any time you want to. I will never rebuff you, and wanting to kiss me will never make you unsuitable as my wife.”

Exasperation settled over her. If that didn’t make her undesirable as a wife in his eyes, she didn’t know what would. She should be furious he wanted her to be so fresh and free. Until she had met him, she had lived a life above reproach and had never been anything but circumspect in the company of a man. But all that was forgotten whenever Lord Brentwood was near her. She had found far too many things to like about him.

Gabrielle looked deeply into his eyes and remembered the breathtaking embrace they’d shared that morning more than two weeks ago. The memories of his tempting kisses fused with what she was feeling now, and she wanted him to kiss her again as he had that day. The desiring look in his hooded eyes left her no doubt he wanted to kiss her that way again too.

And that was not a good idea. She couldn’t examine her feelings for him beyond her intense desire to keep this man from being forced to wed her. She had to put a stop to the way he was making her feel, and she had to do it quickly. She reached behind her and grabbed her reticule off the blanket and fumbled inside it, finally drawing out her sheet of poetry.

She found it difficult to steady her cold fingers as she unfolded the paper. “Since you seemed to enjoy Lord Snellingly’s poetry so much a few nights ago, I thought perhaps I’d read you some of mine.

“In the shadows of a cold night, my fragile dreams…”

Lord Brentwood reached over and slipped the foolscap out of her hands and dropped it to the ground behind him. “I don’t think so, Gabrie.”

“No?” she whispered.

“No,” he answered with a smile. “We’ll let the wind read it.”

He shoved the food basket out of his way so suddenly it knocked over her cup and disturbed Brutus’s slumber. He growled, a low woof sound.

“Stay out of this, Brutus,” Lord Brentwood said and moved closer to Gabrielle.

He positioned his legs in the opposite direction from hers and pulled up his knees so she could rest her side against his thighs. He slid his arms around her, pulling her close.

“I can think of a far better way to spend our time in the park than reading poetry. Tell me how you like this.”

His hold on her was possessive as he lowered his head to hers. Gabrielle instinctively closed her eyes. His lips pressed against hers and moved languorously over them. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside and probe the depths of her mouth. The kiss was generous and glorious. At times she heard short, gaspy breaths, and sometimes she heard long contented sighs, but had no idea if the sounds came from her or Lord Brentwood. She loved the way his lips roved expertly across hers, loved the taste of brandy and chocolate that lingered on his tongue.

He raised his head and looked down at her with his crooked smile and asked, “Well?”

“I do believe you are right. Kissing is much better than reading poetry.”

Lord Brentwood chuckled, and with all thoughts of verse fading from her mind, Gabrielle slipped her arms inside his coat and around his waist. His body was warm and inviting. She drew him closer to her. There was something decidedly rebellious and thrilling about being in his arms and kissing him in the bright light of sunshine, and suddenly she was aware of nothing but the ecstasy she felt in his arms.

His hand found the ribbon under her chin and he untied it. He gently pulled the bonnet off and set it aside. She felt his fingers at her throat as he pulled on the bow of her short velvet cape and let it fall away from her shoulders. With ease, he unfastened her velvet pelisse and opened it, exposing her scooped-neck carriage dress. His lips left hers and kissed their way down the column of her throat to the part of her chest that was exposed by the neckline of her dress. The touch of his warm lips on her cool skin excited her.

He rested his open palm on her breast over her heart, and she wondered if he could feel the constant pounding that sounded like a loud drum in her ears. She knew what she was allowing him to do was beyond the pale, but she had discarded all caution and reasoning the moment his lips met hers. She had no inclination to stop him until, in the distance, she heard the sound of carriage wheels.

Startled, she tried to pull out of his arms.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Without letting go of her, Lord Brentwood leaned forward and carefully peeked around the trunk of the tree directly in front of them.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he whispered, brushing aside her concern and scooting even closer to her. “The carriage is far away and not coming in this direction. I can see around the tree and I will keep watch. I will not let anyone catch me kissing you.”

When he looked down at her, she touched the side of his mouth again and said, “Didn’t it hurt to kiss me so passionately?”

He smiled and outlined her lips with the tip of his finger. “It didn’t hurt at all.” He placed his lips on hers again and whispered against them, “Your mouth is so soft, sweet, and gentle, it could never hurt me to kiss you.”

Her mouth opened and met his once more. She didn’t know why, but she felt an inexplicable feeling of urgency. His kisses bruised over hers hungrily, and she matched his furor. His arms wrapped tightly around her back, crushing her to him. Her tongue filled his mouth, and it pleased her when she heard him swallow soft gasps of pleasure.

His hand skimmed over her breasts, causing her breathing to be erratic. There were the sounds of men talking in the distance, and Gabrielle stiffened in his arms once again. Lord Brentwood looked up and leaned forward.

He gazed down at her and, with the pad of his finger, drew a line from her lips down to the hollow of her throat, and let his finger rest there. “We are safe here, Gabrie.”

She took in a deep, relaxing breath and settled more comfortably against his legs. She smiled her pleasure at being so close to him and so free to be able to enjoy all the wonderful sensations he created inside her with just a touch and a kiss.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me Gabrie.”

He nodded as his hands moved over her breasts, up to her face, where his fingers drew circles and patterns around her lips, on her cheeks, down her neck, and over to her earlobe, where he softly caressed it. She could hardly concentrate on what she wanted to say for the wonder of all she was feeling.