Again the Magic (26 page)

They remained locked together for a long, breathless minute, their bodies joined and clinging, while McKenna’s weight nearly smothered her. Aline never wanted to move again. Her eyes remained closed, her damp lashes sticking to her cheeks. When she felt him ease away from her, she bit her lip to keep from moaning a protest. Instead, she continued to lean against the cushions in a heap of silk and torn linen, her limbs weak in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

McKenna restored his clothing and fumbled for his discarded coat. He had to clear his throat before speaking, his voice sounding scratchy. “No promises, no regrets — just as you wanted.”

Aline did not move as he left the cabinet. She waited until he had left her suite of rooms, listening for the sound of the door clicking shut, before she let the tears slide from her eyes.

The long, hellish supper was over. Although Livia knew that almost everyone at Stony Cross Park suspected that she had gone to visit the bachelor’s house, she felt that it was only decent to try to be discreet. She used a path at the side of the manor and kept to the side of a tall yew hedge before slipping over to the quiet residence. No doubt it would be wise to leave well enough alone, but her concern for Gideon Shaw compelled her to go see him. After she had made certain that he was all right, she would go back to the manor and find some nice long novel to occupy herself with.

Knocking on the door, Livia waited tensely for some response. Nothing. Frowning, Livia knocked again. “Hullo?” she called. “Hullo? Can anyone hear me?”

Just as Livia began to consider the option of going to fetch a key from Mrs. Faircloth, the door vibrated and clanked as it was unlocked. It opened a cautious crack, revealing Shaw’s valet. “Yes, milady?”

“I’ve come to see Mr. Shaw.”

“Mr. Shaw is not receiving visitors at this time, milady.”

The door began to close. Livia wedged her foot in it. “I won’t leave until I’ve seen him,” she said.

The valet’s gaze conveyed infinite exasperation, though his tone remained courteous. “Mr. Shaw is not in a suitable condition, milady.”

Livia decided to be blunt. “Is he drunk?”

“As David’s sow,” the valet confirmed sourly.

“Then I’ll send for some tea and sandwiches.”

“Mr. Shaw has asked for more brandy.”

Livia’s jaw firmed, and she pushed her way past him. Being a servant, he could not stop her — no one in service would ever dare to lay a hand on a lady of the manor. Ignoring the valet’s protests, she surveyed the darkened receiving room. The air was tainted with the smells of liquor and tobacco. “No brandy,” she said in a tone that allowed no room for argument. “Go to the manor, and bring back a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches.”

“He won’t take that well, milady. No one stands between Mr. Shaw and what he wants.”

“It’s time someone did,” Livia said, motioning him away. The valet left reluctantly, and Livia ventured farther into the darkened bachelor’s house. The glow of a lamp filled the main bedroom with quiet amber light. The unmistakable rattle of ice in a glass floated to her ears. Assuming that Shaw was in a drunken stupor, Livia went to the doorway.

The sight that greeted her eyes caused her to gasp.

Gideon Shaw was reclining in a slipper tub that had been set near the fire, his head leaning back against the mahogany rim, one long leg dangling carelessly over the side. He held an ice-filled glass in his hand, his gaze arrowing to hers as he took a swallow. Steam rose in veils from the bathwater, condensing on the golden curvature of his shoulders. Droplets glistened on the amber curls of his chest and the small circles of his nipples.

Good Lord in heaven, Livia thought dazedly. Gentlemen suffering the after-effects of an excess of strong spirits usually looked terrible. “Death’s head on a mop stick” was how Marcus liked to describe them. However, Livia had never seen anything as magnificent as an unshaven and unkempt Gideon Shaw in his bath.

Scowling, Shaw levered himself upward, causing water to slosh gently against the rim of the tub. Glittering rivulets slid over the muscular surface of his chest. “What are you doing here?” he asked curtly.

Livia was so mesmerized that she could barely manage a reply. Tearing her gaze away from him, she moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “I came to see if you were all right.”

“Now you’ve seen me,” he said coldly. “I’m fine. Get out.”

“You’re not fine,” she countered. “You’re intoxicated, and you probably haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry.”

“You need something more nourishing than the contents of that glass, Mr. Shaw.”

His hard gaze met hers. “I know what I need, you presumptuous wench. Now leave, or you’re going to get a big eyeful of Gideon Shaw.”

Livia had never been called a wench before. She supposed she should be offended, but instead she felt a little smile push up from her chest. “I’ve always thought it so pompous for someone to refer to himself in the third person.”

“I’m a Shaw,” he replied, as if that was a perfectly acceptable exemption for pomposity.

“Do you know what is going to happen to you if you keep drinking this way? You’re going to turn into an ugly wreck of a man, with a big red nose and an overhanging belly.”

“Is that so,” he said stonily, tossing back the rest of his liquor in a deliberate swallow.

“Yes, and your brain will rot away.”

“I can hardly wait.” He leaned over the edge of the tub, setting the glass of ice on the carpet.

“And
you’ll be impotent,” Livia finished triumphantly. “Sooner or later, alcohol robs a man of his virility. When was the last time you made love to a woman, Mr. Shaw?”

Evidently the challenge was too much for him to withstand. Shaw clambered out of the tub with a sneer. “Are you asking for proof of my potency? By all means — come and get it.”

As Livia’s gaze swept over his rampantly aroused body, she felt herself turn crimson. “I-I should probably go now. I’ll leave you to consider what I’ve said—” She whirled to escape, but before she could take a step, he reached her, and caught her from behind. Livia stopped, her eyes closing at the feel of the wet masculine body pressing against her back. His dripping forearm locked just beneath her breasts.

“Oh, I’m considering it, my lady,” he said near her ear. “And I’ve just come to the conclusion that there’s only one truly effective rebuttal for your argument.”

“No need,” she gasped, while his arm shifted and his hand cupped over her left breast. Heat and water soaked through the fabric, causing her nipple to tighten against his palm.
“Oh—”

“You shouldn’t cast aspersions on my virility. It’s a subject we men are rather touchy on.”

Livia began to tremble, her head falling back against his shoulder. His warm hand left her breast, swept over the exposed skin of her neck, then slipped beneath the edge of her bodice. She jolted as she felt him touch the hard tip of her nipple. “I’ll have to remember that,” she whispered.

“See that you do.” Turning her in his arms, he covered her mouth with his. The softness of his lips, surrounded by the wiry scratch of unshaven bristle, was wildly exciting. Livia arched up to him fervently, her hands sliding over his gleaming body. Realizing dimly that she was about to take her first lover after Amberley, Livia tried to gather her wits… but it was impossible to think, with Gideon kissing her over and over, until they both sank to their knees on the water-splotched carpet.

Pushing Livia to her back, Gideon settled into the billowing heap of her skirts. He unfastened the first few buttons of her bodice and pulled the top of her chemise downward, revealing the shallow curves of her breasts. She wanted him to kiss them. She wanted his mouth on her, his tongue… the thought of it drew a moan from her throat.

Breathing fast, Gideon levered his body farther over hers, reaching for something just beyond her head. She heard the rattle of melting ice, and for a moment of confusion, Livia wondered if he was going to take a drink, now of all times. But he fished a shard of ice from the glass and popped it into his mouth, and then, to her bewilderment, he bent his head over her. He engulfed the tip of her breast in an icy kiss, his tongue sweeping across the nipple with chilling, supple strokes. Livia wriggled beneath him with an astonished cry, but Gideon held her down and persisted, until the ice dissolved and his mouth warmed. The heavy length of his arousal pressed against the inside of her thigh, while each caress of his tongue tightened a coil of pleasure in Livia’s belly. Sliding her hands into his thick, damp golden hair, she held his head against her, while her hips strained upward.

But Gideon pulled away suddenly, rolling off her with a groan. “No,” he said raggedly. “The first time can’t be like this. I’m too damned drunk to do it properly, and I won’t insult you that way.”

Livia stared at him blankly, too filled with desire to think clearly. Her breast tingled and throbbed. “I wouldn’t feel insulted. You weren’t doing badly at all, actually—”

“And on the floor, no less,” he muttered. “My God. Forgive me, Livia. You don’t deserve to be treated this way.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t at all uncomfortable. I
like
this carpet. So let’s just go back to—”

But her companion had already risen to his feet. Livia was later to learn that Gideon had a genuine horror of being ungentlemanly. Finding a robe, he jerked it over himself and tied it at his waist. He returned to Livia and pulled her up from the floor. “I am sorry,” he said as he straightened her clothes and clumsily refastened her gown.

“It’s all right,
really—”

“You have to leave, Livia. Now, before I have you on your back again.”

Only pride kept her from telling him how very amenable she was to the idea, when he was obviously so determined to get rid of her. Sighing in defeat, she allowed him to push and prod her from the bedroom.

“I sent your valet for sandwiches,” she said, preceding him along the hallway.

“Did you?”

“Yes, and I expect you to eat them, and there will be no more brandy for you tonight.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Livia made her voice as stern as possible. “You will eat, however, as it is part of your penance for trying to ravish me on the floor—”

“All right,” Gideon said hastily. “I’ll eat.”

Biting back a smile, Livia allowed him to open the door for her, and she crossed the threshold. Only when the door closed behind her did she let out a shaky sigh and finish her sentence. “…And how I wish you had finished!”

I
t would have been an exaggeration to claim that Gideon was completely sober when McKenna loaded him into the carriage the next day. However, he was at least clean and shaven, his face pale beneath the gleaming cap of expertly clipped blond hair. They were bound for the Rutledge, a London hotel comprising four luxurious homes that were let to well-to-do gentlemen or families from abroad. McKenna hoped that the investment negotiations would keep him so busy that he would stop thinking about Aline. At least for a few minutes at a time.

A faint groan came from Gideon’s side of the carriage. Wreathed in a queasiness that was nearly palpable, Gideon had said virtually nothing so far that morning. “Goddamn,” Gideon said in bleary realization, “I’m riding backward. Change seats with me, will you?”

Recalling Gideon’s aversion to facing the rear of the carriage while traveling, McKenna complied. When they had both settled, Gideon propped one foot on the opposite cushion, heedless of the fine velvet upholstery. “What are you brooding about?” He braced his head on his hand as if to prevent it from toppling off his shoulders. “Haven’t you managed to tumble Lady Aline yet?”

McKenna gave him a narrow-eyed stare.

Gideon sighed and rubbed his aching temples. “I’ll say this — there is something about those Marsden women and their aristocratic little notches that is impossible to resist.”

The remark so perfectly expressed McKenna’s own sentiments that he smiled grimly. “You’ve taken an interest in Livia, it seems.”

“Yes,” came the none-too-happy reply. “An interest that has earned me the worst case of blue balls I’ve had in years.”

McKenna was perturbed by the realization that his friend was strongly attracted to Aline’s sister. It seemed an inappropriate match in every regard. “Aren’t you too old for her?”

Fumbling for the ever-dependable silver flask, Gideon registered extreme annoyance at the realization that he’d forgotten to fill it. Tossing the empty container to the floor, he glared at it blearily. “I’m too
everything
for her. Too old, too damned jaded, too thirsty… the list is endless.”

“You’d better take care, or Westcliff will slaughter and dress you like a yuletide goose.”

“If he’ll do it quickly, he has my blessing,” Gideon replied morosely. “Damn you, McKenna, I wish I hadn’t let you talk me into visiting Stony Cross. We should have gone directly to London, conducted our business, and returned to New York as soon as possible.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” McKenna pointed out.

“I had some misguided notion of keeping you out of trouble. And I wanted to see what kind of woman could turn you into such a mooncalf.”

Stewing, McKenna gazed out the window, watching the quiet green countryside that rolled beside them. Only Lady Aline Marsden, he thought balefully. A woman of such discriminating taste that she had remained unwed rather than accept a suitor who was below her standards.

“I want to take her back to New York with me,” he said.

Gideon was silent for a long time. “Has Lady Aline indicated that she might consider such a proposition?”

“No. In fact, she’s made it clear that anything other than a five-minute hump in the closet is out of the question. Because I’m not of her class.”

Gideon did not seem at all surprised. “Naturally. You’re a professional man in a culture that values indolence and has contempt for ambition.”

“You
work.”

“Yes, but not regularly, and everyone knows that I don’t have to. And my money is old, if only by New York standards.” Gideon paused for a thoughtful moment before continuing. “Don’t mistake me, McKenna — you’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I’d give my life for you if necessary. But the fact is, socially speaking, you’re not just a step down for Lady Aline. You’re a long tumble from the mountaintop.”