One Rogue Too Many (4 page)

“That—that’s not very likely.” She tried to sound harsh and uncaring, but her voice came out breathy.

He shrugged and released her arm. “Very well. Perhaps I won’t make you ask.”

Before she could form a coherent response, her brother and sister-in-law returned. Lana fussed over Gabby as she led her from the ballroom. Gabby looked back over her shoulder and found Anthony grinning. Her heart floundered in her chest. God help her for hoping he wasn’t teasing her about what he could teach her. Their last lesson in kissing had been amazing.

As she and Lana walked outside into the cooler night air, Lana touched Gabby’s forehead. “You are flushed, but you don’t appear to have a fever.”

Yet, Anthony
was
a sickness, and she had little hope of finding a cure.

“I will survive.” At least she hoped she would.

Three

As Gabby climbed into bed that night, memories of her first kiss with Anthony flooded her mind and senses, transporting her back to five months ago…

She hadn’t known where she was going when she left the gardens. She’d only known she had to get away. Away from her thoughts, her crushing guilt. Away from the knowledge she had stolen her mother’s happiness.

Papa had been gone a year, but Gabby’s remorse was unrelenting, especially at night. She hadn’t been able to shake it this morning among the autumn flowers, so she was seeking peace in the meadow.

Sweat dampened her brow as she crested a hill. She paused to loosen her cape and push back the hood. The air had been cool when she’d stepped outside, but the late morning sun at her back and exertion heated her through. Her breath escaped in forceful exhales.

Ellis Hall stood in the distance, solid and unchanged since she had last sat in this spot and sketched its stone walls and cathedral windows. Anthony had come to attend her father’s graveside service. Even through her haze, she’d noticed the deep lines of his face as he’d fought against tears. She hadn’t known if his sorrow was all for her father or the wife he’d buried the previous summer. Perhaps he’d been mourning for both.

After the service, he’d returned to London immediately, and she had come to the hillside. Her heart had still ached from his rejection, but she missed him terribly. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to sketch Anthony, so she’d sketched his home, concentrating on drawing precise lines instead of acknowledging the hollowness inside her.

When she’d crossed paths with Anthony again at her brother’s wedding, she fought the urge to fling herself into his arms. He had made his feelings known when he’d chosen Camilla over her. Gabby couldn’t make a fool of herself again. They had spoken of the beautiful day and their happiness for Gabby’s oldest brother. She had even partnered with him for a dance.

Then he had done something that upset her tidy life and revived her hope. He had followed her family to the country. Perhaps he’d sensed the loneliness behind her smiles. She liked to think he possessed special insight when it came to her, but likely she was just being fanciful.

With Luke on his honeymoon and her mother’s companion, Miss Truax, married and gone, Gabby had no one to talk to about her father. Her sisters were too young yet, and she worried that bringing Papa up to her mother might make her too sad. In the beginning, her mother’s crying had penetrated Gabby’s walls at night, ripping her heart to pieces. She had done that to her mother, taken the love of her life and left her shattered.

Gabby closed her eyes to steel against the onslaught of guilt. She needed to see Anthony. He had become her confidant of late, visiting Foxhaven Manor daily, listening when she needed to pour out her heart, and distracting her when she needed a reprieve. But he hadn’t made an appearance yesterday, and she feared he might not come again today.

Longing invaded her heart. Anthony had become as essential as breathing.

An unseen force pulled her down the slope toward Ellis Hall. She didn’t stop to consider the logic or impropriety of calling on a gentleman. Nothing mattered except seeing him.

Before she reached the bottom of the hill, she was running, heedless of the grassy knolls. The ground evened out, and she pushed herself harder. Dashing up the front steps, she slammed her palm against the door.

“Anthony!” She struck the solid oak and called his name repeatedly until the door flew open.

His butler’s jaw hung slack when he recognized her.

“Rupert, what’s all the fuss?” Anthony was descending the staircase, his cravat hanging loosely around his neck. “Lady Gabrielle, is everything all right? Is it your mother?”

She shook her head, unable to catch her breath.

He rushed forward to put his arm around her shoulders and guided her in the direction of the drawing room, as best as she could recall. She hadn’t visited Ellis Hall often even though Anthony and his mother had been their neighbors since before Gabby was born. Lady Ellis had been something of a recluse. The last time Gabby had been in his home was after he had buried his mother.

“Bring tea for the lady,” he called over his shoulder.

“Yes, milord.”

Anthony escorted her to the settee, then knelt beside her to draw her cloak around her shoulders. “You are shaking. I’ll have a fire started.”

“I’m not cold.”

The drawing room was chilly, but she welcomed the cooler air on her damp skin. Her heartbeat was slowing and her breathing had evened out, but her emotions were churning and threatening to burst loose. If she started crying now, she feared she’d never stop.

He rubbed her hands between his, warming her fingers. “Has something happened to one of your sisters? Should I send for the doctor?”

“Everyone is well. I—”
Lud
. What was she to say? She decided to tell the truth. “You didn’t come to Foxhaven Manor yesterday and I thought you might have returned to London.”

He rocked back on his heels and regarded her with an unreadable expression. “I intended to call this afternoon.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.” She fiddled with the tie of her cloak, her body growing even hotter. Only a fool would burst into a man’s home and all but shout out she wanted him.

Anthony stood and put several paces between them. “Let’s get you warmed up, then I’ll see you home.”

“I shouldn’t have come.” She pushed from the settee, but before she could move for the door, he captured her around the waist.

“Stay. I’m pleased to see you.”

His touch crumbled the wall restraining her emotions and her tears flowed.

“Gabby, what is it?” His arms went around her. She snuggled against his chest, her eyes closed on a half sob. He held her together with his embrace, whispering soothing words. His lips brushed her temple. “Shh, my love. I’ve got you. You are safe.”

Her shaking slowed as his warmth broke through the shield she’d erected around herself. It had been so long since she’d felt connected with anyone, and never like this. Her tears continued for a moment, but she no longer worried about being at their mercy with him holding her.

“Anthony,” she said on a breath. His name was like a soothing chant.

He brushed the hair from her forehead. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She melted against him, clinging to his promise. She had lost too many people already. “I miss him so much.”

“I know.” Anthony continued to stroke her hair. “Your father was a good man.”

Her throat began to ache again. How was it Anthony understood every wound to her heart without her having to explain? It was a relief to let everything out, but she reluctantly eased from his embrace. Why should she receive comfort when her mother had lost the love of her life?

She sniffled. “I wish I could go back and do everything differently.”

A knock at the door startled her. For a moment, she’d forgotten where she was. She retreated to the settee, removed her cloak, and folded her hands on her lap while the footman wheeled in a tea cart, then left them alone again.

She followed Anthony’s movements as he poured, the cup and saucer too dainty for his masculine hands. He dropped two sugar cubes into the tea, stirred with the small silver spoon, and then offered it to her.

“Just how you like it.” He sat beside her on the settee. “Drink. It will warm you through.”

He had never cared for tea, so he’d ordered it just for her. His thoughtfulness already warmed her heart.

He shifted on the furniture and propped his arm on the seat back. “What did you mean when you said you wished you could do everything differently?”

Her gaze narrowed on the gold filigree rim of the china as heat swept across her cheeks again. He had never brought up the incident in Hyde Park, and she had been beyond grateful. Yet, now she had steered the conversation in that direction without realizing what she’d been saying.

What did it matter? Anthony already knew of her shameful behavior even if he was tactful enough to pretend he didn’t.

She set the tea aside and cleared her throat. “I think of Lt. MacFarland all the time.”

One golden eyebrow lifted. “Oh? I hadn’t realized. Has he written to you?”

“No! Heavens, no. I haven’t seen him since that day.” A new concern came to mind. “Do you think he’s all right?”

“I suspect he has had a tough go of it, the same as all the soldiers. India is not the most civilized area.”

He needn’t add “how could you have been so stupid?” She knew how naive she had been.

“I wish I had never met him,” she said.

Anthony smiled and eased back against the cushions.

“Then my father would still be alive.”

“Gabby, what makes you think Lt. MacFarland had anything to do with your father’s bad heart?”

“He didn’t. I did.” A severe gouge formed between his brows, and she held up her hand to stop his argument. “Dr. Campbell said there was too much strain put on his heart. When Papa learned I had tried to elope, it was too much.”

“That’s not what the doctor meant.”

“Maybe not, but Papa said I would be the death of him, and I was.”

“Gabrielle, listen to me.” He gently took her by the shoulders. “Every man has said that at one time or another, but it doesn’t make it true. If so, we’d all be dropping like autumn leaves.”

She shook her head.

“Yes, Gabby. The strain on your father’s heart was physical. His body stopped working like it should, and it’s no one’s fault.”

“I know I did it to him.”

His lips set in a tight line. “Then I’m responsible too. You wouldn’t have confessed everything to Drew if I hadn’t kissed you after I ran the lieutenant off.”

A new heat invaded her body and she wiggled from his hold. They had never talked about that kiss, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to now. “Lt. MacFarland was rather eager to leave after your arrival, wasn’t he?”

“Well, one seems to find many excuses to be on his way when threatened with a sound thrashing.”

She laughed, relieved to discuss something else. “I could have thrashed you for chasing him away.”

His smile faded. “Are you still angry with me?”

Lt. MacFarland had been so dashing in his officer’s uniform, and she had been instantly infatuated. But now she knew infatuation wouldn’t keep her warm and well fed. She had to be practical.

“I think you saved me from making a huge mistake.”

He chucked her on the chin. “And you, my dear girl, saved me from coming to blows with my best friend. I would have kept your secret, you know. You didn’t have to tell Drew about the lieutenant.”

“I know.”

When her brother had burst into the clearing and saw Anthony’s arms around her, murder had flared in his eyes. She’d done the first thing that came to mind to protect both of them. She’d pretended to swoon.

Perhaps her performance hadn’t explained the reason Anthony had been holding her
before
her knees buckled, but it distracted her brother long enough to derail his attack on his best friend.

“Drew once accused me of being too melodramatic,” she said. “Obviously, I’ve learned a few tricks over the years. He believed I really fainted.”

Anthony drew back. “Didn’t you?”

“Good heavens, no! It would take more than a kiss from you to make me light-headed.”

“Is that so?” A sinful smile eased across his lips, setting off butterflies in her stomach. “Maybe I was doing it incorrectly.”

She notched up her chin. “Maybe you need more practice.”

“Maybe I do, you impertinent minx.” He leaned closer and the butterflies intensified. He cupped the back of her neck; his thumb traced her jaw. “Tell me when I have improved.”

His lips were unexpectedly tender and caught her off guard. His last kiss had been bruising, a punishment for goading him.

He pulled back far enough to meet her gaze, his fingers massaging her neck. She began to dissolve under his touch. He softly nipped her mouth. “Kiss me back.” His whisper brushed across her skin and sent chills racing through her.

She pressed her lips firmly against his, kissing him the only way she knew how. When she tried to pull away, he gently held her in place.

“Like this, sweetheart.” He claimed her mouth again. Parting her lips, he feathered his tongue across hers. She sighed, her breath flowing into him. She had no idea kissing could be like this.

He teased and coaxed until she mimicked his movements, awakening a fire in her too long lying dormant. It flared and burned hotly as she scrambled to get closer to him.

Anthony hugged her against his hard chest, her hand lying between them. Her fingers trailed through the sprinkle of soft hair where his shirt parted. She drew back to see him. Tentatively, she explored the contours of his chest and shoulders, memorizing him to draw later. She was being too bold, and yet she’d known and loved him for so long.

“Will you remove your shirt so I may see you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

His hooded gaze, so intensely centered on her, stole her breath. For a moment, she thought he would deny her, but then he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Her heart beat in a frenzy as she tried to reconcile that this masculine body belonged to him. He’d filled out since she had stolen a peek at the lake. She touched her fingertips to his taut skin, her eyes drinking him in.