Rules for Reforming a Rake (10 page)

“Leave us, Gabriel,” the beloved harridan intoned. “Go tend to your business.”

***

Much later that evening, Daisy snuggled in a corner of Eloise’s carriage and gazed out the window into the darkness that was about to lift with the coming dawn. There was an enchanting stillness to the London night, something warm and cozy about the gentle rocking of the well-oiled carriage springs and the nicely padded leather seats, something appealing about the light musk scent of Gabriel’s cologne and his comforting presence.

Eloise had always been her friend.

She now considered Gabriel a friend.

Tonight, he’d been more than that, he’d been her hero. Her very own
wart
hero, as her young cousin, Charles, would say.

She allowed her thoughts to stray as they rode in silence.

“What are you thinking about?” Gabriel asked in a whisper.

She must have had an odd expression on her face because Gabriel hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire ride. He’d remained seated directly across from her, studying her since they’d left the Hornby townhouse. Well, she thought he had been studying her, but couldn’t be certain because there was hardly any light in the carriage and his eyelids were half closed. Perhaps she’d imagined it and he had briefly drifted to sleep.

Eloise had fallen soundly asleep the moment they’d started the journey home. Even now, her soft snores mingled with the rhythmic groaning of the carriage wheels.

“Oh, I was thinking of many things,” Daisy whispered back, hoping not to wake his grandmother, who was bundled in a thick fox fur and almost hidden from view. “Mostly of this beautiful night and how I survived my first ball, thanks to you.”

He shook his head. “Any friend would have helped out.”

“But only you did. I hope I may return the favor someday.”

He arched an eyebrow as he shifted slightly toward her. “A good deed is its own reward.”

She let out a merry, but hushed, laugh. “You sound like a minister at a Sunday sermon.”

He gave a mock shudder. “Who me? No, I’m an unrepentant sinner.”

She was a sinner, too. The thoughts now whirling in her head while gazing at him were undeniably wicked. She’d have to speak to her married sisters about these new sensations. Or read Lady Forsythia’s book. Even though she had no intention of reforming Gabriel, what harm could there be in learning the workings of a rakehell’s mind?

Certainly no harm in better understanding her body’s response to Gabriel. Unmarried females weren’t supposed to think or feel or even know about what went on in the marriage bed. But Daisy had overheard enough of her sisters’ conversations to understand that the quickening of her heart, the warm tingling of her body, the yearning in her breast, were symptoms of desire. Did she desire Gabriel—
crumpets, she couldn’t—
or was she mistaking these sensations for gratitude?

Would she respond as eagerly to Alexander?

In truth, she liked the naughty way Gabriel made her feel. There was a quiet promise in his soft glances, as though they were a prelude to something wonderful.

But what?

She’d have to ask Rose and Laurel.

“Are you cold, Daisy?” His voice was a husky rumble of concern.

“A little,” she said, though she wasn’t in the least. But how else could she explain away her shiver of excitement?

“Here, take my coat.” He removed it and then drew her forward to wrap it about her shoulders. His taut muscles shifted beneath the white expanse of his shirt. His vest, shot through with silken threads of silver, gleamed as brightly as the moon on a crisp winter’s night.

He drew the coat tightly about her, his hands gentle against her skin. There was something wonderful about being enveloped in his scent. “Better?”

She tilted her head toward his. “Much.”

His hand lingered at her neck.

She held her breath.
Please. Please!

No! She was mad to want him to kiss her! And hadn’t she already gotten into trouble once, even though she hadn’t really done anything wrong?

And what of Alexander? Would he ever forgive her for kissing his wastrel brother? Goodness, she’d never even met Alexander. What if she never met him?

It seemed a terrible shame to waste this opportunity.

Gabriel was a man of experience. Surely, he’d know just what she needed. And what harm could he do with Eloise snoring right beside them?

Ever so gently, he began to trace the outline of her jaw with his finger.

“I’ve never stayed up all night before,” she whispered tremulously.

“Perhaps it shall be a night of firsts for you,” he murmured, his thumb now caressing her cheek. “Your first ball.”

She nodded.

“Your first waltz at a ball.” He drew her closer.

She blinked her eyes. “My first ball gown.”

“And a lovely one it is.” He drew her closer still. “You were the prettiest girl at Lord Hornby’s tonight.”

“Very kind of you to say.” She suppressed a sigh as their breaths mingled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Daisy—”

She let out a small gasp. “The answer is yes.”

He eased back, seeming confused. “To what?”

“The question you were about to ask. Yes, you may kiss me.”

His lips twitched upward at the corners. “I wasn’t about to ask the question.”

She groaned, certain she was the silliest debutante ever to exist. It was bad enough she’d given him permission to kiss her, but to assume he’d wanted to... and now it was humiliatingly obvious that he didn’t. She ought to have kept her mouth shut until she’d read Lady Forsythia’s book. She’d probably botched a dozen rules on the short ride home. “I’m so sorry. I thought... ridiculously foolish of me...”

He held her as she tried to pull away. “Shut your eyes.”

“Why?” she sputtered.

“Because I
am
going to kiss you. I just hadn’t planned on asking permission. Rakehells never do.” His mouth slanted across hers before she had the chance to protest, gently at first, his lips pressing against her own in a whisper-soft caress that sent a wave of heat through Daisy’s body. The kiss was lovely, politely restrained, and more pleasant than she’d expected, but instead of bringing the kiss to a natural end, Gabriel suddenly let out a quiet growl and began to increase the pressure of his lips against her mouth.

In the next moment, she was on Gabriel’s lap, deliciously wrapped in his strong arms, her body tingling madly as he circled one hand about her waist and allowed the other to linger at her neck, his thumb caressing a wildly sensitive spot behind her ear.

She let out a gasp. “
Gabriel.
”

“Hush, Daisy. Don’t speak, just feel,” he said with aching gentleness and slid his tongue along the soft, throbbing flesh of her lips to tease them open. He eased his tongue into her mouth and she welcomed the invasion.

Great balls of cheese and hot, buttered crumpets!
She closed her eyes tightly and did as told, taking in every exquisite sensation. No doubt she’d just broken every rule in Lady Forsythia’s book, but she didn’t care. Her surrender yielded a rich bounty in return, for with each barrier Gabriel conquered, with every probing surge and teasing feint against her lips, he gave a part of himself to her.

Oh, she knew that she was an incompetent innocent and held little seductive power over him. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the moment, allowing herself to grow reckless and wanton, for she was eager to match him touch for touch, and savor him taste for taste.

Her body was hot and trembling with desire, but so was his. At least, she hoped so.

“Daisy,”
he said in a ragged whisper and kissed her again, his kiss igniting a fiery torment deep within her soul. Fireworks exploded in her heart and a flaming heat spread throughout her limbs.

Oh, they were going to hell!

She couldn’t wait to get there.

DAISY SLOWLY MADE
her way down the stairs of the Farthingale townhouse at noon the following day, still nursing a throbbing headache. Moments earlier, Lily had diagnosed her condition as imbibing too much at Lord Hornby’s ball. Nonsense! She’d sipped only two glasses of champagne the entire evening, or was it three?

And what did her younger sister know? She was a little bluestocking who always walked around with a book in her hand, but she knew nothing about real life. Dillie was the twin who understood people and their unpredictable feelings.

Ugh! I feel wretched
. Perhaps she had imbibed four glasses of champagne, she decided as her throbbing eyeballs began to pound in rhythm to her head.

Or five. Couldn’t have been more than six.

She sighed.

Perhaps seven, for she must have been more than a little drunk last night to allow Gabriel to kiss her. If one could call the locked-lips, sucking, and plundering dance that went on with their mouths and tongues something as tame as a kiss. It wasn’t.

Not that she blamed him for that all-devouring, shockingly delightful occurrence. Indeed, no. Not this time. This kiss—her first and only kiss, to be precise—was all her fault. Her first kiss
ever
, and she’d practically thrown herself atop him, jumping onto his lap... or had he drawn her onto it? She couldn’t recall.

A little of both, she finally decided with dismay. They’d each been clutching and groping and breathlessly needing to draw one another closer.
Oh, good grief
! Had she really been that wanton?

Making her way into the dining room, Daisy smiled at her mother, who was busily chatting with Aunt Julia by the tulipwood buffet. Neither her mother nor her aunt appeared to notice her entrance, for they failed to return the greeting.

Since the pair were obviously lost in the midst of an important conversation, Daisy decided not to interrupt them. In any event, she was still quite muzzy headed and could offer nothing of significance to the discussion.

She settled into a chair at the dining table and motioned for one of the serving maids to bring her a cup of tea. As she sat quietly, Julia’s chiding words reached her ears. “You’re right, Sophie. Her performance last night was disgraceful. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Quite the scandalbroth,” her mother agreed.

“Who was disgraceful?” Daisy asked.

“Goodness!” Julia dropped the silver lid to a tray of eggs and sausages.

Daisy winced as the lid made a resounding clang.

“When did you come in? I didn’t hear you,” Julia accused, turning to face her. As always, Julia was immaculately groomed, her hair styled in the latest fashion and not a golden curl out of place.

Daisy’s mother frowned. “If you must know, we were speaking of you.”

“Me?” Daisy gripped the edge of the dining table.

Had they seen her kissing Gabriel last night? No, they couldn’t possibly have been watching Eloise’s carriage or seen what was going on inside. That kiss—or rather that long string of kisses that blended into one because neither she nor Gabriel had bothered to come up for air—would have given her mother quite something to rage about.

Even now, the thought of the glorious encounter brought a heated blush to her cheeks. Her entire body warmed to the memory. She would endure whatever punishment her family had in store. Gabriel’s kiss was worth it. His touch, the taste of his lips, the magical union of their hearts was a dream come true for her.

Oh, goodness! I must still be drunk!

Her mother pinned her with a stern glance. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

That she’d confused Gabriel for his brother.

That it should have been Alexander’s kiss last night, and would have been had the clunch bothered to come down to London. But he was still at Trent Hall, so she’d wound up in Gabriel’s muscled arms, pressed against his manly body, and breathing in his divinely subtle, musk scent.

That had she been sober—alas, she wasn’t—and not giddy from too much champagne... no, that wouldn’t work.

That it had been a harmless kiss.

That Gabriel would never kiss and tell.

Crumpets!
What if he were the sort to kiss and tell? He was a rakehell, after all. She’d be ruined. Disgraced. She’d have to run away and live out the rest of her life under an assumed identity. Perhaps disguise herself as a boy and sign on to a pirate ship.

Her mother gently rapped on the table to regain her attention. “Daisy! Are you listening to me?”

And last night she’d kissed him back with undeniable ardor, pouring her heart and soul into that kiss. She hadn’t meant to, but he’d told her to close her eyes and simply feel. She had.
Hot, buttered crumpets!
She’d felt every muscle and sinew of his big, powerful body.

“Daisy!” Her mother was still rapping her knuckles on the breakfast table. “Honestly, child!”

Daisy grabbed the cup of tea just set in front of her and took a gulp. Too hot! She gagged and dribbled most of it onto her napkin.

Julia groaned.

Her mother sighed. “Oh, for pity’s sake. What am I to do with you?”

Daisy muttered a lame apology. “I’m a little off my stride this morning. I’m so sorry, Mother. I’m trying very hard to be on my best behavior.”

“You didn’t try hard enough last night,” Julia declared, mimicking her mother’s frown. “You punched Lord Hornby’s son in the nose.”

Daisy set down her napkin and smothered a sigh of relief. They were angry because she’d walloped Lumley? “Oh, that. He tried to kiss me and I didn’t want him to. I set him in his place with a very gentle slap.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “You should not have been alone with him in the conservatory. Do you see that you are to blame for provoking the situation?”

“Me?” She shot out of her seat. “Perhaps, had I gone in there alone with him, but Julia was with us at the time.”

Julia gasped. “Are you blaming me?”

“Well, you did traipse off with friends and leave me trapped with that muggins—”

“Because I don’t recall being appointed your chaperone.”

“Indeed, you were not,” her mother agreed, patting Julia’s hand in sympathy.