Scandalous (22 page)

He waited for what she would say to him with a degree of anticipation he hadn't felt for anything in a very long time.

*  *  *

She had not expected him to be so close. Momentarily taken aback, Gabby blinked up at him, then mentally prepared for battle. The resolve that had hardened in her during the course of the opera was not to be dissolved merely because he was standing three feet in front of her rather than lying safely abed half a room away, she told herself. In whatever posture she found him, she meant to have this out with him, now.

"Good evening, Gabriella."

Tousle haired and unshaven, still clad in his maroon dressing gown and maddeningly handsome despite his deshabille, he was far taller than she even in the flat-soled Turkish slippers he wore. The sensation of being physically at a disadvantage was unsettling; she had grown used to him ill, and flat on his back. He greeted her with a slight, gentlemanly bow, one hand pressed flat against his chest, that was belied by his dancing eyes. Gabby scowled at him. He looked unaccountably amused, and she mistrusted his amusement, for it could only be at her expense. Letting him get in the first word was probably a mistake, she thought crossly, but there was no doing anything about it now. He had already, in the course of their unfortunate association, had things far too much his own way. She meant to lay the law down tonight, with no possibility of mistake.

"If this charade is to proceed any further, we must have certain things made clear between us," she said without roundaboutation, her gaze steely with determination as it met his.

"Must we indeed?" It was no more than a polite murmur, but again Gabby got the impression that he was laughing at her. She regarded him suspiciously. "How so?"

"First and foremost, let me make this perfectly clear: I
will
denounce you for the imposter you are if you don't keep well away from my sisters, particularly Claire." It was a bald statement that permitted no debate.

"Ah, Claire." The faintest of reminiscent smiles touched his lips. "A rare beauty, she. A diamond of the first water, in fact."

Gabby's scowl darkened. "Do not mistake: I mean what I say."

"What, that you will announce to the world that I am not your brother? Won't that be a trifle awkward for you, since you have already accepted me in that guise?"

"I care nothing for any awkwardness, if Claire's well-being is at stake." Gabby's tone was fierce.

"Do you not indeed?" His gaze swept her. A smile once again curled the edges of his mouth. "If you wish to discuss this, can we not sit down? Thanks to your hastiness with a pistol, I find that I tire more easily than I like."

Gabby hesitated, then nodded. "Very well."

"You left your book in my room, by the by." He held the book out to her, then crossed the room and settled himself into one of the pair of chairs before the fire.

"Marmion?"
Gabby took the book, then followed in his wake. Her movements were somewhat restricted by the trailing quilt that she had thought, for modesty's sake, to drape around her person. She could not feel comfortable with the idea of him seeing her in her night attire, especially after… But she wasn't going to remember that. Remembering flooded her with shame, and her shame gave him an advantage. She would not allow herself to be so weak. Sitting down opposite him, she settled the book on her knee. "Thank you. I wondered where I had left it. Now, do we have an understanding? If you wish to continue in your chicanery without hindrance from me, you must leave Claire and Beth too, for that matter, well alone."

"You cannot have considered," he said in a thoughtful tone, his head resting back against the plush upholstery and his eyes meeting hers with a gleam in them that she misliked, "how difficult you might find it to actually
prove
that I am not, in fact, the earl of Wickham, now that I am well established in the eyes of the world as such. Also, I feel I would be remiss if I did not point out to you that, should you succeed in proving such a thing, you might well be considered my accomplice, having now conspired with me to defraud the rightful earl for nigh on a week."

Gabby swelled with indignation. "I did no such thing. Conspire with you, indeed!"

"Didn't you?" He smiled at her gently. "Not that I blame you, you understand. From what I have gleaned from Claire and Beth— well, mostly Beth, who is most charmingly confiding— as well as from tidbits Barnet has picked up from the servants, I gather that you found yourself in a very difficult position upon your father's death. All was left to your brother, in fact. No provision whatsoever was made for you or your sisters. To put it bluntly, without your brother's goodwill, you are penniless; and the man who stands to inherit on your brother's death is a distant cousin who is not over fond of any of you. Am I right so far?"

"And if you are, what of it?" Gabby sat stiffly erect in her chair now, eyeing him with open dislike.

"Why, then, the mystery of why you went along with my little masquerade is explained, and the fact is that you, my dear, need me even more than I need you." The very charming smile he bestowed on her was, Gabby thought, enough to make her long to throw her book at his gleaming white teeth.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"I
am
sure of it, so don't think to threaten me with exposure again. It won't wash. If it makes you feel any better, console yourself with the knowledge that I feel quite brotherly toward Claire and Beth." There was a sudden, amused glint in his eyes. "Well, at any rate, toward Beth."

Gabby rose to her feet abruptly. The quilt slid, and she had to clench her fist around a handful of cloth to keep it in place.
Marmion
she clutched, forgotten, in her other hand. Her eyes glittered with anger as they met his.

"Who
are
you? You
do
have a name of your own, do you not? I demand to know it. As well as what your purpose is in pretending to be my brother. Besides leading a luxurious life to which you aren't entitled, of course."

For a moment they stared at each other without speaking. When he replied at last, his tone was almost casual.

"I see no compelling reason for you to know anything about me."

This languid speech made Gabby's eyes blaze.

"You, sir, are a cad."

"Oh, I admit to it quite freely."

His mild tone as much as his words caused Gabby to quiver with temper.

"You
will
leave Claire alone."

He laughed, and shook his head at her as if marvelling. "So fierce, Gabriella. You can't frighten me away from your pretty sister, you know, but you might— just might— be able to bribe me away from her."

Gabby's eyes narrowed at him. "Bribe you?" she asked mistrustfully.

He nodded. His eyes laughed up at her, but his voice, when he spoke, was solemn enough.

"My price for keeping my hands off your sister is— a kiss."

23

"What?"

"You heard me."

"No." Gabby was outraged. Her face, she judged, must by now, from the volatile mix of anger and embarrassment she was experiencing, be as red as Beth's hair.

He shrugged as if her refusal was a matter of indifference to him. "Just as well, I suppose. I've been quite looking forward to furthering my acquaintance with Claire. My position as her "brother" provides me with a great deal of opportunity to do so, you know. She— delightful innocent— thinks nothing of being alone with me in my bedchamber, or…"

"You— you
lecher,"
Gabby almost choked on the epithet.

"Now, now. Name calling is very childish, after all."

"You won't get next or nigh her. I'll warn her…"

"Of her brother? I doubt you'll convince her. Claire strikes me as one who believes the best of everyone— unlike her older sister."

"I'll tell her the truth about you, of course."

"And still hope to keep it a secret? Come, Gabriella. You know better than that. She'll let it slip, and then we'll all be in the basket."

"Give me your word you'll stay away from her, then."

"I will— for the price of a kiss. On the lips, mind. None of your old-cattish pecks on the cheek."

Still clutching the quilt around her shoulders, Gabby glared impotently down at him as the argument came full circle. His eyes looked almost black in the flickering firelight, and he was clearly enjoying himself enormously.

"Would kissing me really be such a hardship? Think of the risks you've taken already for your sisters. I would consider this quite a small thing in comparison."

"No."

"It's entirely your choice, of course."

Gabby was left with nothing to say.
You have the most kissable mouth.
Unbidden and unwanted, the words scrolled through her mind. She glanced away from him, chewing her lower lip. A kiss. One kiss, to safeguard Claire. A peck on his mouth, and it was done. As he'd pointed out, it was not so great a thing, after all. What bothered her most about it, she realized with some chagrin, was that she had been wanting to kiss him, wondering how his lips would feel against hers, imagining the deed, since he had first said that about her mouth.

All she had to do was strike another bargain with the devil, and she would know.

The temptation was almost irresistible. Gabby felt like Eve must have when eyeing the apple, tantalized but afraid.

She swallowed, and met his gaze. "One kiss, and you give me your solemn word that you will stay away from Claire?"

"I give you my solemn word that I will treat Claire as chastely as if she were my sister in truth," he temporized. "I really cannot promise to stay away from her entirely, since for the forseeable future we will all be living under this same roof."

Gabby thought that over. It seemed an acceptable compromise, providing… "How do I know I can trust you to keep your promise? Criminals aren't, in general, noted for their honesty."

He smiled at her, a slow, intimate kind of smile that did unexpected things to her pulse rate. "As my partner in crime, you'll just have to trust me."

"I am not your…" Her voice trailed off. Under the circumstances, to say nothing of his mocking gaze, there seemed little point in protesting. However inadvertent her coupling of her deception to his had been, she supposed that she was now, to all intents and purposes, just what he had described her as: his partner in crime.

It was a mortifying reflection.

"Well?" He lifted his brows at her. "Have you made your decision? I don't propose to sit here and bandy words with you all night. There are many more enjoyable ways I could be passing the time— such as in planning my assault on your lovely sister's virtue."

Gabby stiffened. "You are the lowest form of life in nature."

He chuckled. "That may well be, but the question is, will you kiss me? To save your sister?"

Gabby glared at him, realized that trying to stare him down or bring him to any sense of shame about his own lack of gentlemanliness was useless, pursed her lips— and bent down and kissed him.

Smack on the mouth. Quick as that, and it was done. Really, for all her soul searching, nothing could have been easier— or more disappointing.

The warm, dry surface of his lips barely registered with her senses. No cataclysm of emotion assailed her. Her heart and pulse and breathing remained undisturbed. In the end, all her fantasizing came down to this: as in so much else in life, kissing a man was much ado about not much.

Pleased with herself for having had the courage to face the devil she knew head on, relieved to have gotten it over with, and as a result feeling almost smug, she looked down at him with a small smile.

"There," she said. "The deal is struck."

He laughed, and, reaching up, closed a hand around her wrist before she realized what he intended. The wrist belonged to the hand that was clutching the quilt closed, and in her surprise her fingers relaxed. The edges parted and the quilt slipped, dropping soundlessly to the floor.

Without it, despite the dual protection of her wrapper and night rail, she felt naked. She could not erase from her mind the thought that he knew just what lay beneath her garments. Trying to tug her arm free, she clamped her other arm over her breasts.

Registering the gesture, his eyes gleamed wickedly at her.

She tried to tug her wrist free. "What are you doing? Let me go."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "Not yet. Not until you pay up. That little peck was no more a kiss than a crumb is a meal."

"You gave your word." She glared at him, standing perfectly still now as she preferred not to risk her dignity by fighting for the return of her wrist when she knew as well as she knew her own name that she had no chance to prevail. "I might have known you wouldn't keep it."

"So did you give your word," he reminded her. "And the rule is pay or play, my girl."

Then, without warning, he gave a sharp jerk on her wrist that brought her tumbling down into his arms. They closed around her like the jaws of a trap, and to her horror she found herself sitting on his lap.

"Let me up." Her book had tumbled with her, and was wedged between her thigh and his stomach. Panicking, she grabbed at it as the only weapon that was within reach, meaning to whack him in the ribs with it if necessary to secure her release.

"Ah-ah," he said reproachfully as he fielded the intended blow with an elbow. "Would you undo all your good work and injure me anew? What a bloodthirsty creature you are, to be sure."

As he spoke, he wrested the book from her hand with ridiculous ease. The small thump as it hit the floor only underscored her determination to win free. Deprived of her weapon, she elbowed him hard in the chest, earning from him a pained grunt, and lunged for freedom. Then his arms wrapped around her, securing her arms to her sides and her person on his lap. She found herself a helpless, furious prisoner. Determined to preserve what little dignity she had left, she disdained to struggle further. Instead, she sat stiffly within the confining circle of his arms, quivering with temper.