The Rake of Glendir (3 page)

In the daylight he was even more handsome than he had appeared before, with the afternoon sun bringing out the copper and gold in his hair—which he wore unselfconsciously loose—and showing the full intensity of those catlike green eyes. His figure too was every bit as strong and well-proportioned as she had reckoned it to be last night.

When she had been pressed against it.

The memory had her cheeks fully aflame and she cursed herself for having spoken, but it was too late now. He smiled at her, an easy smile that belied the heat leaping into his gaze. The little shop seemed all at once far too warm.

‘My lady. How lovely to see you again. Are you buying new dresses? I thought yesterday perhaps you had forgotten to bring all of your things from London.’ Understanding he was referring to her undressed state the night before, Amelia tossed her head at him, trying for haughtiness.

‘Not at all, sir. I am more than provided for. I came to look for ribbons to update my bonnets.’

Jasper bowed his head to her, his eyes searching hers in a way that made Amelia feel lightheaded. Although his words were entirely proper, the look in his eyes was anything but. ‘I’m sure you will look very pretty, ribbons or no. But this tartan you are looking at is hardly fit for a bonnet.’

‘No, I was just admiring the richness of the material.’
And imagining you in a kilt.
‘What brings you here?’

‘Blankets,’ he said bluntly, ‘in time for winter. The cold sets in quick here, and some of my tenants will struggle to keep warm, especially with taxes going up yet again due to the war in France.’

Amelia was surprised at his obvious concern for his tenants, but also pleased. Rake and smuggler the man may well be rumoured to be, but he clearly had a heart, as well. He ordered a dozen thick blankets then held out his arm to her.

‘Allow me to escort you?’ His eyes swept over her body as he looked down at her, coming to rest for just a moment on her mouth. The mouth he had so fiercely claimed. Amelia looked away, her stomach fizzing with an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation as she took his arm and allowed him to walk her out onto the street, Sally following behind with her mouth blatantly agape.

Amelia was acutely aware of his nearness, and of the heat radiating from his body. How might it feel to have him pressed up against her again, to let him touch her as he had so nearly done the previous evening?

‘Are you well?’ he asked, noting the flush in her cheeks. She nodded vehemently.

‘Very. It is a little warm.’

Jasper raised an eyebrow at that, as though he knew exactly what was causing her sudden rise in temperature, especially given that the September wind was growing increasingly cool. He insisted on taking her back to her waiting gig, walking at a stroll. She was certain he knew the effect he was having on her and was trying to prolong her torment.

‘You got my message?’

‘Yes. I sent a reply that I would attend at seven. I was wondering who else you had invited?’ After all, perhaps he merely planned a welcome soirée with a few of the neighbouring families, although he hardly seemed the party planning type.

‘No one,’ he said. ‘It is your company I seek, my lady. I’m sure you can entertain me quite sufficiently.’

Amelia pulled up short at that, whirling on him in indignation. ‘You assume a great deal.’

‘On the contrary. You can refuse my invitation you know.’

‘I may well do so.’

He made no answer to that but walked her the rest of the way in silence, then stopped and turned to her, his voice low. ‘Amelia…’ The way he spoke her name, it sounded like a caress. ‘I have no intentions of ravishing you. It’s just dinner. Unless—’ he flashed her a wicked look ‘—you should ask me to.’

‘Just dinner it is then,’ she said firmly, but her heart pounded in her ears as he helped her into the gig and even gave Sally a hand up. So he could be a gentleman, as well as kind-hearted. He was in fact entirely unlike any man she had ever met.

As the carriage moved away, Amelia couldn’t resist a last look back at him, watching his long lean strides down the street. The strength of her desire for him had taken her completely by surprise, and although she knew she should turn his invitation down flat, a part of her whispered that she may never have such a chance again, to be courted by such a handsome man. Particularly if it was her intention to live as a spinster. Would it hurt to allow herself a few days of flirtation? He may be rumoured to be a rake, but he had assured her of his intentions, and she thought he was gentleman enough not to attempt anything untoward. Amelia nodded to herself. Dinner it would be then.

And that will be all
, she tried, but didn’t quite manage to convince herself.

Chapter Three

Jasper too was trying to convince himself of his intentions that evening as he paced restlessly, wondering if Amelia would indeed arrive. She would make a pleasant distraction while he attended to the business he had at Glendir, the presence of a beautiful and obviously willing woman would make this necessary visit to his ancestral home to track his quarry much more interesting. And yet, something about her made him feel almost guilty at the thought of just dallying with her and then going their separate ways.

He wondered if being back at Glendir was making him soft; made him wish for things he had never before wanted or needed. Jasper was on the verge of doing the decent thing and rescinding the invitation when he heard his valet open the large doors to the hall and heard Amelia’s voice, soft and sultry. A sudden heat flooded him at the thought of her here, alone, in his house. Suddenly Glendir seemed less full of ghosts.

When she was shown in by his valet, he crossed the room and kissed her hand, feeling the slight tremble of her fingers. Nervous or excited? One glance at her wide-eyed face told him it was a mixture of both. He smiled as he held out her chair. ‘Some wine, my lady?’

‘Please.’

She would need some, Amelia thought, if only to settle the fluttering in her stomach Right up until the last minute she had intended to back out and send word that she would not come, yet here she was, and in her most daringly low-cut gown with her curls pinned loosely yet artfully by Sally and her cheeks and lips softly rouged. Her appearance seemed to be having the desired effect, as she noted Jasper’s gaze lingering on the tops of her breasts as he sat opposite her.

When he raised his eyes to hers the heat in them thrilled her. She was not imagining it, this sudden and strange chemistry she had with this man.

‘You enjoyed your trip to town today?’ he asked, though he looked as if he would have liked to say a great deal more.

She nodded enthusiastically, her eagerness a deliberate attempt to cover the growing restlessness that churned inside her and made her long to feel his hands on her again.

‘Very much so. People here are so much friendlier than in London. My father always swore that Scots were a taciturn lot, but…’ She broke off, wondering if she had offended him, but Jasper only laughed wryly.

‘The people here won’t simper or fawn like your London dandies, but when they give their friendship they give it honestly enough. You might not find any balls to attend this weekend however.’

Amelia thought about that. ‘I could happily never attend another ball with the “dandies” you refer to again, but I do like to dance. You have dances here, surely?’

Jasper grinned. ‘Indeed we do. I’d be honoured to teach you a traditional Scots jig before you have to move on. Perhaps a little caber tossing, too.’

Amelia laughed. ‘I think you would be better at that than me, my lord,’ she said boldly, eyeing his strong arms. The look Jasper gave her was full of such searing heat she dropped her eyes, flustered, and scolding herself for her coyness. She had come here with every intention of remaining cool and yet every time she saw the man he seemed to reduce her to a bundle of excited nerves. Quickly she sought to change the subject.

‘Do you intend to stay here and oversee the running of your lands then? Only I had never heard of the old Lord Glendir having a successor.’

Jasper frowned, his eyes turning serious. ‘I was expecting it to be a short visit only as circumstances dictate I am usually needed elsewhere. There is an overseer in place who I employ to run my estates. Although—’ he frowned ‘—things do seem to have slipped a little since my grandfather’s death. Hence my reason for going to market today. My grandfather was always mindful of his tenants’ well-being and they loved him for it.’

Amelia looked confused. ‘Did not the estate pass to your father?’

Jasper was quiet a moment, his eyes seeming to cloud over. ‘My father is dead.’

Amelia closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could kick herself. She said the only thing she thought might ease the brooding silence, sharing a part of herself that she so rarely admitted to. ‘My mother, too, is dead. I barely remember her, yet I feel the loss of her keenly. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.’

Jasper’s face seemed to clear. Indeed he looked even a little surprised at her words. Perhaps a man such as he rarely had anyone in whom to confide.

‘Don’t apologize,’ he said more softly. ‘There was no love lost between us. I was fairly close to my grandfather in recent years, but he and my father barely spoke.’

‘May I ask why?’ In spite of herself, Amelia was intrigued. It seemed she was not the only one who was less than close to her family, and somehow knowing that perhaps he was vulnerable too made her feel more at ease around him. Not that there looked to be any softness about him at all, with his strong body and thoroughly masculine manner, yet still she felt a tentative connection between them.

‘My ancestors—’ Jasper took a large drink of his wine and stared into the shadows at the corner of the room before continuing ‘—were hard men, who often lived outside the law. What with the various rebellions against the English over the years, the tenants of Glendir suffered greatly. My grandfather sought to put things to rights, and he worked hard to ensure his tenants were well provided for and our family name restored. My father, however, wanted nothing to do with any of it. He married my mother, a genteel lady from Sussex, and gambled half of her fortune away. Only then did he bring us all here and attempt to do the same with the Glendir fortune. My grandfather disinherited him in favour of me. I was ten. My father never had a good word to say to me after that until he died when I was sixteen.’

Jasper stopped talking abruptly, and Amelia wondered if he regretted being so blunt with her. ‘Your mother?’ she prompted, hoping for his sake there was a happier story there, ‘She must be proud of you’?’

‘Hardly.’ Jasper shrugged, though she knew intuitively that it bothered him more than he cared to admit. ‘She is back in Sussex. Cursing the very name of Glendir. When I told her I had no intention of living in London but wanted to pursue other interests she told me I was a scoundrel like my father and has barely spoken to me since.’

Amelia felt a wave of compassion for him, although she wondered exactly what his ‘other interests’ were, remembering Sally’s comments about his being a rake. Jasper seemed so confident and sure of himself that she could not imagine him as an unwanted child. Then something else occurred to her.

‘You are half Scots, half English then. Like myself.’ It seemed they had more in common than she previously would have guessed. He nodded, gazing at her with an intensity that began again the stirring in her belly.

‘We would be quite a good match, it seems.’

Amelia felt her throat go dry. There was no mistaking the invitation in his eyes, but as much as she desired him the realization that she actually
liked
him made her pause. To flirt with the idea of a secret liaison before she resigned herself to her future was one thing, but to gamble with her heart was a different proposition entirely.

However, Jasper’s expression grew suddenly guarded, as if he had not quite meant to speak the last comment aloud. His next question was not one she was expecting.

‘What are you running from?’

Shocked at his bluntness, Amelia took another drink of wine. It was clearly homemade, and much stronger than the watered-down versions she was used to at home. ‘What makes you think I’m running from anything?’

‘Young lasses don’t generally just turn up round these parts with nothing but a few bags. If you had to settle your aunt’s affairs, where is your lawyer? I’m guessing something has happened and you’re using Trevan as a bolt-hole.’ Jasper narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I hope you’re not running from the law. My grandfather spent his life trying to make the name of Glendir respectable, and consorting with criminals—even bonny ones—would hardly uphold that.’

‘No, I am not!’ she said, once again shocked at the sheer audacity of the man, the intimacy of just a few moments before temporarily forgotten in her indignation. ‘And as for your reputation, I’ve only been in Scotland two days and already I have heard what a rake you are, and a smuggler at that. So perhaps it is you who should be worried about the law!’

Amelia thought for a moment she had angered him and he would rage at her, but instead he merely raised an eyebrow at her, having regained his composure after that brief glimpse of his inner thoughts. ‘Fiery one, aren’t you? That’ll be your housekeeper talking, no doubt. The smuggling is a few generations back now as I said. As for being a rake, I’ve been called worse things. You certainly had little complaint last night.’

Amelia blushed and dug into her broth to avoid answering. It was lovely, warming and with a blend of herbs that was unfamiliar to her.

‘You must thank your cook. This is splendid,’ she said. Jasper nodded his thanks, but had no attention of letting her off the hook so easily. As she tucked in to the main course—venison caught and killed in his own woods—he resumed his questioning.

‘So if you’re not in trouble with the law, what is it? An abusive husband perhaps, or some scandal… Are you carrying a bairn?’

The question was so abrupt, although not without sympathy, that Amelia choked on her mouthful of food. Sipping her wine to clear her throat she met his gaze and saw he was leaning back in his chair, watching her intently. His eyes roamed over her figure, or what he could see of it over the table, in a way that made her feel naked. He was looking for signs of pregnancy, she realized, and shook her head vehemently. ‘No, I can assure you I am not. It is nothing so crass. I simply wanted to be away from London. My father is insisting I marry a certain gentleman, and I do not wish to.’