A Winter Scandal (28 page)

“It is hard for me to judge since I do not know her.”

“But do I seem so unreasonable and unbending?” He raised his head to look at her, his dark eyes troubled. “Am I so puritanical?”

“
Puritanical
is
not
the first word that comes to my mind when I think of you,” Thea said drily.

He grinned and leaned closer to her, murmuring, “That is because when I am with you, I feel anything but puritanical.”

Thea felt her cheeks heat up, and he chuckled. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love to see you blush. I love to make you blush.”

“You must, for you do it often enough,” she pretended to grumble, but when he pulled her over into his lap and kissed her more thoroughly, she made no protest, just wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. He nuzzled the side of her neck, murmuring, “I have missed you terribly. I’ve done nothing but think of you since I left this house last night.” He raised his head and smiled down into her eyes. “How can that happen, Miss Bainbridge? How are you able to completely occupy my thoughts? I am inclined to think you are a sorceress.”

“Hardly.” Thea would have liked to make a clever retort, but she found it difficult to think when Gabriel’s lips were roaming the soft flesh of her throat.

“Hello? Lord Morecombe? Miss Bainbridge?” A woman’s voice came floating back to them from the front of the house.

Thea bolted from his lap, her pink cheeks flaming now. She straightened her spectacles, which had gotten pushed awry, and smoothed down her skirts.

“Emily!” Gabriel muttered, and let out a soft curse. “The woman has the most damnable timing.” He stood up. “I am coming, Lady Wofford.” He turned to Thea. “They doubtless want to leave. I don’t believe the village offerings are quite Lady Wofford’s notion of entertainment. I could stay and let them go back without me. I could walk home later through the ruins, if you will show me the way.”

“I shall show you the ruins some other day,” Thea assured him. “But for now, it is probably better that you go. My brother and Damaris and all the others are here. We would have no time alone in any case.”

“Very well.” He strode to the door and peered down the hallway, then turned back. “Lady Wofford must have gone into the sitting room.” He pulled Thea to him and gave her a brief, hard kiss on the lips. “I will call on you tomorrow.”

Thea nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might ask him to stay.

Gabriel strode out the door, and Thea heard him say, “Ah, there you are, Emily. I was looking at the vicar’s library.”

Ian replied, “Cousin Daniel always was a bookish sort. Well, that whole branch of the family, really.”

“Yes, I do not mean to insult your family, dear, but your cousins are a rather odd group. So very … well, I hesitate to use the word
provincial
…”

“And yet you do,” Gabriel said shortly.

“My.” Emily let out a little titter. “I do believe you are in need of Christmas cheer. The sooner we get back to the Priory the better, don’t you agree, Ian?”

“No doubt.”

“You’re right. I think everyone will enjoy the day more if we return to the Priory,” Gabriel said, and the footsteps faded down the hall, the front door closing behind them.

Thea spent the next afternoon
taking Boxing Day gifts to the butcher and other tradesmen the vicarage used. As she started back toward the vicarage, she was surprised to see Gabriel emerging from the inn’s courtyard. He was frowning, but his face cleared when he saw her, and he swept off his hat to present an elegant bow.

“Miss Bainbridge, what an unexpected pleasure.” His words were ordinary, but the smile in his eyes warmed Thea.

“Lord Morecombe. I am surprised to see you here.”

“I was coming to call on you, actually. I left my horse in the inn’s stable.” He cast a glance down at her, adding, “I was hoping my visit would prove longer than I feel comfortable leaving my mount out in the cold.”

“Indeed? People might talk.”

“I suspect they already do,” Gabriel retorted. “I am growing more familiar with life in Chesley. I wager that at this very moment, there are at least four pairs of eyes trained on us.”

Thea laughed. “It is probably a low estimate.”

They continued walking, and after a moment, Gabriel said, “I also dropped in to the inn to speak to Lord Rawdon.”

“Really? Why?”

“To apologize. Whatever I heard about him, clearly he was not the cause of my sister’s leaving. I wronged him.”

“What happened?” Thea looked up at him. “Did he accept your apology?”

“He wasn’t there. Hornsby said he paid his shot and left yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh.”

“I suppose he decided there was no reason to stay. He came here to see Jocelyn, and she is not here.”

“I am sorry that you were unable to see him, though—to part on better terms.”

“I doubt that we shall ever be on good terms again. After all that’s happened—well, there’s no love lost between us. Still, I won’t feel right until I have apologized. But that will have to wait until I return to London.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the weather crept through Thea at his words. How long would it be until he would be leaving? A man such as Gabriel would not want to stay away from the city long. Quickly, to keep from thinking about that idea, she said, “How are the rest of your party? Have they recovered from the holiday cheer?”

“I presume so. I have not seen that much of them—I have been a terrible host, I confess.” He slanted his gaze down at her. “The truth is, I feel like saying to them, as Mercutio did, ‘A pox on both your houses!’”

Thea chuckled. “Surely not!”

“They all seem a damned nuisance lately. I keep having to play the polite host when all I want to do is be with you.”

Thea sucked in a breath at his statement, her heart suddenly tripping merrily in her chest. She should not take such hope from his words, she told herself, but she could not squelch the effervescent happiness bubbling up inside her. They had reached the vicarage, and she stopped irresolutely, glancing toward the house. If they went inside, there would be no chance of being alone. Someone could pop in at any moment.

“Let’s continue to walk,” Gabriel said, echoing her thoughts. “You offered to show me the abbey ruins.”

Thea smiled. “Of course, if you’d like?”

“I’d like very much.” “Very well, then.” She started toward the footbridge over the water. “You have been inside the church, of course.”

“Not in daylight.”

“Then we shall see it first. It will give us a chance to warm up a bit, anyway.”

The snow was still deep enough to present a picturesque view of the church and graveyard. Gabriel pulled open the massive wooden door of the church, and they went through the vestibule and into the sanctuary beyond. As they strolled down the aisle, Gabriel reached down and took Thea’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers. Even through their gloves, Thea was very aware of the contact, and though they touched nowhere else, her whole body tingled at the closeness, alive with anticipation.

She kept up a flow of talk as she showed him the church, relating the legend of St. Dwynwen and its connection to the abbey, more in an attempt to distract herself than anything else.

“And does it work?” Gabriel asked. “Praying to St. Dwynwen, I mean? Have you ever tried it?”

Thea blushed, thinking of her own heartfelt prayer in this chapel only a week ago and the way Matthew’s little blond head had popped up moments afterward, followed soon by the tumultuous entrance of Gabriel himself into her formerly humdrum life. “Perhaps,” she murmured, and slipped away.

She led him out the side door of the church and into the graveyard. It was pristine, the snow unmarked except for a few tracks of small animals and birds. The graves were mounds of white, the stones capped by snow.

“St. Margaret’s was the chapel of the abbey. The remainder of the convent lay that way.” She pointed behind the church toward the ruins, their stark, half-fallen walls softened by the blanket of white.

They started toward the ruins, their hands still linked. Despite the cold, their steps were slow, and they walked close together. In this moment, the world seemed far away, separated by the sea of snow all around them. There was no one to see, no one to hear. Gabriel slid his arm around her shoulders, and Thea snuggled into his side, leaning her head against him.

“It seems almost a shame to make a path here, it is so lovely,” she said. “You see that low wall?” She pointed to their right. “These used to be convent buildings. They were almost completely dismantled and the stone used. This was the herb garden, and beside it, the room where they made their nostrums and tinctures and salves. And beyond that were the sickrooms. Closer, here was the chapter house. And up ahead were the cloisters, where the nuns used to walk.”

She pointed to the arches of stone in front of them. The cloisters were a colonnaded walkway, open on one side except for the columns, and with a wall on the opposite side. A roof stretched across the walkway, and the whole thing was largely intact.

“There are rooms behind the walkway?” Gabriel pointed to a doorway in the midst of one of the cloister walls.

“Yes. The roof’s gone now and some of the walls, as well.” She led him through the doorway and into the partially collapsed room beyond.

Only two walls remained, but they sheltered the room somewhat from the weather. There was even a patch in one corner without snow. Grinning, Gabriel pulled Thea to him, wrapping his arms around her and smiling down at her.

“At last, a bit of privacy.” He bent and kissed her. “I thought I was going to have to kiss you in the church again.”

He kissed her cheek and took her earlobe between his teeth, worrying it delicately. “I keep trying to think of some way to get you alone. I was wondering this morning whether I could steal you away to that cottage again.”

Thea smiled, her face turning dreamy and sensual. “I would not mind returning.”

Gabriel let out a soft groan. “When you look at me like that, it’s all I can do not to pull you to the floor right here.” He pulled her back for another lengthy kiss, and when their lips parted at last, his breath was rasping hard and fast in his throat. “I’d like to send all my guests home.”

Thea let out a little chuckle. “That would be rather rude.”

“Frankly, I don’t care. If I were alone at the Priory, we would have an entire house to ourselves.”

“That sounds inviting.” Thea linked her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoe to plant a light kiss on his lips. “However, I think ’twould be most improper for me to be in your house with you all alone.”

“Propriety can go to the devil,” he growled, and pulled her to him again, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I do nothing but think of you all the time. I am sure my friends must think I have lost my mind. They talk, and I don’t hear half their conversation, and when they ask me a question, I haven’t the faintest notion what to reply. It is entirely your fault.”

“Mine!” Thea laughed. “Well, I like that!”

“I like
this,
” he retorted, and came back to take her lips again.

After a long moment, he raised his head, smiling down into her eyes. “I have something for you.”

“What do you mean?” Thea tilted her head back.

He reached into a pocket of his topcoat, pulling out a small box, which he held out to her on his palm. Thea looked down at the box and took a step back, then turned her gaze back up to him. “What is it?”

He grinned. “Open it and see.”

“But—”

“It is Boxing Day. You give presents on Boxing Day.”

“To the grocer and the man who delivers the coal and such.”

“Well.” He shrugged. “I did not have it yesterday or I would have given it to you. I saw a shop in Bynford the other day, and I rode over there this morning to get you something.”

“But I—I have nothing for you.”

“You have already given me a far better gift than I deserve.” He jiggled the box in front of her face. “Open it. I know your curiosity is too great to leave it alone.”

Thea laughed and picked up the box to open it. Inside lay a set of filigreed gold earrings, each centered by a bloodred oval stone. Thea drew in her breath sharply. “Gabriel!” She cast an amazed look up at him. “You should not.”

“Do you not like them?”

“Of course I like them. They are beautiful!” Thea traced her forefinger over one of the stones. “But they are too much.”

“Nonsense. ’Tis only garnets. Mere fripperies, really. I would have gotten rubies, but this was the best they had. The jeweler in Bynford hasn’t a very large stock. Indeed, I was lucky to find these; they were the only red stone he had, and I wanted something to match that touch of red in your hair.”

“But, Gabriel, I cannot accept them!” Thea’s hand clenched more tightly on the box even as she said the words. “A gift of jewelry? I could not accept jewelry from a man—well, obviously, a man other than my brother or—well, someone in my family.” She had started to say ‘other than a fiancé,’ but had swallowed her words at the last moment. She certainly did not want him thinking she was hinting at marriage. “It isn’t proper.”

He laughed. “And when have we done anything that is ‘proper’?”

“Well, I should at least appear to make an effort to do so.” Thea looked back down at the earrings, her finger unconsciously caressing the garnets. Finally, she closed the box and held it out to Gabriel. “No. I cannot accept them.”

“What would I do with them? If you do not want them, then toss them aside.”

“No!” Thea’s hand clenched around the little box, and she pulled it back to her chest. “They are far too lovely to throw away. Return them to the jeweler.”

“And look like a proper muttonhead? I think not. No one but a spurned suitor would return a set of earrings. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

She gave him an exasperated look and started to speak, but he laid his forefinger against her lips, silencing her. “No. Whatever you were about to say, please do not. Tell everyone they came from someone else—perhaps your grandmother left them to you. If you feel you cannot wear them, then do not. Hide them away in a drawer. But I want you to have them. Even if you never wear them, ’twill be enough to know that you have them, that they please you.”