Regency 05 - Intrigue (2 page)

“How did you know?” Disbelief colored every word.

“I merely speculated,” he replied with a sudden yawn. He drew the horse to a halt. “Are you sure you would like to be dropped here? I could take you home, you know.”

Stunned by his assumption and his sudden attitude of unutterable boredom, Malvina just stared at him.

How was any of this happening? How had she gone from an ordinary widow with a son to this desperate woman willing to trust a man she’d never met? When had she become such a stranger?

She shook her head. “Since you know where I live, sir, you may as well take me home.”

The horse started off with one softly spoken word from his master, ambling along with every appearance of being just as complacent as the man on his back.

Where had he been bound when he happened upon the holdup? He seemed to know the area quite well.

“Have you a relative in the area, sir?” she asked.

“Curiosity will be the death of you, Lady Brackney,” he replied unhelpfully.

Malvina fell silent for a moment, unsure how to react to such a response. Then, “Are you threatening me?”

“I would never threaten a lady, ma’am.”

His tone seemed to imply that she wasn’t a lady though his face revealed nothing in the dim moonlight. She opened her mouth to respond when he suddenly informed her that she was home.

She slid from the horse with his help and stood on the ground looking up at him. “Thank you, sir, for your timely intervention. And thank you for returning me to my home.”

Plans must be made if Malvina was to successfully maneuver her way out of the bumblebroth she’d landed in. Someone was going to be very displeased when he discovered tonight was ruined and Malvina did not care for his displeasure at all.

The man dismounted, much to Malvina’s surprise, and bowed low before her. “Are you not going to invite me in, my dear lady?”

Her mouth dropped open. “No, sir, I am not! What kind of lady do you think I am?”

He bent closer to her but the encroaching darkness threw his expression into shadow. “I know exactly what kind of
lady
you are, madam. If you have any care for yourself or your son, you will invite me in, as we have much to discuss.”

His intense, serious tone jarred her, sending shivers down her spine. It lacked his earlier air of boredom, hinting at a much harder man within.

“You
are
threatening me,” she breathed. Whatever would she do if he chose to hurt her? Her gaze darted around, looking for something, anything that might serve as a weapon.

He leaned back, his lazy grin reappearing. “I do not threaten, my lady. I find the business far too fatiguing.”

Malvina stared, unsure what to make of her companion. He flashed from amusement to anger in the blink of an eye, teased one moment and threatened the next. His stance spoke of tightly leashed energy, yet there was a certain ease to his lanky frame that made no sense. He was a contradiction, a man she didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

And he wanted to enter her home.

Her mind screamed at her to flee, run as far and as fast from this man as her legs could carry her. But her heart, traitorous thing that it was, whispered other things, things she’d not dared think of since her husband’s death, things she had no business thinking about an exciting stranger she’d just met—or not met as the case may be.

Feeling she had little choice in the matter, she invited him in.

Gideon gazed around the spacious residence of his reluctant hostess. Her home screamed poverty. The furnishings, though of the first stare at one time, were threadbare and old. The tapestries that lined the walls of the entryway were badly in need of a thorough cleaning. The floor upon which they stood was dirty and appeared to have been that way for some time.

His gaze settled on her as she removed her fancy little bonnet. Lustrous red curls rioted all over her head, refusing to remain restrained in the knot at her nape. Rich garnets graced her throat, the color repeating in the velvet trim on her pelisse and gown. What was this woman involved in that allowed her to dress so richly while her home moldered and fell about her ears?

With a sideways glance at the villainous looking butler who had reluctantly allowed him entrance, he murmured, “I would suggest you fire this lazy lot and hire new servants, ma
’
am.”

“I cannot,” she snapped. Consternation clouded her features. “They have been servants here for many years and I think it would be cruel to dismiss them.”

“If they were old, I might understand that,” he said, watching the way her gaze darted about and her fingers clenched at her sides. What reason could she have for lying? “But they are not. They are, from what I have seen, all fit individuals, clearly able to undertake the jobs required of them to make this house run properly.” At that moment, two maids entered the hall, chatting furtively, and exited by way of a door just down the way. Gideon stared after them, then looked down at his hostess. “Do you not agree, my lady?” he murmured.

“What do you care, sir? You are as lazy as they are,” she retorted.

He grinned. “True, true. But, when you visit my home, you will see that my servants are not.”

“What do you mean,
when
?” she asked as she led him to the door through which the two maids had disappeared.

Gideon shrugged. “Who knows?”

She turned so quickly that Gideon didn’t have time to react. She ended up in his arms and he couldn’t have been more surprised—or pleased. A strange sensation filled him, a feeling of rightness that couldn’t possibly be real. He reasserted his usual air of lazy boredom, forcing back the inappropriate sensations. He grinned down at her, watching a range of emotions pass through her pale green eyes.

“Release me at once, sir!” she commanded, pushing at his arms with little result.

“Why?” he asked, truly curious. Her eyes widened, lips pinching in at the corners. As her fingers clenched on his arms, he realized what he was seeing. Fear.

He released her and stepped back. “We must talk,” he murmured, looking around. The maids stood in the drawing room, watching them with acute interest. A footman lingered behind them in the corridor listening unashamedly and the butler was still within hearing distance. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear, “Do you trust your servants?”

“No, sir, not at all.” She appeared surprised at her own admission.

He muttered a curse. Why had he not thought about that when he realized who she was? Probably because he had believed her guilty just as his superiors did. “They are not really your servants, are they?” he asked, assuming they were her husband’s.

“No,” she said. “But it is useless for us to talk. I do not even know who you are.”

He looked down at her with a sweet smile. “I am someone who wants to help you,” he whispered, his eyes sweeping her lush form. An idea blossomed in his mind that he couldn’t help but admire. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyebrows shot upward, then back down into a frown. “I barely know you. But you did save me from—”

Before the last words were out of her mouth, Malvina found herself being thoroughly kissed. She protested until she felt the warning pressure of his hand at her waist. So she stood very still and allowed him to do what he wanted until his tongue pushed past her lips. Strange heat spread through her limbs at the intimate contact, a remembered sensation from early in her marriage.

But this time it was different. This man was different, more exciting, intriguing, and appealing than her late husband. Her attraction to him was illogical and inappropriate, but she had no desire to stop, no desire to think.

Instead of pushing him away with indignant exclamations of outrage, she drew him closer, kissing him back. He swept her up into his arms, his lips never leaving hers, and carried her up the stairs. Their surroundings melted away until it was just them, alone, nothing to interfere or shatter the—.

He tore his lips away to ask, “Which room is yours?”

Malvina came back down to earth with a rude bump. What she had just done, what she had allowed him to do, rushed in on her. Without thought for the consequences, she reached up and dealt him a stinging blow. He pushed open the first door and let go of her, his brown eyes hard as rock. The door slammed behind him as she landed on the floor with a thump. A pained cry ripped from her throat and she glared up at him.

“You, my lady, are sorely in need of a lesson in gratitude,” he bit out, a red hand print appearing on his cheek.

Then, before her very eyes, he once again became the lazily smiling man she’d come to expect.

“Is this your chamber?” he asked with apparent interest, his gaze sweeping the cozy chamber.

Malvina tried to form a coherent thought. One moment her entire being was taken up with sensations she’d thought long dead, and the next she was picking herself up off the floor, shaking out her skirts and resisting the urge to rub her smarting backside. Anger coursed through her, some directed at him but most of it reserved for herself for responding to his kiss in such an abandoned manner.

Finally, she forced words passed her clenched teeth. “Yes, it is. I don’t know what you think you… Wait! You are the one who insulted me, kissing me in such a disgusting way! I demand an apology, sirrah!”

The infuriating man grinned and deposited himself in a chair by her bed. “I apologize for disgusting you, my lady. I was unaware that Beowulf was an Immaculate Conception. I was under the impression that Christ was the only human able to lay claim to that.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it, sir,” she returned, blushing hotly despite her best efforts to resist. “And we will not speak of my son.”

He shrugged, a careless gesture she was coming to hate. “Do you suppose someone listens at the door?”

His shifts in topic dizzied her. A headache blossomed behind her eyes. “I do not know. No one enters here other than my maid and we speak as little as possible.” She sat on the bed and then wished she had chosen anywhere else. His eyes lingered on bed, sending a nervous quiver through Malvina’s belly.