Rules for Reforming a Rake (31 page)

He turned to face her. “I don’t know.”

“Gabriel,” she said, edging closer, but afraid to hug him for fear he’d rebuff her. “If you want me to wait for you, I will. A lifetime, if necessary. Who knows how long a war will last? Napoleon is on the march again and everyone’s afraid he’ll soon regain control of France. Isn’t that why the Prince Regent and Wellington are so concerned?”

She paused, waiting for his response, and continued when he said nothing. “But you intend to be
hunting
by then. What I don’t understand is your need for pretense. Why can’t it be known that you’re working with Wellington?”

He ran a knuckle gently across her cheek. “Because it isn’t that simple.”

“I didn’t think it was.” Her breath was shaky and her entire body tingled. Gabriel’s mere touch was enough to turn her upside down. Her body wasn’t merely tingling, it was on fire. He was doing all he could to douse that flame. It wouldn’t work. She was too far gone. She hoped he was as well, for she really wanted their last moments together to be special. “But I wish you’d have some faith in me, enough to tell me the truth.”

“You think I don’t have faith in you?” He let out a soft, anguished laugh and drew her into his arms. “You’re the only... I just wish I’d met you two years from now, hopefully when the threat from Napoleon is truly over.”

“Two years? Is that how long you think this new war will take?”

He shrugged. “It could take longer.”

“Very well.” She tipped her chin up to meet his steady gaze. “I promise I will wait for you.”

His laugh sounded mirthless. “No, you won’t. You had better not. I reject your promise. I don’t want you to give up your life for me. I forbid you to wait.”

“Forbid? That sounded quite military and commanding, but I’m not one of your soldiers.”

“No,” he said softly, “and thank heaven for it. Soldiers need to obey without question, need to respond on instinct. You don’t look like a soldier either. You’re so beautiful, Daisy. My heart slams into my chest every time I look at you.”

“Oh, Gabriel! My heart does the same whenever I look at you.” She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss her.

He drew away. “No, Daisy. The sooner you realize we aren’t meant for each other, the better off you’ll be.”

Were they speaking the same language? Hadn’t he just admitted that his heart soared whenever he set eyes upon her? So why was there such desperation in his voice? He wouldn’t push her away unless... he knew something terrible was in the offing. Her eyes clouded with tears. “You don’t expect to survive.”

“Nonsense.” But he set his hands against her cheeks, once again caressing them with his thumbs as more tears began to roll down. “Forget your little girl dreams. You must.”

“Please,” she said in anguish, her throat so constricted she could barely speak. “I can’t forget you, or let you destroy yourself... your future.
Our
future together. I’ve grown up and my feelings for you are not just little girl dreams.”

He stood still a very long moment, hardly breathing. The night had a way of heightening one’s senses. Noises were sharper, scents were easier to identify. Gabriel’s subtle musk scent drew her closer, made her ache to put her lips to his throat and kiss her way slowly to his mouth.

But Gabriel made no move. The only sounds she heard were of the gentle flow of water circulating in the pond and the distant, plaintive strains of a Celtic harp. Her senses were as finely tuned as the harp, her body as taut as its strings.

She understood the importance of this moment, the need inside her. An aching need that brought more tears to her eyes.

Gabriel moaned and took her securely into his arms, cradling her against his chest while she sniffled into his shirt. “Damn it, Daisy. You’ll destroy me if you cry.”

She held him tightly and breathed in his musk scent. She ran her hands along his broad chest and muscled shoulders, wanting to memorize every hard curve of his body. She wanted to remember his strength and stubbornness, to remember
him
because she had the horrible feeling that she would never be in his arms again. “I’m glad I met you... glad I fell in love with you.”

“I won’t say it back to you, Daisy.” But his voice was tight and raspy, and instead of pushing her away, he drew her even more firmly into his arms, holding her so close that their bodies seemed as one. His fingers gently brushed against her hair, but he needn’t have been careful, for the wind and her tearful burrowing against his chest had ruined her fashionable chignon.

She didn’t care. How could she worry about the style of her hair when her life was coming undone?

He bent his head to hers and kissed her softly on the mouth, a gentle, lingering kiss that made her heart soar like a bird. When the kiss ended, he didn’t pull away. She felt his lips against her cheek, mingling with her tears. “Daisy Farthingale, you complicate my life. What am I to do with you?”

“Love me,” she said and instantly felt him tense. “Even if it isn’t true. Just pretend for tonight. I want the memories. No matter what happens, whatever our destiny... I want to remember the kisses, your laughter and your smugness—you can be impossibly smug, you know.”

He let out a light, mirthless chuckle. “I know.”

“I want to remember the gentle strength of your arms around me, the heat of your body against mine. I won’t ask more questions. Keep your secrets. Just kiss me, Gabriel. Make this night memorable. Please.”

And he did.

He lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly, exquisitely, his large hands exploring each curve of her body, gliding up her thighs, circling her waist, and then he cupped her breast, his hand warm and gentle and knowing.

She arched into his palm, her body melting under the heat of his touch as he flicked his thumb across the hardened bud, evoking moans and passionate shudders from her. When she thought she could bear no more exquisite delight, his hand drifted lower, his fingers lightly grazing along her tingling skin on a purposeful path down her body. Somehow the silk bodice of her gown was now down about her waist, her breasts bared to the cool breeze.

Before she knew it, his mouth closed over her breast, his tongue flicking across the taut nipple, swirling and suckling, until she thought she’d shatter from the pleasure. His hand slipped under her gown and he caressed her thighs, then caressed what he’d obviously sought between her thighs. “Gabriel!” she cried in a whispered moan.

“Sweetheart, don’t hold back. I want to remember you like this, so soft and beautiful in the moonlight.”

He stroked her moist core, seeming to know just when and where to apply the gentle pressure. She’d never experienced anything so powerful, her entire body in flames, hot, roaring and so intense she doubted her fiery passion could ever be doused. For him. Only for him.

She nestled between his muscled legs and felt his arousal, knew he was meant to be inside her, filling her. “I love you, Gabriel.”

He said nothing, just closed his mouth over hers again and began to...
oh, oh... oooh
!

DAISY SLIPPED BACK
to the recital unnoticed and spent the rest of the evening watching helplessly as Gabriel made a drunken fool of himself. His actions were obviously planned in advance and executed with precision, though the other guests were quick to believe that he was in his cups and out of control. Lord and Lady Baldridge, finally having had enough of his offensive behavior, demanded that he leave their home.

Graelem stepped forward to take his staggering cousin in hand. “C’mon, Gabriel. You’ll have a blistering headache in the morning. Sleep it off at my house.”

“Your place? What fun is that?” Gabriel took an awkward swipe at Graelem and missed. “Take me to Curzon Street. I have a call to make there.”

The last was said loud enough for all standing close by to hear. Daisy and Auguste Malinor, who had spent much of the evening by her side, happened to be standing beside the door. “Disgusting,” Auguste remarked.

“Indeed,” Daisy’s mother replied, for her family was standing close by as well. She took Daisy’s hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze, for her mother knew her well enough to sense her quiet desperation. Though she disapproved of Gabriel, Sophie Farthingale’s motherly instincts were on alert now and her only concern was to comfort her daughter. The “Daisy, you’re young and foolish” lecture would come later.

Graelem left with Gabriel.

The music started up again and the Baldridge guests soon returned their attention to the festivities. Daisy could only think of Gabriel, but she hid her quiet concern since Auguste Malinor was still by her side.

One thing was clear: Gabriel and his cousin had neatly arranged to put Gabriel in Graelem’s home tonight. “Sleep it off at my house,” Graelem had said. Was it a ruse to provide cover while Gabriel collected the supplies kept under lock and key at Graelem’s without raising suspicion?

Auguste put his hand on Daisy’s elbow. “The dancing has started. I believe this waltz is mine.”

Daisy shook back to the present and glanced around at the other couples already on the floor. All were eager for the real fun to start now that the harp recital was over and the chairs had been cleared away. “Indeed it is, my lord.”

Auguste, his expression suddenly serious, escorted her onto the floor and drew her into his arms. “Tonight I claim a waltz,” he whispered smoothly in her ear, “but very soon I shall claim your heart... as you have claimed mine, my dearest.”

Daisy gaped at Auguste, paying no heed to the dancers now whirling about them or her own steps as her body turned numb. “My lord, I fear you’ve also imbibed too much this evening.”

He arched an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and anger, though he quickly hid that darker, angry response. “Do you not feel the same about me?”

“Perhaps,” she said, hoping to lighten the conversation, “if you did not attempt to claim the heart of every young lady you met this evening. Lord Dayne isn’t the only scoundrel. You do have a reputation, you know.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “You are utterly delightful. Upon my oath, these words have been spoken to no one but you.”

Which wasn’t quite true. She’d seen him sneak off with another young lady earlier this evening, but had no intention of confronting him about it, for she’d done the same with Gabriel. She said nothing more, allowing Auguste to twirl her about the room in time to the music.

She and Auguste didn’t know each other very well. Perhaps he wished to remedy that oversight, for he had been attentive to her throughout the evening, and had taken pains to charm her family. He’d said all the right things, whispered all the pretty words that Daisy longed to hear from Gabriel and never would.

She glanced up and saw that Auguste’s gaze was on yet another young lady. Was he silently arranging another tryst in the Baldridge gardens? Two seductions in one night, and the night wasn’t over yet!

Nonetheless, she tried hard to like Auguste. Truly she did, for Auguste had many worthy attributes—wealth, title, good looks. But there was obviously something lacking, something about him that didn’t feel right, and it was more than his wandering eye for the ladies.

Perhaps it was the fact that he’d never attempted to kiss her. She had supposedly claimed his heart, he’d just told her so. Yet, he behaved nothing like a man in love. In truth, he seemed more in love with himself than with anyone else.

He was quite agreeable and polite with her, but he certainly didn’t tingle at her touch, nor did his heart thump madly whenever he glanced at her. Indeed, the smile on his face appeared forced, and his light touches seemed calculated, as though timed at precise intervals.

Daisy couldn’t shake the feeling that Auguste found her tedious. Was it possible the Malinors needed an infusion of capital to maintain their business enterprises and were now waging a campaign to capture her trust fund?

Great balls of cheese!
She was eager for this interminable night to end.

A month into her debut season and all she had to show for it was Gabriel, a man who didn’t want her for his wife, and Auguste, a man who wanted her only for her money.

What more could a debutante ask for?

***

Daisy rode home in Eloise’s carriage hoping for the chance to confide in her, but the old dear was exhausted and began to drift off shortly after the start of their ride. “Have you finished Lady Forsythia’s book?” she managed to ask with a yawn as the carriage drew away from the Baldridge home.

Daisy nodded. “Most of it. Only two chapters to go.”

“Good. Make sure you finish them soon.” That said, Eloise had closed her eyes and was soon lightly snoring.

Daisy’s parents and the rest of the family had piled into the Farthingale carriages and departed shortly ahead of them.

After seeing Eloise to her bed, Daisy slowly walked next door to her home and was about to retire to her bedchamber when her father called to her on the stairs. “There you are, child.” He had a broad smile on his lips as he summoned her into his study.

The family elders were gathered there, several of her uncles standing with fluted champagne glasses filled and raised as though in expectation of a celebration. Daisy returned their smiles, honored to be included among the elders—until her father explained the reason for everyone’s good cheer.

Daisy paled and took a step back. “Auguste Malinor? Is this a jest? No! No! I won’t marry him! You can’t make me do it!”

A sea of surprised faces returned her horrified stare, no one saying a word until Julia let out a shriek and grabbed her by the elbow. “Impossible child! Are you attics-to-let? The son of England’s finance miniter has just offered for you. A
viscount
in his own right. If you refuse him, not only will you damage your reputation, but you’ll ruin my chances with his father. Do you care so little for me? For Harry’s future?”

Daisy tugged out of her grasp and raised her hands in exasperation. She turned to her father, silently pleading for his understanding. “There must be some mistake. I’m certain that Auguste doesn’t love me.”