The Notorious Nobleman (4 page)

“
My husband,” she replied, as she
gathered up the tattered remnants of the bed sheet. “He, too, often
found himself in a fight over a bet or a sporting event. I often
bandaged the outcome.”

His dark brows came together. “That sounds
hardly the job for a woman like you.”

Julia shrugged her slim shoulders.
“There was no one else to do it sometimes.” Her expressive eyes
traveled over the scars etched on his chest and shoulders. “Who
bandages
your
wounds?”

“
My valet serves all my needs very
ably.”

“
You are not thinking of having him
tend this wound, too, are you?”

“
Of course!”

“
But you really should have a surgeon
to stitch it up.” She placed her small hand on his good arm to draw
his attention, and said, impulsively, “Promise me you shall have a
surgeon examine you.”

A barking retort hovered on the tip of his
tongue; but one look into Julia’s green eyes so filled with honest
and earnest concern, and the words died away. She was looking down
at him in such an appealing manner that he felt his gaze linger
appreciatively over her face. He recalled himself and said, rather
grudgingly, “I shall make no promises!”

Julia didn’t argue the point. She took the
basin of water to the door and stepped outside to dump it. When she
came back in, the Duke’s eyes were upon her, examining her every
detail, and intently watching her as she busily tidied the
cottage.

Absently, he reached over to grasp the
bottle and he gave its contents a slight swirl. Ignoring the
teacup, he put the bottle to his lips and poured a good quantity of
bourbon into his mouth. After a few more swallows, and with his arm
feeling better, he was much more like his usual
self

and he found that his
gaze settled much more favorably on the little red-head with the
porcelain skin.

But no sooner did that spark of
attraction spring to life, than he ruthlessly doused it. From
habit, his taste in women ran toward serving maids and married
women of the
ton
. Women who
were unsuitable or unavailable for anything more than a dalliance.
Women who were well up to snuff and knew the rules of the game. At
all costs, he steered away from women like Julia
Pettingale.

“
I should have left when I found you
were here,” he muttered, grudgingly.

“
Why? Surely there is nothing wrong
with two strangers seeking shelter from a storm?”

“
Did it never occur to you that the
stories that are whispered about me are true? Did you never doubt
whether I can be trusted to be alone with you?”

He was looking at her in an odd way that sent
her heart fluttering, but she managed to say, with admirable calm,
“I am not at all afraid of you, if that is what you mean. If people
whisper about you the sort of things I think they whisper, I have
nothing to fear. A man such as you would never find interest in a
female such as me.”

His dark gaze swept over her, covering every
inch of her appearance, from the top of her auburn curls to the
tips of her riding boots. “Are you certain of that?” he asked, and
he watched as a flush of color crept over her smooth, fair
cheeks.

It had been a long time since he had
seen a lady blush. The women with whom he usually associated had
long since relied upon a rouge-pot to bring a bloom of color to
their cheeks. But there was nothing artificial, he judged, about
Julia Pettingale. She looked at him with her clear, green eyes gone
slightly wide with surprise, and her cheeks glowing rosily; and for
a moment

for just a
moment

he was
charmed.

“
Never mind,” he said, and he downed
the last of the contents from the bottle. “As it happens, you are
correct. I do prefer a style of woman much different than
you.”

“
Then I am safe to wait out the storm
with you.”

“
Do as you like, but I am leaving,” he
said, getting to his feet and reaching for his riding jacket. He
slowly shrugged his arms into the sleeves and pulled the
well-tailored lapels over his broad chest.

He wasn’t certain the rain had stopped; but
he was certain that he had to get out of that cottage. A woman like
Julia Pettingale was dangerous; she was the kind of woman who made
a man think of marriage and children, and playing host and hostess
to the right sort of people. He hadn’t entertained such thoughts in
years and he wasn’t about to start entertaining them now.

He swung his caped riding coat over his
shoulders and threw open the splintered door. The rain had indeed
stopped. He stepped out into the early evening air and took a deep,
cleansing breath. Behind the cottage his horse was still tethered
in the shed and he led it around to the front. Julia Pettingale was
standing in the open doorway, watching him.

“
You’re not just going to leave me
here, are you?” she asked.

He steeled himself against the puzzled note
in her voice. Instead of looking at her, he made a great show of
checking his horse’s bridle and reins. “I’m not going to abandon
you, if that’s what you mean. Stay here and when I reach Merrifield
I shall send a carriage back for you. Of course, if you prefer not
to wait, you may walk back to the vicarage.”

She looked out at the rain-soaked ground and
at the muddy little lane that led from the cottage toward the mired
road. “But it will be dark soon and it’s miles to the vicarage. You
said so, yourself!”

“
There’s only one horse, Julia,” he
retorted, his attention still trained on the bridle.

She was a little startled to hear him use her
Christian name, but she was even more alarmed by the prospect of
being left alone in the cottage. “But it will be dark soon!” she
said, again.

Gavin thought he detected a note of true
worry in her tone. He looked at her then and just for a moment, he
couldn’t take his eyes off her. With her deep auburn hair framing
her perfect complexion, and the green of her eyes providing a
mirror to her thoughts, he thought she was one of the prettiest
woman he had seen, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed that
before.

He turned his attention back to fiddling with
the bridle and said, gruffly, “You’ve got candles and the fire
still burns in the hearth. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

His words had sounded harsher than he had
intended, but he wasn’t going to take them back. For a moment he
wrestled with himself over what to do next. Common sense told him
he should leave her there; that he should send a carriage back to
take her to the vicarage; that he should go about his business and
forget he ever met her.

But there was some other nagging feeling
within him, long dormant and unidentified, that made him reluctant
to do as reason dictated.

Then he made the mistake of looking at her
again and he saw that she was watching him intently. Her green eyes
were wide and a bit apprehensive, and her full lips were parted as
if she wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of any argument that
might change his mind.

She looked a little helpless and very young.
A feeling he judged to be compassion melted his resolve. Muffling a
curse, he stomped up to the cottage. In a single, strong movement,
he scooped her up in his arms and tossed her up onto his horse’s
back.

The effort cost him. He knew immediately that
his arm had started to bleed again. It certainly hurt like the
devil, but it didn’t pain him any more than his conscience would
have, had he left her standing there.

“
I’ll take you home,” he said, gruffly,
and he swung his great size up onto the saddle behind
her.

He didn’t wait for her to answer but set his
horse trotting, his injured arm circled about her waist, steadying
her against the hard wall of his body.

Julia gasped and couldn’t quite catch her
breath. It took a moment for her to recover from the surprise of
suddenly finding herself on horseback. “I cannot ride with you like
this! It—It is most improper!”

“
And you, Lady Julia Pettingale, are a
most proper young woman.”

“
Of course!”

His arm tightened about her and he said,
ruthlessly, “You may ride with me thus or you may go back to remain
alone at the cottage. The choice is yours.”

“
I thought you intended to leave
me!”

“
I’m well within my rights to change my
mind.”

“
And do you know where you’re
going?”

“
Madam, let me remind you that
I
am not the one who was
lost!”

The abrupt change in his behavior sent her
head spinning. Julia turned slightly to look up into his face.
Perhaps she could make more sense of his expression than she could
of his words. She found, however, that his expression was
inscrutable. His lips were pressed into a grim line of purpose, and
his gaze was intent upon the road ahead.

“
Well?” he demanded, suddenly. “What
have you decided?”

She realized she had been staring at him and
quickly looked away. “Decided?”

“
Yes. Do you like what you see, or
don’t you?”

Her back went straight. “You must be
mistaken!”

“
Of course. After all, proper young
ladies do not stare at gentlemen.”

She felt his arm tighten about her,
pulling her ever closer against him. “
You
are no gentleman!”

“
Just so.”

“
You are nothing but a bounder and a
rogue!” she said, easily recalling all the whispered stories and
rumors that had been catalogued against him.

“
I am a great many things, perhaps, but
never in my life have I harmed a prim-and-proper widow, so you may
rest easy.”

Rest easy? With the strong arms of a handsome
man about her, Julia Pettingale was far from easy. Her heart was
galloping wildly and it was all she could do to keep her breath
from coming in short, betraying bursts.

She felt most completely at his mercy and she
wasn’t quite sure if she was exhilarated or alarmed by the notion.
Yet she also knew that as long as he regarded her as a woman of
prim and proper goodness, she had nothing to fear from him. That
realization should have afforded her a measure of peace; instead,
Julia was aware of a sharp prick to her vanity.

“
Very well, my lord duke!” she said,
her back as straight as a plank. “I see I have no other choice but
to trust your judgment. I shall rely on you to see me safely back
to the vicarage.”

The summer sun was setting in the evening sky
when they topped a rise and started down the other side, affording
Julia a full view of the impressive facade of a sprawling country
mansion. She had never before come across it while riding and she
knew instinctively they were nowhere near the vicarage.

“
What place is this?”

“
Merrifield.”

“
And who is the owner of such a grand
estate?”

“
I am,” said Gavin in a deep, even
tone. “When I said I was taking you home, I meant,
my
home.”

Julia looked up at him in surprise.
“You cannot mean to do such a thing! A bachelor residence? I
cannot

! Oh, I wish you had
taken me to the vicarage!”

His jaw tightened. “I won’t ravish you in
front of the servants, if that’s what’s worrying you,” he said,
darkly.

“
That’s not what I meant! I only meant
that it isn’t seemly or proper for me to

A bachelor residence is no place for an
unattached woman!” She looked uncertainly up at him and realized
too late how close his face was to hers.

He was stared back at her with a darkling
look that almost convinced her that he could read her thoughts.

He tightened his hold about her and urged his
horse forward. “If I were to take you directly back to the
vicarage, we should have to pass several of your neighbors homes.
What do you think they would believe after seeing you riding so
with me? And what would your friend think to have you arrive thus
at her doorstep?”

“
I hadn’t considered that,” she said
still worried.

“
Then consider this: You have my word
that you shall be quite safe. During the time you are a guest in my
home, I shall be the very pink of gentlemanliness.”