“I thought he was talking about card wagers, and that he’d gambled more than he could afford. And I didn’t want the lad thinking he could agree to a bet, then cry off just because he’d been drinking. It was dishonest and dishonorable.”
Pain carved heavy lines into his weathered features. “So I told him only a blackguard reneged on a wager. If he couldn’t hold his liquor, he shouldn’t be gambling. The right thing to do was to stand up and pay his debts.”
Oh, Poppy.
Her mind reeled. She could easily imagine what Roger would have thought about those words from the great cavalry general. Her brother had always wanted to impress their larger-than-life grandfather, and was angry that his swaggering about town with a marquess’s son and a duke’s son didn’t accomplish that. He would have taken Poppy’s advice to heart, while balking at sharing the whole story. Why risk another quarrel?
And there had been many quarrels between Roger and Poppy, about Roger’s gambling and drinking and his late hours.
How could she have forgotten that? She’d been dwelling on the brother she missed desperately, whom she’d made into a saint. But he’d never been a saint. He’d been an orphan struggling to find his place in the world, with a grandfather whom he’d thought he’d disappointed.
Poppy’s gaze shifted to her. “I swear, I had no idea he was speaking of some idiotic race where he could kill himself, or I would never have—”
“It’s all right, Poppy,” she said softly. “You couldn’t have known.”
All these years, he’d held this guilt inside him. Gabriel had said,
He needs someone to blame, so he blames me. But that doesn’t mean he has a reason for it.
He was right.
“But I should have pressed him on it,” Poppy said. “I should have made him tell me what happened.” He curled his hand around the letter opener. “Instead, I asked him how much he owed and to whom.” His voice hardened. “That’s all I cared about—the money. When he said it was nothing much and not to worry about it, I let it go. I was relieved, to tell the truth. I thought it was a sign he was finally taking responsibility for his recklessness.”
He let out a heavy breath. “Why didn’t I press him? If he had said it was a race at Turnham Green between him and Sharpe—”
“You mustn’t torture yourself over it.” She leaned across the desk to take the letter opener from him, then caught his tense hand in hers. “You were trying to teach him to do the right thing.”
“Was I?” His eyes were full of ancient remorse. “Or was I just embarrassed at the idea of my grandson looking less than he was in front of his lofty friends?”
He got to his feet and began to pace. “My last words to him were about how he had to be a man. What kind of monster sends his own grandson to his death because he doesn’t want to be shamed in front of a lot of idiots?”
She rose to go to his side. “You didn’t send him to his death. You gave the only advice you could give without having all the facts. That wasn’t your fault—it was his.”
Poppy rounded on her, seizing her shoulders in his hands. “But now do you understand? I
know
Sharpe took advantage of your brother’s drunken state to get him to agree to that fool wager.”
“It could just as easily have been Roger who made it.”
“Then why did your brother say, ‘If a man agrees to a wager’? That implies accepting a challenge. Sharpe laid down the challenge, and Roger agreed to it. Otherwise why regret it later? Men regret things they’ve been bullied into, not things they did themselves.”
“That’s not true, Poppy. Men regret all sorts of things they do when they’re drunk. You know that as well as I.”
But
If a man agrees to a wager
definitely sounded as if Roger had accepted the challenge.
“The point is,” Poppy said, “a man of good character doesn’t bully his drunken friend into doing something that might kill him.”
“You don’t know that he bullied him.”
“Yes, I do. I know it in my heart.”
She gazed sadly at him. His heart. His guilt-stricken, grief-laden heart that couldn’t let go of that night. Gabriel was right—it was time to put the past to rest. It had caused enough pain already.
The trouble was, neither man could let go of it. They kept gnawing on that same old bone, worrying it to death. And as long as the truth of what had happened lay shrouded in secrecy, as long as they kept blaming themselves, they would never stop.
Someone had to make it stop. Someone had to clear the air. And it looked like that someone would have to be her.
What if you learn terrible things about Gabriel? What if the truth only makes everything worse?
No, she couldn’t believe that. The Gabriel she’d come to know wouldn’t bully a man into anything. It wasn’t in his nature. He was a good man; she knew that as surely as she knew that she loved him.
So she had only one choice. She couldn’t wait until morning, when something tragic might happen once Gabriel arrived. If she slipped out tonight, she could ride over to Halstead Hall and catch Gabriel. With a full moon, she shouldn’t have any trouble on the road.
She had to impress upon him the importance of being honest with Poppy. It was the only way to mend the rift between the two men, the only way to gain Poppy’s permission to marry. For though she was of age and didn’t need that permission, she really wanted it.
Once she talked to Gabriel, he might be able to persuade Mrs. Plumtree to come here
with
him in the morning. Poppy wouldn’t dare shoot him in front of Mrs. Plumtree. He seemed to like the woman.
Yes, that plan just might work.
G
ABE
S
TARED
blankly out the window as Jarret’s carriage headed up the drive to Halstead Hall. His brother had managed to sleep, but Gabe hadn’t.
Unfortunately, they still had a long night ahead of them. Despite the late hour, the family would expect a report about Benny. And before Jarret went off to bed with his wife, Gabe must find out from Annabel whether her visit to Virginia had been successful.
Too bad he couldn’t just ride over to Waverly Farm and sneak in to see her. But it would be nearly impossible to get inside the house without being detected, and the last thing he needed was a midnight confrontation with the general.
The very fact that he was willing to risk it showed how far he’d fallen. When had that happened? He’d bedded plenty of women through the years, but none of them had invaded his thoughts every waking moment. None of them had ever made him yearn and ache for them, body and soul.
In bedding her, he’d set off a craving that intensified the longer he was away from her. Especially after his day in Death’s den. She made him want Life, in all its color and beauty.
The carriage stopped in front of Halstead Hall, rousing Jarret. When they climbed out, one of the grooms came up to tell Gabe, “My lord, you had better look in on Flying Jane.”
His heart dropped into his stomach. “Why?”
With a furtive glance at Jarret, the groom murmured, “You really must see for yourself.”
Jarret asked, “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, Annabel will probably be waiting up for you, and Gran, too.” They’d sent a rider on ahead to alert the family to their arrival. “I’ll be in shortly.”
As he followed the groom back, he asked, “Is the horse ill?”
“No, my lord. You have a visitor, and she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here except you.”
That was all the preparation Gabe got before they entered the old stable and he saw Virginia.
Shock and delight froze him in his tracks. How was she here?
Why
was she here? How the hell had she known he was aching to see her?
Then she turned toward him, and he no longer cared why.
He barely noticed the groom slipping out and closing the door. All he could see was her, and her smile welcoming him home.
He strode up to catch her face in his hands, holding her for a hard, urgent kiss that she returned with great fervor.
Had he thought he needed her, craved her?
He was
starved
for her—the way a man in a dungeon was starved for light. Because she was his light. She was warmth and beauty and sweet succor, everything he needed to banish what he’d seen in Woburn.
She tore free. “Gabriel, we have to talk.”
“Not now.” He dragged his mouth down her neck, fragrant with lavender, and tongued her throat. “If you had any idea what I’d gone through today . . .”
The image of Benny rose in his mind, and he buried it beneath the desire that had him by the ballocks.
As he fumbled with the ties of her gown, her breath came heavy and hot against his cheek. “I thought you were traveling on a matter of family business.”
“Yes, an awful matter of family business. I’ll tell you about it later—right now I need you too badly. I missed you. You have no idea how much.”
“I missed you, too. But the groom—”
“Is gone. He won’t come back.” He pulled her gown off her shoulders. “No one else knows you’re here.”
“Good,” she said with a shy smile. She tugged at his coat and he pulled it off, then she went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.
He got her gown open enough to bare one lovely breast. “You got my message?” he murmured just before he closed his mouth over her sweet, tender nipple.
She gasped, and the pleasure echoed through his every vein, sinew, and bone. She still belonged to him. She’d be his forever. And suddenly forever didn’t seem nearly as frightening as before.
“I did . . . ” She clutched his head to her breast. “That’s why I came here . . . Poppy said he’d shoot you if you showed up tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll elope.” He backed her toward the nearest wall. “Tonight. But first . . .”
He opened his breeches and drawers. As he hoisted her up to straddle his waist, her eyes went wide. He knew he shouldn’t take her like some whore in an alley. But the need to drive out the chill in his soul, to be enveloped in her warmth, was so powerful, he couldn’t help himself.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t move slow and easy tonight.” He worked a hand between them and into the slit in her drawers. She was slick and hot, as eager as he was, and his cock stiffened even more. “I have to have you now, right here. Will you let me?”
Desire flared in her face, and he saw the vixen’s smile he so adored. “I’m already letting you.”
“Thank God,” he choked out, and entered her with one deep thrust.
“
Gabriel . . .
” she gasped against his mouth. “Oh . . . sweet . . .
Lord.
It’s amazing.”
Amazing
was definitely the word. With her silky thighs bracketing his hips and her delicate arms clasping him about the neck, she cocooned him in a lush tropic of female heat. Life at its most basic; a counter to the ice of Death.
He drove into her in strokes that he feared were too rough, but when she undulated against him, he knew it would be all right. She was a wonder, his wife-to-be.
“My sweet Virginia,” he whispered. “You have me utterly enthralled.”
“Really?”
“Can’t you see how you’ve addled my brain? Why else would I be taking you here like a wild animal?”
“I like it when you’re wild,” she whispered. “At least when we’re . . . you know.” She rubbed her breasts against his waistcoat, and he wished he’d peeled it off. And his shirt. And her gown.
Later. If they eloped tonight, they could make love in the carriage all the way to Gretna Green.
For now, his instinct was telling him to swive her senseless. Or perhaps he just wanted to be senseless himself, to be taken out of himself by her. By
this.
He tried to hold back his release, but it was impossible. She felt too good, and he needed it too much. He couldn’t even finger her in this position, but her moans told him she was feeling
something.
And when he shifted his angle to drub her little button of flesh over and over with each thrust, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.
“Oh, yes.” She tightened her legs about his hips. “Oh, Gabriel . . . Please . . . oh, please . . . I want . . . I want . . .”
“Whatever you want . . . is yours.” He thrust into her in quickening strokes that brought him right over the edge.
She followed him over with a cry that he muffled with his mouth. And as she shuddered and shook, and he pumped his seed into her, he kept hearing,
I want . . . I want . . .
So did he. Oh, how he wanted. He wanted far more than he’d realized. He wanted her to know every dark secret in his heart, every bit of the past he’d buried. He wanted her to know the real him.
The unexpected thought terrified him. If he gave in to
that
desire, he could lose her. And suddenly the thing he wanted most of all was not to lose her.
Chapter Nineteen
V
irginia felt bereft when Gabriel withdrew from her and her legs came down. The words “I love you” were on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back. She couldn’t bear to not have him return her feelings. Perhaps it would be easier once he was her husband.
As Gabriel left her arms, he looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he said as he fastened up his drawers, then his trousers. “You must think me more of a scoundrel than ever.”
“If that’s what you’re like when you’re a scoundrel,” she said lightly, “then thank God for scoundrels.”
He looked startled. Then he flashed her the grin that always made her quiver. “Enjoyed that, did you?”
She smoothed back an errant lock of his hair. “Very much. Though it did take me by surprise.”
“I know. I just . . .” He turned her around so he could fasten up her gown. “I just needed to forget for a while what I saw today.”
“And what was that?”
“Death.”
She pivoted to stare at him, the harsh word shivering across her skin. “What do you mean?”
“Jarret and I traveled up north to view an inquest. Not since Roger’s have I—”
“You were at Roger’s inquest?”
He stiffened. “Of course. He died racing me. There are official rules for such things. All of us who’d been present had to answer questions and give testimony. Your grandfather appeared, as did other witnesses.”