The Smuggler and the Society Bride (18 page)

He looked struck by that comment, as if realizing for the first time its simple truth. Giving his head a little shake as if to clear it, he said, ‘I suppose you will not tell me the name of the rake?'

‘I will not. Despite my earlier words, what good would it serve to try to punish him? Not that his behaviour was any less offensive, but in this scheme he was just as much a pawn as I was.'

‘Except he got away unscathed.'

‘Such is the way of the world,' she replied with a shrug, too conscious of that truth to feel more than a brief flare of resentment. ‘The lecher escapes, for to prosecute him would only further publicize the scandal, without bringing to light the one who is truly guilty.'

‘I suppose,' he said grudgingly. ‘Though a hard-fought match with a foil would do a great deal to relieve one's frustration with that truth.'

She smiled. ‘If this mystery is ever solved, I might claim that prior right you mentioned and avail myself of one.'

She lifted her face to see his sombre gaze still on her. And then, as if by her confessions she'd peeled away the ragged, frayed edges of her anguish just as she'd stepped out of her ruined gown that infamous night, the sharpness of her sadness and despair eased. Rising above the diminishing distress, she felt the renewed physical pull of his nearness—and a new, fragile sense of trust.

Here was a man who had listened to her most shameful revelations and not turned away. A man who appeared to believe in her more completely and resent the wrongs done to her more ferociously than any of her blood kin, save her aunt.

A man who had held her as implacably as Lord Barwick in the garden—and desired her no less, but who had released her from an embrace she had invited without a word of reproach. Who had offered comfort, holding her close, his embrace gentle and devoid of any hint that he might try to take advantage of her distress and proximity.

As she gazed up at him, his face once again so near hers, desire coiled in her belly. This time, however, trust and a sense of gratitude augmented the affection she already felt for this man, intensifying the sensual tension between them with a complex emotional layer.

Suddenly she wanted to kiss him again. Not just to savour the feel of his lips on hers, though most assuredly she wanted that, but even more to prove to herself and to him that she could give herself into his arms without fear.

‘Thank you for believing in me,' she said softly.

Lost in the mesmerizing sparkle of those blue, blue eyes, at the last moment, she leaned up until her mouth met his.

T
hough all his instincts assured him of the truth of it, at first Gabe couldn't quite believe, after the distress she'd so recently suffered, that Miss Foxe would once again offer the kiss he'd been burning to give her. Even after the first soft contact with her lips sent a glorious explosion of sensation racing to his every nerve, it required an instant for his jangled brain to conclude that what he was experiencing was real and not just a vivid fantasy.

In the last bits of lucidity before his brain switched off and he gave himself up to pleasure, a profound sense of awe and gratitude suffused him at the trust she displayed, a tribute to his honour more profound than any he'd ever before received.

This time, he would not betray that trust. He would handle her with so light and undemanding a touch that the nightmare of struggling to escape another man's unyielding grip would remain buried in the past. He'd make new memories to replace the old, memories of such purity and tenderness that she neither could nor would ever wish to forget them—or the man who created them.

So, though she'd initiated this embrace, this time he held himself rigidly still, hardly daring to breathe, locking his fingers together behind his back to resist the urge to wrap his
arms around her and pull her closer. Robbed of the feel of her against him, he concentrated all his passion and artistry instead on that single point of contact: his lips against hers.

He brushed them softly, nuzzled their fullness, alternating between a feather-light slide and a warmer, deeper pressure. Delight as well as desire expanded in his chest, set his heartbeat roaring in his ears. But though he was as achingly hard as he had ever been, he found himself strangely content with this limited, leisurely exploration, able to hold the ravening need for fulfilment under control with unexpected ease.

Dimly, he noted her breathing coming more quickly, saw that luscious bosom rising and falling so temptingly close to his chest. Encouraged by her response, he allowed himself to open his mouth and apply a wetter brush against her lips, then used his tongue to trace their outline from one dimpled corner to the other.

Though his arms shook with tension in their locked position, he told himself he could go on kissing her forever, taking no more than she was willing to offer, the poignant sweetness of her response enough in itself, though he knew he would not be able to fully slake today the desire she enflamed.

Then she moaned and opened her mouth to him.

He groaned as well, almost overwhelmed by the need to plunge his tongue inside and plumb that velvet softness. Sweat breaking out on his forehead, he probed just a little deeper. Just to give her a taste and a promise of how much more there could be.

Gradually he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth and enticing her with light, teasing touches of his tongue. To his delight, she joined in, pursuing his tongue with her own, engaging it in a delectable series of thrusts and parries that pushed him almost to the brink, though still they touched only with their lips.

Until she leaned close and wrapped her arms around his neck. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he brought his own arms
around to cradle her against him. Though his heart was thumping against his ribs with the force of the waves slamming his ship's hull in a gale, he made himself keep each movement slow and gentle.

Then, with a breathless sigh, she fitted herself against him, and he knew he must move away or be lost. His body screaming in protest, trembling all over, he forced himself to step back.

To his gratification and delight, she looked as confused and bereft as he by his retreat, her eyes glazed and uncertain, her mouth lush and red from his kisses. It took all the will he possessed not to succumb to his body's demand that he resume kissing her—and this time, take her all the way to completion.

Instead, his breathing ragged, he leaned over to nuzzle the tip of her nose. ‘Now 'tis my turn to thank you,' he said, his voice as unsteady as his breathing.

‘I think that thanks should be mutual,' she replied in a shaken voice.

‘You cannot begin to imagine how much I'd like to persuade you to remain here with me, but you should get home before your aunt begins to worry.'

‘I suppose I must,' she said on a sigh, looking gratifyingly regretful. ‘Thank you again for being so kind—and so prudent.' She laughed. ‘As you've just learned, prudence has not previously been a virtue of mine.'

‘Nor of mine. Perhaps we can improve each other.'

‘I like the sound of that.'

He offered his arm. ‘Shall we get started, then?'

Still bound in the intensity of the moment, they climbed back up the path to the stone church in companionable silence—if one could term
companionable
a state in which every instinct screamed at him to halt, pull her back into his arms and resume where they'd left off. But for now, restraint was preferable, until such time as Miss Foxe herself indicated she was ready to lead them further.

Reaching the tethered horses, he helped her up. Ah, how he savoured the zing that raced through him when his hands clasped her waist, lifting her slight weight!

‘You intend to investigate?' she asked as she wheeled her horse toward Foxeden.

‘Yes. Locating the gem dealer would be the first step. What was the name of the jeweller's, by the way? The one where you first encountered the dealer?'

‘Phillips, on Bond Street.' Hesitating, she stared at him a moment as if to speak before finally saying, ‘If you should get to London, you won't attempt to contact the Carlows, will you? As you might expect, I'm not in very good favour with them at the moment.'

‘No, I'll not try to communicate with your distinguished relations without first asking your leave. Certainly not until I have more than unsubstantiated suspicions to offer them.'

Looking relieved, she said, ‘Thank you. I suppose I shall reconcile with them in time, but for now, I'm not ready.'

‘If their support was anything like that given you by your brother,' he said with a grimace, ‘I can understand your reluctance to contact them!'

‘I can assure you it was exactly like his,' she replied drily. Her mare danced impatiently, and with a quick move, she quieted her. ‘I suppose there is nothing further to say now but to thank you again for your kindness and for showing me this splendid place! If you do not object, I shall certainly bring Eva to sketch here.'

‘Please do so! I should love to see the results of her work. And
I
shall try to have some results for you very soon.'

Though she looked highly dubious, she smiled at him before, with a little wave, she touched heels to the mare and cantered off.

Holding his own mount motionless, Gabe watched her until horse and rider disappeared around the next bend. Why did he have the ridiculous feeling that his heart rode with her?

Setting his own beast in motion, he rode toward the
Gull,
scarcely noting the wild beauty of the cliffs as he ticked off the list of tasks he must complete for his journey.

The conversation had cemented his intention to leave for London immediately. If he set out at once, he might complete the transit by mail coach in no more than a week.

Gabe smiled wryly. In his preoccupation with Miss Foxe, he'd entirely forgotten his intention to consult William Darby about the
Flying Gull's
next voyage. Well, that would have to wait.

Miss Foxe had mentioned asking her aunt about the old scandal. Perhaps he, too, should consult with her aunt before he departed. Having spent little time in London, he was not well-acquainted with the prominent families there and would probably not have access to anyone who might know about the affair—or be willing to speak of it if they did—to one wholly unconnected with the Carlows.

He'd go to Foxeden tomorrow, call on her Aunt Foxe and discover whatever she might know that would help him in his quest.

Though the highest-born lady in the neighbourhood had always treated him cordially when they met at church or she took a glass of cider at the inn, Gabe had no illusions that she would receive him like a guest—or welcome a connection between him and her niece, however tainted her current reputation. From what he'd observed, however, she appeared very fond of her kinswoman, and when he explained his intent, would probably be willing to give him as much information as she possessed to assist in discovering who had wronged Miss Foxe.

She'd not be quite so disapproving of his friendship with her niece if he were to reveal his true status, but the fewer people in Cornwall who knew about that, the less likely any whisper of his activities would get back to his brother. Nigel, if he found out Gabe's current occupation, would probably have no compunction about calling out troops to track him
down and haul him back to Ireland before his capture on the high seas or imprisonment brought scandal upon the family.

Knowing how strong was his yearning for Miss Foxe's company, if he wished to avoid the temptation to linger at Foxeden, he'd better pay his call in the morning, when he knew she would be assisting Father Gryffd at the schoolhouse.

With a rough outline of what he intended to do next clear in his mind by the time he reached the inn, Gabe turned the horse over to a stable boy and set to work.

 

After toiling well into evening to settle the last details with his crew aboard the
Gull
and pack up his belongings, Gabe waited until mid-morning to set out for Foxeden, wanting to be sure his Miss Foxe had already left for the school and that her Aunt Foxe would be up and able to receive him. On the ride out, he amused himself wondering how the elder Miss Foxe would settle the difficult protocol of where to receive a local hero who was nonetheless, as far as she knew, well beneath her rank socially.

His curiosity was satisfied when, after being cordially bid welcome by the butler, he was escorted by a pretty, blushing maid he recognized as Dickin's sister Tamsyn into a small back parlour. Probably the same room in which she received solicitors and tradesmen, Gabe figured.

Aunt Foxe impressed him by not keeping him waiting. ‘Although I am flattered to have my company sought out by such a handsome and well-thought-of young man,' she told him, walking in a few moments later, ‘since you have been some time in the neighbourhood without calling previously, I conclude that your visit today concerns my niece?'

After bowing, he replied, ‘It does, ma'am. As you are probably aware, Miss Foxe and I have become acquainted through our work at Father Gryffd's school. I am privileged to have been offered her friendship, and yesterday, she further honoured me by informing me about the events that brought
her to Cornwall. Information that I am sure disturbed you as much when you learned of it as it did me.'

‘My niece—Miss Foxe—told you how she came to be in Cornwall?' Aunt Foxe asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

‘Yes, ma'am. I feel, as you certainly must, that she has been disgracefully used! As a man of honour outraged by injustice, I believe someone should attempt to rectify the wrong done to her, or at least to try to discover the identity of the person or persons responsible. I'm asking for your help in doing so.'

For a long moment, Aunt Foxe studied him, as if weighing what he'd just said. Finally she replied, ‘What did my niece tell you?'

Gabe appreciated her caution; Aunt Foxe was a shrewd lady, not about to be flattered by a handsome man's visit into rashly betraying a confidence.

Briefly Gabe related the facts Miss Foxe had revealed to him: the quarrel, the summons to a garden rendezvous, the waiting rake, her discovery in a compromising position by the crowd of gentlemen that spelled her ruin.

Aunt Foxe nodded as he listed each point. He then added the additional information about the Gypsy gem trader Miss Foxe had recalled for the first time during their discussion yesterday.

‘You have quite obviously won my niece's trust, Captain Hawksworth—a considerable feat, given her recent experiences,' Aunt Foxe said. ‘Just what do you intend to do with it?'

‘At the least, I'd like to uncover the circumstances that led to this foul attack upon her and track down the perpetrator. I haven't enough legal background to know if she has any remedy in law, nor enough familiarity with London Society to know whether, if her innocence could be proven, she would be restored to her former position. But I intend to do what I can.'

She nodded. ‘You are correct in assuming I was as appalled as you were when she first revealed to me the circumstances behind her flight to Cornwall. I would be happy to assist your investigation in any way possible. What did you want of me?'

‘It appears the Gypsy might have been hired by the perpetrator, and tracking him down must be my first task. Miss Foxe cannot think of anyone who would feel such animosity toward her as to feel moved to bring about her ruin. I tend to agree, and believe there must be some other explanation, perhaps someone who had a disagreement with her family. She mentioned that there had been some sort of scandal involving her Carlow relations during her father's time, an event about which she has no clear memory. Do you know anything of it?'

‘A scandal involving her…Carlow relations?' Aunt Foxe asked. When he nodded, she continued, ‘It never occurred to me that what transpired a few weeks ago might be connected to that earlier event.'

‘What happened, then?' Gabe asked eagerly.

‘I'm sorry to say I know almost nothing,' Aunt Foxe admitted, ‘other than that my niece Anne—miss, ah, Marie's mother, was most upset over it. To escape the gossip in London, she brought the children here on one of their rare visits. Living so remote from the London social world, I'd not heard much about it, and not being upon terms of intimacy with Anne, I never inquired, nor did she offer any detailed explanation.'

Gabe's initial hopes dwindled with her admission. ‘Well, I shall post up to London in any event. Is there anyone there with whom I might speak who might remember?'