Read For the Love of a Soldier Online

Authors: Victoria Morgan

For the Love of a Soldier (30 page)

He looked up to see Brandon and Kit watching him with knowing amusement. When he realized he had been pacing a wide swath in the carpet, he stopped. “All right, I’ll do it. So what’s next? Posting the banns and whatnot?”

Kit blinked and Brandon paused in lifting his brandy snifter to his lips.

“I’m glad you’ve arrived at a sensible a decision, but haven’t you forgotten something?” Kit said wryly.

“What? What now?” He glanced between them, baffled. He had the woman, he had the will, he had Kit’s approval, and to hell with his stepfather’s. And they had a plan to identify his would-be murderer so he might have a future.

What else was there?

Brandon coughed, and this time it was Kit who glared at him. She then spoke to Garrett as if he were a child who had
forgotten rudimentary mathematics. “My dear brother, there is one small but rather pertinent detail you need to consider. To men, it may be a pesky inconvenience, but to women, it is the first step toward winning their hand.” When he still looked blank, she threw up her arms in disgust. “You have to propose first, you idiot!”

Hell. He had forgotten about proposing. He frowned as he contemplated asking Alexandra for her hand. That could be a problem. Brandon had said Alexandra had already turned down several proposals during her Season. Well, Garrett’s mind was made up.

Alex was marrying him.

He looked at Kit. “What do I have to do to get her to say yes?”

Brandon exploded. “Christ. Once upon a time, you were en route to seducing half the women of London. Have two years of celibacy truly rendered you a damn eunuch?” He shook his head. “I tried to talk you out of buying that commission. I tried.”

“Ignore my idiot husband. There will be no seducing of anyone. Do you understand me?” Kit’s eyes narrowed on Garrett. “This is about courtship, not seduction.”

“What’s the difference?” Garrett asked.

Brandon laughed.

“Brandon, my love,” Kit spoke through gritted teeth. “Will you collect Alexandra and the boys? I fear I’m getting weak with hunger, and when that happens, I lose all patience.”

Concerned, Brandon set his glass down. “Do…do you want me to get you some bread or something?”

“No, just the boys. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite. Thank you, just go.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Brandon eyed her warily, his eyes dipping to her bulging stomach before he departed, glancing back once or twice in indecision.

Garrett frowned. If marriage could reduce him to that sort of puddle of water, he might have to reconsider matters.

Kit placed her hands over her stomach and drew a deep breath. “Garrett, listen to me. Courtship is about taking the time to get to know one another better. Considering you’ve progressed to the kissing stage, you must be making strides in that area. Continue to be your charming self, treat her with
decency and respect, stay sober, and of course, forsake all other women. And Garrett, can you refrain from taking her to bed before you’ve—”

“Kit, have a care for my head. You’re hammering your point home again. Your first line was enough. I can handle the rest.”

“It’s the handling part I’m worried about,” Kit said dryly.

“Don’t give it a thought,” he said. “I mean that literally, Kit. You need to let me take care of matters from here on.”

“You’ll do fine,” Kit said. “Now help me up. Once I plant myself, I’m stuck.”

Garrett grinned and walked over to link hands with her. With a quick tug, he hauled her to her feet. “We wouldn’t want you growing roots.”

“Very funny.” She pressed her hands to her back. “However, you do need to feed me now or I won’t remain as pleasant and understanding as I have been.”

“You’ve been the soul of understanding.”

“Yes, well, I did have Brandon pack his pistols. My brother taught me when negotiating any transaction, one needs to plan for all possible contingencies.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled. She reminded him of another formidable young woman. He offered his arm to escort her out, his mind already drifting to Alexandra. To courting Alexandra.

He frowned. His flattery was rusty, she had tossed his offer of a new mount back in his face, and she had refused all her other suitors. If he continued down the same path, he really would be whispering Champion’s name in his sleep.

However, as Kit had reminded him, when negotiating any transaction, one needed to plan for all contingencies. Should Alex refuse him, he’d simply kiss her senseless, toss her over Champion’s saddle, and they could be at Gretna Green in no time.

Chapter Twenty-one

T
HAT
evening Alex sat before the dressing table in her bedchamber, staring into the mirror as she drew her brush through her hair. Her thoughts shifted back and forth between her reunion with Gus and meeting Garrett’s sister. Both made her smile.

Gus had never looked better. He was healthy, robust, and…sober. When she had spotted him framed in the stable door, time had traveled backward. Before she knew her feet were moving, she had launched herself into his open-armed embrace. Returning Gus to his old self was the greatest gift Garrett could have given her. This gift was priceless, or it had been until Gus had opened his mouth.

He had wasted little time in telling her she was still too damn scrawny and what the bloody hell had she been thinking to travel here alone with Kendall without waiting for the Warrens’ arrival. He had more to say, but it had faded to background chatter, her resentment drowning it out. She had forgotten how often his thick head had butted up against hers.

While Gus appeared to be her outspoken cross to bear, Kristen appeared to be Garrett’s.
A docile, biddable thing
. She
scoffed at the image, for it was the antithesis of the woman, and Alex thanked God for it. However, Garrett had been honest about one thing in regard to his sister. Kristen loved him. It was another mark in Garrett’s favor. For only a man deserving of it would gain this woman’s affections.

The man certainly had a way about him. And he had behaved the perfect gentleman tonight.

Gone was the teasing rake who flirted with her and stole kisses. Not that she missed those, she hastily added, but she couldn’t help but cast suspicious glances his way. Under the watchful eye of his sister and Brandon, he behaved impeccably, and like his nephews, she found herself falling under his spell.

She planted her elbows on the dressing table, dropped her head into her hands, and sighed.

She was in trouble.

Her heart was pulling her in a direction she wasn’t free to go.

Her uncle had seen to that.

She lifted her head, and her reflection swam in her blurry-eyed gaze. Gus was right. What had she been thinking traveling here alone with Garrett? She was not free to follow her heart or her passions, for nothing serious could ever come of them. She tossed her brush onto the table and sat back with a sigh. A knock on the door had her jumping. She whirled to stare at the door separating her room from Garrett’s. He wouldn’t dare enter. Not since his sister and Brandon’s arrival.

The knock came again. She gnawed on her lower lip. This was ridiculous. She could handle him. She closed her eyes. No touching. There would be no handling of anyone. She opened her eyes, swept to her feet, and crossed the room.

In one smooth motion, she flung open the door. “What do you want?”

Garrett smiled, ignoring the bite in her tone. He had discarded his jacket and stood in his linen shirt, minus cravat. The top buttons gaped open. She stared at the bare expanse of his throat and cursed the leap in her pulse. He looked so casual and unbearably handsome, a curl of black hair falling over his forehead and his gray eyes bright with amusement. Heart thundering, she drank him in, until his smile turned into a frown.

“What? What is it?” she blurted.

“That nightgown is as hideous as the last. Wherever do you get these things? A monastery? I thought we got rid of those, thanks to Henry the Eighth and his lust for Anne Boleyn.” He fingered the collar of her gown.

She swatted his hand away and snatched her robe closed, belting it together with irate jerks. “Stop that.”

“Forgive me. I suppose
lust
is another one of those unmentionable words on your list. However, if used in a historical reference, doesn’t that render it harmless? A passive verb, rather than active.” He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression pensive. “Perhaps you should make a note by those words that can be rendered harmless when used in certain context. Like peaches and apples.” His eyes dropped to her breasts.

“Will you stop!” she hissed. “I knew it couldn’t last. I just knew it!”

“What couldn’t last?” he asked, laughing.

“Your behaving like a gentleman. It’s just an act for you, a role to be played for the benefit of Brandon and your sister. And thank you very much for making me look like a complete fool in letting me believe Kit was your mistress.”

“I did no such thing,” he protested. “You did that all on your own.”

“What?” she cried.

“It was you who assumed Kit’s nightgown was a castoff from one of my mistresses,” he pointed out. “And I did clarify by asking if you referred to the mistress of the house. I might have neglected to explain that Montclair wasn’t my home, but that of my sister, who
does
love me. You appeared to have already made up your mind about the matter. Far be it for me to correct your misinterpretation.” He shrugged. “I’ve learned women don’t like to be told they are in the wrong.” Amusement danced in his eyes.

“They don’t like to be humiliated, either. I looked like a fool in front of your sweet, docile, biddable sister.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I confess to that one.” He grinned. “Kit’s about as biddable as an ornery mule. But I was right. She does like you.” He beamed at her.

“With no help from you,” she retorted. She sounded like a
petulant child. “Look, why are you here? I can’t believe it was to insult my nightgown or to remind me that I thought your sister was your mistress.”

“You’re right, we digress.” He leaned forward. “I came to kiss you good night.”

She blinked at him. The man was mad. When he moved toward her, she held her hands up. “No, you can’t!”

He paused and studied her for a moment. “Fine then,” he nodded. “Why don’t
you
kiss
me
good night.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “It would not be wise.”

“You’re right. One kiss usually leads to another. The next thing you know, we are naked on the ground with your hand on my—”

He got no further. Desperate to shut him up, she leapt up, her arms circling his neck, and planted her mouth firmly on his.

The touch of his lips on her was as explosive as ever, sending a blast of fiery heat through her body. When his arms curled around her waist and crushed her close, her mouth opened under his. He always tasted so good. Rich and masculine. She drank him in like a sweet sherry that whet her taste for more. Damn him for being right. One kiss was not enough. She arched her back, merging her body to his.

She wanted more. So much more.

When his hands slid low to cup her bottom, her senses returned. She pushed him away and stepped back. “Good night.” She couldn’t suppress her smug smile as a dazed-looking Garrett struggled to compose himself.

He had to clear his throat to respond. “Ah, good night, Alex.”

She turned to close the door.

“One last thing.”

She peered back at him and raised a brow.

He nodded toward her gown. “Next time, wear your other nightgown. The whisper-thin one with the plunging neckline.”

After a speechless moment, she slammed the door in his face.

“Sweet dreams,” he called through the door, his laughter following.

She wrenched off her robe and stomped over to the bed. Flinging the garment over the nearest chair, she climbed under the covers, yanking them up to her chin. Sweet dreams indeed. He knew damn well what she would be dreaming about, and the adjectives used to describe them would be far from sweet.

Her body quivering with her unfulfilled desire, she rolled on her side and sighed. It wasn’t the adjectives in her dreams she worried about, but rather the proper noun that served as the subject for them.

Garrett Sinclair
.

She whispered his name, and it echoed in the silence of the room and filled the empty chambers of her heart.

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