Rules for Reforming a Rake (39 page)

Several men now stepped out of the shadows, each more hideous looking than the next. Too late, Daisy realized she’d made a wrong turn and unwittingly entered a most dangerous alley. She whirled Brutus about, attempting to head back to the main street, but the men quickly surrounded her and tried to block her path.

She fought them off with her riding crop, striking one across the cheek and drawing blood. He let out an oath and came at her again. Brutus kicked out with his massive hooves. Men yelped and cursed, and ultimately cleared a path for the devil of a horse. She and Brutus had just cleared the last assailant when Daisy felt a sudden sharp pain at her thigh.

She didn’t stop to look, knowing there would be time to tend to the wound after she found Gabriel.

At last she saw the inn, recognizing it by its sign—three cups painted over the weathered doorway lintel—and rode behind the rough stone structure into its stable.

“Ye’re bleedin’!” the stableboy cried, his eyes popping wide at the sight of blood trailing down her trousers. “Stay put and I’ll get ye help.”

“No! I need to see Lord Dayne. Is he still here?”

“Yes, he’s—”

“Thank goodness! Take me to him right away.” She slid off Brutus, then let out a yowl as she landed on her injured leg.

“Lud, that must hurt! I’ll fetch clean cloths and some water.”

“No! Take me to Lord Dayne at once,” she insisted, though both her legs were aching from the hard ride and about to give way beneath her. Her left leg felt as if it were on fire.

“But there’s no—”

“Don’t argue with me!” She rested her weight on a bale of hay, leaning on it for support, and reached out to grab the stubborn boy, her intention to throttle him into obedience.

“But I can’t take you to him!”

“Why ever not?” Her head began to spin and a soft but persistent ringing started in her ears. Her vision began to blur. The lad now sported two heads and both were spinning.

“Because he’s right here,” Gabriel said, jumping down from the hayloft and stalking to her side. “Of all the bloody... foolish... stupid... you’d better have a damn good explanation for why you’re here—good Lord! Daisy, you’re hurt!”

“Lud, ye called ’im Daisy.”

Nausea built in her stomach. “Gabriel! Thank goodness!”

He opened his arms to her.

She took a step toward him and fainted.

***

“You can come in now, Gabriel. I’m decent,” Daisy called from inside her room, which had been his until she’d stormed back into his life in the most spectacular way this morning. Less than an hour had passed since he’d carried her in, set her on the bed and proceeded to remove her trousers over the complaints of the innkeeper’s wife.

“Sir! Now, see here! We run a respectable establishment. Won’t have such goings on under m’very nose,” the woman had threatened, following him into the room with raised fist, and suddenly silenced by the gruesome sight of Daisy’s thigh. “Lud! She’s been stabbed!”

“I have to stop the bleeding. Help me get her out of these wretched clothes,” he’d ordered, the additional coins thrown her way quickly stifling further protest.

Gabriel had thrown more coins about, to hire one of the serving girls to serve as Daisy’s personal maid, to order a warm bath and scented soaps brought up for Daisy, to provide for a steady stream of food and drink brought to her room, to provide wood for the fire needed to keep the room warm and protect her from the chilling sea breeze.

As she bathed, Gabriel had walked to the High Street to purchase Daisy a decent gown and shawl, shoes, stockings, and assorted delicate undergarments, handing the packages to the innkeeper’s wife to deliver to Daisy. “Here, my wife will need these.”

And now, he stood at her door, waiting for her to try on the new clothes and wondering how he would ever find the strength to part from her.

“Well, are you coming in?” Daisy called out hesitantly. “I’m decent,” she repeated.

He opened the door, took one step inside, and sucked in his breath.
Oh, Lord... Lord, Lord.
She stood by the window in a stream of sunlight, ruffling fingers through her damp, dark hair to dry it, and all he could think of was how much he’d enjoy running his own fingers through that incredibly long, lush mound, as well as over the two lush mounds presently concealed by the soft, blue shawl wrapped over her shoulders.

Decent? The thoughts whirling in his head were decidedly not that.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding out her hands and slowly twirling to show off her new gown. She tossed him the most beautiful smile, one that reached her vibrant blue eyes.

“What do I think?” he repeated numbly, relieved that she seemed able to put weight on her injured leg without apparent trouble. He’d never beheld a more beautiful female, never imagined anyone could stir his heart this powerfully. “You didn’t finish the plate of cheese and fruit I ordered brought up to you.”

She let out an adorable laugh. “The
third
plate you ordered sent up. I’m so stuffed, I can’t bear to look at another wedge of cheese or slice of apple. Gabriel, you’ve been far too extravagant in your care of me.”

“I don’t think so. You were bedraggled, quite mangy looking, really, when you first stumbled in here,” he teased.

She laughed again, picked up a hairbrush and, instead of throwing it at him—thankfully—began to brush her hair. His fingers itched to take the hairbrush from her hand and perform the task of putting order to those silky strands, but he decided against it since his hands were shaking and his heart was painfully lodged in his throat.

“I suppose I did look a mess, but cool water and a chunk of lye soap would have set me to rights as capably as a warm, scented bath, fragrant oils, and delicate soaps.”

“Those,” he said with a chuckle, softly closing the door and walking toward her, “were for my pleasure.”

She melted into his arms when he held them out to her. “Oh, Gabriel! I was so afraid I’d be too late to stop you from sailing to your death!”

He hugged her tightly, lifting her so that they were eye to eye, her delectable body nestled against his hard frame. Her feet dangled off the floor since he was much taller than she. But she smelled so sweet, he realized, burying his face against her neck, loving the silky smoothness of her skin. He planted kisses along her neck, the little upturn of her chin, and finally, with desperate longing, upon her lips.

Also sweet. So very, very sweet.

She responded as he knew she would, had hoped she would, by circling her arms around his neck and parting her lips in welcome. “Lord, I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, groaning against her mouth.

She pressed her warm lips to his, sighing softly as their mouths locked for another long, lingering embrace.

He loved the thickness of her hair, the way it fell in damp waves to her waist, the way it fell over his arms and shoulders, as if wrapping him in silk. “Gabriel, how much time do we have together?”

A lifetime, I hope.
But he dared not think that far ahead. “Not much.”

There was little to be done. Ian and Major Brandt were already securing another ship. Once settled, he’d be on his way, perhaps on this same early tide. But first, he’d have to toss more coins to the innkeeper and his staff, to the stable hand, probably the shopkeeper and boot maker, to keep their mouths shut about Daisy’s presence here. Then he’d somehow have to return her to Graelem’s home with no one the wiser that she had ever left it. Major Brandt would be the one to accomplish that task. With good weather and a few hours of hard riding, the major could deliver Daisy back to London by nightfall.

“Then we’d better not wait,” Daisy insisted.

“For what?”

“Our magic moment.” There was a pink blush to her cheeks as she lowered her gaze and stared into his chest. “That’s how Laurel described her wedding night.”

Gabriel set her down gently so that her feet once more touched the ground, but kept his hands loosely about her waist. The war was just getting underway. As the son of a nobleman he might have bought his way out, but he wasn’t about to abandon Wellington at his most desperate hour. How was he to tell Daisy that his chances of returning from this mission were poor? Did he dare risk leaving her with child? Was that to be his legacy, a widow and a fatherless son left behind?

For years, he’d lived by the simple rules... no broken hearts, no grieving widows, no fatherless sons. Yet, looking at Daisy’s anguish and desire, both so expressively revealed in her vivid blue eyes, he wanted to toss away all rules and just follow his heart. He desperately wanted Daisy, needed her more than he needed air to breathe.

How could he do this to her?

Her smile faded. “I’m an utter goose. You meant this to be a marriage of convenience, one easily annulled upon your return. You’re not going to seduce me, are you?”

He stopped her when she tried to pull away, wanting to feel her silken skin beneath his palms. “Daisy, you don’t understand. I wish it were otherwise.”

“So do I,” she whispered, straining the bonds of his resolve with her wide-eyed gaze.

His body was hot and about to ignite, her body serving as the spark. Lord, she was perfect. Soft and curved in all the right places. Vibrant, yielding... passionate. “I’m going to miss you desperately, you impossible little baggage. I don’t want out of our marriage.”

She let out the softest breath.

And burst into tears. “Then what’s wrong with you?” she accused between sniffles. “Haven’t you read Graelem’s warning? Or Wellington’s warning? The French know you’re coming. They’ll shoot you the moment you set foot on French soil.”

“If they catch me. Thanks to you, they’ll be waiting at Boulogne while I safely land elsewhere.”

“And in the meantime, am I supposed to sit idly by and do nothing?”

His heart tightened. “What are you suggesting? I can’t take you with me on this mission.”

“I know. But there’s something more you must do. For me. For us.” Her hands trembled as she rested them against his chest. “I love you, Gabriel. Is this all I’m to have of you?”

She was asking him to consummate the marriage. He wanted to... she wanted to... but it was a mistake. Perhaps the most idiotic thing he’d ever done.

“It’s the right thing to do,” she insisted, seeming to read his mind and determined to contradict him. “You may think your way is less hurtful to me, but you’re wrong. The worst thing you can do is deny me these last moments, if they’re to be our last moments together. Though I fervently pray they’re not. Please, Gabriel. You married me. If you’re content with the bargain, then make it official. Make me your wife in more than name only.”

He felt his resistance weakening.

She must have felt it, too, for she pressed her advantage. “Give me one precious memory of our life together.”

He said nothing for a long moment.

Her eyes began to water and he knew she was fighting to hold back her tears. “Is this what you’ll remember on those cold, French nights? Not me, soft and willing in your arms. But you and your blasted pride. You and your misguided sense of honor.”

“Damn it, Daisy. Enough.” He lifted her into his arms and settled her on the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat down beside her and reached out to stroke her cheek. “My friends and I made a pact... we swore to leave behind no broken hearts, no grieving widows.” He thought briefly of Julia and little Harry, and knew by Daisy’s expression that she was thinking of them as well.

“You had better rethink that pact, because I’m not going to live my life regretting these last moments... not that I want them to be our last moments together, but if they are, they’d better be spectacular. I’m not letting you out of this room until I have you,
all
of you, heart, body, and soul to carry with me forever. And when a Farthingale says forever, she means it. Napoleon’s wrath will be nothing to mine if I don’t get my way in this. Please, Gabriel. Don’t walk away and leave me with nothing.”

He meant to refuse. He meant to hold firm and live by the rules that had kept him safe, numb, all these years, but he made the mistake of gazing into Daisy’s incredible blue eyes... eyes filled with love. For him.

To hell with pacts and to hell with rules.
Had Daisy managed to get even one of Lady Forsythia’s rules right? The answer was a resounding no, yet she’d captured his heart in spite of it... probably because of it. Her body felt warm and soft as he slipped the shawl off her shoulders and then did the same with her gown, loosening the laces at her bosom to bare her creamy breasts. “Sweetheart,” he said in a whisper, his loins tight and on fire, his heart about to explode. “You’re so beautiful, you steal my breath away.”

She closed her eyes and arched into him as he cupped one soft, full mound in his palm. He teased his thumb across its pink tip and let out a groan as it hardened beneath his touch. He circled his arm around her waist to draw her closer, wanting her soft body crushed against him, needing to wrap her in his protective embrace and bury himself inside her.

He wanted to hear her breathy moans and feel the explosive heat of her passion as she reached her climax. He was lost and could no longer fight it. Giving in, he dipped his mouth to hers and took her in a long, deep kiss that roused a maelstrom of desire in both of them. Daisy was so open and passionate. She held nothing back in her response.

He slipped the gown off her luscious body, and then practically ripped off his own clothes.

Gad, you’d think this was his first time. Well, it was his first time with her. He wanted to make it right, a lifetime’s worth of right. His breath caught at the sight of her bandaged leg. He’d have to be careful with that tender wound.

He settled her flat upon the bed, his gaze soaking in all of her, the cream silk of her skin, her lush breasts and their perfect pink tips, her beautiful long legs. Her hair fanned out across the crisp, white sheets, those long, silken strands as dark as coal against them. Her eyes were as bright as a May sky, a warm, gleaming azure blue.

She wanted him.

She
loved
him.