“I almost forgot to tell you the most wondrous news. Robbie saw Chad last week.”
“Chad is in London?” Gillian’s heart was beating so heavily she could feel it in her throat. For a moment she could barely breathe. “Is he well?”
“Yes, except for a small scar near his temple. He was wounded at Waterloo and I gather it took forever for him to get back to England. Some sort of mix up. At any rate, Robbie ran into him at Sweet’s Racing Club where they had a chance to catch up on the news. He said Chad looked pale but reasonably healthy. He’s grown a beard.”
“What kind?” was all Gillian could think to ask.
“Robbie didn’t say. He was too busy crowing about our ever increasing family. Chad didn’t even know that Robbie had married me. Can you imagine, for all the time we have spent in London, this is the first that either of us have seen him.” Nelda frowned across at Gillian. “We have heard much about him, and none of it good. When Chad was not off somewhere saving the empire, he was cutting a swath of devastation through the female population in London. I heard the whole corps de ballet went into hysterics on hearing he had been wounded.”
Gillian had also heard rumors of Chad’s conduct. Women, gaming, horse racing and even violent behavior. She had never known how much of what she heard to believe. Eventually she decided to close her ears and her mind to the gossip. She would think of him as she had last seen him. It was not that she doubted his ability for wickedness; it was only that she did not choose to dwell on it. If it was true she hoped that the core of morality that was so much a part of Chad would eventually surface. She would have to pray that it would happen before he gave himself up to depravity.
“Is he coming home to Maynard?” Gillian asked.
Nelda didn’t know and since the hour was getting late, they made their goodbyes. After her friend had gone, Gillian sat for a long time in the drawing room, thinking over all of the news that they had shared. She was restless for the majority of the evening. She could not find a book that would hold her attention. She knew she did not have the concentration to work on her stitching. The night closed in and the drawing room grew cold. At midnight, she banked the fire, picked up her candle and started up the stairs.
At the quiet knock on the front door, she stopped. Her skin tingled with presentiment and it took all her control not to dash down the stairs. For one moment she debated not answering the summons but there was inevitability to the repeated knock on the oak panel.
It was Christmas again and, if her guess was correct, Chad had returned.
Her pulse beat in her throat and she tried to compose herself. She could hear the wind howling outside and she placed the candle beneath a glass dome to protect the flame. Her hands shook as she drew back the bolt. A cloud of snow billowed through the opening and when it cleared, she saw him.
How different he was, she thought. She could find only a shadow of her childhood friend in the devastatingly handsome man who entered. There were deep lines etched on either side of a patrician nose and wrinkles radiated from the corners of his eyes. His face was thin and even in the flickering candlelight she could see the pallor beneath his skin.
There was snow in his black hair, reflecting the strands of gray at his temples. She liked the beard, which was neatly trimmed, only covering his upper lip and his chin. The dark hair framed his mouth, accentuating the generously sculpted lips and drawing her eyes like a magnet. The last time they had stood beneath the mistletoe, he had kissed her. Her lips tingled in remembrance.
“I saw your light and I couldn’t wait until morning. Robbie told me about your father. I’m so sorry, my dear.”
The compassion in his voice broke through Gillian’s hard won self-possession. Tears filled her eyes, overflowing and spilling down her cheeks. He pulled her into his arms, fitting her against his body as if she belonged there. His voice was gentle as he whispered words she could not hear for the sobs that wracked her body.
The storm of weeping passed and she lifted her face. He stared down at her, a smile of bemusement playing across his face. His dark eyes sparked with an intensity that she did not understand, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. He brushed the tumbled curls off her forehead and kissed her temples. Her skin was sensitive to the silken brush of his beard and the firm texture of his lips. She closed her eyes and relaxed as his fingers moved to massage the back of her neck. He kissed her eyelids and her cheeks. His lips touched hers in the tenderest of caresses.
She drew in her breath in a deep sigh of contentment. He kissed the corners of her mouth, sweet feathery kisses. Excitement raced through Gillian’s body and she felt as if she were going to swoon. Her heart throbbed in rhythm to the movement of his mouth. A tension built within her as he repeated the pattern, his lips blazing a trail of fire. Forehead. Eyelids. Cheeks.
When he finally kissed her lips, she was jolted by the flood of sensations that shot through her. The last time he kissed her, she had tried to envision what it would be like to have Chad make love to her. She had wanted him to see her as a woman grown and she had wanted his caresses with all of her heart. She had longed for him in the dark nights of her soul. Abandoning all reason, she gave in to the pleasure.
Her muscles relaxed and she pressed against him, the line of their bodies blending and flowing together. She moaned as his kiss deepened but his mouth was different now. His lips, which had coaxed a response from her, demanded one. His hands moved over her body with a familiarity that was almost an insult. Suddenly aware of the inappropriateness of their embrace, she struggled to free herself.
Chad resisted her efforts to break away. For a moment Gillian feared he would not set her free and she could not hold back a small cry. Although her physical struggles had not penetrated the passion that consumed him, he stiffened at the sound of her distress. With a muttered oath, he released her.
Gillian remained in place, her head bent, trying to control her rapid breathing and the agitated beating of her heart. Her face burned and she still could feel the imprint of Chad’s hands and lips on her body as if he had forever marked her.
“Look at me, Gillian.” Chad’s voice was commanding and she raised her head in obedience. He towered above her, staring down at her in silence. His eyes were dense pools of dark brown, unreadable in the shimmering pattern of light and dark that played across his face. “I did not mean to frighten or offend you. My experience has been with women of a different breed. You are an innocent and will need time to adjust to my loving you.”
His eyes rose to the kissing bough. He shrugged in frustration and with a swirl of capes moved to open the front door, striding out into the frigid night.
“I will return,” he said.
Gillian quickly bolted the door as if she could hold back the devil. She pressed her hot forehead to the icy oaken panels and listened to the echo of Chad’s voice in her mind, the words more threat than promise.
The Fifth Kiss
The clock in the drawing room chimed eight. Gillian could not believe that she had been sitting on the stairs for two hours. When she stood up, she became uncomfortably aware of the aching stiffness of her body. The chill of the night had crept into her bones as her mind floated back through time, to review her relationship with Chad.
Last night he had said he would return and she knew he would come tonight.
She descended the stairs, smiling at the mistletoe caught in the flickering light of the hall candle. She was glad she had hung the kissing bough. Though strictly speaking it was not considered appropriate in a house of mourning, she knew her father would have been cross with her for neglecting tradition. Papa had loved the Christmas season, reveling in the feelings of joy and rebirth. Tonight she felt very close to her memories.
In the drawing room she set more logs on the fire and moved around the room, lighting the wall sconces and the candelabra on the harpsichord. She wanted no darkness to add to the sadness that threatened to engulf her. In the morning she would be leaving for the north to become a teacher at Miss Pennington’s school. She knew she was running away and was ashamed of her cowardice. There was no alternative. Chad was a fire in her blood and if she stayed she would succumb to his gentle seduction.
Chad was the Earl of Elmore and eventually he would marry a titled lady who would give him the heirs he needed. She knew in her heart that as the daughter of his tutor, the only place she could have in his life was his mistress. Love him as she did, she could not accept such a position.
“Papa keep me strong,” she whispered as the knock came and she hurried to open the front door.
“Merry Christmas,” Chad called as he burst through the door, carrying two wicker baskets. One was considerably larger than the other, but the tops of both were similarly covered with red and green-checkered material and the handles were surmounted by large red satin bows.
Gillian eyed the baskets with misgivings before she had the courage to look up into Chad’s face. Much as she had resolved to be strong, she was not proof against the infectious enthusiasm of his grin. She tried to keep her expression grave but she could feel the corners of her mouth trembling with suppressed laughter. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Chad,” she replied shakily.
Setting the baskets on the floor, Chad proceeded to brush the snow off the shoulders of his cape, grinning when he showered her with some of the glistening flakes. The cape was unfastened and thrown over the newel post. He dropped his hat on the hall table, stripped off his gloves and stuffed them into the inverted crown. Finished at last, he picked up the baskets and led the way into the drawing room.
Gillian followed him, slightly flustered that he behaved more like the host than a guest. She watched as he set the baskets on the hearthrug, then, fingers of one hand stroking his beard, he surveyed the room. Without a word, he set about rearranging furniture. When it was completed to his satisfaction, two comfortable chairs were pulled up close to the fire with the low tea table between them.
“Sit here,” he ordered, patting the back of one of the chairs.
Gillian knew she should resist Chad’s maneuvering, but she was already caught in the spell he was weaving. Shrugging away her suspicions, she moved to the chair he held for her and sat down.
“My chef, Monsieur Hubert, has prepared a special feast for us. He was slightly put out when I would not agree to let him serve it but I explained that his presence would be de trop.”
While he was speaking, he whipped off the red and green checked material that covered the top of the bigger basket. He lifted out a heavily embroidered linen cloth, which he spread on the table. Then with military precision he set out china, crystal, silverware and an array of delicacies that practically overloaded the table. In the very center, he set two shiny red apples.
“It all began with apples. Apples and a cat,” he said as he uncorked the wine and poured the golden liquid into the wineglasses. “I explained this to Monsieur Hubert and, while not quite understanding why it should be important, he has done his best to oblige me in my whimsy. Everything here is made with or from apples, including this”-he displayed the bottle-“which is a special apple wine I discovered in France many years ago.”
At Chad’s thoughtfulness, Gillian could feel a lump rise in her throat and a film of tears forced her to blink rapidly. Despite her best efforts, one tear slid down her cheek to the corner of her mouth.
“You must not cry, Gillian,” Chad said, his voice slightly ragged. “I discovered last night that I have little control where you are concerned. I cannot comfort you because if I touch you I will not want to talk. And there is much I need to tell you.”
“I’m all right.” She gave a watery sniff and wiped her eyes.
Still keeping a cautious eye on her, Chad reached for his wineglass and raised it. “We will drink as old friends. And to prove my friendship, I will let you fill your plate first, although in all fairness I should warn you that I will be particularly offended if you eat all the meringues.”
“I don’t think I can eat anything,” Gillian apologized. “You know we should not be here, alone in the house at this hour.”
“Alone? My man Royce told me a maidservant lived with you. What have you done with the woman?” he asked accusingly. “You know the one. Aggie? Addie?”
“Maddie,” Gillian mumbled. “I sent her to visit her sister.”
“How very enterprising, my dear.” At the speculative tone of his voice, her head jerked up and he chuckled at the flush of color invading her cheeks. “Why, Gillian, such a wicked plan. You knew I would come back tonight and you were planning to seduce me.”
“I was not!” she denied hotly. “Maddie wanted to spend some time with her sister before we left.”
Gillian’s hand flew to her mouth as if she would pull back the words she had blurted out. By Chad’s raised eyebrow and arrested movement, she knew it was too late. She raised her chin in defiance, refusing to flinch beneath his narrowed gaze. They remained thus, eyes locked together until he broke the contact by turning away. He walked to the fireplace, gently placed the wineglass on the mantelpiece and stared down into the flames.
Even if she could think of something to say, Gillian’s mouth was too dry for speech. She waited, her body taut with tension, until suddenly she heard the sounds of a low chuckle. She bristled with resentment that Chad could find any humor in the present situation.
“What an idiot, I am,” he said. He turned to her, shaking his head in chagrin. He dropped to his knees beside her chair and grinned roguishly. “Were you running away from me?”
“No.” She let her eyes roam at will over his handsome face. She wanted desperately to touch his beard but kept her hands firmly knotted in her lap. “I was running away from myself.”
“And why would that be?” When she dropped her head and did not answer, a frown appeared on his face and his voice took on a nervous edge. “You must tell me. Why were you leaving?”