The Duke's Temptation (10 page)

Chapter 11

Gabe circled his opponent, looking for an opening to strike. As they continued to scrutinize each other, Gabe almost felt sorry for the young pup who had taken up his challenge.

Most men surrounding them, watching the action, had recognized the underlying tension streaming through Gabe and declined to spar. If Jackson had been present, he would have spotted Gabe’s need to pound his opponent—instead of having a goodhearted bout—and would have quickly put a stop to it. Luckily, Jackson was otherwise engaged and Gabe had an opportunity to release some of the strain he’d been carrying around since the debacle with Elizabeth in his study.

At the thought of that night, he tightened his fist and took a quick jab at the younger son of Lord Farley. The man’s head snapped back at Gabe’s direct hit. He brushed aside a twinge of compassion. It was the arrogant fool’s own blunder for not seeing Gabe’s desire to thrash something. Or someone. Besides, even if Gabe had a cooler head, the pup would still be no match for his greater skill. Why should he feel responsible for someone else’s ignorance, especially if it worked so well in his favor?

Uncaring of the other man’s obvious fatigue, Gabe relentlessly threw hard jabs and precise uppercuts. The few weak punches landed by the other man didn’t deter Gabe. He continued his onslaught and reveled in the pain that resonated through his fists at each hit.

When the young man left an easy opening for a right hook, Gabe went in for the kill, his nostrils flaring. Before his fist connected, someone yanked his arm back. His opponent’s eyes flashed with relief at the reprieve.

Gabe rounded on the fool holding him. Ready to strike with his left hand, he stopped abruptly at seeing Marcus. Gabe’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from Marcus’s tight grip on his upper bicep to his friend’s raised eyebrow.

Marcus tipped his head toward Gabe’s cocked fist. “Try it and I’ll give you the kind of thrashing that young pup would never be able to deliver.”

“Leave off,” Gabe growled through clenched teeth. He yanked his arm free of Marcus’s grasp and left his circle of onlookers. No use staying when his opponent had vanished at the opening provided him.

Gabe stalked to a bench and grabbed a towel. Without the physical exertion, the sweat quickly cooled on his bare skin. After toweling off, he pulled his shirt on and turned to face Marcus.

“Would you care to explain why you gave that fool a chance to flee?” he asked his friend.

“I highly doubt he knew what he was getting into when he agreed to box with you,” Marcus pointed out. “Besides, as satisfying as it might have felt pounding him into a pulp, I know you, my friend, and you surely would have regretted your actions once your blood cooled.”

“Like hell I would have,” he snarled.

Ignoring his outburst, Marcus continued, “Moreover, I respect Lord Farley and I would hate to see his son return home a bloody mess.”

“If he thinks he is man enough to enter the establishment, he should be man enough to take a few hits,” Gabe retorted, albeit without heat behind his words. Most of his rage had receded.

“If what you intended were a few good-natured hits, I wouldn’t have interceded, but we both know you were looking to take your frustrations out on the whelp. I’ve never seen you so reckless. Care to explain?”

Sure, I’ll explain. I’ll explain how my body is tight with unfulfilled desired for your sister.
Not to mention the ever present pain for causing her even a moment of hurt. That would surely be enough to entice Marcus into the fight Gabe craved. Unfortunately, no matter the outcome, it would end with him losing a close friend. A possibility that could still happen if he couldn’t control his craving for Elizabeth. Marcus would never approve of Gabe’s feelings for his sister, even if they were honorable, which Gabe admitted firsthand they weren’t.

Then there was the issue with his blackmailer. Gabe held a special kind of rage and hate for that particular individual. But until he discovered who held the cards, Gabe had no option but to play his game. It had stung enough to pay the bastard for his silence—something Gabe feared the man would break despite receiving payment. If not for Phoebe, he’d find some way to retaliate. If only he knew who he was up against.

His friend continued to regard him silently. The fact that Marcus knew him well enough to suspect something troubled him annoyed Gabe more than usual. He didn’t like the idea his feelings could be so transparent.

“It’s nothing. Just needed to work off a little frustration,” he said, to appease Marcus.

“Whatever you say, old friend, whatever you say.” Clearly, Marcus still believed there was an underlining reason for Gabe’s need to spill some blood. That worked for him, as long as the man never found out the
real
reason.

“How is everything with Lizzy?” Marcus asked as Gabe started to redress.

His gut clenched as his fingers stilled over his shirt buttons. “What do you mean?”

Marcus laughed. “Well, she is living with you and I haven’t seen her in a few days. How is she handling everything with Phoebe?”

Relief poured over him. “Oh, I think things are fine. I know Phoebe adores her and I believe your Aunt Millicent found a new partner in crime.” Gabe smiled. He might be avoiding Elizabeth and out of the house most of the day, but he insisted on being kept abreast of all that happened while away.

He hid his wide smile from Marcus. Elizabeth would probably rail at him if she knew just how much he was aware of her daily actions. He knew what evening events she attended, when she walked in the park, and who visited her. Luckily, the only visitor had been her friend, Emma.

As relieved as he was that she hadn’t received any male callers, he knew it never boded well when Emma Dawkins was around. The other members of the aristocracy might not be aware of the devilment surrounding the undersized miss; but he had seen enough of her antics to know when she and Elizabeth were together, disaster would probably not be far behind. He just hoped it didn’t fall his way.

His smile turned sly. At least having Elizabeth in his residence kept the randy young bucks away from her. Even if they managed to find the nerve to visit her at his residence, he had discreetly instructed Wilkes to inform the young men she was unavailable for visitors. His smile vanished and the need to hit something returned. He might not be able to have her for himself, but that didn’t mean he’d help any other man pursue her in his home.

Taking note of how Marcus studied him, Gabe cleared his throat and resumed dressing. He’d have to gain greater control of his emotions or Marcus would discover what was arousing Gabe and making short work of his temper.

Then, there’d be hell to pay.

Before the stroke of midnight, Gabe climbed the stairs to his chambers in the town house. He should have stayed away longer, but as he tried to stretch out the evening with a few hands of cards, his body had started to revolt against the various lightskirts intent on rubbing their
special
assets against him at every opportunity. He wasn’t sure if he was more disgusted with them or himself for not taking one or two up on what they’d offered.

He continued up the stairs, well aware Elizabeth had stayed in to be with her aunt, who was laid up with a migraine. A footman had found him hiding out at his club earlier in the evening and shared the news.

At the top of the stairs, instead of continuing to his room, he turned left. Unbeknownst to anyone, since Phoebe had moved in, the late night trek away from his wing of the house had become a ritual. The maid staying with Phoebe had always been fast asleep by time he arrived.

For some unknown reason, he couldn’t sleep until he caught a peek of his daughter. It had started the first night she’d been delivered to his door. He couldn’t explain it and he sure as hell didn’t want to examine it. Something merely drew him to her. Uncomfortable with the idea of facing her while she was awake, he decided this was a sufficient alternative.

Careful not to wake the maid, he gently turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open. Even with his large build, he managed to silently cross the room and stand beside Phoebe’s bed. And, as all the nights before, the mere sight of her constricted his heart. Somehow the little girl had wiggled past his barriers and touched something he thought long depleted.

If not for Cecilia’s death, he might never have known of her existence. The possibility caused his breath to catch, for even now, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled her giddy laughter ricocheting through the halls of the house. No matter what he was doing, when he heard the sound, he paused to enjoy her play. And even though he couldn’t see it for himself, he knew, at those times, his face carried a foolish smile.

He reached and swept a tiny raven curl from her cheek. With the barest of pressure, the back of his finger grazed her skin. Afraid he had woken her, he tensed as she stirred. He didn’t relax until she settled and snuggled closer to her dolls. Unexpectedly, his arms ached to pick her up and hold her tight.

When he’d first seen the child and noticed the blue eyes so like her mother’s, he was afraid whenever he looked at her, he would be reminded of Cecilia. And thinking of Cecilia and her betrayal was something he refused to do. It was one of the many reasons he’d tried to keep away from Phoebe. He found himself relieved to realize the desire to observe and thus know his child outweighed the bad taste left in his mouth from her mother.

If he’d let his fear dictate in this, he never would have come to see Phoebe as someone other than Cecilia’s child. In these stolen, late night moments, he had come to understand the girl’s presence didn’t evoke any of the terrible feelings and hurt that accompanied his thoughts of Cecilia. For that, he was more grateful than he would ever be able to express.

“Good night, my sweet,” he whispered.

He turned to quit the room and froze. Framed by a soft light from the hall, Elizabeth stood in the doorway. Her expression gave no indication of what thoughts were floating around her head. He could only imagine her surprise at finding him standing by Phoebe’s bed.

Not even the light snoring of the maid, or the knowledge his daughter slept a few feet away, kept his body from stirring at Elizabeth’s nearness. He needed to get away from her before he lost his head again.

Avoiding eye contact, he strode to the door and as he slipped by her, inclined his head, hoping she’d leave it at that. Without looking back, he hastened toward his room.

His door handle within reach, he relaxed slightly, assuming he had escaped.

And with his guard down, he was unprepared for the heat that enveloped him when her fingers lightly touched his arm.

Chapter
12

Through the sleeve of his coat, Gabe’s muscles flexed. Elizabeth hadn’t known she was going to follow him until she’d reached for his arm. Now that she’d stopped him, she wasn’t sure what to do with him.

The unfinished events from the evening in his study seemed to permeate the air and caused her to drop her hand to her side. After telling him not to touch her again, she didn’t blame him for walking away. It wasn’t his fault the memory of his hands on her was all she had dreamt of since that night. Being so close to him, smelling his clean sandalwood scent, shot desire through her, settling deep in her core.

He didn’t look her way. Instead, he started to reach for the door again and she knew she had to move quickly or he’d walk away from her—maybe for good this time. After her talk with Aunt Millie, she realized in order to show Gabe her love, she first had to restore the tentative friendship they’d once had, and erase the hostility.

In the nursery, as he’d so tenderly reached out to Phoebe, she’d found her way to connect with him.

She moistened her lips before she could speak. “Gabe.” He didn’t move. “Gabe, please. I need to talk with you about Phoebe.”

The budding hope that had sparked to life inside her died at his continued silence. She almost retreated to her room when he released a deep sigh. He paused only a moment more before he pivoted, settling his eyes on hers. The expression etched on his face caused her to take an unsteady step back.

Anticipating his anger or even indifference, she wasn’t at all prepared for the passion burning in his gaze.

“Can this wait until morning?” He swallowed, causing the cords of his neck to tighten. “When you are properly dressed?”

Heat enveloped her when Gabe lowered his darkened gaze to her nightshift, covered only by a light dressing gown. Shame for accosting him for the second time while in a state of undress couldn’t dampen the fire flaring inside her.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she had planned this encounter. On her way to her room after checking on her aunt, she’d seen the door to Phoebe’s room open and worried the child might need something. She’d never expected to find Gabe there. By no means could this be considered her doing.

She pulled the opening of her dressing gown together, trying to cover as much of herself as possible. “No, it can’t. It will only take a moment.”

“I hope you know what you are about,” he muttered, his tone flat despite the longing she sensed radiating from him in waves. Clearly he wasn’t pleased.

This might be more difficult than she’d anticipated. She was about to continue when she noticed a bruise darkening the area below his left eye.

Without thinking, she raised her hand and gently touched two fingers to the spot. “Oh, Gabe, what happened?” she asked just as softly.

He wrenched away until she no longer touched his warm skin. “It’s nothing.”

Prudently, she let the subject drop. She had more important things to address.

“Elizabeth, you might want to get on with this. I’m sure you wouldn’t want a servant to find you standing in the hall, with me, dressed as you are.”

Her cheeks heated at the mention of her lack of proper clothing. “Um . . . yes . . . well, the thing is, I don’t think London is where Phoebe should be right now.”

His eyes narrowed into dark slivers, wiping away some of the bold desire. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think she is coping well in the city.”

His jaw tightened and any trace of passion evaporated, casting his features in stone. “You think I should send my daughter away? That I’m not a good enough father for her?”

“No! That isn’t what I was—”

“I thought you saw me differently. It’s obvious you think I’m just like him,” he growled. The anger flowing off him was enough to knock her over, but it was the flash of hurt in his eyes that grabbed at her heart.

“‘Him?’ What are you talking about?” she fumbled, trying to find an answer to his sudden fury.

“As if you don’t know,” he spat back. “What do you suggest? Should I send her to some foundling house? Or drop her off with one of my tenants? How exactly should I rid myself of my daughter?”

She struggled to draw in a breath at his sudden attack. None of it made any sense to her. As quickly as his rage had hit, the injustice of the situation struck her, and before she knew it, her anger suddenly matched his.

“How dare you! How dare you think I’d suggest such a thing!” She struggled not to yell and wake the entire household. “I would never wish any of that on a child. I thought you knew
me
better.”

Presenting her with the Duke of Wesbrook manner he showed the
ton
, he braced his legs apart, crossed his arms, and glared at her. Other than that, he didn’t move. Not even to blink. He stood, waiting for her to continue. Her hackles rose at his arrogance.

She knew matching his anger wouldn’t get her anywhere so she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “That’s not what I meant.” He still didn’t react. “I was
trying
to say I don’t believe London is a suitable environment for her. It can be stifling for a young child. Phoebe was raised in the country. It is what she is accustomed to. She can be a child there. She can run and play.”

The lowering of his shoulders the only indication her words might have penetrated his hard shell.

“Please, Gabe. Just think about taking her to your family seat. Since I still haven’t found a governess and I couldn’t possibly leave her without proper supervision, I’d be willing to come along.”

A flicker of surprise flashed across his face before it returned to its rigid mask.

She hastened to add, “I’ve already discussed it with Aunt Millie and she is willing to quit London early and chaperone.”

The tightness in his body lessened, relaxing his frame, but he still hadn’t moved or spoken. Then, before she knew what was happening, he had her pinned against the wall, his hands braced on either side of her head. His body enclosed hers within its warmth and sent flashes of heat rushing through her. The strength of his muscular torso brushing against her unbound breasts aroused feelings she’d experienced only once before. The night he had awoken her to such heights, she’d thought for certain she would melt in his arms. It astonished—and somewhat frightened—her that after experiencing such bliss a single time, her body instinctively craved more.

“Minx, this is the only warning I’m going to give you.” His breath rasped along her cheek. “I’ve about run out of restraint when it comes to you. If you follow through with this, I won’t guarantee I can keep from touching you as you so demanded.”

Yearning for him with her entire being, she didn’t hesitate to raise her hand to his chest and run her fingers along his cravat. Their steadiness surprised her, especially considering how her body shivered in anticipation. What she would have given for him to have already discarded his coat and cravat. To feel his skin beneath her palm.

“I know what I said, but what if I was wrong? What if I want you to keep touching me?”

She'd barely uttered the words before his mouth settled on hers in a deep kiss. A kiss that involved more than just his lips and had her opening to allow access to his imploring tongue. It swept along hers and her knees lost the ability to hold her up. What was it about this man’s kisses that caused her to lose all her senses?

As quick as it had started, he pulled away. A whimper burst from her parted lips at the loss. She had to lower her hands and push her palms to the wall to keep from pulling his head back down to hers. She glanced up and in the darkness of his eyes found a reflection of her own passion.

Did he feel the loss of their connection as deeply as she?

Her heart pounded as the gold surrounding the blackness of his eyes began to burn brighter. She almost wept with delight when he lowered his head and took her lips once more. But frustration swiftly followed when he retreated after only the briefest of touches.

“Ahh, Minx. You could tempt the strongest of men.” He rested his forehead against hers and she managed to find satisfaction in the tender gesture, grateful he hadn’t pulled away entirely. “But I’m going to halt this here. Not because I don’t want you, but because if I begin, I won’t be able to stop.” He pulled back, his gaze never leaving hers, restarting a slow smoldering inside her.

She watched, unable to speak, her senses reeling, as he pushed away from the wall, stepped back and sent one more longing glance in her direction before he turned and entered his bedchamber. The unabashed need aflame in his eyes singed her from the inside out. If it hadn’t been for the wall behind her, she would have sunk to the floor at the sheer power of it. The door to his room closed as a smile lifted her lips.

Apparently Gabe wasn’t opposed to exploring their mutual craving. Now, all she needed was to alter his desire for her into a deep, abiding love. If only that were as simple as it sounded.

Yet it seemed pointless fretting about what would happen if he never fell in love with her. She must keep her focus on winning him over.

She slowly pushed away from the wall, tested the strength of her weakened knees, and headed toward her room. Tomorrow would be yet another day to show Gabe how she felt.