The Duke's Temptation (20 page)

Inside him, the anger and disgust associated with his father mingled with the pain and betrayal lingering from his relationship with Cecilia—both sides fighting for control of his emotions. After years of perfecting the art, he shoved all the feelings deep before they won the battle and broke the surface.

Elizabeth continued to regard him intently, unaware of what sharing this would cost him. “Instead of mourning my father, since I’d felt nothing but relief at his death, I stayed in London to finish out the season. Cecilia was an actress. She was new to the theater and didn’t play the lead, but I don’t know of any man who hadn’t been drawn to her on some level. She was so beautiful and vibrant. The first moment I saw her and felt the attraction, I realized this was my chance to have a relationship with a woman my father wasn’t in some way dictating.”

Her eyes shifted, and he knew his declaration had hurt her. Unable to upset her further, he avoided detailing the power of his attraction for Cecilia. It hadn’t simply been her bottomless blue eyes and perfect porcelain skin that had captivated his attention. After years of his father ruling his life, despite Gabe’s attempts to prevent it, he’d been drawn to her open nature.

Even now, looking back he couldn’t be sure if what he’d felt for Cecilia had been honest emotion, or if in some inner crevice of his mind, he’d seen his chance to prove he was capable of a straightforward relationship and thus convinced himself his feelings were true. Though none of it had mattered in the end.

“So, you did love her.” Her voice cracked.

He didn’t stop to think before he engulfed her hand within his. “No.”

Hope flared in her eyes. “You didn’t love her.”

He hated to stomp out the hopeful flicker of light, but it wouldn’t be right to let her believe it was that simple. “I’m not saying that either.”

As he expected, her face fell and she hesitated for a moment before she asked, “Then what
are
you saying?”

He wished he knew what the hell he was trying to say. He released her hand and tugged at his hair, unsure how to answer with the truth without hurting her at the same time.

A sharp knock on the door saved him from having to figure it out. Mindful of the consequences of being found on her bed, he quickly got to his feet before he called for the person to enter.

Expecting Elizabeth’s maid, Gabe had never been happier to see Wilkes opening the door. His relief quickly melted at Wilkes’ obvious trepidation. “What is it?”

“I have some unfortunate news, Your Grace,” Wilkes answered with a hint of worry that cracked his usually unflappable deportment.

Gabe glanced at Elizabeth, sitting up and listening attentively. She might crave information but after all she had endured, he didn’t want to upset her with whatever Wilkes had to say. “Let’s discuss this in the hall. Elizabeth needs her rest.”

Wilkes nodded in accord before he left the room. Gabe started to follow but at Elizabeth’s voice he stopped, his jaw instantly tightening.

“I’m not a child, Gabe. You don’t need to protect me.”

A fresh tide of panic crashed into him. He’d almost lost her. What would have happened if he hadn’t been there? The very idea had him spinning around before he could mask the stark emotion flashing in his eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even try to dismiss everything that happened tonight as an innocent encounter.”

She didn’t back down. “I’m not about to. But it would be nice if you’d stop tiptoeing around me like everyone else. I’m not going to break. Whatever Wilkes had to say, could have been done in front of me.”

“Maybe so, but it is my duty to protect you. I promised Marcus I would. Though you might see it as being overprotective, I see it as doing my duty to a friend,” he replied without thinking of how it would be perceived.

“Duty? Is that all I am to you? A duty?” Her words came out hushed, but there was no mistaking the heat behind them.

Oh, bloody hell.
He hadn’t meant that. “No. Of course not. You know I care for you. That I think of you as a friend. I would never think of you as a duty.”

At her silence he wondered if she believed him. As much as he wanted to stay and convince her, he needed to speak with Wilkes. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal and you need your rest. It is late. We can talk tomorrow. Will this quarrel hold until then?”

The reminder of their usual clash of differences had erased some of the tension from her face. “I guess that will have to do.” She settled back into the pillows and Gabe took it as a dismissal. He’d almost reached to door when she spoke again.

“Oh, and Gabe, don’t forget, you have a story to finish.”

Chapter
29

Gabe found Wilkes waiting a short distance from the room.

“Well?”

“The intruder managed to escape.”

Disbelief had Gabe struggling to respond.

“He must have come to before the footmen could locate him.”

“Did they search the entire garden? How about the grounds?” His voice rose along with his mounting anger. The prospect of having another go at the man had been the only thing keeping his rage manageable.

“Yes, Your Grace, everything was searched. I ordered lanterns to be lit throughout the garden. There was no sign of the perpetrator. When he wasn’t found there, I had the entire estate inspected. Other than boot marks and a set of horse tracks on the south end of the property, there were no signs of the man.”

Gabe’s fury exploded, the desire to pummel something boiling in his veins. Through teeth clenched, in a jaw held as tightly as his fists, he ordered, “Have men follow the tracks. Even if they have to chase him to the shores of England, I want this man found. Until he is in custody, I want armed men patrolling day and night.”

“You think he will be back?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving it to chance. Not after what happened tonight. See it done.”

“Immediately, Your Grace.” Understanding the urgency behind the command, Wilkes hastened to do as instructed.

Still fuming, Gabe stalked through the hall to the only place he would find an outlet to ease his frustrations. Once he reached his destination, he flung the door open, not even flinching when it banged against the wall. Too agitated to worry about the lamps, his familiarity with the room—and the bluish glow of moonlight shining through the windows—helped him reach his destination.

Never breaking stride and loosening his cravat as he went, he strode through the room and didn’t stop until he stood before the large bag filled with sand hanging from the ceiling. As soon as he freed the intricate knot, he tossed the cravat to the floor and proceeded to strip off his clothing, leaving him bare from the waist up.

His knuckles itched to feel the pain ring through his hand with the first strike. After years of practice, his body naturally eased into a fighting stance, elbows close to his side, fists up and feet braced apart.

With eyes seeing nothing but Elizabeth lying helpless in the garden, Gabe struck out, hitting the bag with all the force of his muscles. The vision, combined with the rage and frustration at her attacker escaping, sent his imaginary opponent flying. He itched to replace the bag with the man who had the nerve to lay even one nefarious finger on the woman Gabe loved.

When the bag swung back from the power of his hit, Gabe used his other fist to send it swaying again. The twinge of pain that flared at each punch focused his attentions and vanquished some of his temper. It kept his mind from dwelling on his inability to keep Elizabeth safe. Not to mention his further disappointment at failing to capture the perpetrator.

Soon Gabe’s punches flowed without thought. The strikes became almost mechanical. His body seized the opportunity to lose the turmoil that had become commonplace since Elizabeth had affixed herself to his life.

All the pain and hurt he’d felt as he’d recounted the tale of his childhood and Mary’s death pooled and exploded with each blow to the bag. Before he knew it, he felt nothing. Yet he didn’t stop. His body washed in sweat, he continued to pound on the bag. When his arms started to feel dead and began to tingle, still he continued.

Wrapped in battle with the punching bag, he almost missed the glow of a candle lightening the room. When the light didn’t recede, he knew he wasn’t alone. And, when the hint of lilac reached him, breaking through the smell of his sweat, without turning, he knew who’d joined him.

Elizabeth.

All his emotions spent by the physical exertion, he felt drained, empty. He had no willpower to construct a wall between the two of them, not after everything. Besides, this moment had been inevitable. Things had remained unsettled between them ever since that night at the inn. It scared the hell out of him. Because no matter what his body craved, or what his heart yearned for . . . despite wanting to be the man she deserved, he’d never achieve that goal.

He didn’t possess the willpower to escape the room without touching her. Lowering his fists, Gabe turned to her, and for her sake, dreaded what was about to come.

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest covered with a gleam of sweat. The light from the candle she’d carried from her room shone off the dampness, and the desire to stroke the curved muscles with her fingertips momentarily stunned her. The strength of her longing to be with him shook her to her core, sending a wave of need pooling there.

“You are supposed to be resting.”

His empty expression chilled her fervor. She shook off the veil of longing, and attempted to achieve an even tone when she answered, “I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering what news Wilkes brought.”

She thought a smirk crossed his lips, but he looked away before she could be certain. “I should have known you’d not do as you were told.”

Her eyes fixated on his chest as he lifted a damp cloth and wiped off the result of his exertions. Due to Marcus’s boxing, she was familiar with the sport. Even so, she’d still been mesmerized at the sight of Gabe sparring with some sort of bag hanging from the ceiling. Any shock had been quickly overpowered by her fascination at the tightening and release of the muscles in his back as he landed hit after hit.

Realizing she hadn’t moved her concentration from his bare skin, she lifted her eyes, only to find him smiling at her with knowing eyes. Her cheeks flared at being caught studying him so intently. “Umm . . . yes . . . well, I needed to know,” she stammered, straining to recall what they had been speaking of.

He threw the linen cloth to the side but didn’t move to collect his clothes strewn across the floor. Instead he took a few steps closer to where she stood inside the doorway. “I still say you should be in bed. I should take you there myself.”

The words hung between them. Visions of him joining her in that very bed sprang to her mind, melting her from the inside out. His eyes narrowed, deepened, as if he too realized what the words implied. Instead of retracting the words as she expected, he crossed the final distance separating them.

Her hands trembled and she almost dropped the candle held in her weak grasp. Before it fell, without a word or breaking his gaze from her face, he eased it from her fingers and set it on the small table beside the door.

The candle taken care of, he lifted his hand and gently traced his finger along her temple. Tentacles of heat spread through her, igniting from the very spot he touched. Engulfed in warmth, her body craved his touch, begging her to lean further into him.

He broke the spell when he noted softly, “It is starting to bruise. Does it hurt?”

Mesmerized by the feel of his finger on her skin, she failed to comprehend his question. When she didn’t answer he continued, “Where you hit your head, it is starting to color. Does it pain you?”

Finally understanding, she murmured, “Not much. Maybe slightly.” She failed to convey that she felt nothing besides a fierce yearning to raise her lips and kiss him. He didn’t need to know
everything
.

His hand spread and instead of a single finger, his entire hand curved along the side of her face, cradling her jaw in his palm. “I’m so sorry, Minx.”

Her brows lowered in confusion. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Misery filled his eyes. The power of his caring hit her in the center of her heart. “For not protecting you. I should have protected you.”

Anxious for him to listen to her, she lifted her hands to his chest. The feel of warm skin beneath her palms fought with her concentration, and her fingers wanted nothing more than to slide over the sculptured expanse. She barely retained control of her wits. “You did. If it hadn’t been for you, who knows what he would have done? Gabe, you saved me.”

“It never should have happened. I failed . . . again.” His voice trailed off and Elizabeth finally understood more than the events of the day were torturing him. His inability to stop her assault had become intertwined with his guilt surrounding Mary’s death.

She pinned him with her imploring gaze, noting the despair in his brown eyes. “No matter what you think, I
know
you saved me tonight. Not only that, you saved me when I was nine. If not for you I don’t know if I would ever have crawled out of my grieving after my parents were killed.” Her soft voice resonated with determination. “Don’t you understand? You are always saving me. Gabe, I trust you with my life.”

Wordlessly he searched her eyes, making her wonder what he saw—or what he was looking for. She stood quietly and let him hunt for what he needed to find.

Under her hand she felt the steady beat of his heart, sending a deep pulse from the tips of her fingers, down her arm, to mix with the erratic beat of her own racing heart.

A soft sigh escaped her lips when his hand trailed softly over her neck, and without pause, slipped beneath the loose collar of her nightgown to settle on the bare skin below her shoulder, just above her right breast.

As if it recognized his touch, her nipple immediately tightened, forcing her to bite her lower lip to contain the moan intent on breaking free.

He moved closer, breaking eye contact. The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek as he spoke. “I’ll always do whatever is in my power to keep you safe.” He paused and she feared he would walk away from her again. “Though regrettably for you, I no longer find it in my power to keep my distance.”

Relief poured over her and mixed with the desire already burning inside, bestowing courage she’d never felt before. She leaned into his touch, her voice scarcely more than a whisper. “Take me to bed, Gabe.”

The change in him was immediate, though not the reaction she expected. His sensual touch vanished when he grabbed her shoulders and set her away from him, his eyes searching her face. “Your head? Bloody hell. I knew you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“What?” His transformation was so sudden, she couldn’t follow his meaning.

He scooped her into his arms, carried her down the hall, directly to her room, all without speaking. His determination overpowered any worry that someone might see them. Luckily the hour was late and the hallway empty.

In her room, he walked to her bed, and placed her on the overstuffed mattress.

Candlelight highlighted the immediate area, but the rest of the room was obscured, the only light coming from the full moon outside her window, and the fire Aunt Millie had requested. When Gabe stepped back, she could see his face, and what she spotted there worried her. His features were etched with an emotion she’d never seen from him before. His face set, jaw taut, he almost appeared in pain.

When he turned, her insides twisted, sure he’d leave her once again; to her surprise, he closed the door. The soft click of the latch filled the room.

There was a moment of silence and then he yanked the ground from beneath her. “I’m sending you back to London.” Still facing the door, his voice was muffled but his words were unmistakable. “As soon as you are well, I’ll have it arranged.”

Confused, she stuttered, “B—But, I don’t understand. Why?”

Even with the shadows she caught the anguish burning in his eyes when he finally turned and raised his eyes. Her heart cried out to him. Then it hit her. He believed her injuries were bothering her and her request for him to take her to bed had been for practical reasons.

Compassion for his distress swiftly faded, replaced by something stronger—irritation. What did she have to do to make this man believe her? For him to know she trusted him with her life? Well, she’d had enough. It was past time he realized she was a woman capable of making her own decisions about her life.

“First of all, you are not my keeper. You can’t dictate where and when I go somewhere.” She sat up against the pillows, ready to fight for what she wanted. “Secondly, I didn’t ask you to take me to bed because I’m in pain. What is it that keeps you from seeing me as a woman? Is it so beyond the realm of possibility I would be asking you to
join
me in bed?”

He didn’t move, not an inch. It was as if his body had turned to stone. Maybe she’d gone too far. Been too bold.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he spoke. “Your head
doesn’t
bother you?”

Annoyance at his lack of reaction to her request had her gritting her teeth. If she were a man she’d knock some sense into his overly handsome head.

At this point she’d never admit her head
did
ache slightly. “No. I feel fine.”

He continued to study her.

“I swear.” She held his stare in an effort to conceal the nervousness intertwined with her desire.

When he took a few slow steps toward the bed, a sharp tingle, blooming from the exact spot Gabe had caressed with such expertise just days before, caused her body to melt into the bed linens.

He sauntered closer. His eyes appeared to burn blacker with each step he took. As if shedding the shadows like an article of clothing, more of his bare chest became visible as he drew near.

Their previous encounters hadn’t given her an opportunity to examine his naked magnificence. Presented with the opportunity, she looked her fill. And, oh, how she enjoyed it. As she imagined her hands lightly brushing the hair sprinkled over his strong chest, she had to dig her fingers into the mattress to keep from reaching for him.

“Enjoying yourself, Minx?”

His deep voice was smooth and sensual. Even his light teasing didn’t douse the fire flaring inside her. She drew her lip between her teeth as he stalked her.