The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (50 page)

The enormous driver took the money and nodded. Swiftly pulling the ribbons, he sent the horse team flying down the street. They heard Hepplewort yell as he was knocked off his feet again when the carriage lurched forward. The men smiled stiffly as they walked back into the town house.

Gideon moved toward Francine, who stood staring after the carriage through the open doorway. “What exactly does he mean that this isn’t over? How could it not be over?” Her voice was panicked as she looked at him.

He glanced at Perry, who turned to wait inside.

“Francine, he honestly believes that as long as your maidenhead is intact, he can still lay claim to you.”

The blood drained from her face. “What?”

“I’ve no idea how much you heard, but he truly believes that you belong to him. Even our betrothal has not—and will not—stop him.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her ragged nerves. “Well, being forced out of London should do the trick,” she said indignantly. “How is it that men believe they can own women?” she asked, straightening her spine and shifting her weight away from him. “I don’t see how any of this is logical. He is antiquated and ridiculous.” She looked out the doorway again as Gideon’s men walked up.

“I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this,” Gideon said.

She glanced at him, then turned from the entry to return to the ball, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Hours later, she walked around the entry hall with Gideon at her side, bidding farewell to the people she’d met and thanking them for attending. Gideon appreciated her diplomacy, marveling at what a wonderful and genuine person she was. She invited people to tea, she invited others to supper, and even more to the house party at the end of the summer. She gave a final wave and started up the stairs, but Gideon pulled her back into one final embrace. There didn’t seem to be any words needed between them.

She smiled and walked up the stairs to her room leaving Gideon in the foyer. She paused at the landing and caught his eye. She nodded at Perry and Shaw who stood next to him, then disappeared into the depths of the first floor balcony.

“That was quite an eventful evening, Your Grace,” Shaw said with a grin.

“Indeed, Rox, I haven’t had such an enjoyable time at a ball in years,” Perry added.

Gideon turned on the men, forcing them to back up a step, then he grinned broadly.

“Well, gentlemen, I do nothing in small measures, after all.” He shook their hands before they took their leave.

Gideon saw the last carriage roll away from the house and nodded to Sanders, who clapped his hands and called for the team of footmen and maids to begin the cleaning. Gideon took the stairs two at a time, went straight to his suite, and collapsed on the bed.

Gideon awoke the next morning more than slightly disgruntled. He thought for sure Francine would have been emboldened by their tryst in the garden, but perhaps the words of her former betrothed had stayed her. When he finally drifted off, his sleep was undisturbed. He rose and dressed for their morning ride, then found Francine in her borrowed riding clothes, already astride Delilah, patiently waiting.

He stopped short, thinking Sanders must be having a fit with Francine in front of Roxleigh House like this. He smiled as he pulled on his riding gloves, and she smiled back before taking off across the park. Samson bristled, his eyes wide, stamping his hoof impatiently as Gideon vaulted onto his back and gave chase.

Although she was a natural rider, she was still quite inexperienced. He didn’t want to tempt fate, so he held Samson carefully in check to avoid spooking Delilah.

They dodged around the park and he reveled in the way her strong laughter carried. She finally rested, leaning back in her saddle and walking the mare. When Gideon pulled Samson abreast of Delilah, Francine smiled coyly at him.

“I’ll be taking the sisters shopping this afternoon,” she said.

Gideon deliberated momentarily. He had become so accustomed to barking out orders and seeing them followed that interacting with Francine was oddly difficult. He knew, however, that she wouldn’t allow him leave to treat her commonly.

“All right,” he said slowly. He felt like he was being forced to relearn how to interact. “But I would appreciate it, for my sake, if you would take the carriage and outriders, considering the events of last night.”

She smiled; he breathed.

“Hepplewort must be miles from here by now. You and Trumbull were quite specific when you removed him, and so was I.”

“Yes. However, he didn’t seem convinced by the first meeting we had that he was to keep his distance, so I am not entirely sure that he’ll take heed this time.” He didn’t like the idea of Francine away from him with Hepplewort on the loose, but he didn’t see much choice. He hoped that Hepplewort was at his estate, taking the time to gather his wits and realize his errors. In the meantime, getting Francine safely married was of the utmost importance.

“I was hoping we could talk about the wedding,” he said.

She turned to him. “Thank you. For letting me take the sisters out.” She spoke as if she hadn’t heard him.

He laughed, considering there was nothing he could have said or done to stop their excursion. “Francine,” he said. “The wedding?”

“Well. What do you have in mind?”

He regarded her intently.
This has to be a trick
.
Doesn’t every female dream of planning their wedding?
He pulled Samson up, sitting straight in the saddle.
No, she wouldn’t, would she? For someone with her past, a wedding would be a sign of bondage and nothing more
. The realization saddened him and his voice lowered. “You agreed to marry me,” he said dejectedly.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because—because I love you.”

“Yes, and I you. But why do you want to be my
wife
?” he asked in a dishearteningly serious tone.

“I— I don’t know.” Francine turned away, not wanting to feel the emotions mirrored in his deep gaze. She hadn’t really thought about it.
Why is he asking this?
She urged Delilah forward. She’d never considered the subject of marriage beyond the obligatory ten-year plan. It was only another check on the list: graduate high school, check; finish college, check; get a good job, check.

Find a man,
she thought as she turned again, looking back at him.
Check
. She smiled.

“Every inch of me wants to be with you. I can feel you in my bones, within and without. My skin aches for your touch, when you are nearby and far away. I suppose
that
is why,” she said as she glanced down. She took a deep breath. “It is as if you are another layer of my soul, perhaps a missing part of the whole of me.”

He leaned forward in his saddle to hear her clearly, nudging Samson alongside Delilah. He’d never expected to find someone who wanted to marry him for no tangible reason. He’d believed that he’d be relegated to a loveless marriage with a blue-blooded chit who would bear him issue. Previously, his only desire for finding a wife centered on his need to have sons, just as his desire for physical intimacy would lead him to find a mistress, and any need he had for intelligent conversation would be appeased with a visit from his brother or business associates. How he’d come to believe that all these needs would be better served by one person was beyond comprehension for him. Except…that one person was Francine, and that was what made the difference.

“There is no reason for us not to be
together
,” she said, smiling without meeting his eyes.

“I agree. Indeed, I expected you to come to me last night after—well—last night.” He loosened the rein and leaned his elbows on the pommel.

She laughed and reached out, running her fingers through his inky black hair, pushing it back from his brow. “You’ve no idea how difficult it was for me to
not
come to you.”

“Why, then?” he asked, straightening in the saddle and forcing Samson to shift beneath him.

She placed her hand under his chin and searched his eyes. “I figured you deserved a respite from my rather indecent behavior,” she said in her best proper voice. She dropped her hand and slid from Delilah.

He jumped from Samson and ran to her, catching her up against him. “I want no such respite,” he said. “I want you. There is no way about it. Do not withhold yourself from me. Not ever. Do not assume anything about my wishes. If you are unsure of something, you have only to ask. Is that understood?”

“Yes.” He took her up, kissing her face fervently. “Gideon,” she groaned, then: “Gideon,” she said again, laughing.

She tried to turn her face away from his kisses. It struck her then that he had refused to—
What had he called it?
Ruin her. He’d refused to ruin her.

“Gideon,
I
am not the one who has been withholding.” She looked up at him from the shade of her long eyelashes, taunting him. He smiled and held her face in his hands.

“We are leaving on the morrow. We are going directly to Gretna Green, which isn’t far from Eildon. We will be married immediately, and then I am taking you home—for our wedding night.”

“Still so
proper
,” she said teasingly, though with a hint of disappointment. “If the issue is that I must be ruined, then be done with it. Ruin me, Gideon,” she pleaded in a throaty voice.

He groaned and gripped her shoulders as he studied her. “This isn’t something that can be done twice, Francine. I have waited and now want it to be perfect.”

“There is
no such thing
as perfect. Waiting for perfect is waiting forever,” she said, then tried to move away.

“I used to think that before I met you. But for you I want everything to be perfect. Because of you I understand all the fuss that women make over the wedding ceremony. And it is
for you
that I will endeavor to make that happen,” he said as he smoothed his hands down her back, causing a shiver to streak her spine.

“Perfection?” she asked breathlessly, staring at the full, soft lips that threatened her mastery.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Perfection.”