Nearly a Lady (17 page)

Gideon crouched down in front of her. “Here now, let me see.”

“’Tis nothing,” Bess said between gritted teeth. “Twisted my ankle, is all.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but let me see anyway.” Gideon gently brushed her hands away. Winnefred saw that his own hands were steady, and his voice was reassuring, but his face was pale . . . much too pale.

“Gideon, are you certain you’re unharmed?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t spare her so much as a glance; his attention was focused entirely on Bess. He inspected the ankle carefully, poking and prodding every inch of the injury. “Just a minor sprain,” he finally pronounced, and Winnefred could have sworn she saw the color flow back to his skin. “A very minor sprain. You should be back on your feet in a day, two at most.”

Bess nodded and adjusted her skirts. “Aye, my lord. The pain’s easing already.”

Winnefred blew out a hard breath of relief and took stock of their surroundings. The horses and carriage were still on the road and looked remarkably untouched, as if they’d simply come to a calm and steady stop and were merely awaiting their master’s order to start again.

“What the devil happened?”

Peter gestured at something behind her. She turned and saw a deep, wide rut stretched halfway across the road.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Peter offered to Gideon. “We were set to miss it, but Samson there threw a shoe, stumbled, and pulled right into it. There weren’t time to stop.”

Gideon stood and gave Peter a quick, hard pat on the shoulder. “There’s no blame in a thrown shoe. Let’s see how he fares.”

Winnefred peered over Gideon’s shoulder as he inspected the horse’s leg. “Is he injured?”

“No. Just has a bit of bruising, I suspect. Bad luck all around, eh, Samson? Free them of the harnesses please, Peter.” Gideon stepped back and looked to Bess. “Can you ride a horse?”

“No, my lord.”

He glanced at Peter, who nodded as he worked. “Aye. Well enough.”

“Good. You’ll take Bess back to the house on Odin, quick as you can.”

“Aye.”

“Miss Blythe and I will walk with Samson.”

Bess’s gaze shot from Peter to Gideon. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but Miss Ilestone is bound to have objections. It’ll be dark before you—”

“Miss Ilestone may lodge her complaints with me upon my return, and after she’s sent for a physician for you.”

“A physician? But it’s only—”

“No arguments.” Gideon finalized the command by walking away to help unhitch the far horse.

Bess stared after him, then sent Winnefred a pleading look. Winnefred shook her head. “You were thrown from a moving carriage, Bess. You’ll have to suffer being idle and spoiled for a few days.”

Bess leaned forward to whisper, “But a physician, miss? It isn’t necessary.”

She was inclined to agree, but since she wasn’t the one who would have to sit through the poking and prodding, it was easy for her to defend the idea. “Lord Gideon seems to think otherwise, and I trust his judgment.”

Bess kept her peace until the horses were freed and she was set before Peter on Odin. She made one last attempt to argue for all of them returning together, but Gideon effectively silenced her by giving the horse a quick swat on the hindquarters, sending it off at a brisk trot.

G
ideon exhaled slowly. Bess would be fine. Her ankle might ache for a time, but she would heal.

There had been a minute when he’d seen Bess on the ground that he had imagined the worst and had imagined himself responsible. A thousand recriminations had run through his mind. He shouldn’t have agreed to take Winnefred to the prison. He shouldn’t have agreed to take Bess along as well. He sure as hell should not have agreed to Bess riding up top.

His reaction was irrational and he knew it. Horses threw shoes. Carriages fell into potholes and ruts. The top of the carriage was made to ride on. He hadn’t even been the one driving, for pity’s sake. But he’d not been able to completely shake his doubts until he’d assessed Bess’s injuries for himself.

Winnefred stepped in his line of sight. “Are you all right, Gideon?”

He forced aside his uneasiness and smiled at her. “Well enough.”

“Is it your leg? Will the walk be too far?”

“I can manage a couple of miles.” His leg would pain him for it later, but that too could be managed.

“It’s only that, just now, you looked . . .”

He grinned at her. “Lost?”

“A bit, yes,” she replied with a smile of her own. “Shall I take you home?”

“I’d be grateful for it.”

He grabbed a lantern from the carriage, took hold of Samson’s lead, and set them off at a leisurely pace.

Gideon had always found long walks to be beneficial for clearing the mind, and with Winnefred for company, the trip to Murdoch House proved to be twice as effective in lifting his spirits. Every time he looked over at her, his mood improved, and so he told himself it was only sensible that he look over as often as possible.

She fit here, he thought. She looked natural strolling along a dusty road in the countryside, swinging her bonnet back and forth by the ribbons like a toy. She brushed at the strands of hair that had fallen from their pins, kicked idly at rocks until her hem and shoes were covered in red dirt, and pointed out plants and birds she recognized until the fields grew dim and silent.

“Where did you learn all that?” he inquired, stopping to light the lantern he’d taken from the carriage.

“From Lilly mostly. And a book we found in the attic.” She took the lantern from him. “We may not need this. There’s to be a full moon tonight.”

He took her by the shoulders, gently turned her about, and pointed to the horizon where the moon was just appearing as a fiery golden orb. “And there it is.”

“Oh, it’s enormous,” Winnefred breathed. “Like the sun rising all over again. Can one see the moon in London?”

He glanced at her in surprise. “Of course.”

“Lilly says the lamps in Mayfair make the stars less vibrant.”

“You can still see them,” he assured her. “And the moon, though not quite so well when it comes up like this.”

“I don’t mind.” She shrugged and turned to resume their walk. “The countryside ought to have its own charms. Although, I should be interested to see what the night sky looks like from Hyde Park.”

He considered that statement for a few minutes. “You do realize this sort of thing has to stop once we reach London?”

“Visiting prisons, do you mean?”

“Well, yes.” He pictured Winnefred in the bowels of Newgate. “Absolutely, yes. But I was referring to midnight strolls with gentlemen.”

She snorted at that, a small sound that was somehow both delicate and brash. “It’s eight o’clock at the latest.”

“It’s dark, and if you were seen, you’d be ruined.”

“And Lilly by association,” she grumbled. “It wouldn’t matter, I suppose, that we were stranded through no fault of our own.”

“No.”

“It’s very unfair.” She hopped over a rut in the road. “On the other hand, if it’s dark, how would anyone see?”

“The lamps,” he reminded her.

“Then it wouldn’t truly be dark, would it? It . . .” She trailed off as they topped a small rise and Murdoch House came into view. The light of the moon reflected off the stone, and candlelight flickered in the windows. The entire house appeared to glow.

Winnefred stopped and set down the lantern.

“Oh, isn’t it lovely. And mine, because of you.” She turned to face him and smile. “Thank you.”

Because she was there, because there was moonlight lighting her upturned face, and because he thought in that moment she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he bent his head and kissed her.

He managed, just for the time it took to lean down, to fool himself into thinking it would be a quick and simple thing. A harmless thing. But the second his lips met hers, the kiss became anything but simple and everything but harmless.

Her mouth began to move under his—with the innocence of an untutored girl at first, and then with the irresistible demand of an impatient woman, as if he was a new treat she’d only just discovered. One she was determined to devour in a single bite.

The effect was devastating. Desire, a smoldering ember only moments before, leapt into flame. He let go of Samson’s lead and cupped the back of Winnefred’s neck so he could bring her closer and slant his mouth across hers at the angle of his liking.

He had demands of his own.

He wanted to hear her sigh and feel her yield.

He drew his thumb along the underside of her jaw until he reached her chin. Gently, he pressed until she opened for him and he could slip his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth. She tasted like heaven—unbearably sweet, impossible to refuse.

She sighed for him then, a soft feminine sound that fanned the flame into an inferno. It seared through his belly and blistered his skin.

He was only vaguely aware of his own answering growl, of dropping his hand to band an arm around her waist and drag her hard against him. He felt the press of her soft breasts against his chest and the hot puff of her breath against his mouth. But it wasn’t enough.

He needed the scent of her around him, the taste of her inside him.

In his mind’s eye, he saw himself dragging off her gown and pulling her to the ground. He imagined her pale skin glowing in the moonlight and shivering with anticipation and helpless need in the cool night air.

He imagined taking his time with her, making her wait while he stroked the smooth, lovely length of her with his hands, while he laved the delicate skin of her breasts with his tongue and teased her nipples taut with his mouth and teeth. He imagined exploring every silken inch of her at his leisure and watching her shivers turn to trembling and her soft sighs to desperate moans. Then, when he’d had his fill of tormenting them both, when she was lost in the throes of passion, he would slip between her legs and bury himself in the wet heat of her.

He could see it all clearly.

Much, much too clearly.

 

W
innefred reveled in the kiss, in the delicious feeling of Gideon’s arm banded about her waist and his hard body bent over her own. His mouth moved over hers in rough demand, and she was lost in the foreign sensations of being overwhelmed and overpowered.

And then, suddenly, she wasn’t—not overpowered, not overwhelmed, and certainly not kissing. Gideon had pulled away abruptly. One moment he was kissing her senseless and the next moment they were standing a solid three feet apart.

She stared at him, stupefied. Had she done something wrong? Surely not. Surely kissing wasn’t that complicated a business. It was exhilarating and bewildering and had left her decidedly muddled. But it wasn’t something a person could fail at, was it?

Nervous, she licked swollen lips and tasted him on her tongue. “Gideon?”

“I apologize.” His voice was rough and his breathing ragged. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” The words came without thought, but she saw no reason to wish them back. It was only the truth.

Gideon made a pained sound in the back of his throat and retreated another step.

She couldn’t think of anything to say to that. She didn’t know what to make of it. Perhaps she
had
done something wrong. Something so terribly, terribly wrong that he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

“I’ve never kissed a man before,” she blurted out and this time, rather wished she could take the words back. She didn’t mean to sound so obviously unsure of herself.

Gideon didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he bowed his head, leaned heavily on his cane, and blew out several long breaths. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Winnefred, he lifted his face, squinted at her as if she’d been speaking in a foreign language, and said, “Beg your pardon?”

She gave a small, irritated sniff. “I just thought it was something you should consider before you backed into Samson.”

“I . . .” Gideon glanced behind him to where the lame horse was grazing at the side of the road. “I don’t follow.”

“Look at you.” She waved a hand to indicate how far away he was. “You’d not be running away, nor have pushed me away”—strictly speaking he’d pulled away, but she didn’t feel like making the distinction—“if I’d not done something incorrectly or—”

“No.” He took a large—and rather gratifying—step forward. “No. You’ve done
nothing
wrong. Nothing at all. Do you understand?”

That didn’t address why he’d been quick to retreat, but he was so adamant in her defense that she found herself nodding anyway.

Gideon looked caught somewhere between relieved and pained. “It is unconscionable for a gentleman to have taken advantage of a lady in such a manner. I have no excuse for it. I can only assure you it will never happen again.”