A Forbidden Love (26 page)

He grinned down at her, his fingers cupping her chin. “You can look at the rest of me, too,” he said in a teasing manner. And when her hesitant eyes did just as he suggested, and combed over his frame in a long and curious assessment, stirring the heat in his groin, he added in a more critical tone, “And you can touch any part of me that you desire.”

Her lingering gaze snapped up to connect with his eyes. His whispered words brought another disconcerting flush to her cheeks, telling him she had been thinking of doing that very thing.

His lips brushed hers lightly. “Really,” he said gruffly, “I won’t mind if your hands roam all over me.”

“I believe you,” she was quick to respond, albeit a little dryly, and he chuckled softly at her terse tone. But it was no great secret to her that he adored the pleasures of a woman.

He turned around to retrieve his trousers yet again, slipping into them, giving her the gained security of his covered torso which she so obviously needed.

What a capricious creature she was. So candid and willful, even violent at times, and so frightened and meek when it came to the pleasures of the body. A true bashful maid in the one sense, though she had none of the other timid qualities of a genteel bred miss. He liked that about her. And if she consented to being his mistress, he intended to do away with her penchant for blushing at all things lustful.

They both busied themselves getting dressed.

When they were in a state of near-decent attire, Sabrina ventured to ask, “What are you going to do about the locket?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid.” He sat down to pull on one of his leather riding boots. “I can’t make any sense of the address we found in it, so I’ll have to resort to another means of investigation.”

“Such as?”

“I’m going back to see Gillingham.”

Fumbling with the last button of her blouse, she froze upon hearing his confession. “Alone?”

“Did you expect to come along?”

Her eyes narrowed sharply on him. “I expect you to be careful.”

“I intend to be.”

“Then why go to Gillingham?”

He pulled on his other boot. “I have to learn more about the man. How else am I to understand why he’s chasing after you?”

“But he’s not chasing me,” she pointed out with some unease. “He’s chasing after the locket.”

“Yes, but he thinks
you
have the locket, and he’s determined to get you both.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Gillingham isn’t a man to be crossed injudiciously.” He stood up and fastened his green vest over his crisp white shirt. “If he believes he’s been wronged, he will seek vengeance. And he likely believes
you’ve
wronged him by stealing the locket.”

“But I found it!” she objected hastily and struggled to put on her own boots.

“I know that, but Gillingham does not. He’s still looking for you
and
the locket. And I have to find out why.”

“What are you going to do, ask him?”

He smiled at her dry wit. “Nothing quite so forward, I assure you.”

Anthony headed for the door. But he never reached it, his path blocked by one very determined-looking gypsy.

A finger poked into his chest. “You’re not leaving this room.”

He arched an intrigued golden brow. He realized she thought he’d meant to leave and see Gillingham this very instant, but that hadn’t been his intent. Having arrived home late the other night, he’d missed the opportunity to announce his return to the staff. He was about to rectify that, when the striking face staring up at him, glowing with a mixture of alarm and anger, changed his mind.

“I’m not leaving, am I?” he inquired coyly, playing into her misconnection.

She shoved him back a few paces. “No, you’re not.”

He stepped forward again. “Really?”

“Really,” she reiterated tightly, her palms smacking flat against his chest. “You’re not going anywhere ’til you tell me what you intend to do with Gillingham.”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “And just how do you intend to stop me from leaving?”

She pushed hard on his chest. He grabbed her wrists and crossed her hands behind her back, dragging her snuggly up against his chest. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Fire sparked in her cobalt blue eyes. She clenched her teeth and grit out, “Fine.” In one swift movement, she wedged her foot behind his ankle and twisted her body so her shoulder jabbed him in the chest, shoving him back toward the bed.

He lost his balance at the unanticipated assault and went crashing down to the mattress, bringing a struggling Sabrina along with him.

She gave a shriek of surprise as they both landed on the feathered comforter, and Anthony let out a deep and rumbling laugh. “Now
this
will definitely detain me from an encounter with Gillingham.”

She wriggled on top of him. “Let me go, Anthony.”

He gave her a wolfish grin. “I’d rather not.”

“Anthony!”

With a disappointed sigh, he released her, and she scrambled back to her feet, her eyes as inclement as ever. “Now tell me what you intend to do.”

“I intend to inform my staff that I’m home.” He lazily got up off the bed. “I’m not going to see Gillingham at this very moment, though your concern for me is touching,” he added with a wink.

Her lips pursed in obvious annoyance of his trickery, but before she could assuage herself of that annoyance with some cutting remark, he quickly instructed, “Now wait in here for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He reached the door in three long strides and looked over his shoulder. “And remember to—”

“Lock the door behind you,” she cut in succinctly, her arms crossed under her breasts in a magnificent display of pique. “Yes, I know the routine.”

He gave her another smile and then dashed from the room.

But Anthony was prepared to dash right back up into his room when he reached the bottom of the staircase and heard the squabbling voices coming from the main hall.

“I demand to see him this instant,” rattled a familiar female voice.

“But your ladyship,” was heard the earnest entreat of his butler, “Lord Hastings isn’t here.”

“Rubbish. He’s hiding from me. I know it. And I won’t stand for it a moment longer.”

A patter of hasty footsteps approached.

Anthony wavered, considering his options: to take the staircase again or to confront the wrath of one very cantankerous female. He made the indecorous decision to mount the steps. He couldn’t deal with the irascible woman just yet. He had so many other duties to attend.

But alas, his escape was belatedly orchestrated. He wasn’t even halfway up the stairs when the incisive remark arrested him to the spot. “Going somewhere, Lord Hastings?”

Apparently not. He turned around and flashed his sister a placating smile. “Good morning, Ashley.”

“It’s anything but a good morning,” she clipped out.

“Lord Hastings!” The butler sounded alarmed. “You’re home. I would never have attempted to bar her ladyship entrance had I known—”

“It’s quite all right, Dobbs,” drawled a dispassionate Anthony, as he made his way back down the steps. “I returned late last night. Please inform the rest of the staff that I have arrived.”

“Very good, my lord.”

With a curt nod, Anthony dismissed the servant, and then advanced toward his sister, pausing just short of her arms’ reach, for the woman looked ready to clobber him.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” came the biting reproof.

“Not out here, Ash,” he warned in a low voice, and risked that clobbering by cupping her elbow and escorting her into the nearby study.

She didn’t clout him, but once safely ensconced inside the room, she let loose her tirade.

“I’ve come to demand an accounting from you, Anthony.”

“Yes, I would imagine so.”

“How can you sound so blasé?” she dropped her reticule and parasol onto his desk so her hands were free to brandish in his face. “Do you realize what you’ve done? And after all that ranting and raving about duty. I just
knew
you couldn’t resist the gypsy.”

So the slighted Marchioness Livingston had had her revenge, he thought with scorn. “How did you hear?”

“From Lady Flemming, who’d heard it from Lady Camelford, who’d heard it from—”

“Yes, yes, I have the picture,” he interrupted dryly. “The tale’s gone round the
ton
.”

“How could you do this to Cecelia? How could you tarnish her début in such a vile manner? Rumors are flying of your latest torrid affair with some unseemly wench.”

Unseemly! He scoffed. Anthony headed over to the window to survey the morning traffic parading by.

His sister resumed her rant. “Gossip dictates you were so enamored by some peasant girl, that you stalked off the middle of the dance floor for a tussle. Cecelia is livid. She won’t have you come near the townhouse.”

“Well, perhaps this whole fiasco has a bright side to it after all,” he drawled.

Ashley gasped. “If you disgraced your own sister just to get out of your obligation—”

“Don’t be absurd,” he chastised and turned away from the window, locking his hands behind his rigid back. “What’s done is done. But I had no intention of ruining Cecelia’s evening.”

“Your intention is irrelevant. Cecelia’s perfectly planned evening had a blemish. And that blemish is the talk of the
ton
rather than her ball.”

He let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “I’ll make it up to Cecelia.”

“How?”

“I’ll buy her a piece of jewelry.”

“A trinket will hardly make amends for the girl’s disastrous début.”

“Then I’ll make sure to give her sapphires or diamonds,” he said in exasperation. “That should nicely exonerate me.”

“
Why
did you do it in the first place?”

“I didn’t
do
anything,” he countered sharply.

She scoffed. “You wouldn’t have gone into hiding if you truly believed you’d done nothing wrong.”

“I wasn’t hiding, damn it!” he snapped, both in guilt and frustration. “I had to escort Sabrina home, remember?” Though he purposefully failed to mention that his gypsy was again securely locked away in his bedchamber. He could just imagine his twin sister’s reaction to that tidbit of news.

“I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off the gypsy,” she rebuked. “And after all the mortification I went through to try and avert this very fiasco.”

At her unexpected revelation, his voice dropped a notch, his eyes narrowing with intent. “What mortification?”

“Oh, never mind.”

Her sudden sheepish look had him demanding in a dire tone, “Out with it, Ash.”

“Well, I had no other choice,” she was quick to defend herself. “I had to try to avoid a scandal.”

“Just what did you do?”

“Nothing too distasteful. I only cautioned the gypsy to keep her wits about her.” Then, in disapproval, “Every other woman tends to lose hers when around you.”

His guilt vanished as his anger simmered. “You
what
?”

“You didn’t leave me much choice,” she insisted, flustered.

“And how is that?”

“You have a disreputable nature. There was no point in confronting
you
about the essence of propriety. But I had to say something to the girl. I couldn’t very well have it known that Lord Hastings diddles his time away with a gypsy!”

“I trusted you,” he said, and not without a hint of hurt in his voice at his sister’s betrayal of confidence. He thought back to the time when Ashley had watched over his gypsy while he’d dined with the rest of the family. He remembered returning to his room and finding Sabrina mute and apprehensive. He remembered thinking how odd it was that she still considered him a threat after all he’d done for her.

But now he understood the girl’s timid disposition. She had spent her time with Ashley, listening to heaps of ghastly tales concerning his character. She had been censured and warned to keep her gypsy hands off him. Was it a wonder she’d been rendered speechless by the time he’d come back into the room?

“You can still trust me,” Ashley insisted defiantly. “I did what I thought was best.”

“You made me look like a liar,” he said in a tight voice. “I’d promised Sabrina she would be safe with you and you attacked her the moment I left the room.”

“I would hardly call a prudent caution an attack. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? The whole of London is whispering about your little tryst the night of your sister’s début ball, so my advice to the gypsy obviously went unheeded.”

He stiffened. “I’ll have you know I never bedded Sabrina the night of the ball.”

Too angry with his sister’s perfidy, he hadn’t realized how awkward his assertion sounded, implying he had bedded Sabrina on some other night instead. But, thankfully, Ashley was too wound up to notice his little faux pas.

She pressed on with her complaint. “Oh, what difference does that triviality make? The whole of London
thinks
you bedded a peasant on the night of the ball. And now we have to salvage this season for Cecelia.”