One Rogue Too Many (29 page)

“I’m trying not to hurt you,” she murmured, her nearly lavender eyes shimmering with sympathy.

Perhaps that was the problem. He’d never had a woman taking pains not to hurt him. He hissed when she gently swiped the handkerchief across his cut lip.

“Would you rather do this?”

“No,” he snapped, then cursed under his breath. He was being an arse. Before she could retreat, he captured her hand. “I haven’t let go of my anger over Thorne. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

Her face softened, causing his stomach to churn again. “It’s all right. I’m not offended.” He wanted to accept her tenderness as she intended, but the only time he’d ever been the recipient of a woman’s soothing touch was in bed. He wasn’t sure what to do with the urges her care was stirring up. Having her stand between his thighs wasn’t helping matters, either.

She dabbed at the rivulets of sticky blood that had dripped down his neck. Her dark hair was still damp and hung loosely around her shoulders. She looked sweet in the virginal nightrail that was too big for her. Yet, he couldn’t block from memory what was underneath the voluminous material or stop his cock from standing at attention. Her hips brushed against his inner thighs, sending shock waves through his body. She rattled him and threatened to shatter his fragile restraint.

He circled her wrist with his fingers. “Sit beside me. I promised answers and I can’t concentrate with your hands on me.”

Her breath hitched. “I didn’t realize…”

“I know.” Her kindness was not meant as a sexual gesture, but it didn’t temper his lust. He reached for her hair, savoring the softness as strands tangled around his fingers, then released it with a resigned sigh.

She climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged facing him. “It seems like you don’t want to talk about Annabelle.”

He didn’t. Admitting to his failures was humiliating.

“Why do you close off to me every time I ask about her?”

Flames licked up his neck and face. After her unequivocal faith in him a moment ago, he was ashamed to doubt her. “I don’t trust easily. Experience has proven it’s unwise, so I learned the only person I may count on is myself.”

She pursed her lips.

“Until now,” he amended, taking her hand. He had to have faith in Gabby too if there was any hope for them. “Thorne was correct about one thing, but he had the details wrong. Annabelle is illegitimate, but she isn’t the result of an affair with Miss Teague or any other woman of my acquaintance. Camilla was unfaithful to me.”

“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed. “Then Lord Thorne was correct about another thing. You lied to me at the Norwicks’ party.”

“In a sense.”

She tugged her hand from his hold and frowned.

Bollocks!
He was botching everything. “I don’t want to quibble over words. Yes, I lied about the circumstances of her birth, but Annabelle is mine. Legally, she belongs to me. She was born during my marriage, and I have laid claim to her. I’ll not punish a child for her mother’s doings, and I won’t send her away, no matter who is asking it of me.”

“Do you truly think that’s what I’d want? To send your daughter away?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his body and spirit weary. “I hope not, but when you said you would be bothered by the circumstances of her birth…”

“How would you like it if I told you
I
had a child out of wedlock?”

“I wouldn’t care for it in the least.”

“Well, neither did I,” she said with a toss of her head, “especially when I thought you still had feelings for the woman.”

He’d felt the same when he had discovered his wife’s affair. How hurt Gabby must have been when she’d thought Miss Teague was his mistress.

He captured her chin and stroked his thumb over her smooth skin. Her eyes lost their hard edge. Her cherry lips parted.

“I only have feelings for you, Gabrielle. That will never change.” He would never fail her or their marriage. “I had planned to share my daughter’s secret when I returned to London. I wanted you to know before we married. When I learned you were on the marriage mart, I wasn’t certain if we had a future anymore.”

“But you knew we would be married when you brought me north. You’ve had many opportunities to tell me today.”

“I should have told you, I know. I was wrong.”

Her lashes fluttered and she licked her lips. “You were no more wrong than I was for seeking answers from Lord Thorne. We could spend all night tallying our mistakes, or we could agree to forgive each other.”

He smiled softly. “Agreed.”

She reached for his hand, placed a kiss on his palm, and then laced their fingers together. “Tell me what happened with your wife.”

He took a deep breath. It was likely best to stick to the facts. “When I married Camilla, I had no idea she was in love with another man. He was a servant in her father’s home, a footman. Obviously, Camilla couldn’t marry him, but that didn’t stop them from becoming lovers. Nor did marriage interfere with their amorous sport.”

Gabby’s eyes expanded, but thankfully, she didn’t say anything. It was humiliating enough to admit he couldn’t please his wife. He couldn’t take Gabby’s pity, too.

What a dimwit he had been employing James Teague at his wife’s request. But Anthony had wanted to please her, just as he’d tried to please his mother when she was alive. He’d entered marriage in good faith and had intended to be a first-rate husband. The memory of his gullibility was similar to a kick in the head. He rubbed his forehead to ease his mental pain.

“When Camilla told me she was with child, I viewed it as a new start. Ellis Hall was going to become a home again, like it was before Father and Byron died. No more covered windows or tiptoeing through the corridors. We would have house parties like your parents, and children’s laughter would fill every room. Perhaps we would get a dog or two.”

Even now his heart ached for his fantasy, as silly as it was. He didn’t see how everything would ever be as he had imagined, especially when his daughter trembled anytime he came near.

Gabby squeezed his hand, bringing him into the present. “
I
like dogs.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her kind reminder that she was part of his future now. Perhaps there was still hope for his dreams. “What kind of dog do you like?”

“Anything fluffy that I can spoil.”

“Not a useful breed that can earn its keep? I was considering a sheepdog.”

She shrugged, a wide smile on her pretty lips. “A sheepdog is fluffy.”

He chuckled. “I don’t deserve you, Lady Bug.”

“You didn’t deserve that horrible woman you married, and if I may be frank, I was never very impressed with your mother, either.”

“You’re a welcome change.” He pulled her into his arms, realizing how true his statement was. He couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect to share his life.

She circled her arms around his waist and buried her face against his shirt. “I take it the footman sired Annabelle?”

“Yes,” he said on a sigh. “Camilla went missing weeks before she was to give birth, along with her lover. One of the other servants came forward and shared her suspicions about my wife’s involvement with the help.

“I was convinced Annabelle was mine, and that Camilla’s affair began after she was with child. I’ve never been so furious with another person. An investigator eventually tracked them to Wales, but it took a year.” The worst year of his life. “Only when I arrived in Crickhowell did I learn Camilla had died in childbirth. Her lover had fled, leaving Annabelle with his sister.”

Gabby lifted her face. “Miss Teague?”

He nodded. “The poor woman didn’t know who Annabelle’s mother was. Her brother arrived with an infant bearing the same shocking red hair inherent to their family, and left the babe in her care. The first time I met my daughter, she was already crawling. Miss Teague was the only mother Annabelle had ever known. I couldn’t bring myself to tear them apart, even though I wanted my daughter home with me. Instead, I chose to provide for her and visited as often as I could, but I fear it wasn’t enough. My daughter barely knows me.”

“I’m so sorry I doubted you, Anthony.” Gabby gently touched his bruised cheek, her beautiful gray eyes filled with remorse and compassion.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I should have been honest from the start about Annabelle, but I never anticipated people believing Miss Teague is my mistress…” He released her and blew out a forceful breath. “I’m sorry too, Gabby. I knew there would be a scandal when I took you from London, but this is worse than I imagined. My failure with Camilla shouldn’t reflect on you.”

“Your wife failed
you
, and I don’t wish to hear another word of this nonsense. We’ll face any scandals together.” She sat up straighter. “You know, I rather like the idea of being known as the Notorious Countess of Ellis.”

“Notorious?” He laughed, grateful to have this beautiful, generous, and rather dotty woman in his life. “And just what kind of notorious do you intend to be?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know. The interesting kind, I suppose. Much like Lady Norwick. Ladies with sterling reputations pale next to her. No one can accuse her of being dull.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You could never be dull either.”

Her gaze dropped and a pink blush stained her cheeks. “Anthony, people are going to talk about us for more than one reason. Everyone is going to think we have… Well, I think you know what people will believe.”

One more scandal heaped upon her shoulders. He really should be flogged for being this selfish.

“It seems unfair to be accused of something we didn’t do.” She adjusted her weight to her knees so she was kneeling on the bed. Her hesitant fingers moved to his stained cravat. She nibbled her bottom lip and glanced up at him shyly. “If we are already judged guilty, we should at least enjoy the deed. Don’t you agree?”

Damn, but he was tired of fighting temptation. He tugged her against his chest. Her cry of surprise turned to a soft moan as his mouth covered hers. Plump, moist, and sweet, her lips intensified his hunger. Unleashed at last, lust surged through his veins. Pounding echoed in his ears and invaded his cock.

He tangled his fingers in her damp hair and angled her mouth where he could taste her fully. He was driven to taste her everywhere, but he couldn’t tear his mouth from hers. Not yet.

Her tongue twined with his, beckoning. He wanted to be inside her, to possess her body, heart, and mind as she did him. She’d had him tied in knots, hopelessly bound to her for so long. And yet she had been beyond his reach until now.

She gripped his cravat, urging him closer, but he resisted. A small protest was on her lips. He kissed it away.

“Untie my cravat.” His voice sounded rough.

Her hands shook as she fumbled with the knot; her stormy gray eyes flicked to his face.

Grasping handfuls of her nightrail, he eased the hem over her legs, his fingers forging a path along the silky skin of her inner thigh. His knuckles brushed against her curls, and she sucked in a breath.

He glanced up to gauge her reaction. Her bottom lip trembled and she captured it between her white teeth. He kissed the corner of her mouth. “We don’t have to do this.” Next, he kissed the other corner.

She melted on an exhale, her head rolling back. He accepted the invitation to nibble down the column of her neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her collarbone when he reached journey’s end.

“I want to,” she whispered and arched into his hand as it covered her breast.

The intermittent quaking of her limbs hinted that she might be conflicted about her decision.

“Are you frightened?”

“A little.”

He smiled against her neck. Her honesty showed how much she trusted him, and strengthened his resolve to deserve her trust.

“We may stop at any time.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, but
any
time might be a stretch. Still, he would do his best.

“I won’t stop you. I don’t want to.” She finished untying his cravat and slid it from his neck. “What would you have me do next?”

He removed his shirt and grinned. “Let’s remove your nightrail.”

***

Gabby’s heart battered her ribs until she was certain her insides would be bruised. Anthony peeled her nightrail over her head, then drew back slowly. A soft light shone in his eyes. Pleasant warmth enveloped her as his blue gaze slid leisurely over her curves. Had she not seen herself in the looking glass earlier, she might have been embarrassed. Instead, the memory of her body being revealed inch by inch and his hands touching her caused a sudden pull between her legs.

Anthony kicked off his boots and stood to drop his trousers. Her breath caught at the sight of him naked. Yes, she’d seen marble statues of nudes and several paintings, but nothing had prepared her for
this
flesh-and-blood male form. Muscles shifted beneath warm skin as he laid her back on the bed and kissed her. The sweet scent of ale lingered on his breath, the aroma heady.

He nudged her thighs apart and settled between her legs.

Ceasing his lovely assault on her mouth, he eased back, his weight resting on his elbows. Candlelight shimmered in his eyes. He swept a lock of hair from her face before touching his lips to her forehead.

“Gabrielle Forest, I take you as my wife. I pledge my faithfulness and love for all time. I promise to protect your heart until my last breath and ask—” His voice broke, and he looked away as if embarrassed. “I ask that you take care with mine, too.”

His vulnerability brought her tears. Opening himself up to rejection pained him, but he had nothing to fear from her. Her fingers splayed upon his chest, the light sprinkle of blond hair soft beneath her palms. His heart beat steady and constant against her hand as if she truly held this tender part of him. “Your heart is safe with me always.”

His smile reached his eyes, and he captured her mouth again, nipping and licking until she parted her lips and welcomed the sweep of his tongue. His kiss was loving, but a driving urgency lurked in the shadows. Sensing his barely restrained desire lit a fire in her belly. The flames fanned upward into her chest; her breath turned heated and fast.