Passion (30 page)

“Yes. I am merely saying, consider his pride
before your own this time. And consider her position, too.”

“Very well.”

Raith turned to pick up his coat and Jules
murmured, “You did this, came here, for Gabriella.”

“Yes.’ Raith looked at him. “But also for
you. Aside from being brothers, you saved my life. For a few
moments, I hated you for that. Nevertheless, once I realized I was
no longer haunted, I could think clearer. You have always been the
one to do things right, Jules. You cared more about that, than any
of us. Even when it appeared, you had sold yourself for this world
of bloodlines and titles and having that flawless rep, you cared
enough for father, to try to fulfill his wish. I do not know that
you would have gone on and wed Lady Caroline. I had no clue you had
something with Harry, but I assumed you would do as expected.

Now you know Lady Caroline is as human as you
are. As we all are. Blaise probably is—in love with her. You have
the chance to stop lying to yourself too and running from feelings.
You’ve the chance to do something, because you know the lady
cannot, and Blaise won’t.”

Raith turned and walked out, having said what
he came to say. As he put on his coat and went out, he heard Jules
call from the top of the stairs.

“Someone trusts you to do the right thing
too, brother. Someone, knows you’re a man who will take care of
what needs done.”

Raith nodded and left, though as he strolled
he did begin to see what Gabriella sending him that note meant.
When they last parted, he had no relationship with his family, and
felt no obligation to them. Now she had people in her life, blood
kin, as he did, and it was uncanny that she knew, simply knew, he
had crossed all those bridges and was forming a relationship with
his father and brother too.

When he arrived home, he wrote his own note
and had it delivered to Gabriella.

* * * *

Those closest in the Duke’s circle arrived at
the birthday ball first, so there were crowds enjoying the music,
mingling and such in the mansion long before the official hour.

Gabriella had dressed early in her new ball
gown, wearing her hair up with gold combs that his Grace presented
her with. She let Caroline take center stage, and her father.
Though eyed often and suffering raised brows, her mind was on her
presence mattering to her father more. Still, she held herself
aloof and kept herself back from the main guests.

She observed the Duke of Eastland, and the
Earl of Stoneleigh’s arrival, with two other males. Raith was there
too. His hair had been cut and much of it had silver shimmering in
it. The straight stuff grazed just at his strong jaw, looking as if
he had made attempts to keep it tucked behind his ears. Still, it
enhanced his patrician bones, even if they were on the fierce side,
his sooty lashes, raven brows…dark, polished black eyes, and
stirred emotions in her. He would always be unique, she
decided.

Tall and broad shouldered, even having to
lean a bit on a silver cane, the cut of his thigh length jacket was
different from the formal clothing on other men—black, but having a
hint of silver in the thread. His neck cloth was not the snowy
white most seen, it was simply tied and purplish silver.

What stood out was his sinew, the fierce
handsomeness, compared to his brother Jules’s princely beauty. And,
perhaps, because she knew him….knew what the aura of remoteness
was. That darkness gave him a mature and older than his year’s air
of mystery.

She remembered from her youngest years with
him how drawn to it, to him, she was and Gabriella felt all the
feelings rushing back, only stronger. She thought of his note
begging a private word with her, and could hardly keep her heart
from beating out of her chest.

He was taking a drink from the wine glass he
had held by the bulb in his long fingers when his dark eyes moved
across the room. They found hers, held, and Gabriella felt an
invisible pull, a physical current inside of her sparking
everything to life. Skin, heart, blood, senses all quickened.

Raith lowered the glass, swallowed, stared as
if experiencing the same out of place and time sensation she felt.
His tongue licked his sensual mouth. Dark eyes were shielded by the
half-mast of his lashes.

It was such a familiar action, her own mouth
pulled into a hint of smile.

However, when his lashes lifted, those pitch
eyes held an unmistakable beckoning.

She found herself making her way toward him,
wanting to run instead of the graceful steps she took.

* * * *

Caroline’s knees shook. Her lungs became
starved for air whilst she watched the Captain approach. Oh. God.
Oh—Please. A sickening sensation filled her. She trembled and felt
hot and cold at the same time. She seriously feared she might
faint, right there in a ballroom full of people.

He reached Jules first, as Stoneleigh stood
beside her, having arrived early to host.

Despite her tilting world, she noticed how
very handsome Blaise looked in formal clothing. His hair had grown
into waves of beautiful oak brown, and the glasses he wore were a
light blue tint, showing more of the shape of his eyes. His formal
attire was a deep bronze, with suede, thigh length coat—snug bronze
trousers, wine boots, and a silk shirt. His neck cloth had the
merest hint of amber stripe in it, reminding her that his eyes were
very light brown.

Throat closing, she was near to swaying as he
spoke to Jules, and all too soon—Jules turned to her and began the
introductions….

In some surreal moment, Blaise took her hand,
leaned over it, his lips touching her amber glove. She managed a
faint, “Captain LeClair.”

The expression on Blaise’s face when he
straightened told her everything. Yes, she had accepted he would
know her, the perfume, and the nuances of her voice. He did know
her.

His fingers almost painfully tight on her
own, Caroline felt that wave go over her, felt the start of a faint
coming on while watching his mouth shape the words, anger in his
expression when he uttered to Jules—clear enough for those around
to hear, “Well brother, we have at least one mutual acquaintance.
Should you announce your betrothal tonight, I can vouch that Lady
Caroline will keep your sheets hot, if nothing else…”

“Captain!” Bordwyc barked.

“Blaise, please!” Caroline begged faintly,
face red, mortified and having her hand dropped abruptly.

But as Jules was about to add something,
Blaise finished with a twisted sneer, “I regret I’ve taken her
virtue, so you may want to wait a few weeks before—“

Caroline slapped him. She summoned the
strength from somewhere and slapped him hard before gathering her
skirts and dashing off.

The blow knocked his glasses off.

Jules picked them up and handed them to him.
He tried to take Blaise’s arm, to lead him out of the room, though
Blaise showed every intention of leaving via the front door.

“In the study. Now!” It was the Duke, Bordwyc
who ignored Jules and spoke directly to Blaise. “I don’t care how
blind you are, you sonofabitch! You will explain yourself.”

As Blaise nodded abrupt, glasses on, face
nothing but rigid sinew, Jules insisted, “It’s not as bad as you
think, brother.” Moreover, walked with him, through the sea of
shocked guests.

Coulborne muttered rather too mild for the
occasion, to Ry, “Do something with the guests.”, then, followed
behind the others.

So that gent with the eye patch introduced
himself to Gabriella first, and then gave her a flirting wink,
before he went among the guests—telling some amusing story before
knocking back a brandy. He said next, “If you’re a friend of the
family, stick around. If not, leave. Nothing afoot, but a bit of
romance and rivalry. Isn’t that what makes the world go round?”

Watching him while debating going after
Caroline, and standing near Raith, Gabriella commented, amused, “I
like him.”

“He’s a cousin. Been living with Blaise.”

She glanced at Raith. “I thought Stoneleigh
would perhaps tell him before…”

“So did I.” He shrugged. His dark gaze went
over her face. Guests were shifting. Most were leaving though a few
of the men Bordwyc had known for years hung around talking to
Ry.

The music only started back up after the
sound of raised voices echoed from the study at the back of the
house. It sounded like all the men were arguing and shouting at
once.

“You look very…healthy and handsome.”

Raith nodded slightly. “You look…more lovely
than I could remember in my mind’s eye. But then…I have only lately
been able to see both the past and present clearly. You were always
beautiful.”

He had never said that to her before. Her
throat closed and her body flushed. “I must go to Caroline.”

Raith nodded again, his gaze holding
hers.

She found herself saying albeit breathless,
“Don’t leave.”

* * * *

Gabriella found Caroline in her rooms. One
look at the wild-eyed French maid and the scattering of hair pens,
the ball gown Caroline chose so carefully tossed on the floor—and
Gabriella shooed the maid out.

Caroline was not on the bed. She was in a
chemise and robe—the French maid obviously having found her a
bottle of whiskey and poured some in a cup. Her half-sister stood
by open windows, curls tumbling down, face flushed, drinking—and
after a grimace and shudder, cursing impressively.

Gabriella was much struck by the image under
all the polish and poise. For once, she saw a real woman—a willowy
built, feminine woman, true. One with wildly flowing strawberry
hair and flushed skin. One who when she turned and spied her, had
fiery passion in her eyes.

“I hate men,” Caroline rasped that over the
whiskey burn. She took the last drink and turned to Gabriella after
thumping the glass down. “Help me find something to wear.”

Curious, Gabriella asked, “Are you going
somewhere?”

“Yes.” Caroline waved her hand. “No use
checking my wardrobe, there’s nothing in there appropriate." she
laughed. “Not only am I not a virgin anymore, I’m also not the
daughter my father thought, or the paragon Jules expected me to be.
Nor the….”

“—
The Captain doesn’t know.
He was humiliated and hurt…”

“Yes. I know,” Caroline bit out. “So he had
to humiliate me. Fine. Fine.” She threw off the robe and walked in
her chemise to the seating area. “I’d imagine they are all down
there—and he is telling father and Stoneleigh all the details…”
Caroline stopped and held her stomach in a nauseated gesture.

Gabriella went to her and hugged her. Holding
her a moment, feeling the heat, the cold, and the tremble in her,
she murmured, “You’re brave, Caroline. You saw love and went after
it. You felt passion and fought to hold onto it. You have nothing
to apologize for. This circumstance is because the world, the duke,
Stoneleigh, and yourself— live in—make it impossible for any human
to have what all of us need to survive, what we deserve to
feel.”

Standing back, she cupped Caroline’s face and
held her gaze. “Yes. We are going to find you something to wear.
you are going to comb your hair, knock back another drink if you
need to—but you are going to go and face them all, and not
apologize for loving and wanting your Captain. He knows enough
about this world to know why—and if he doesn’t want you, your love,
then he’s truly blind.”

“Stoneleigh…”

“—
The Earl can take care of
himself.”

Gabriella led her to the wardrobe and after
taking down an ice blue gown and helping her sister in it. They
combed Caroline’s hair and merely drew the front back softly with
combs, letting the rest fall over Caroline’s smooth, bare
shoulders.

Standing in front of the mirror, behind her,
Gabriella met her gaze. “Do you want a life of passion or one of
pretense? It is as simple as that. Is he worth fighting for?”

Caroline’s light blue eyes were clear.
“Passion—yes. I don’t want to…No, I can’t let him go.”

Stepping back, Gabriella smiled before she
poured one more shot and handed it to her. After Caroline drank she
said, “Go. It is you and your life they are discussing. To bloody
hell with being biddable and letting people assume. You go tell
them what you want.”

Caroline hugged her before leaving, a more
firm hug from a woman who looked determined, and yes, passionate in
her emotions.

Walking the last of the stairs later,
Gabriella stepped onto the lower hall and saw Raith was there, half
seated on a ledge in the alcove.

Her hand still on the mewl post, she could
see when his dark eyes regarded her.

He held his hand out. She walked that
distance scarcely breathing. Their hands clasped seconds before he
pulled her to stand between his legs.

Gabriella felt her breath leave. Her hand was
freed moments before he had his arms around her waist, his face
pressed against her ribs for moments, before his cheek rested
there.

Eyes stinging, her fingers hovered above his
head, then she cupped it, holding him to her like that, aware that
he could feel the race of her heart but conscious of how tightly he
held onto her, how the old Raith—never would have done so.

They were that way for endless moments. When
he pressed his mouth there, just under her breasts, kissing through
the silk of her gown, she felt and heard the shudder in him, her
fingers sliding through his hair both comforting and keeping him
close.

His head lifted, arms shifting to pull her so
that she sat on his thigh…

“Your leg…”

He brushed his mouth over her ear, then the
side of her neck. His arms tightened their hold on her. “Is
healed.” Raith skimmed his mouth across her cheek, one hand coming
to tuck her face against his neck a moment.