Rules for Reforming a Rake (16 page)

She smiled at him, her eyes aglow with hope and confusion. “I think I must be wicked. I should be appalled, horrified, but I’m not a bit sorry we shared another kiss.”

He let out a long, weary sigh and ran his hand along her silky curls. “Daisy Farthingale, you complicate my life.”

He didn’t want her... no, that wasn’t quite right. He wanted her, but not in any respectable way, for he didn’t dare to think beyond tomorrow. He wanted her body without the responsibility of courtship. He wouldn’t act upon it, though. He had yet to sink that low, to destroy her future because he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

Her smile deepened the dimples in her cheeks. “I’m glad that I’m a complication for you,” she said, her dewy-eyed gaze never wavering.

“Don’t be. I’ll only end up hurting you.”

She pulled away slightly and turned to gaze at the flames leaping in the fireplace. “Is that what you think?”

“I know it for a fact, Daisy. That’s what I do. I seduce women and then break their hearts.” They had no possible future together. How could they when England was once more about to be thrown into war and he was likely to be in the vanguard?

Even if he wanted to make her promises—which he didn’t—but even if he did, he couldn’t. There were no guarantees he’d return safely.

No, that wasn’t quite right. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d return in anything other than a wooden box.

***

Daisy knew she was as much to blame for ignoring her own resolve to keep her distance from Gabriel. She’d allowed him to kiss her, saying
yes, take me
with her heart and her eyes, practically begging him. Goodness, she’d been quite swept away by this rogue.

Yet she also understood that Gabriel was not completely immune to her charms. She had affected him to some small degree and was glad of it. “Why did you kiss me so desperately just now?” she asked, returning her gaze to his.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Did I?”

“The way you held me, as though you were sinking into a boggy moor and needed me to pull you safely back to solid ground. There’s a darkness about you tonight, perhaps it’s always been there. Is that dark torment what compels you to follow your dissolute path?” She reached up and gently touched a finger to the red puckered scar at his chin, only to feel him tremble as she lingered there. “How did you get this one?”

“Jealous husband.”

She trailed her finger along his neck and down his chest, resting her hand gently against his heart. To her disappointment, it was beating in a slow, steady rhythm. Hers was pounding wildly and with as much discipline as that of a rabbit just escaped from a farmer’s shotgun. “What about the one above your eye?”

“Jealous mistress.”

She regarded him thoughtfully. “I wonder what the rules say about a rake and his scars.”

“That damned book,” he muttered. “It probably warns never to stroke your fingers delicately along them, or to look at a rake’s scars as though you want to kiss them and make them better. It probably says that you ought to run as fast as you can from a rake before lust gets the better of him and he does something really stupid.”

“Such as kiss me? You’ve already done that.” She sighed. “Your visible scars have healed, but they’re mere physical wounds and easily repaired. It’s your other wounds, the hidden rips and tears to your heart, that are causing you pain. They lie concealed from view, raw and festering beneath your polished surface.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice gruff and suddenly filled with disdain.

“Oh, but I do.” She’d just felt his heart skip a beat, and every sinew in his body had tensed. That response was tantamount to a volcanic eruption from a man determined to suppress his feelings. She didn’t understand why he needed to distance himself from his family, to disdain commitment and marriage for the sake of pursuing a life of empty pleasures.

“How did you get this scar?” she asked again, touching the one that ran along the corner of his eye. “The truth this time.”

“Brawling in a seedy alehouse.” He took her firmly by the shoulders. She saw that he was struggling to restrain his temper, to keep from shaking her as though she were a dusty mop. Finally, he gave in to exasperation and released her. “Daisy, what’s your game?”

“I don’t have one. You’re the one who’s good at playing games. Why do you pretend to be a sot and a coward? Don’t bother to deny it. I know it’s all a pretense.”

“You’re wrong.” His tawny gaze seemed to bore straight through her.

“Not in this. My father has an expression, rather simple on the surface, but really quite profound. He says that people don’t change.”

“Which should warn you that I’m an unredeemable cad.”

She tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “Quite the opposite. It tells me that you’re a wonderful man because you were a wonderful boy, and don’t bother to deny it. I visited Eloise every day while you were lying on your deathbed. She always told me stories about you, about how you always cared for the sick and wounded animals on the Trent estate. How you brought joy to your family. As a child, you were known for your kind heart. People don’t change,” she repeated.

He folded his arms across his chest and cast her an angry frown. “You’re mistaken. That little boy died long ago.”

“Gabriel,” she said in a whisper, “that is an utter and complete lie.”

***

Gabriel let out a soft string of curses. “Right, that ought to be a warning to you. Telling lies is something rakes do all the time, particularly to women in order to get them into bed.”

She shook her head as though confused. “You don’t appear all that eager to get me into your bed. In truth, you keep pushing me away. Not that it matters, for we aren’t a suitable match. However, there is something going on that troubles you deeply. You seemed preoccupied earlier today when playing marbles with Harry and Charles.”

She paused, as though debating whether or not to confide in him. She nibbled her lip and then decided to continue, a sign that she trusted him. He ought to have been pleased, but her faith in him only put him in greater torment. He didn’t want to be thinking of her while he was in France. He didn’t want to think of the life they might have shared together if only Napoleon hadn’t escaped.

“Afterward, when I and the children returned home,” she said, “I overheard my father and Uncle George speaking of a rumor. I think it was about Napoleon. My uncle is a brilliant physician and many of his patients are of the Upper Crust. I couldn’t hear most of what he said, only that nothing’s been confirmed yet.” She paused again and raised her beautiful eyes to stare at him. “Are we to be at war again?”

He tried to shrug it off. “I pay little attention to such matters.”

Her lips curled in a mirthless smile. “You’ll be joining Wellington’s forces, won’t you?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “No. I’ll be running as fast as I can in the opposite direction.”

“You needn’t lie to me. I’ll keep your secret.” She held up a hand to interrupt his protest. “We’re kindred spirits, you and I. You understand my shame and frustration because you’re experiencing these same feelings. My situation is inadvertent, caught in the wrong place with a petty, mean-spirited gentleman I disliked. But you purposely want your family to think the worst of you. Why?”

“You’re wrong.” The damn girl was slight and slender, her head barely reaching his shoulders, yet she’d managed to shake him with such force his heart had shot into his throat. Perhaps that’s why it took him a moment to regain his voice. “Daisy, war is not a game. It isn’t something soldiers gossip about over tea, or at
ton
dinner parties. Bad things happen on a battlefield, men die. Horribly and unfairly.”

“You speak as though you’ve been there. I knew it.” She reached out once more to place her hand over his heart.

“I haven’t. I don’t know a damn thing about Napoleon, nor do I wish to.” He nudged her hand away, cursing at his slip. He had to destroy all trace of good feeling or respect Daisy might ever have felt for him. “I decided long ago never to be one of those pitiful men who risk all for king and country. The only
war
games I play are games of seduction. The only
battles
I fight are battles of the sexes. Stop looking at me with starlight in your eyes. Unlike yours, my sordid reputation is well-deserved.”

Daisy tilted her delicate chin upward and frowned at him. “Thank you for the warning, though it isn’t necessary. I know what you are, Gabriel.”

“Good, then I suggest you leave now. I’m suddenly feeling quite wicked and fully intend to steal more than a few kisses. You don’t want to be the scandalous topic of next month’s dinner conversation, do you? I doubt your family will recover from a second disappointment.”

She gazed at him in confusion and suddenly scampered away to put a little distance between them. “You wouldn’t—”

“Your first mistake.” He took a step toward her.

She took a hop back. “I don’t care what others say about you. You’re a gentleman—”

“Your second mistake.” He took another step closer.

Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I don’t believe you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Your third mistake.”

“Why are you suddenly so angry with me?”

He frowned. “Get out of here, Daisy.”

She cast him a wounded look. “Gladly.” She hurried out of Lord Malinor’s library, shutting the door behind her with a quick slam.

Once alone, Gabriel pounded his fist into the padded leather back of a nearby chair. Daisy was a torment to him, believing him wonderful and special and all those nice things everyone else had long ago stopped believing him to be.

He was glad they’d shared those kisses, for they were as special as Daisy. But giving in to temptation came at a steep cost. He couldn’t confirm his involvement in Napoleon’s war. He didn’t want her believing he was a man of honor, didn’t want her falling in love with him.

Nor did he wish to fall in love with her.

All he had to do was avoid her until he left for France... if only his heart would let him.

“What did you do to startle your little dove?” Ian asked, ducking into the library just as Gabriel’s fist struck the seat back again with a soft thud.

“She thinks I’m a damn hero. I had to convince her otherwise.”

Ian quirked his head. “No wonder she ran past me as though demons were chasing her delightful tail.”

“Shut up, Your Grace.”

Ian dropped into the chair Gabriel had just been pounding. “Desiree tells me you’ve visited her only the once since setting up your cozy love nest.”

“That is also none of your business.”

“And even that visit consisted only of talk.”

“That is definitely none of your business. Where’s my cousin? He’s supposed to join us.”

“By now, I expect Graelem’s busy keeping the wolves away from his delectable sister-in-law. Daisy does look exceptionally fetching tonight. Malinor, that old buzzard, can’t seem to take his eyes off the girl. Auguste, the younger Malinor, has noticed her as well.”

“Enough, Ian. Forget about her. She isn’t important.”

Ian sighed. “No, I suppose she isn’t. We’ll conquer a city’s worth of virgins after we conquer the French army. How does that sound to you?”

“Jolly good sport.”

“Now you’re sounding utterly morose. Gabriel, I have to know your mind is on the mission and not on the Farthingale chit.”

Gabriel settled in the chair across from his friend. “Consider her forgotten.”

Ian shook his head and let out a mirthless laugh. “Right. Forgotten. Any more news from Wolcott?”

“Yes, none of it good.”

When Graelem quietly slipped into the library moments later, Gabriel relayed the latest instructions. “Napoleon is making faster progress than anyone thought possible. I have to sail to France without delay. Graelem, that gives you about two days to gather the supplies I’ll need and arrange my passage across the Channel.”

His cousin scowled. “It’s too bloody dangerous for you to undertake this mission alone. We could go together. I don’t see why you’re always taking on the dirty jobs.”

“You’re needed here. So is Ian, especially now that Napoleon’s spies have infiltrated the highest echelons of English society. You need to be attending the London balls and parties, keeping your eye on anyone who seems to be acting suspiciously.” Gabriel eased forward in his chair and motioned for the pair to come closer. “Napoleon’s spies must believe that Prinny’s chosen John Randall and Edward Gaffney for this secret assignment. While they watch John and Edward,” he said, glancing at Graelem, “Ian and I will contrive some ruse to explain my sudden absence. Wolcott’s preparing those fake orders concerning John and Edward as we speak. I’m to hand over this supposedly secret information to those spies at Lord Hastings’ ball tomorrow night. If they believe I’m on Napoleon’s side, they’ll stop watching me closely.”

“I have a hunting lodge not far from the Scottish border,” Ian said. “A few dropped hints and everyone will believe we two bachelors—desperate to escape feminine shackles—intend to ride off shortly on a hunting excursion.”

Graelem ran a hand across the back of his neck. “It might work if news of that hunting trip spreads before Napoleon’s escape is made public.”

“I’ll take care of the problem this evening,” Ian said. “All I need to do is mention our plans to Lady Phoebe Withnall and she’ll spread the word throughout the elegant salons of London within a matter of minutes.”

Graelem grunted. “Incorrigible gossips serve a useful purpose, I suppose.”

Ian nodded and then turned to Gabriel. “The day before your scheduled sailing, you and I will ride off together on the north road toward Scotland. Once we’re certain no one is following us, we’ll break away at the first opportunity and ride eastward toward the sea.”

“Eastward to your doom,” Graelem muttered, frowning at Gabriel. “There must be a better way to slow Napoleon’s progress than to send you back into that deathtrap. What can you do on your own against Napoleon’s army?”

“I don’t know, but Wellington needs time and that’s what I intend to give him. My job will be done once the English army is properly supplied and transported to the Continent.”