Samantha James (13 page)

But it appeared they were headed for the lake. That was the one place on the immediate grounds that Cassie had yet to explore. A trickle of apprehension slid up her spine. With Christopher and Evelyn, they had usually left the estate and gone out into the open country. Thankfully, Gabriel skirted the lake and directed his mount toward a grove of trees. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cassie began to look about with interest.

Gabriel did not halt until they reached a small clearing. Nestled within a ring of trees was a small white-trimmed gazebo. Cassie gave a gasp of delight when she saw it. “I didn’t know this was here!” she exclaimed. “You can’t see it from the house, can you?”

Gabriel shook his head as he helped her dismount. A genuine smile curved her lips, for this sheltered bower was a haven from the outside world. A noisy robin called to its mate. The smell of the forest was scented and fresh. But the gazebo was faded and peeling. A tangled overgrowth of weeds grew all around and climbed up the steps.

“This must have been very lovely once,” she speculated aloud. “What a shame it’s been so neglected.” She bent, brushing away some of the dirt on the steps with her gloved fingertips. She straightened and glanced back over her shoulder, just in time to see an odd expression flit across his dark features.

Cassie’s lips parted. “Wait,” she said slowly. “This was your mother’s, wasn’t it?”

Gabriel was abruptly irritated with himself. Why had he brought her here? His mother had loved this place—he remembered she had told him she
found its tranquility peaceful and soothing. And God knew she’d had little enough pleasure as it was…

“She came here often, yes.”

Cassie longed to ask more, for she had often wondered about his mother. Why, she did not know, but it was almost as if some mystery surrounded her…But Gabriel’s expression was closed and remote. She sensed that now was not the time.

He advanced toward her. “You have a natural ability for riding, Yank. But then, you seem to have many abilities.”

Cassie wet her lips. Though his tone was easy, his mood was not.

“You might as well come out with it now, Yank. After seeing you again with Christopher, I am inclined to wonder…Have you given to him what belongs to me?”

Confused, she stared at him. “What?”

“Do not play the innocent with me. Have you lain with him?”

“Lain with him!” Her breath caught. “Why, you make me sound like a—”

“A dockside whore? You cannot leave behind your humble origins so quickly, Yank. But I give you fair warning. I will not be cuckolded. I will have no bastard as my heir.”

He was shockingly crude—and hurtful. “Oh!” she cried. In that instant she hated him, hated him as she had never hated anyone. “You told your father you rescued me from the gutter, but it’s there your mind dwells! Why couldn’t you have stayed in London? Then there would be no need to tolerate your beastly mood!”

She was right. His mood was not tame. He was angry at her for drawing him back to Farleigh—and angry at himself for allowing her to invade this place that had belonged solely to the memory of his mother.

“My beastly mood might be much improved had I not found you in the arms of one Christopher Marley.”

“Oh, stop!” she hissed. “You want me no more than I want you.”

He caught her hands and stripped away her gloves, flinging them aside. She felt as if he stripped away her very soul.

He caught her up against him. His mouth hovered just above hers, its beautiful lines stark and sensual, as though etched from stone. “Ah, but there’s the thing, Yank. I am
not
so unappreciative of your charms.”

His head swooped down. His lips trapped hers. Again and again he plumbed the depths of her mouth, the rhythm of his tongue wildly erotic. Hard arms came tight around her body, pinning her against his unyielding breadth. Cassie pushed at his chest, the attempt pitifully weak, for God help her, something strange was happening. A fiery warmth stole through her limbs. His kiss blazed like fire all through her. His mouth opened wider, the pressure sweetly fierce, draining her of strength and will. She moaned, the sound wedged between their lips, aware of the urge to follow blindly wherever he would lead her.

Dimly she heard a low, triumphant laugh. His breath was hot on the side of her neck. “You’ve cost me a pretty sum indeed, Yank. So come, I wish
to see what I have bought.” Deliberately he brushed the velvet-covered peak of her breast. She gasped as her nipple grew all tight and tingly, and—Lord help her—the sensation was not unpleasant at all. And then she felt the brand of his fingers on the fastenings of her bodice, warm and adept.

Panic burst in her brain. She knew where play such as this would lead! She could not let him take her like this, so coldly determined—with no emotion save lust. Oh, if he loved her, if he cared for her, it might have been different. She might have surrendered what he now demanded…

She tried to wrench back. The binding circle of his arms caught and held her in place.

Slowly he raised his head. The merest hint of a smile graced those elegant lips. “I am, after all, only a man,” he said softly. “Do you worry that I will succumb to desire?”

In truth, his shaft was rigid and full. A part of him longed to bury his swollen heat deep and hard in her body and the consequences be damned. Oh, no, he was not as unaffected by their kiss as he would pretend, or as he’d thought to be…which meant he must be careful, very careful indeed.

Her answer lay in the wide, wary distress of her eyes. Gabriel laughed curtly. “Do not worry, Yank. Tempt me not, and I will yield not.” He released her.

Stung, Cassie spun away, further dismayed by her body’s treacherous response to him. A horrible notion raced through her. Dear Lord, was she a wanton like her mother?

Suddenly there was a loud
pop
! The strong odor of something burning reached her nostrils. At almost
the same instant, her left arm began to sting. She instinctively raised her fingers to the hurt.

They came away sticky and red. Bemused, Cassie stared at them. Blood, she realized dazedly, and suddenly it was very hard to think. A dull buzzing in her ears grew louder and louder. What on earth…. Belatedly her mind recognized the sound for what it was.

“Dear God,” she heard herself say. “I’ve been shot.”

She pitched forward into a dead faint.

G
abriel reached her just as her knees began to buckle. A vile oath on his lips, he scooped her into his arms and ducked into the gazebo. Mindful of the need to keep his head low so he would not be seen, he ripped apart the torn sleeve of her riding dress. Snatching his handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it to the wound. Gently he wiped away the oozing trail of blood and gunpowder.

The frantic fear left his heart. The shot had only grazed her, thank heaven. It was not even deep; even now the wound had begun to clot. No doubt it was shock, not injury, that prompted her collapse. He hesitated, torn by the urge to search for the scourge who had fired the shot but reluctant to leave her alone.

At length Cassie stirred. Remembrance of the shot flooded back with a vengeance. Her eyes flew open, but darkness swirled all around. She lurched upward with a stricken cry. “Sweet Lord! Do not tell me I am dea—”

A firm hand restrained her. “No, Yank,” proclaimed a dry voice, “you are not. You are alive and unhurt, though clearly you fancy yourself in heaven once again.” There was a brief pause. “You
were lucky, Yank. The shot merely grazed your arm. The bleeding lasted scarcely a minute.”

It was Gabriel. They were inside the gazebo, she realized vaguely. His back was propped against the wall. She was lying in his lap, cradled in his arms. Though it was not as dark as she had first thought, daylight was fading fast. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw the tattered edges of her sleeve.

A low choked sob caught in her throat. She gave no further thought to the danger they might still be in. It was suddenly all too much—the shot…the blood on her hands. “My beautiful riding dress…” She began to cry. “I’ve never had anything so grand…I loved it so…oh, God, and now it’s ruined!” She turned her face into his shoulder and wept.

A strong hand smoothed her hair. “Cassie, hush now.
Hush
. I’ll buy you another—I’ll buy you a hundred if it pleases you.”

Her breath caught on a half-sob. She sought dumbly to focus on the dark features that swam just above her own. She could not help it, for this man was a stranger. He had called her
Cassie
, with something that might have been tenderness softening his remonstrance. And his eyes…surely the glow of twilight was deceiving, for that could not possibly be
caring
she saw there…

She would have sat up but his arms closed around her more tightly. “Be still,” he warned, the words but a breath. “The horses bolted when they heard the shot. In all likelihood it came from a poacher, but I’ll take no chances. We’ll remain here until it’s dark and then return to Farleigh.”

Cassie nodded, suppressing a shudder of fear.
She laid her cheek on his chest and huddled even closer, taking comfort in his strength, in the steady drumbeat of his heart beneath her ear.

It was well above an hour before they returned to Farleigh. Edmund was in the entrance hall with Davis when Gabriel flung the door wide.

“Confound it, Gabriel, what goes on here! Angus just informed me your horses—” Edmund stopped short on seeing the condition they were in. They were both filthy. Dust and dirt smudged Cassie’s cheeks, a trail of tears clearly evident.

Edmund’s jaw sagged. “Dear God, what happened?”

Gabriel’s mouth turned grim. “We were at the gazebo when someone fired a pistol at us.”

Edmund looked at her sharply. “Are you all right, Cassandra?”

Cassie. Cassandra
. Cassie stifled the impulse to laugh wildly. Perhaps she’d gained some headway with these arrogant Sinclair men after all. She nodded, still too shaken to speak. She stood mutely while Davis was told to summon Gloria. Gabriel saw her safely delivered into the hands of the maid then turned to his father.

“A word with you in private, if you please, Father.” He strode into the drawing room. Edmund followed, closing the wide oak portals behind them.

Gabriel poured himself a generous portion of port before turning. “I cannot help but wonder, Father…The events of the day seem to raise the notion that you might wish to see me a widower.”

It took an instant before the full import of his
words sank in. When they did, Edmund’s shoulders straightened. Fury ignited in his eyes. “I’ve thought you capable of many things, Gabriel. But to think that you would accuse me of trying to kill the girl…” Edmund only barely concealed his rage.

“I do not accuse you,” Gabriel said calmly. The duke’s shock had been genuine. And for all that his father’s emotions ran cold, he was not inclined to violence.

“Perhaps no harm was meant for her at all,” the duke said stiffly.

Gabriel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you’ve been plucking fruit in someone else’s orchard.”

His meaning was not lost on Gabriel, who smiled thinly. “I’ve always chosen women with care, Father. None are burdened by a husband, and none with male relatives who might be disposed to deprive me of my life for the sake of a mere dalliance.”

“Likelier than not, then, it was a poacher. It might be wise to advise Cassandra to refrain from riding in the woods until we know for certain.”

“Oh, you need not go to such trouble on her account. She will be returning to London with me.”

Edmund’s glance was no less than suspicious. “Whatever for?”

“The dowager duchess of Greensboro is having a
fête
tomorrow evening.”

“I’m well aware of that. I’d thought to attend myself. But you cannot mean to take her!” Despite Lady Evelyn’s attempts at grooming these past weeks, Edmund remained skeptical.

Gabriel merely raised his brows. “One does not refuse the dowager duchess. To my understanding it’s to be a relatively small affair to begin the Little Season. And I do believe we’ve had this discussion before, Father. Is it your reputation which concerns you, or mine?”

Edmund resisted the urge to throw up his hands. “Do what you will,” he muttered. “You will please yourself and no one else.” He spun around and strode from the room.

Gabriel watched his retreat, his expression etched in stone. “That I will, Father,” he said aloud. A faint bitterness laced his voice. “After all, I learned long ago there was little point in trying to please you.”

Deliberately he turned his thoughts elsewhere, studying the amber liquid in his glass before taking a long, deep swallow. Perhaps his father was right. Yet one question led to another. Who had fired the shot? Was it intentional? Or an accident? And if not, who had been its intended victim? Cassie…or himself?

The line of his mouth grew thin. He could think of no one who would wish him dead. Yet why would Cassie be a target? Her circle of acquaintances was limited, both here and in Charleston. Likelier than not, the shooting was accidental. No, he could not leave her here in harm’s way…

Upstairs in her room, Cassie sat at the dressing table while Gloria brushed her hair. Her expression was one of troubled thought but that quickly changed when Gabriel walked in.

“How is your wound?”

Cassie flushed, embarrassed beyond measure to think she had fallen apart in his arms. She lowered
her gaze and stared at the gilt-framed mirror and matching brush. “’Tis fine,” she murmured. “A bit red, but that is all.”

“Excellent. I will be able to return to London tomorrow as planned. Please have Gloria pack your things first thing in the morning.”

Her head came up. She twisted around and stopped him when he would have left. “Wait!” she said breathlessly. “Does this mean…I am going with you?”

“It does indeed, Yank. Why, all of London is agog about the new countess of Wakefield. I am going to have to produce a wife else no one will believe I have one…And after all, you
are
my wife…where would you be but at my side?”

Did he mock her? Cassie did not know. At that moment, she did not care. She stared at the doorway long after he’d left, frightened, wary…and excited all at once.

It seemed she was going to see London after all.

Gabriel’s townhouse was far from modest, at least in Cassie’s eyes. Though it was not nearly so grand or vast as Farleigh Hall, it was still far beyond her realm of experience.

The domed ceiling of the entrance hall was a soft gold, carved with delicate scrollwork and cherubs. Just beyond, the staircase ascended dramatically between two tall, stately columns. The library was a smaller version of the one at Farleigh, paneled in rich mahogany. In the drawing room, the walls were hung with crimson silk; the carpet was deeply hued in golds, browns, and blues. Several chairs
and a divan were drawn close to the warmth of the fire. All in all, Cassie found it most inviting.

She was also delighted to find her room every bit as lovely as the one she had occupied at Farleigh. Decorated in palest blue and yellow, she took one look at the canopied bed and immediately fell in love with it.

“If the furnishings do not suit you,” her husband said formally, “you may make whatever changes you wish.”

Even his dour mood could not dampen her spirits. Cassie fingered the frilled yellow skirt that trimmed the dressing table, then turned and graced him with a lovely smile. “It’s lovely just as it is,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t dream of changing a thing.” Just then she spied a door next to the dresser. Impulsively she opened it. “Where does this lead?”

But she had already discovered the answer. She caught a glimpse of sparse, masculine furnishings and an enormous four-poster.

Color stained her cheeks. “Your bedchamber, I take it?”

He nodded, his expression coolly remote, revealing no hint of his thoughts. But to Cassie, the atmosphere was suddenly stifling. No further comment was drawn from either of them.

And little wonder. They were both well aware the connecting door would see no use.

“By the way, Yank, we have an engagement early this evening.”

“An engagement?”

“Yes. We’ve been invited to attend a
fête
given by the dowager duchess of Greensboro.” He strode toward the door, then stopped and turned toward
her. “I shall return shortly to oversee your choice of attire.”

Cassie drew herself up proudly. “I’m quite capable of choosing my own gown,” she said stiffly.

“Oh, no doubt you are, Yank. Nonetheless, I will be happy to lend my assistance.”

Though she knew he considered the matter closed, Cassie opened her mouth, determined to argue. One glance from those icy gray eyes robbed her of the inclination. Still, it was not in her nature to accept such a commanding attitude with meek obedience. When he arrived in her room, she still wore her dressing gown, having recently bathed. Summoning all her bravado, she moved to the wardrobe and withdrew the gauzy white gown she had planned to wear. Turning, she drew it back across one shoulder and silently awaited his reaction.

A slow smile crept across his lips. “I think not,” he drawled. “With you at my side in that gown, I would feel like a veritable wolf. Besides, you would look like an innocent—a virgin, young and untouched.”

That’s because I am
! she longed to screech. Oh, but it would have given her great pleasure to disprove his arrogant high-handedness! But she was not certain how he would react, and so she held her silence. Her lips tightly compressed, she thrust the gown back into the wardrobe and withdrew another.

He disdained the choice as too girlish, still another as too simple, still another too formal. Cassie’s anger began to stir. Blindly she reached into the
wardrobe, yanking out the first one her fingers chanced to touch.

Gabriel paused, as if to consider the pale peach silk. “’Tis a pretty enough color,” he murmured, “but I would have you sparkle like the jewel you are. Something bright, I think.”

He mocked her, and in that moment, she despised him for it. “I think black would prove far more appropriate!” she retorted hotly.

Devilish brows arose. “Black—to match your mood, sweet?”

“Black, to match your heart!”

By then Cassie’s chin was tipped mutinously. He merely laughed. “You must learn to trust in me, Yank. I have much more experience in these matters.” He strode forward and pulled out a gown of ruby-red silk gauze. “This one,” he pronounced.

Cassie snatched it from his grasp. “You were not so concerned with my choice of gown when I met your father,” she snapped. “I fail to see why you trouble yourself so now.”

She had struck a nerve. Though his voice was mild, she could see it in the clench of his jaw. “Ah, but the eyes of the
ton
will be upon you now, Yank.” He said nothing further, but left her alone.

At last she was ready. Gloria pushed her gently before the mirror, then stood back and clapped her hands together. “Oh, ma’am,” she breathed, eyes shining, “you are truly a vision.”

For a long time Cassie could only stare. Gloria had dressed her hair high and away from her face, setting off the vulnerable slope of her neck and shoulders. The gown’s neckline formed a deep vee, both front and back. In Cassie’s mind, it was
scandalously low, but Gloria assured her it was the fashion. Beneath her breasts, the skirt fell in soft folds down to her slippers. Although she had been determined to dislike the gown, Gabriel had chosen well, for the overall effect was one of classic elegance.

She felt dainty and feminine…and beautiful. Tears started in her eyes, for this was a wholly new feeling for Cassie. But what would Gabriel think? All at once she was nervous and anxious.

It came as a shock to realize she wanted to please him. Why it was so, she did not know—nor did she care. But she wanted to please him so very much…

He waited in the entrance hall, pacing impatiently. Cassie descended the stairs as quickly as she dared, clinging tight to the ornately carved handrail. When she reached the last step, he finally glanced up.

Their eyes locked. Her heart thumping wildly, she stood still as a statue. His gaze raked her from head to toe and back again. Cassie endured his critical regard as best she could, but his inspection was so long and so thorough she feared she had done something terribly wrong.

At last he offered her his arm. “You will do,” he announced.