The Duke's Temptation Read online

  The door swung open and several dogs rushed out and ran around him in a dizzy circle. The mass of hair and animals reformed into a terrier, three hounds and a spaniel.

  Charlie stood beaming on the doorstep. “No curricle? Good god, you didn’t walk?” He laughed uproariously and pointed to Gibb’s still-gleaming Hessians. “Long way in those boots.”

  “Stables,” Gibb said as they shook hands. “It seemed easier. Norby said he’ll arrange for my luggage to be carried indoors.”

  “Good show. Come and do the necessary to Mama and Emily and we’ll go and talk. I’d rather talk first but as you announced yourself not much chance of that. Get down, you moron,” he roared.

  Gibb understood it was directed at the longhaired, panting spaniel, not at Gibb himself. He bent down and fondled the spaniel’s ears. “Something amiss?” he inquired with a sinking heart. Pray God no marriage-hungry debs or their mamas were due to arrive. Loxton Hall wasn’t so large that they would be easily avoided.

  “I think so, not sure, tell you later, act dumb,” Charlie muttered out of the corner of his mouth as a door opened somewhere nearby.

  As he had no idea what was going on, Gibb decided that acting dumb wouldn’t be too difficult. He smiled and bowed as Louisa Loxton appeared from a room along the corridor and made her way toward them.

  “I thought I heard your voice, Gibb. Glad you could come. Very informal, you understand, just a few friends to supper and dancing on Saturday. I’m sure you and Charlie can entertain yourself until then. Dinner at seven, we’re not dressing. Do you want feeding?”

  Gibb shook his head. “I stopped in Lyddington.”

  “We’ll have ale and snacks, Mama,” Charlie said as Gibb chatted about the state of the roads and the rain showers he’d ridden through. “It’s all arranged. You can relax and snooze without worrying.”

  “Odious boy.” His mama patted his cheek. “Off you go, and don’t forget—informal tonight.” She smiled and retraced her steps.

  Charlie watched her with a fond smile on his face. “Meddler. Come on.” He took hold of Gibb’s arm and dragged him to the billiards room. “Phew. A game or ale?”

  “Ale and then a game. And what, Charlie Loxton, is that all about?”

  Charlie shook his head. “Lord, Gibb. I wish I knew. I’ve hardly had time to draw breath since we moved. All Mama said was she thought it was time to be neighborly and why not ask you to come down. As far as I know it’s a select few to supper and a mere fifty to the dance. Who, though? Now that is the mystery. Emily is convinced Mama has a beau and this is to introduce us to him. If she has, unless she met him in town, he’s a fast worker. She’s not been here more than a month or two.”

  “Almost six,” Gibb pointed out. “She’s no longer in mourning.”

  “There is that. Ah, no doubt we’ll find out the all on Saturday. Do you want to break or shall I?”

  “Pardon? Oh, you can.”

  Charlie had poured the ale and set up the billiards without Gibb noticing. Then he proceeded to trounce him.

  “Your mind is on other things,” Charlie said. “What’s this I hear about a French knife-thrower?”

  Gibb groaned. “What did you hear?”

  “A liaison?”

  “We are friends, that is all. I rescued her from Denby Crowe and his cronies. You know what Crowe is like in his cups. He thought it would be amusing to harass Evangeline. I disabused him of that idea and kept my eye on the lady whenever possible. She is a friend of Julia Arthur.”

  “Ah, I did wonder. Thought you’d sworn off women.”

  “Not entirely,” Gibb said. Not one special woman.

  “No, I’d hope not,” Charlie said with a wicked grin. “Right then, now that’s all sorted do you fancy another game?”

  Gibb raised one eyebrow in agreement. “Why not? I need to win my money back.”

  He didn’t and an hour or so later, after a filling dinner with good food, superb wine and excellent company, made his way to the pleasant suite he had been allocated.

  It was strange, Gibb mused, how unforthcoming Louisa had been with regards to just who the guests were.

  “The vicar, his wife and some close neighbors for supper, and the local gentry families for the dance. We’ll manage twenty or so couples, I think. Perfect for the small ballroom,” she had said as she’d swept Emily out of the dining room so the men could enjoy their port. “Don’t be too long now or Emily and I will feel neglected.”

  “Fishy, what?” Martin Mayburn, Emily’s husband, had said as they sat sprawled around the table, waistcoats and jackets undone and the port decanted in between the three of them. “I’d watch myself if I were you. She’s a devious schemer when she wants to be. Thank goodness I’d had my eye on Emily all the time because whether I had or not we’d have been wed, once Louisa set her mind on it.”

  “Don’t,” Charlie had groaned and refilled his glass. “I’m too young to be leg shackled.”

  “You’re three months older than me,” Gibb pointed out.

  “Correct, and I don’t see you rushing to the altar again.” Martin reddened as he spoke. “My apologies, that was crass.”

  “Not at all, it is but the truth,” Gibb reassured him. “And I am not.”

  Not yet.

  * * * *

  The next couple of days passed in pleasant laziness. They bagged a few wood pigeons and caught enough brown trout for the chef to promise to put it on the menu for lunch. Even though he was chomping at the bit to go and see if he could find Evangeline, Gibb was content enough. If Charlie had given him the opportunity to be in the area, the least he could do was spend the requisite amount of time with him.

  On Friday afternoon, Charlie went off to, as he said, really see a man about a dog. One that had been worrying his small flock of sheep. Gibb decided he’d let Charlie sort that out himself and went for a ride.

  The stables were somnolent in the early afternoon heat, with not a soul around. Several horsy heads nodded over their stable doors and his own horse whinnied when it recognized Gibb, but no human came running.

  No doubt the grooms taking their afternoon break. Gibb led Challenger out, pleased he’d trained the animal to be ridden with or without tack and also pull a curricle. Gibb eschewed bridle or saddle, flung himself onto the broad back of the animal, walked out of the stable yard and headed down a grassy track, away from the house and in the direction careful questioning had told him was Barnshot Hall.

  Not that he expected to see Evangeline. This was just a chance to blow away the cobwebs and look around the area.

  Gibb crossed a lane and into a wider track, known to all and sundry as a ride, encouraged his horse into a canter and sat back to enjoy himself.

  * * * *

  “Go for a ride, child, and get some color into your cheeks.” Iain stared at Evangeline until she squirmed. “I want you to look your best tomorrow night. I’m so looking forward to showing my beautiful daughter off.”

  “I’m fine,” she said automatically.

  “Pah, if that is fine, never let me see you not fine. Off you go. Ride toward the river, you like it there.” He made shooing motions with his hand. “Now, I need a nap.”

  Evangeline laughed. He never napped. She guessed he wanted to smoke a filthy cheroot and read the papers recently arrived from London. “Yes, Papa.” In fact, it sounded perfect. Within half an hour she had changed, saddled Honey, who after a lot of deliberation and haggling with the London stables Evangeline had decided should relocate with her, and ridden off in the direction of the river. It was a pleasant canter, along lanes and bridleways, and she loved it. Iain had taken her there on their first day and she’d told him that he could do nothing better.

  ‘Except build you a house here?’ he’d said with a chuckle. ‘When you marry.’

  ‘Or when you just get fed up of me, when I don’t.’

  ‘Never.’

  The river came into view and Evangeline understood how well Iain knew her. He was corre
ct. She did need to get away from everything and just enjoy the fresh air. Honey was in the same frame of mind. The horse’s stride lengthened and soon they were cantering across the water meadow to a tiny beach she’d decided was her own private spot. That it had a willow tree near it was not, not, she thought anything that had swayed her mind. However, it was a pleasant thing to have as she sat under its branches and dipped her bare feet in the water.

  As usual there was no one in sight. She looked at the passing water, saw how clear it was and that there were no ripples to mar the surface, and made her mind up. How long since she had been able to swim? Longer than she could remember. Her riding habit was easily discarded and as she’d chosen not to wear stays on such a warm day, she soon stood just in her shift. Dare she strip? Why not? She reasoned, if she didn’t want to go home without any underwear on and carrying a dripping shift, she had no option. And she’d see someone coming in good time to dress.

  Evangeline decided not to out-think herself anymore. With one swift movement she slipped her shift over her head, folded it on top of her habit and slid into the cool depths of the river. And laughed out loud. It was glorious. The water was silky smooth and so clear she could see tiny fish swimming under her. A brown trout came so close she wondered what her papa would say if she caught it and took it home for supper. He no doubt would be pleased and insist that Armand, the chef, cook it as Evangeline directed.

  In that case… Perhaps not, not yet. The chef was still coming to terms with two people asking for the food of his homeland and insisting on discovering how he intended to cook it.

  The chef was lucky Iain was easygoing, for he would no doubt have given notice if Iain had insisted on ‘Mama’s way’ of cooking everything and lost a comfortable and not too arduous way of earning his living. Evangeline just praised the man, and bit her lip on any thoughts she might have about how he cooked trotters.

  She waved the trout on its way, and dived down into the depths to pick a pebble up and bring it to the surface. Her hair streamed over her shoulders, water droplets clung from its length, her eyebrows and lashes. Evangeline laughed for the sheer joy of it. Life would get better, she would make sure of that. If she didn’t have a future with Gibb, so be it. She would spend her time alone. She jumped up, using the buoyancy of the water to lift herself high, and took a deep breath. Sank down to her knees, let the water cover her once more and opened her eyes to the underwater delight.

  Lack of air forced her to the surface. She spluttered and took in great big gulps of fresh, clean air. Opened her eyes and screamed.

  On the riverbank, silhouetted by the sun, was a large, naked male poised to dive in to where she had just surfaced. She took a hasty step backward, slipped on a pebble and fell back onto her bottom with a yelp.

  Even as she swept her wet hair out of her eyes, she noticed the man move so swiftly it was a case of now you see him now you don’t. He dived cleanly into the river, surfaced next to her and lifted her up before she went underwater once more.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Good lord.”

  Evangeline lifted her head, remembered her nakedness and crossed her arms over her breasts before she wriggled free of his embrace and retreated behind a clump of reeds. She couldn’t believe her ears. She might not be able to see him in high definition as she squinted in the direction of the sun, but she would recognize that voice anywhere. “Gibb?”

  He shook his head to shift some of the water that streamed from it. “The very same,” he confirmed. “Are you all right? What are you doing?”

  “Playing go fish,” she said with a giggle as she named a popular children’s game. “What do you think?”

  He laughed. “Minx. Waiting for me?”

  “Now how could I be doing that? I had no idea you were here.” She ran her fingers around his lips and he nibbled the end of one very wet digit. “Why are you?” she asked, breathless and wondering. Why is he here?

  “To find you.” He put his hands on either cheek and kissed her in a haze-inducing spine-tingling caress with so much heat it was a wonder, Evangeline decided hazily, that the water didn’t boil. “And now I have.”

  She melted… Sighed and hugged him tight. “And now what?”

  “We get out of the water and talk. I tell you how much I love you, want you and miss you. You believe me. I add that I want to make love with you, not just for now but forever. You believe me. How I have a special license for our nuptials and the moment you say you will, we can change it to I do. I hope.”

  “You do?”

  He laughed. “No. You say ‘I do’, not ‘you do’.”

  She giggled. “Can I add this? I will, I do, I want to. Plus I do need to get out of the river. I’m turning wrinkly. A wrinkly bride would not be a good thing.”

  “So, my dearest Evangeline, you’ll marry me, just like that? No recriminations?” He stood up and swung her into his arms to stride to the riverbank. He dropped Evangeline gently onto his jacket and swung out after her. “No towels.”

  “No need for either. I love you. We will dry soon enough,” she said with a giggle. “Then—”

  “Then what? When will we dry?”

  “No, when will we wed?”

  That, my dearest, is up to you.”

  “As soon as my papa knows? For now I have found him, I do not want to lose him. Oh, Gibb, I have so much to share with you.”

  “And I with you, and we have a lifetime to do so.”

  First, though…”

  “First?” he asked, not without a little trepidation. What was she about to ask?

  Evangeline took a deep breath. “Can we take that next step? Take things out of order a little…no, not a little, a lot, and make love now. Here?”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Oh yes.”

  “Then it will be my pleasure.”

  He didn’t think he’d ever initiated a virgin. This was more than that, though. This was Evangeline, his one and only love. It had to be perfect. He wanted it to be a moment out of time. He found his buckskins and made a pillow from them. Evangeline stretched out on her back, closed her eyes and held her arms out. “Mine.”

  “Yours,” he confirmed. He knelt between her outstretched legs and bent his mouth to suck a rose red nipple, used one hand to part her soft folds and slide a long finger into her oh so ready and welcoming depths.

  Evangeline moaned deep in her throat and put her ankles around his waist. He moved his hand with reluctance and lifted his head. Gibb looked down at her as his staff stroked her labia and she opened her eyes wide.

  “Please.” She wriggled to try to draw him nearer.

  “Stop it, love. I want to make it perfect.”

  “It will be if you make love to me now. I wish le petit mort. I want to feel you deep in me.” Her ankles dug into him, urging him closer.

  Gibb gave in to the inevitable. Slow and savoring would be for later. Faster was what he needed for now. “So be it.” He hesitated, moved forward and stopped as she glared.

  “All of it.” He nodded and drove into her. Hard. Drank her involuntary sob with sorrow, smothered it with his kiss and waited, deep inside her, until she relaxed and sighed. “Now I am truly yours.”

  “You are,” he confirmed. “Forever.”

  “So you become mine also. Please show me how.”

  “It will be my pleasure.” Gibb began to move, adjusting his speed and pressure until she matched him.

  As she tipped over the edge he followed her.

  It was glorious. His harsh cries mingled with her soft mewls and sobs of pleasure. “It has never been like this, ever.”

  “That is all I need to hear, mon cher. Except for one thing?”

  “Which is?”

  “What now?”

  * * * *

  All too soon, Gibb found himself dressing for dinner on Saturday. For some uncountable reason he had butterflies in his stomach. Louisa still hadn’t mentioned any names, and when Gibb had run her to g
round one evening and asked bluntly if she knew Iain d’Astre she said vaguely the name was familiar and changed the subject. If it wasn’t bad manners and not good ton to question the servants he would have. Instead he dressed to kill, made sure nothing in his dress or deportment could be faulted and plotted his departure.

  Perhaps, he mused, it was just as well.

  As he descended the stairs the doorbell rang and Fisher, Louisa’s major-domo, went to open it, with Louisa hot on his heels. She looked both flustered and anxious, not at all like her normal bubbly self.

  The next person Gibb saw was Evangeline.

  From his vantage point, and as yet unnoticed, Gibb observed Evangeline’s bemusement as she watched the man beside her kiss Louisa’s hand then her cheek.

  “Ma belle, as beautiful as ever,” the man said to Louisa in an elegant French accent. “May I present my daughter, Evangeline?”

  Gibb grinned inwardly, went to move and make his presence felt, and his hand slipped on the bannister. He took an involuntary step forward, missed the next tread and stumbled to save his balance.

  The noise in the quiet hall was like a herd of elephants on the rampage.

  Evangeline looked up as she thought the twisting wooden staircase was about to fall down.

  Instead she thought she might. She had to be hallucinating. That couldn’t be Gibb almost tumbling down the stairs, could it? Gibb, as elegant as ever but seeming dazed and as if he could not believe his eyes. Good lord, had their lovemaking worn him out that much? She schooled her expression to one of vague indifference.

  Evangeline shot a sideways glance at her papa and Louisa Loxton. They looked complacent and expectant. “You set this up,” she hissed as her heartbeat performed an energetic quickstep. “For god’s sake, why?”