Chapter Four
Whoever said history never repeated itself was wrong. Several days later Evangeline sighed, checked her stiletto was within her reach and dropped her carpetbag on the ground beside her. Trust her to decide to leave by the garden gate and once more be accosted by Lord Crowe.
Stupide. Idiot. When will I learn? However, she hadn’t even known he was there. This event had seemed much too mundane for the likes of him, and on not spying him in her audience she had relaxed.
Foolish.
“My lord, desist this ridiculous behavior,” she said. “I am no one’s mistress nor ever will I be. You are wasting your time and getting very close to losing part of your body.” She stared at him and expected him to back down. She had worsted him last time and who in their right mind would risk such a thing again?
He scowled at her sullenly. “You think not?” His eyes flicked to someone behind her and before she had a chance to react Evangeline found her arms pinned to her sides and her feet several inches off the ground.
Hot, smelly, beery breath surrounded her and she did her best not to gag. Someone’s sweaty hands over her breasts made her cringe. Nevertheless, she stared at Crowe stonily. He was one person she would never give the satisfaction of seeing she was apprehensive.
“Not so cocky now, are you?” he sneered as he moved one hand to stroke her neck, and slid his fingers to probe beneath her pelisse. “No protector around to help out.”
Evangeline did her best to keep her expression blank and held back her revulsion by sheer will. Crowe had more sense than she had given him credit for. She hadn’t thought he would resort to such tactics and she’d walked, unheeding, into his trap. It served her right for not listening to what she’d been told about him. She could hear Gibb’s voice echoing in her head. ‘He’s more than a bully. He is uncouth, uncaring and dangerous. He holds a grudge so beware.’
Crowe seemed to be waiting for an answer, or maybe a plea for…for what? Lenience? She didn’t deign to answer him. Never would she show fear, especially to someone like Denby Crowe. Her mind raced as she feverishly tried to think how she could salvage the situation. Nothing sprang to mind.
“What are you going to do, eh, now you can’t get to that knife up your sleeve?” Crowe asked, mocking her. “No help at hand. What next?”
A frisson of fear slithered down her spine, and she silently berated herself once more. Why, oh why hadn’t she expected this and been vigilant? Apart from Gibb, Eloise had told her that Denby Crowe had a reputation for underhandedness and was not one to take a slight or put-down lightly. She also had warned Evangeline to be on her guard, but Evangeline hadn’t thought he would attend such a low-key gathering as the one she had just performed at. Tea, buns and not enough sandwiches. Inferior musicians, wittering, twittering debs and a mere handful of gentlemen.
How wrong could she have been? Now it seemed complacency was to be her downfall. Evangeline wriggled and tried to hit something—anything—with her legs. Preferably whoever held her tight in his grip.
“Give up, you’ll ’urt yursul.” The voice was rough and uncultured. She didn’t know enough about British accents to decipher from where it originated. Not that it mattered, the brute was there at that moment and not elsewhere. Knowing his origins wouldn’t help her get out of the predicament. She swore pithily in French. The fact neither man commented showed they had no idea just what she had called them. It was no doubt just as well. Doubting their ancestry in such a way was guaranteed not to win her any favors.
Crowe laughed. “Oh, she doesn’t like it, what a pity. I wager she won’t like anything else either.”
“Couchon.” Evangeline spat on his immaculate Hessians. “I will carve your gonads out slowly and painfully.”
His eyes narrowed and his face tightened into a cruel mask. “You won’t get the chance. Joe here will see to that.”
Joe—she presumed it was he who held her—sniggered. “Argh, be good to sort this one out.”
A movement behind Crowe caught Evangeline’s eye. She blinked and was rewarded by a slight shake of a very familiar head. She bit her lip and looked at the ground.
“Ha, so you are worried, eh? As you should be.” Crowe tugged hard on her hair and made her lift her gaze to his. His features contorted and he laughed harshly. “You, my dear, made me a laughing stock.”
“I doubt it,” she said in the most indifferent voice she could manage. “You did that yourself.” In truth, before he’d accosted her in the garden that night, she’d thought he had conducted himself in as proper a manner as could be expected after the way Gibb had showed him up. But that had not been bandied about, so why then was he in this state of ire? She didn’t believe for one moment Gibb had spread the story about how she had worsted him.
“You think so? You are wrong,” he said in a furious voice. “Others heard how you behaved and decided I was not enough of a man to show you what is what. They will not think that anymore.”
“You think not?” the newcomer said as he moved forward without a sound, grabbed hold of Crowe’s arm and pushed it up his back. Crowe squealed and Evangeline watched with interest and yes, she admitted, glee, as Gibb twisted that little bit harder and Crowe moaned.
“I wonder?” Gibb said in a contemplative voice. “How small this will make you in the eyes of the ton? After all, you needed hired help to accomplish anything. You.” He stared toward Evangeline and her captor, but spoke to the man. “Unhand the lady and get going. If I ever see or hear of you again, you’ll swing.” The moon came out from behind a cloud just in time for Evangeline to see the man blanch as he dropped his arms from her and pushed her to one side.
Sadly for him, not fast enough to distance himself before she managed a swift kick to his knees. He went down like a felled tree.
“Argh, what the…”
Gibb laughed and aimed a shove at the man’s rear. “Best be thankful it wasn’t your crown jewels and go now before we decide that wasn’t enough punishment.”
Evangeline watched the man crawl a few yards, scramble to his feet and limp out of the garden and into the mews beyond. “He never paid me,” he shouted from the safety of the mews.
“Nor would he,” Gibb replied as he stood unmoving, Crowe’s arm still held fast. “Do you want to kick Crowe anywhere?” he asked Evangeline in a conversational voice, as her assailant’s footsteps faded into the distance. “I’m happy to hold him whilst you do so, and then break his arm.”
Crowe made a noise between a gurgle and a moan. “You can’t do that,” he wheezed. “I’m a lord.”
“And I’m a duke,” Gibb replied in a bored tone.
Evangeline stifled a giggle.
“What is your problem?” Gibb added. “Not au fait with the hierarchy, Crowe? Tut tut.”
The moon hid behind a cloud. Now all Evangeline could see were shadowy outlines. Gibb, Crowe, shrubbery and the garden wall. The house she’d staged her show outside was hidden behind a screen of trees. No voices penetrated this far, and in the silence the rustle of an animal in the bushes vied with the harsh breathing of Crowe to see which was loudest.
“I asked you a question,” Gibb said with menace. “I suggest you answer without delay.”
“You’re hurting me.” There was no cockiness evident now, just the sound of a man worried about his future. It gave Evangeline a fillip that she should be ashamed of, but she thought, unrepentantly, she wasn’t. He deserved all he got.
“And you hurt the lady,” Gibb replied. His tone was harsh enough to make Crowe blanch. “So your future hangs in her hands.”
How would she respond? Gibb held on to his temper by a thread. Of all the stupid, irresponsible things to do, walking through a deserted garden, by herself, after the recent altercation with Denby Crowe, topped the list. It had been pure chance one of his peers had heard Crowe bragging about the fact he’d best the knife-thrower and make her wish she’d never tried to belittle Denby Crowe, and reported it to Gibb. Forewarned, Gibb was able to be where he was, and thwart Crowe.
She might not be so lucky next time, and knowing what he did of Crowe, unless the man was forcibly halted now, and the fear of dire retribution put into him, there would be a next time. Gibb shook with temper—and worry. It was lucky Crowe mistook it for anger at his behavior and also shook.
So much for holding himself apart, Gibb thought ruefully. Lord above, what had she reduced him to? The woman was chipping away at his defenses faster than a cavalry charge. It was disquieting to say the least.
“I meant no harm,” Crowe said. The words tumbled out as he strove to redeem himself. “I just wanted to frighten her. You know, shake her up for trying to make a fool of me.”
“Rubbish, you liar. Apart from anything else, you achieved fool status all on your own.” Gibb didn’t try to temper his disgust. “If I hadn’t come upon you, you would have done more than worry her. I do not like men who terrorize women.” Gibb didn’t have to fabricate contempt. “They are not men but feeble imitations. So.” He looked at Evangeline, who was once more neat and tidy. “What do we do?”
She shrugged. “He is a mouse, and I wonder if he…is he worth worrying about? I’m sure a word in the right place will let everyone know what he is. Or if you prefer, just break his arm. I’m happy to hold him in place whilst you do so.”
Gibb bit his lip and kept his face impassive. He had no doubt she meant it. Crowe’s breathing was loud and uneven, his eyes wild, and his color went from white to choleric to ashen in the space of seconds. Lord, he hoped the man was not about to expire from fear. That had not been his intention. He just wanted to make sure Crowe never pulled such a stunt again. With anyone, let alone Evangeline. He pushed Crowe’s arm higher, just for a second, and held Crowe up as his knees buckled under him.
“What shall I do?” he mused and watched Evangeline turn away. Presumably so Crowe wouldn’t see her expression of unholy glee. Gibb was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud.
He let go of Denby Crowe and the man dropped to the ground, moaning under his breath. “I’m hurt.”
“No you are not, but if you don’t go away now, and make a mental note never to do anything against any woman again, you’ll know what hurt is,” Gibb advised him. “I hope I don’t see you around the capital for the rest of the season.” That would be the cruelest thing he could inflict on the man. Crowe was an avid pursuer of the activities of the ton in the capital. He was not one who excelled on the hunting field, or who was competent at shooting or fishing and therefore eschewed house parties because of that. The capital was his hunting ground. Rustication would be more of a punishment than imprisonment. Especially as Gibb knew the man’s home was not overlarge and that in general his parents and three of his sisters lived there.
Crowe shook his head. “Not that.”
“Yes that,” Gibb replied. “Or I might find myself accidentally telling people, in strictest confidence of course, just what has just occurred. Your choice.”
“There is no choice,” Crowe replied sullenly. “But I’m promised to Lawson and his card party tomorrow.
“Not anymore you’re not. Remember this, there are always choices, unpalatable as some of them may seem. You decided which you preferred, so now go with good grace and spend some time with your family. I dare say by next season, if I have reason to return to the capital, even I will, if not have forgotten this, be prepared to let it lie.”
He stood back and stared at the other man. “After, of course, you have apologized to mademoiselle here.”
“Oh, I say, no need—” Crowe broke off as Gibb raised one eyebrow and folded his arms.
“You were saying?”
“Ah.” Crowe ran his fingers under the edge of his cravat “I apologize for any hurt you may have suffered,” he said in a stiff and unhappy voice.
Gibb coughed.
“Very well, and for my behavior, which I assure you will not be repeated,” Crowe said petulantly. “Toward anyone,” he added in a rush.
“Better.” Gibb doubted it was sincere, but better. “And now get out of my sight and remember, even if I’m not in the capital, I know people who are. Be warned you will be watched.”
Crowe nodded and turned on his heel. Gibb was oh so tempted to give him a helping kick up the backside to speed him on his way. Instead he spoke to Evangeline in a loud voice. “My godfather is part of the judiciary. I will make sure he keeps a weather eye out for any transgressions.”
Evangeline let her breath out in one long hiss and shook her skirts. “That couchon ripped my skirts.” She inspected a long, jagged rip a few inches above the hem. “I hope Eloise can mend it, for I am fond of this gown. Zut, I should have pricked him just a little bit. As for Crowe, the cabot, do you believe him?”
Gibb shrugged. When her anger was icy, her Gallic roots showed. “A cur? That’s mild for you, my dear. Believe him? For now, whilst he thinks there is a chance of retribution, yes. Toward you? I am certain of it. Toward others? I’ll do my best to curb his impulses in that direction. I have enough people I can call on to keep him in check. Plus a few months in the county will subdue him, especially as he will have to take his mother and sisters with him and suffer the nagging they will give him. Lady Crowe is a holy terror and his sisters take after her.” And yet again I’ll be bothered with other people’s emotions. Perhaps he could foist the job onto his secretary? He didn’t want the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew what that could do to a person.
“Almost I pity him,” Evangeline said as Gibb picked up her carpetbag and offered her his arm. She took it and they began to walk toward the gate Crowe had exited through not long before. “Almost. But he deserves to suffer. I was lucky.” She grinned, all gamine and cheeky. “And you were here. But I do hope he’ll be happy to stick to acceptable boundaries of behavior. Before he goes.” She paused to let Gibb unlatch the gate. “And of course when he returns.”
“If not, I’ll find out and he’ll wish he had.” Gibb ushered her through the opening and shut it behind them. He would not tell her not to rely on him. She’d find that out soon enough. “Do you have a carriage or shall we walk around to the front and have them call for mine?”
Evangeline nibbled her lip as they strolled toward the end of the mews. A lamplighter walked by on the main road and glanced at them as he checked his lamps. Closer by, a black cat ran from one wall and jumped up another. A yowl and a squeal showed he’d caught his supper.
A black cat spelled luck? Who for? Not the hapless dinner, that was for sure.
“Food,” Evangeline said with a laugh. “I need food. Can I tempt you?”
Oh yes. That thought hit him like a hammer and almost brought him to a standstill. He was in deep and drowning. Gibb waited for the familiar panic to hit him. It didn’t. That shocked him to silence once more.
“With?” he asked cautiously when he decided he could talk in a normal voice.
“Oh, nothing you can’t come to terms with,” Evangeline said cheerfully. “Far be it for me to upset your well-ordered life. I thought some supper. I have cheese, fruits, chicken. Ordinary food, I admit, but also a rather superior wine, and some whisky.”
Her matter-of-fact acceptance of his limitations stung. Why was he so contrary? Was that not what he wanted? Gibb was no longer so sure. “Supper sounds good,” he said at last.
“Excellent.” Evangeline gave a little skip. “I’ll send my hackney away.”
How strange, he wanted the same as she.
“I’ll do it. Then let’s find my carriage.”
* * * *
Have I done the right thing? Evangeline wondered as she sat back in his very comfortable carriage for the drive across town. Luckily few people had been around as they’d climbed aboard, but no doubt someone would have seen and would be eager to spread gossip and innuendo. Would it be detrimental to her employment? Would it affect Gibb and his preferred way of life?
Time would tell, and if it did affect either of them in a negative manner it would be up to each of them to address it in the way they thought best. Could she do it? Evangeline had no idea, but one thing she was determined about. She would try to find out what she had come to England to discover and she would do her best to keep Gibb in her life. Somehow she was sure they both needed each other. With that thought fixed in her mind, she wriggled into a comfortable position and glanced at the profile of the man next to her.
“You are very quiet. Are you regretting your impulses now? I promise not to keep you to any promise you’ve made. You can drop me in Bruton Street and forget about me.”
“What?” Gibb took his attention away from the road and stared at her. “That will be unlikely. Damn this light, I need to see you properly. Let’s wait until we arrive at your home and then we can talk without interruption. But believe me, you have no need to hold me to anything. I will do that myself.”
Evangeline couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “How sad, to have to hold yourself.”
“You… Oh lord, I set myself up for that, didn’t I?” he said wryly. “I will rephrase it. I stand by all I said. No one will bother you again. No one, that is, except me. As a friend, like we decided.”
“That will do.” She hesitated, but it had to be said. “I wonder, will our friendship open the floodgates for young ladies to force themselves into your orbit?”
“I neither know nor care,” Gibb said. “It no longer bothers me. They can try, but I’m old enough and wise enough not to let them succeed.”
“Then that, my Lord Alford, is all I need. And as your friend I should say that I’m sure I saw Basford as we got into the coach and he is not only one of the Regent’s cronies, albeit an unknown one, he is also the biggest gossip I know.”
“Basford and Prinny?” The astonishment in his voice was evident. “You know this how?”
“I don’t think I should divulge my—” Even in the gloaming she could see the hard look in his eyes. “My landlady passes on the titbits she thinks it is in my best interest to know. That is one of them.”
Gibb laughed long and loud. It sounded rusty, as if a real laugh had for years evaded him. “Let’s hope she doesn’t see fit to pass on anything about us to anyone then.”
“She won’t,” Evangeline said. “I resent that you think she might. Trust me, your grace. Trust my friends.”
“We’re back to ‘your grace-ing’ again, are we?”
“You seem not to think of me in the way I can be comfortable calling you by your given name. Listen to me. The sole reason she told me that was because of my profession. He is a gossipmonger bar none, and sometimes a little economical with the truth. I do not need too many stories about me circulating the ton. I need to make a living, not lose one.”
“I promise you, you will not lose anything because of him, me, or the ton.”
It was easy for him to say, but, in all seriousness, how could he stop it? Nevertheless, Evangeline nodded her thanks. What else could she do? She was not one to hold a grudge and had long accepted this was difficult for him. If he had decided to be her champion she would accept it, for as long as he felt able to be so. “What do you know about Lady Linford?” she asked, changing the subject. “I am to perform a limited part of my act at a ladies’ tea she is holding. The request came from her husband, who said his wife was excited to see at first-hand and in her own home what was entrancing the gentlemen of the ton. So far any ladies’ engagement has been for younger ladies, not those of a more…” She paused, not sure how to phrase what she needed to say.
“Mature age? Old harridans?” Gibb suggested. “Gossipmongers, dowagers and leaders of the ton?”
“Just as you say.”
He understood perfectly.
“Anyone would think I was a performing animal or something.” She rolled her eyes and made a funny face to ensure Gibb accepted she was not really complaining. “Jump though a burning hoop and roar.”
He inclined his head in understanding. “Jeanne Linford is sound, even if she tries to set me up with a wife. George is also,” he said in a bored tone. “You could do worse.”
“And you sound disinterested,” she snapped. Lord she was contrary. Why all of a sudden did his tone and diction annoy her? He’d warned her on more than one occasion what he was like.
But he isn’t, not really. He’d been less and less distant as the time they spent together increased. She had thought they were beyond this indifferent response. She wasn’t sure she could cope with his abrupt changes in mood. It was hard enough keeping herself friendly but not overly so as it was. If she also had to watch every word she said, it would be nigh on impossible to stay level-headed, and keep the distance he preferred between them. Something which had to be made clear.
“Fair enough, my lord. May I say if you continue to blow hot and cold you can blow so in a different direction. I do not need to have to second-guess you at every turn.” The coach drew up in Bruton Street and she flung open the door without waiting for Gibb or the coachman to aid her. “Come with me or stay here, it matters not.” The steps were lowered in a hurry and she took them two at a time. Damn him. She nodded to the coachman, who had to leap out of her way as she almost tumbled to the road and hurried toward the green-painted front door of Eloise’s salon and her own chambers. Although it galled her to admit it, she’d accepted Gibb was correct in his summing up of her stupidity in using the alleyway, and had since used the front door, with a heartfelt apology to the doorman each time. He responded with a smile and, “It’s my job, miss,” but Evangeline still felt it was unfair. After all, if Eloise wasn’t out at night, his working day should be over.
“What’s the hurry?” Gibb grabbed her elbow. “You almost came a cropper and tumbled down the carriage steps. A broken arm wouldn’t help your act now, would it?”
“What do you care?” Evangeline sniffed and felt moisture at the corners of her eyes. She would not cry. Crying was for innocents and did no one any good. Red eyes and a headache were not helpful. “Oh, go back to your isolation, my lord,” she said in exasperation. “Enjoy your misery and let me enjoy mine.” Those were not the words she had meant to utter. Strange how the truth came out when you didn’t think about what you were about to say. She rapped on the door and heard the locks being drawn.
“Misery is a cold bedfellow,” Gibb said in an undertone. “And lonely. Perhaps I’ve wallowed long enough.”
Evangeline turned to look at him. Really look at him. His usual lackluster eyes sparkled and for once there were no frown lines or signs of weariness on his face. “Perhaps?” she queried.
In the light of the lantern over the door she watched him redden.
“Yes, I know I have, but it is a hard habit to break. Misery loves misery. May I come in?” he asked as the door opened. “And atone for my sins?”
She had seconds to make her mind up. “Be my guest.”
* * * *
“If I am to put my cards on the table,” Gibb said, the best part of an hour later, after a hearty and enjoyable meal, “so must you.”
“I?” Evangeline opened her eyes wide. “Whatever do you mean?”
To him her look of polite astonishment was unreal. “You,” he confirmed. “For although my agenda is simple—I neither want nor need to be in charge of another person’s hopes, dreams and destiny—yours, I think, is more complicated.”
“What makes you think that?” she asked him warily. “I just need to make a living.”
“By knife-throwing?”
“If necessary, yes,” she said in an agreeable manner. However, her look of innocence was too innocent, Gibb decided.
“What is wrong with that?” she asked him. “It earns me an honest penny.”
“But afterward?” he persisted. “When the season is over. You will tour the country estates? Live in rat-infested attics and be at the beck and call of everyone and anyone? Be prey to the passing whims and fancies of the ton? Ladies and so-called gentlemen?”
“No doubt I will. If I’m asked.” She sounded puzzled. “It seems my act causes a lot of interest. Even so, I feel you exaggerate and you are scaremongering. I would be under the protection of the mistress of the house, and rats shouldn’t be able to climb all those stairs to the attic.”
Gibb shook his head. “The two-legged male sort would. As for the mistress of the house? Lord, woman, have you learned nothing? Become a mistress of the lord of the house more like. Evangeline, I know these people. Oh, I admit, not everyone is like that, true, but enough young and foolish sons of the house think any servant is fair game, and they would classify you as such, believe me. Now, if we say I am your protector it is unlikely to happen as much, if at all. I have a reputation for hardness.” Well earned. “If I am also there, nothing at all will happen, except my room and yours will be accessible from one to the other.”
She gasped. “You behave so?”
“Me?” Did he look as disgusted as he felt? “Grief, Evangeline, what do you take me for?” Had he come across like that? It was worse than he ever could have imagined then. But you wanted to be shown as uncaring, a tiny voice reminded him. You don’t want the stress, the burden.
‘I need you now, come now, why do you not want me? Why will you not do as I want? Why? Why?’ Harriet’s voice rang in his ears.
“No,” he said harshly and closed his eyes in despair. “No, never.”
“Gibb? Gibb, are you all right?” A different voice penetrated into his consciousness and a soft hand patted his cheek. “Come back to me.”
“What?” He blinked and looked into Evangeline’s concerned eyes. “Oh sorry, yes. I’m fine…”
Evangeline shut him up by putting her hand over his mouth. “Enough. Gibb, if we are not open and honest this stops now,” she said. Her tone brooked no argument. “This minute. You do not want to be responsible for me, you would hate it, and when, for it is when not if, your peers hear, your life would be untenable.”
He scrubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’d accept it, for it would be done for the right reasons. However, you are correct. I’m not all right, perhaps I never, ever will be. I can but try to do my best. It…it is all too painful to talk about except…except, I didn’t care enough and now I dare not care at all.”
“I see. Hmm, no, I don’t, but if you think you do not care, you are wrong,” Evangeline said quietly. “You do, in your own way. You really do.”
“I didn’t then, I don’t know if I understand caring,” Gibb replied. He hated how defeated he sounded, but try as he might he could not inject any animation into his voice. “Then I had too much else to worry about and…” He sighed and hoped the bleakness in his heart didn’t show in his eyes. “Now?”
“Now you will do your best and I trust you. So we have to present a united front and let people believe what they will.” It was not a question.
He nodded. “Oh yes, and I can tell you now, not one person will believe our relationship is platonic. In general people, especially those of the ton, believe friendship is only possible between the sexes if sex is involved.”
“So you are saying I should not take a booking unless you can escort me?”
“In essence, yes,” Gibb confirmed, pleased she understood him.
Evangeline shook her head. “No.”
“No?” he asked in an astonished voice. “Why in Hades not?”
“I will not put that onus on you,” she said and sipped her wine. “You know you do not want responsibility and so on.”
Were these his words coming back to haunt him? “There is an exception to every rule,” Gibb said with a tranquillity he didn’t feel. “As I said, this is one.”
“Really?” she said with skepticism. “You do surprise me, for as I said, you would hate it.”
Her disbelief annoyed him. “No one should be so rigid as not to bend where necessary. I’m bending my rule to take care of you. Believe it,” he said with a snap as he forced his hands to unclench from the position he hadn’t realized they were in.
“Without ties,” she said flatly. “With the chance to stop if you want to.”
Gibb put his glass down with care. It was that or throw it at the wall. “Do you trust me?”
Evangeline studied him over the rim of her goblet. Did she notice how his hair needed trimming and his overnight beard showed dark on his face? Her calm eyes stared at him long and hard, and her expression gave nothing away. Then she smiled and he swore the sun came out even though it was past midnight. “Of course I do.”
“Then let me show you what we can do for each other,” he said and rued the note of needy pleading he had injected into his voice. “I promise to try to open up.”
She nodded as she held out her hand. “And for my part, I promise to do my best to open you up even further.” To his delight she giggled and looked the carefree young lady he swore she should be. “In a non-threatening, non-nagging and ladylike manner of course.” She spoiled her earnest words with a roll of the eyes. “I confess now, I can’t vouch for the last of those attributes.”
“It sounds interesting.” Gibb tugged on her hand until she fell into him. Her body was curvaceous and molded perfectly to him. “Ladylike is overrated.” Her warm breath feathered over his neck and her hair tickled his cheek. It felt, he realized, right.
“Shall we try this?” He put his lips to hers. It put all thoughts of what she was hiding out of his mind.