Chapter Twenty
Evelyn spied Gerard sitting on a stone wall in the garden. Oil lamps cast a warm glow upon the flat stones marking the path from the main house. The light of a nearly full moon cast silver highlights on his dark hair. Alert, shoulders squared, he might’ve been a fierce warrior awaiting attack.
“Tell me why I should believe you,” she whispered, standing close enough to touch him. She reached out, gently pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the tiny, bristle-like hairs on his jaw against her palm.
He shrugged. “The way I see it, lass, ye’ve little choice.”
She pulled her hand away and laced her arms together. “Is that so? I can think of many alternatives to the rather vague and frightening version of the truth you’ve offered.”
“Ye’ve reason to be cautious. Dinnae trust anyone.”
“Anyone but you, I presume.”
“And my brother. We will keep ye safe.” He left his perch on the wall and coiled an arm around her, possessive as a lover. Curving his hand around the back of her neck, he tipped up her chin. His mouth brushed over hers, a light caress that tasted of whisky and Gerard. “Ye have my word on it.”
“Your word?” she whispered. “Am I to value the word of a man who has deceived me?”
“I did what I had to do. Ye’re none the worse for it.”
“Allow me to be the judge of that.”
He traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “I would never hurt ye.”
She pressed her mouth into a seam, struggling to push away the desire to feel his lips against hers, to savor the texture of his tongue mating with hers, to drink in his healthy, masculine scent. “Is this part of…part of whatever it is that you do? Do you believe seduction will make me more cooperative?”
He drew back, seeming to study her in the dim light. “Nay. Truth be told, ye’re a distraction I can ill afford.”
“Really? What of spies who seduce unsuspecting women to garner their secrets?”
“Whoever told ye that?”
“There’s a name for them…boudoir spies, I believe.”
A dark brow hiked. “What nonsense do ye read, lass?”
She offered an indignant little huff. “I believe it is common knowledge. I would think that you, of all people, would know as much.”
“I am not a blasted boudoir spy.”
She feigned a pout. “Well, that is rather disappointing.”
His other brow hiked, a bit higher than the first one. At this rate, his brows would be touching his hairline before the orchestra played its final piece. “And even if I was, what secrets do ye have that would interest a hardened spy?”
“It’s not as though my life has been entirely without intrigue. There was the scandal, of course. Lady Houghton has taken great pains to mention it at every turn. I’m actually rather surprised she did not hire a minstrel to stroll about, strumming a lute while singing about the legend of the scandalous miss and the prince who escaped her sordid clutches in the nick of time.”
“Aye, she has alluded to yer mysterious past. Will ye tell me about it, or must I seduce the truth out of ye?”
Allowing him to seduce the truth from her lips did have a certain appeal. But, this was neither the time, nor the place. A smile pulled at her lips. How very scandalized her hostess would be if someone came upon them enjoying a robust shag in the garden, possibly on a bed of rare and exotic flowers.
“Generally, I require a seduction before I reveal the salacious details, but in your case, I will make an exception.”
“Blast the luck. I was looking forward to the challenge.”
“I do hate to disappoint you, but the truth of the matter is really quite simple. When I was nineteen, I fell in love.”
“Not an unusual occurrence for a young lass.”
“No, not at all. The object of my affection was a former schoolmate of my brother. They’d attended Eton as lads. Years later, after they’d both graduated university, Nigel and I met again, quite by chance. Ours was a brief courtship. For me, it was love at first sight. I know that must sound silly to a man like you.”
“Not really,” he said. “I gather the fellow shared your feelings.”
“For a time, yes.” Even now, the memory pierced her heart. “He offered for my hand, but my father opposed the marriage. Papa did not trust him. He believed Nigel wanted my money and little else.”
“But ye went ahead with the marriage.”
“Mama understood my feelings, and with her encouragement, Papa relented. A grand wedding was planned. My dress was designed in Paris. It was absolutely stunning. The church was lavishly decorated. The guests were seated. The minister was waiting to read our vows. And then, the nightmare began.”
“He left ye there?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, the bastard.” Gerard scowled.
“He did not even show me the courtesy of telling me to my face. He sent a friend to the church—the man he’d selected as his best man, as a matter of fact—rather like one might send a second in a duel. The whey-faced bastard announced the news to everyone gathered there. Nigel—you may know him as Lord Brandemill—would not be coming to the church. He had no intention of marrying me that day. Or any other day, for that matter.”
“Bluidy coward.”
“While I stood there, heartbroken and mortified, the wily toad dealt my reputation the death blow. He stood before a man of the cloth, my family, and all those I’d considered friends, and declared that he and I had been…intimate… As if I would have touched his scrawny, pale body.” The very thought of it left the taste of bile in her mouth. “He claimed his conscience had demanded that he warn Nigel of my faithlessness—a vicious, heartless lie.”
Gerard placed a hand over hers, gentle and reassuring. “Go on, lass.”
“As you can imagine, my life was forever changed. The truth of the matter was that Nigel had been the unfaithful one. He’d never loved me. Not really. He’d lusted after my inheritance, but Papa had put restrictions on the funds. He’d made it clear that it would be a very long time before any husband of mine could touch a shilling. Nigel ran off with an American heiress, the daughter of a railroad tycoon. She got a penniless lord with a title she coveted, and he got a fortune.” She gave a soft snort. “A fair trade, in his eyes.”
“The bastard ruined yer good name in the process.” Gerard bit off an epithet under his breath. She was sure he’d uttered a Gaelic curse.
“He did not ruin me.” Evelyn edged her chin higher and met his questioning gaze. “He broke my heart, a bitter wound, indeed. For the longest time, I could not understand why he’d chosen to do things as he had. If he’d come to me and told me he did not love me, I would have understood. But he’d chosen to humiliate me. To crush me—he tried to destroy me. As I pondered what happened, I realized he was a weak, petty man. He’d done me a favor, really. He’d acted out of a desire for revenge against my father after Papa thwarted his intention to gain access to my inheritance. I was merely a pawn.”
“Is he in London?” Gerard brushed a kiss over her cheekbone.
“Why? Do you intend to pay a call upon him and play the part of my champion?”
“Let’s just say the bloke would be eating his food mashed like a wee bairn’s for a good, long while.”
Somehow, the thought of Gerard charging after the man who’d inflicted such a brutal wound tugged a small, reluctant smile to her lips. Of course, she wouldn’t really wish harm upon Nigel. But the thought of having a champion was rather pleasant, much more than she’d ever imagined.
“To my knowledge, he is in America. From what I’ve been told, his bride’s father continues to hold the purse strings…and Nigel’s as well, rather like a marionette.”
“The man was a fool.” Gerard’s powerful arms encircled her, and he held her close. “If I had a woman like ye, I’d never let her go.”
A pang of longing rippled through her. What would it be like to be loved by a man like Gerard, powerful, and strong, and so very tender?
She pulled in a breath and affected a coy smile. “Is that so, Mr. MacMasters?”
He slowly shook his head. “What have I told ye about calling me that? I’ve kissed yer sweet mouth. I’ve held ye in my arms as ye reached yer crisis. I want to hear my name on your lips.”
His gravel-edged plea kindled a bone-deep yearning. She coiled her arms around his neck and melted against his strong body. The ridge of his erection pressed into her softness. She canted her hips, cradling the length of him. She closed her eyes. What would it be like to harbor him within her body? To feel his passion? To smell the scent of his arousal and taste the salt of his skin?
For perhaps the first time in her life, words failed her. Her mind raced, seeking a suitable reply. Something that might leave him as vulnerable to her as she was to him.
Finally, she settled on her response.
“Gerard.” How right the name sounded on her lips. Somehow, she doubted she’d ever tire of it. “Will you please stop talking and kiss me?”
…
Gerard did not wait for Evelyn to change her mind. On her lips, his name had been spoken in a velvety tone, her voice warmed by passion.
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this moment, but damned if he didn’t intend to make the most of it. He’d kiss her until the memory of the man who’d hurt her was a faint and distant thing. If she wanted him, he’d love her until all thought of the bastard who’d crushed her vulnerable heart had all but evaporated.
He kissed her. Softly, at first. Savoring her tenderness and the satin texture of her lips. Drinking in every drop of her sweetness. She was like a fine ruby wine, and he could not get enough of her.
“Will ye come to me tonight, Evelyn?” he breathed against her throat, even as his mouth swept against her flesh, brushing soft, delicate kisses. “Slip away from yer chamber. I’ll wait for ye.”
She went very still. Blast it, he’d said too much. He’d gone too far.
Had he shattered their tenuous bond?
And then, she smiled. A more tempting sight he could not have imagined.
“Yes, Gerard. After the clock strikes midnight.” She hesitated, drinking in a breath. She was not reconsidering so quickly—was she?
She watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Suspense pounded in his brain. Was the lass trying to drive him to the brink of madness?
“Oh, Gerard, there is one thing.” She raised up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. “Please, wear the kilt. Everything else is optional.”