“You did what?”
Cam had expected his brother to be angry, but he had perhaps underestimated the degree to which Ben would express this anger.
“Now, Ben,” he said, raising his hands in a surrendering motion. “You needn’t lose your temper. It’s not seemly for a vicar to engage in fisticuffs.”
Though Cam knew it took a great deal to raise his brother’s ire, it would appear that this was one of those occasions.
“There is every reason for me to lose my temper, you lout,” Ben said through clenched teeth. “There are millions of women in the world for you to seduce. But who do you decide to lay hands on at the first opportunity? My sister-in-law. I knew you were a rake, Cam, but I thought even you would draw the line at my wife’s sister.”
They were in the empty library, where Cam had pulled him so that they wouldn’t be overheard. Which was a good thing, considering that Benedick was shouting the dashed roof off.
“It was badly done of me,” he said, attempting to cool things down with a preemptive admission of guilt.
Which he then ruined by giving excuses. “But you weren’t there. She was crying, dammit, and I only meant to comfort her a bit. And then she kissed me, if you want to know the—”
He was stopped in mid-sentence by the very strong punch of Ben’s fist against his jaw.
It was unexpected, and knocked him to the carpet.
For a minute, he had no thoughts beyond the pain in his face.
Followed closely by satisfaction. If he could have punched himself in the jaw he’d have done it as soon as he stepped out of the drawing room.
He moved his lower jaw from side to side. Though it hurt like the devil, it wasn’t broken.
Looking up he saw his brother looking down at him with exasperation. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “It isn’t vicarly.”
“Feel better?”
“Not as much as I’d hoped,” Ben admitted. He reached down and offered him a hand. “I think there’s some brandy hidden in here.”
On his feet again, Cam walked over to one of the large overstuffed chairs that faced the fire. The rest of the furniture was more suited to ladies but she must have had some gentlemen guests—or anticipated them—to have furnished her library with chairs obviously built for the comfort of large bodies.
He sat, then leaned his head back and lifted his forearm to cover his eyes and sighed. He’d awakened this morning feeling like the veriest saint. He was going to help Gemma, who only days ago had been a thorn in his side. It was selfless of him. Yes, he’d be double crossing Sir Everard, whom he’d come to loathe, in the process, but that was beside the point.
And now Sir Everard was dead, Gemma’s fossil was missing, and he was facing the prospect of a hasty wedding.
Because there was no way his brother was going to let him off the hook for this.
What a difference a few hours could make.
“Here,” he opened his eyes to see his brother offering a generously filled glass of brandy.
He put his arm down and took it. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”
“Not my style,” said Ben, taking the chair opposite. He extended and flexed the fingers of his right hand as he sipped from the glass in his left.
Cam took a swig of the brandy and was pleased to find it was quality. No cheap liquor for Lady Celeste either. The more he learned of her the more he respected her. She’d been clever enough to choose Gemma after all.
At the thought of her, he couldn’t help but remember her mouth on his. Her sweet curves pressed against him as if she couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t either. But he didn’t mention it, of course. He had no wish for a black eye to go with his bruised jaw.
He would have liked to avoid the subject altogether, but that was not going to happen while Ben was drawing breath.
“I barely know the girl, Ben,” he said aloud. And even as he said the words he felt their inadequacy. Couples who knew one another far less than they did were married every day.
“You should have thought about that before you kissed her, idiot,” his brother said without any of his usual carefully worded tact. “What were you thinking?”
Then, recalling perhaps why he’d punched Cam in the first place, he held up his hand. “In general terms, please. I don’t want to break my hand.”
Cam shook his head. “It was the heat of the moment,” he said wryly. “It wasn’t planned. I wasn’t trying to seduce her. Hell, I didn’t even mean to kiss her.”
“You must be attracted to her,” Ben pressed. “I mean, if you weren’t—and I am going to believe that she kissed you, just for the sake of argument—then you wouldn’t have kissed her back.”
“Of course, I’m attracted to her,” Cam said. Really, his brother was such a simpleton at times. “She’s lovely. Maddening as hell, but lovely.”
“So, why is the idea of marriage such a problem?”
Cam leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I have been thinking about settling down, but hadn’t made up my mind yet. And I’d certainly not thought to choose someone like Gemma. For all that she’s beautiful she’s the opposite of what a wife should be.”
“What should a wife be, then?” Ben asked, tilting his head with puzzlement.
“Don’t be an ass,” Cam said, feeling his ears go a little red. “You know what I mean. We all have an idea of what we’d like in a bride. I’m simply saying that Gemma is not what I envisioned.”
“And I’m asking what you envisioned,” Ben said patiently.
“Someone more…” Cam struggled to put the idea into words. “Someone more like Lady Serena. Beautiful, calm, sweet. She would make the perfect wife.”
“Oh!”
He glanced at the door and saw Gemma there her mouth agape. But she quickly regained her composure.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll leave you to your conversation.”
With that she was gone.
“Now who’s an ass?” Ben asked.
Cam, already on his feet, didn’t argue.
For once, he was in full agreement with his brother.
* * *
Cam passed Sophia in the hallway but when she tried to stop him, he waved her off. “I have to find Gemma,” he said as he brushed past her.
“She’s in the fossil workroom,” she called after him.
He cursed himself for a fool, though to be honest, he wasn’t sure why he was so worried about what Gemma had overheard. Didn’t she deserve to know the truth? She wanted a marriage between them no more than he did. She didn’t even like him. She’d made that perfectly clear in their every interaction since that disastrous first introduction.
True, they had reached a detente of sorts since then, but it was hardly a complete change of opinions.
As he neared the double doors of the fossil gallery, he felt an unusual flutter of nerves. Which he immediately repressed.
He had likely hurt her feelings. That was all. Once he explained his reasons for saying what he had, they would have a good laugh about it. She was a woman of sense. She would understand.
He’d approached the gallery from the far side of the house, so the workroom was on the other side from where they’d entered only yesterday.
And though there was no sign of Gemma in the gallery itself, he could hear a scrubbing sound from the workroom.
When he reached the door to that chamber, it was to see her wearing an apron over her gown and standing at the worktable, using fine brushes to clean the dirt from what looked to be a stack of ammonites.
“What are you doing?” he asked, though it would have been obvious even to young Jeremy, Lady Serena’s lad, what she was doing.
“I’d like for you to go, please,” she said firmly, not raising her eyes from the task at hand. “I’ll figure out what to do about my fossil on my own. Think no more about what happened earlier. My sister won’t force me into a marriage neither of us wants. And…” she paused. He saw her jaw clench before she went on. “Lady Serena will not force me either. So, you’ll be free to court her if that’s what you wish.”
That was quite a speech.
It was the utter lack of intonation that told him just how hurt she was by what she’d overheard.
He really was an ass.
“Gemma,” he said, “let me explain.”
She didn’t look up, but kept on brushing, occasionally changing to a firmer one when the softer was inadequate. “There’s nothing to explain. I am quite aware of my own shortcomings. I walk like a man, I sometimes talk like one. I’m not nearly as pretty as my sister or Serena. And you’re right. She would make a far better wife than I would. Nothing you said was untrue. It’s just been a long day. I’ve never seen a dead body.”
Seeing that she would not be rising to speak to him face-to-face, he bent so that he could see her face. “Gemma,” he said softly, “I have no intention of wooing Lady Serena. Or anyone really. At least I hadn’t. Until what happened between us.”
She stopped scrubbing and glanced over at him. “You needn’t be kind to me. We’ve always spoken honestly with one another. Do not, I pray, start wrapping things up in cotton wool now. What happened was a mistake. Neither of us should be forced to pay for it with our freedom.”
He’d been thinking much the same, but hearing it from her lips made him want to dig in his heels. “Unexpected, perhaps, but not a mistake, surely.”
“Cam,” she said, a little desperately. “Stop. I understand you feel guilty about hurting me, but there’s really no need for it. I know the truth now, and that’s far better than muddling along with some farce of a betrothal that would fall apart later. It was only a kiss.”
“Only a very good kiss,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Do you think it’s like that with everyone?”
“Since I’ve never kissed anyone else, I’m sure I don’t know,” she said primly. She didn’t look up at him.
Then, with a sigh, she looked up at him. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were red. Whether from her tears earlier or more recently, he couldn’t know. But he felt a stab of guilt over it just the same.
She’d never looked more appealing.
Cam closed his eyes at the thought. Dammit, he was only here to apologize. Not notice her appeal.
“Well?” she asked, her tone impatient.
He said the first thing that came to him. “What made you come here? To the workroom, I mean?”
She looked surprised at the question, but shrugged. “It’s where I’m most comfortable. And cleaning fossils helps me think.”
“Think?” He really was the most imbecilic man in the nation, he thought with an inward sigh.
But she seemed to find this amusing. Or something …
“Yes, Cam, think. I know you’ve heard of it, though I feel sure you are of the opinion that ladies don’t engage in the practice very often.”
“That’s not fair,” he said scowling. “I never said anything of the sort. And I thought we were friends.”
“Perhaps not in so many words,” she admitted. “But it’s quite clear to me now that what I’d thought was a friendship between us was only some foolish misunderstanding on my part.”
She shook her head a little. “I don’t blame you. Serena is lovely. And the perfect sort of proper lady a man would wish for in a wife. If I were a man, I’d marry her myself.”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. This was far worse than he’d thought.
He took her hand. “Gemma, I think you are just as lovely as your sister or Serena. What’s more, you’re intelligent and brave. But even you must admit that we would likely kill one another before the bridal trip was over.”
He said the words and meant them, but a small part of him protested the notion. They might be at loggerheads frequently, but there would certainly be passion. And as he’d told her, that wasn’t something that happened every day.
Gemma smiled at that. “I think I could restrain myself. Annoying though you may be.”
He smiled too. It would be much easier to come to some sort of solution if he didn’t want to kiss that dimple that appeared only when she smiled.
“What will we do, then?” she asked. “It’s plain as a pikestaff that we cannot simply go on as before. Serena and Sophia, while not ready to force us into marrying, at the very least expect a betrothal to protect my reputation.”
It was what he’d come to realize too. He had no wish to ruin her reputation, or to see her cut off from her family and friends because of his mistake. He might not have kissed her first, but he’d not pulled away. And for all that she considered herself a full participant, he was a gentleman and had more experience in these matters. He should have stopped it before it got out of hand.
“I think we should, at the very least, enter into a betrothal,” he said. “You may cry off in a month or so. Once we’ve had a chance to squelch any rumors. For we both know that even if Serena told no one about what she saw, servants talk and they might have overheard something. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were remarking upon the fact that we’ve been in this room together alone for an extended period of time.”
At that, Gemma muttered a curse and scrambled to her feet, pulling her hand away from his in the process.
He felt strangely bereft at the loss. But he, too, got to his feet.
“We really will have to do this, then?” she asked with a moue of distaste. “I am not very good at pretense. My face is far too quick to reveal my thoughts.”
“Will it be so distasteful, then?” Good lord, he was turning into some sort of mooning schoolboy. If he didn’t stop himself he’d be writing her poetry and composing ballads to sing up at her window.
She narrowed her eyes, and looked at him for a moment. And he felt as if she were trying to see into his soul.
“Perhaps not so distasteful,” she admitted. “Mayhap we can use this as an opportunity for my education.”
He nodded. “I would be happy to teach you more about geology. I’ve brought some of the latest journals from France with me and…”
When she moved closer and slipped her hands over his shoulders, he felt a frisson of alarm. And desire, if he were being entirely honest.
“I do not need you to teach me about fossils, Cam,” she said with a raised brow. “But as I mentioned, you were the first person I’d kissed. And as I mean to remain unwed, I would hate to miss out on the opportunity to experience all the pleasures to be had from life.”
His eyes went wide with alarm. “Oh no. Gemma, this is not a good idea.” He tried to remove her hands from his shoulders, but his traitorous brain slipped his arms about her waist instead.
“I think it’s a very good idea,” she said, leaning forward to touch his nose with hers. “If we’re to be betrothed, why not behave as other betrothed couples do?”
“I … Gemma, we can’t…” If Ben found out about this he was going to do more than plant him a facer.
But when her lips met his, Cam couldn’t think about what-ifs and consequences. His only thoughts were for the warm woman in his arms and just how much he wanted her.
* * *
When he began to kiss her back, Gemma felt as if she’d scaled the chalk cliffs in one leap. Her heart beat faster, her breath caught in her throat and she felt a pulse deep in her belly. Whatever their reasons for this betrothal, she knew one thing with every sinew of her body: they were very good together.
She’d been upset at what she’d overheard. What woman with any sort of self-respect wouldn’t? He’d practically come right out and said Serena was his preferred choice. And though she’d understood it—Serena was by far the most beautiful and accomplished lady of her acquaintance—the comparison had hurt. Because she knew she wasn’t nearly as sensible a choice as Serena was.
His explanation had stung, but it would have hurt more if he’d lied. And though she wasn’t quite sure whether his compliments of her were genuine, it had been kind of him to say so.
But whether he thought she was the perfect choice for a bride, he most certainly agreed that there was something else between them. His confession that it wasn’t as combustible with everyone had been very flattering.
And as he licked into her mouth and pulled her closer to his hard body, she couldn’t deny that she was pleased that she made him feel this way. Even if their betrothal ended in a few months, she would use this time to learn everything she could about what went on between men and women. And if she ended up with a broken heart—because she knew she could very easily fall in love with him no matter how much of a dolt he could be—then she would have at least known the pleasure of holding him in her arms.
“Again?”
This time the interruption came from Sophia, who was looking exasperated as she stood in the door to the workroom.
“If you’re going to be behaving this scandalously, it’s obvious that we should get the two of you married sooner rather than later.”
Pulling away from Cam far more slowly than she’d done earlier when Serena found them, Gemma slipped her arm through his. “First things first, Sophia,” she said with a grin. “You must wish us happy on our betrothal.”
And in the flurry of congratulations, Gemma sent up a silent prayer that she’d made the right decision. Because she knew in her heart of hearts that this might be her undoing.