The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares. Kasey Michaels
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he had apologized about the rose. Why had he done that? Why had he worn it in the first place? Who was this man?
If only she could stop thinking about him… .
“Jess, he’s here.”
“Hmm?” she said as Richard’s roughly whispered words penetrated the introspective fog that was now her mind. She mentally shook herself back to the moment and turned her gaze to the landing in time to see Gideon once more looking perfectly put together, as if he’d just stepped out of a bandbox. He really was remarkable—a dazzling mix of precision and nonchalance, his dark handsomeness vying with his studied reserve.
She wondered if all women felt as she did when she saw him: how delightful it would be to see him discommoded, disheveled, vulnerable.
At her mercy.
Oh, dear, where had that thought come from?
Jessica lifted a hand to her high-necked bodice, perhaps to still her rapidly beating heart, and pasted a welcoming smile on her face as she crossed the room to where Gideon still stood, clearly playing Master of the Domain. Her domain.
“I warned you not to wear armor,” was his greeting, spoken quietly, yet reverberating inside her as if she’d suddenly grown harp strings inside her chest and he’d just plucked them.
The arrogance of the man! “And I did not, not this morning. Your ridiculous state of near undress to one side, I was nothing but presentable when I dared cross your threshold. Tonight, however, you are the guest, and what I wear is of my concern, not yours.”
His smile, so unexpected, nearly had her rocking back on her heels. “Perhaps we should give your brother the dressing of both of us. He’s convinced he’s in the very first stare of sartorial perfection.”
Jessica couldn’t help herself; she returned his smile. “I fear even your immense consequence could but crumble beneath the addition of a puce waistcoat, my lord. As for me, I’d rather go na—”
Gideon leaned in as if to hear her better. “Pardon me, I didn’t quite catch that? You’d rather what?”
“Could we possibly be serious, sir?” she asked, drawing herself up to her full height, which still made her feel small and insignificant in his presence. She wasn’t used to that. Her stature had always been a blessing, she’d thought. Why, she was taller than at least a quarter of the men in this room, including Richard.
“I rather thought I was being serious. You do know it’s inevitable, don’t you? You and I, that is. I won’t even point out it was you who began this intriguing dance of ours.”
“I apologize for that,” Jessica said quietly, shooting her eyes from side to side, praying no one could overhear them and this damning discussion. “Profoundly.”
“Ah, but not profusely. Profusely would be nice.”
“In that case, Gideon, I most profusely apologize for apparently goading you into the ridiculous display of ungentlemanly behavior I was so unfortunate as to witness this morning. You must feel so ashamed.”
He tilted his head to one side as he contemplated her, seemed to be measuring her in some way. “You’re not lacking in intelligence, are you? Or brass. There are few who would dare to speak to me so.”
“Perhaps if more did, you wouldn’t be so insufferably smug. I’m not afraid of you, Gideon. As to this absurd idea of anything between us being inevitable, I should point out that I have absolutely no interest in—Let go of me.”
“Don’t cause a scene,” he said, his grip on her arm looking to the casual observer to be one of easy familiarity, when in fact she swore his fingertips were crushing her bones as they walked straight cross the room to the doorway leading to her apartments. “We don’t want to rouse Richard’s suspicions. He’s got thirty years on me—it wouldn’t be a fair fight. And I’ll remind you, Seth is mine, not yours. Smile, Jessica. Let everyone know you’re just fine.”
“This is absurd. You…you’re kidnapping me in my own house,” Jessica whispered angrily, even as she saw the sense in not alarming Richard.
Richard paused in the act of drawing in the cards for a reshuffle. “You’re going upstairs?” he asked worriedly.
“We’ve some business to discuss, yes. I shan’t be long.”
“Very good,” Gideon complimented as she concentrated on inserting the key in the lock she’d earlier made sure was engaged this evening, which wasn’t a simple matter considering he had hold of her right arm and her left hand was shaking with nerves.
Once the door was open and he was forced to release her arm in the narrow hallway, she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs, thinking to slam the upper door in his face.
Which he appeared to realize, as he stayed so close behind her it was impossible to implement her admittedly less than hopeful plan.
Once inside the small sitting room he took hold of her arm again, swinging her about so that her body was fairly slammed against his, his face not two inches from hers.
“Now, you were saying?” he asked her smoothly.
She was? She’d been saying something? What had she been saying? Dear Lord, she couldn’t remember! He was so close. His smile was so…intimate. Mocking. Inviting. Infuriating. Intriguing…
“Can’t remember?” he asked her, his arms somehow having slid around to her back, holding her in place, one hand high, between her shoulders, the other lower…provocatively lower. “Let me refresh your memory. I had been saying what will happen between us is inevitable, and you were protesting that you disagree, you harbor absolutely no interest—in what, Jessica? In this?”
He swooped in like a bird of prey, capturing her mouth just as she opened it to say—what? What could she possibly say?
Oh, my. She could say that. If his tongue wasn’t in her mouth, she could say that. If his right hand wasn’t so skillfully cupping her bottom, bringing her into intimate contact with the evidence of his arousal. If her eyes hadn’t closed on all remnants of sanity left to her, if her heart weren’t beating so wildly, if her arms hadn’t entwined themselves about his neck…if the world hadn’t suddenly gone mad.
She was left gasping for breath when his mouth left hers to traverse new ground, exploring her ear, the sensitive skin behind that ear, the length of her throat as she tilted her head to allow these further inroads on her sanity, let alone her common sense.
Never. She’d never experienced anything like this sudden fierce onset of desire, this curious tightening between her legs that had nothing to do with hoping to hold off an inevitable cruel invasion.
Gideon was cupping her breast now, rubbing his thumb across the stiff material of her gown. She gritted her teeth, wishing away the fabric, feeling her nipple straining for a more intimate touch. Perhaps his touch would be different. Perhaps his mouth more knowing, less harsh, taking this budding physical arousal her body seemed to understand and nurturing it, not turning it to pain and humiliation and tears.
There has to be something more, her mind promised her, or else women like Mildred wouldn’t be so eager to partake in it, time and time again. Perhaps it wasn’t me but James who was the sad failure.
Jessica felt herself being lifted off the floor and high against Gideon’s chest. She buried her head in his shoulder as his long strides took them across the room. He turned to his left.
“That’s…that’s the stairs to the kitchens,” she managed, and his short, pithy curse brought a tremulous smile to her lips as he turned abruptly and headed, this time, toward her small, spinsterish bedchamber. Now she noticed his breathing had become nearly as ragged as her own, and the first stirrings of fear dragged at her arousal, slowing it to a near stop.
She’d been selfishly thinking of herself, only herself. She’d forgotten the