The Smuggler and the Society Bride. Julia Justiss
Читать онлайн книгу.
face burn as he let his gaze linger on those parts of her body he’d almost seen that day on the beach.
Parts he’d like to see much more clearly…and touch and caress and kiss.
Her face had crimsoned as if she knew what he’d been thinking. Had she been wishing it, too?
He sighed. Such contemplation set off quite a conflagration within him as well. What a shame Miss Foxe was not Sadie, the barmaid at the Gull whose amorous advances Gabe was having increasing difficulty dodging.
Not that he was at all adverse to the pleasures offered by an ample bosom and hot thighs. But living in an inn operated by a friend of Sadie’s father, in a village where practically everyone was kin to everyone else, a maid who had three stout brothers to guard her virtue did not inspire a man to succumb to her blandishments. Even if she tempted him, which, in truth, she did not—particularly not since he’d had his first look at the lovely Marie Foxe. In any event, the enjoyment of a quick tumble with Sadie could not compensate for the trouble it would certainly cause.
Trouble or not, were Miss Foxe the lass making advances, he suspected he wouldn’t resist.
He did ache for the sweetness of a woman, the bliss of release and the satisfaction of pleasing her in an intimate embrace. As he set off walking to the Gull, his thoughts drifted to Caitlyn back in Ireland, the knowing widow who’d been happy to ease the pain and boredom of his recovery with a little discreet dalliance.
He’d be better able to keep his unruly urges under control—and resist tempting young ladies he shouldn’t even approach—if he paid her a visit. But he didn’t want to risk having his brother discover him and piece together exactly what he was doing in Cornwall. Nor did he want to involve that lovely, compliant lady in what might be a damaging association if he were apprehended—or worse—during his sojourn in Cornwall.
With a smile, his thoughts returned to the lady who had been anything but compliant. He didn’t know how well-connected the Foxe family might be, but from the arrogance of the niece, it was apparent she considered a smuggling captain to be vastly beneath her. Her irritation at his effrontery in approaching her was obvious in her haughty tone and elevated words, both of which, he felt sure, were designed to put him off.
They hadn’t, of course. He found it amusing to reflect that unless the Foxe family were very well-connected indeed, by birth if not current occupation, he was probably her equal. Even more gratifying was the knowledge that, hard as she’d been trying to resist him, she hadn’t been able to mask the fact that she found him attractive.
What was such a lady doing in Sennlack? It was hardly the sort of place a lovely, unmarried miss would linger longer than the few days necessary to pay a call on a beloved aunt. Indeed, his memory was vague on the point, but wasn’t the London social Season still in full cry?
He walked into the tap room and motioned Kessel to bring him a mug. Why, he continued to muse as he dropped into a seat, would a young lady whose family—if not the lady herself—should be concentrating on catching her a well-breeched husband, be wasting her beauty and her wiles on brigands like him, rather than in London, enticing more eligible gentlemen?
Perhaps her family, unable to afford the dowry necessary to marry her off, had sent her to be her aunt’s companion.
Recalling her haughty demeanor—the attitude and bearing of someone accustomed to having her own desires catered to, rather than catering to others—Gabe had to laugh. She was hardly the meek, biddable sort able to adapt to living her life at the beck and call of some richer relation.
If she had been sent here by a family needing to reduce expenses, Gabe thought, frowning, they could have at least given her a maid to accompany her. Sennlack was a law-abiding town, but a luscious lamb like that needed some protection from the wolves of the world.
Like him, he thought with a grin.
Or had some mishap left her with no family but Miss Foxe? From some hitherto unknown place deep within him, an unprecedented sense of protectiveness seeped out.
The first day they’d met, he’d found the idea of pursuing the water sprite diverting. Tempting her with the attraction that ran so strongly between them might be more satisfying still.
Gabe sensed snobbery rather than fear in her reluctance to associate with him; even for diversion, he’d never pursue a truly unwilling lady. If his instincts were mistaken and he was unable to melt that frosty demeanour, after a few attempts, he’d reluctantly abandon the game. Until then, however, he meant to apply his not inconsiderable charm into getting her to lower that ferocious guard and allow her true partiality to emerge.
He pictured her countenance, the silken texture of her face that begged for the touch of his finger, the large, expressive blue-grey eyes that could mirror the sky when she exclaimed over the roses or turn storm-cloud grey when she sought to depress his pretensions. The velvet look of those plump lips that seemed to just beg for a kiss—or two or three.
The desire she’d incited from first glance spiked, tightening his body and making sweat break out on his brow.
Just a kiss, of course, for she was a maid. Still, when the maid in question was the tantalizing Miss Foxe, even a simple kiss was a prize worth savouring.
Instead of chafing, as he usually did, at having to kick his heels in port until it was time to pick up the next cargo, now he had the charming Miss Foxe and an irresistible challenge to distract him. In these next few weeks, could he charm her out of her resistance…and into his arms?
As she’d spent the evening playing backgammon with her aunt, Honoria had tried to convince herself she had banished the dashing Captain Hawksworth from her mind. Though she was moderately successful at pretending that he was not always teasing just at the edge of her thoughts, the subject of the handsome free-trader was dragged forcibly before her the following morning when Tamsyn, who’d gone to visit her family Sunday evening, brought in her chocolate.
‘Dickin tells me you met the Hawk after services yesterday. That he even walked with you in churchyard!’ she said, reverence in her voice at being accorded such a high honour. ‘Isn’t he just the most handsome, charming man you’ve ever met?’
Knowing of the girl’s obvious infatuation, Honoria might have expected to hear jealousy in her voice, and was struck to realize she heard none. Perhaps to Tamsyn, her brother’s friend—a man with whom Lady Honoria Carlow might disdain to associate—seemed a personage too elevated to pay attention to a mere maid from a tiny village like Sennlack.
And perhaps Gabriel Hawksworth wasn’t the only one who needed a lesson in humility.
‘Yes, he is both handsome and charming. Though I suspect his design is to bedazzle every maid in Cornwall.’
‘I figure he’s already done that! He’s greeted me polite enough, coming or going with Dickin, but I done never had all his attention fixed just on me. I’d probably swoon straight away!’ Sighing, Tamsyn stared dreamy-eyed as she extracted Honoria’s gown from the wardrobe. ‘Do…do you think he might call on you?’
The tightness in Honoria’s chest eased. If the maid thought he might, her deception must be safe. Even a girl from a small Cornish village, her head filled with a romantic vision of the dashing captain, would know a common smuggler would never have the effrontery to call upon someone as far above him socially as Lady Honoria Carlow.
Though still bold, for such a famous local personage to pay his respects to ‘Miss Foxe’ was not beyond possibility, particularly after having been introduced by the lady’s own aunt.
Honoria was not sure whether to be relieved or alarmed by that fact.
In an urgent, low-toned discussion during the carriage ride home from church, her aunt had already assured her that her true identity was unlikely to be discovered. The conversation with Tamsyn had sealed her relief. She’d feared the rash announcement of a false name might backfire if the servants around whom she’d lived for the last month told a different tale.
However,