An Unexpected Gentleman (40 page)

He held her gaze a long, long moment, his expression unreadable.

“Yes. They were,” he said at last and tossed the papers into the flames.

Adelaide stared at them in wonder, and as the edges of the paper blackened and curled inward, hope unfurled in her heart. “You knew?”

Connor turned from the fireplace. “Yes.”

“And yet you . . . ?”

“I wanted you,” he said softly. “That was never a lie.”

The hope grew and was joined by a glowing warmth of pleasure that stole away her shivers. “You’ve let your revenge go?” Her voice was whisper soft. “Just like that?”

 

A
part of Connor wanted to say yes . . . just like that. It would make Adelaide smile. It would answer the hope he could see lighting in her eyes. It would also be a lie.

“It’s not all of it,” he told her reluctantly. “Sir Robert invested a fair amount of money in a business venture that was designed to fail. If he’s not heard of it by now, he will soon enough.”

“Designed by you?”

“Yes. I can’t take that back, Adelaide. I wouldn’t even if I could. I’ll not leave him with the resources to be a threat.”

She blew out a shaky breath and, to his profound surprise, smiled in obvious relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“You approve?”

“Yes, of course. I never wished for Sir Robert to go unpunished. I only wanted . . .”

“For me to have done with it,” he finished for her.

“Yes.”

“I am done with it.” The promise was remarkably easy to make. Turning to stare into the fire, he watched as years of work turned to ash. He waited for a sense of regret that didn’t come. “Two of those were deeds to sugar plantations that don’t exist. Some were forged letters. Missives from Sir Robert to a fictional gentleman by the name of Mr. Parks. They detailed the baron’s distaste for a number of prominent members of society and outlined his future plans for a few of their wives and daughters. Gregory and Michael were set to see them delivered into the hands of Edinburgh’s elite tonight. And there were other papers, other . . .” He trailed off and shook his head. “I planned his ruin. Utter financial and social ruin.”

“But you no longer want it,” Adelaide said softly.

He turned to give her a rueful smile. “Oh, I want it.”

Evidently, Adelaide didn’t see the humor. “I didn’t mean to deliver an ultimatum. I never intended—”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to—”

“I know.” He moved to her, wanting to reassure, needing to be close. He trailed his fingers along her jaw and outlined the soft shell of her ear with his thumb while she watched him through soft brown eyes. God, she was beautiful.

The words he wanted to give her caught in his throat. He’d never said them to another soul. Not to his parents, who’d practiced moderation in all things, including the sentimental, and not to his men, who would be no less mortified to hear them than he would be to speak them.

“I . . .” The hand at his side clenched as he struggled. “I . . . I don’t want it as much as I thought . . . I don’t need it . . . I need you.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to say. It was less than she deserved, and so he slipped his arms around her and bent his head to take her mouth. It was easier this way, to show her what he felt rather than speak the words. It had been easier from the start. How effortless it had been to allow a kiss, a trip to England, a plot of tilled land to speak for him.

What a simple thing it was now, to share the contents of his heart in the context of their lovemaking. Every brush of lips and tender caress was designed to please Adelaide. Nothing was withheld from her. There wasn’t a thing she could demand that he wouldn’t want to give. Everything she desired, everything she asked of him, he could grant without reservation. Without fear of failure.

He could see the desire grow in her eyes as he undressed her in slow stages, pausing to taste every inch of bared skin. He heard the sound of her pleasure when he took his time in the places he knew she liked best. He could feel the heat of her need after he had tormented them both beyond endurance and, at last, slipped inside her.

And when she found her release in his arms, he knew he’d made her happy.

He prayed that, for now, it would be enough.

T
he following day brought an uncommonly strong wind that swept away the fog. To Adelaide, the garden was no longer a gloomy maze but the reckless wilderness she had come to love. As she moved along one of the paths, she wondered if she could coax Connor into leaving a part of it just as it was now.

Probably she should have thought to make the request yesterday afternoon . . . or last night . . . or this morning. There had been no end of promises made in the last twenty-four hours. Pledges whispered by the glow of firelight, confessions made in the soft light of dawn.

Connor had teased and tormented, thrilled and delighted until she’d agreed to his every demand. She’d never leave him. She would always love him. And in return, he’d promised to always take care of her, always listen, always be available.

He hadn’t promised her love, but it seemed a reasonable expectation. One she decided to hope for, but not to press him into meeting. He’d accepted her love, and in return, he’d given her . . .
I need you
. That was enough for now.

Smiling, she turned down a path that led to the house. Connor should be finishing up his correspondence by now, she thought. And, if not, she’d convince him to set it aside. Graham had taken Isobel and George into Banfries. And Gregory and Michael had left the day before for—as they had put it—a round of carousing, and had yet to return. She wanted to take advantage of the relative privacy while they had the chance.

But it would have to wait a minute more, she realized when she spotted the gardener’s cottage through a clearing. Someone had left the door open. Renovations on the small stone building had only just been completed. Broken windows had been replaced and crumbling mortar repaired. The interior was given a good scrubbing and fresh coat of paint. The head gardener was beside himself with excitement at the prospect of moving out of the servants’ quarters and into his tidy little cottage.

He’d not find it tidy for long if people went about leaving the door wide open on blustery days.

Changing her direction once again, she hurried toward the cottage, turned a corner in the path around a hedge, and ran headfirst into Connor.

His low laugh floated over the wind as his hands came up to steady her. “Easy, sweetheart.”

Grinning, she stretched up to kiss his cheek. The faint scratch of stubble tickled her lip. “I thought to come and find you in a minute.”

“Now is better.” His hands slid down her arms, and he took one of her hands, twining their fingers together. “Walk with me.”

Anywhere, she thought. “Connor?”

His thumb brushed gently over her skin as he started them forward on the path. “Hmm?”

“I was wondering, must all the garden be landscaped?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “Aren’t gardens landscaped by definition?”

“I suppose,” she conceded. “But wouldn’t it be nice to leave a piece of it as it is now? Just as we found it?”

“We’ll leave the whole of it alone, if that’s what you want.”

“No, Ashbury should have—Oh, look!” She released his hand and rushed ahead of him toward a patch of bluebells that were thriving amongst a tangle of weeks outside the gardener’s cottage. “This is why we should let part of the garden be as it is,” she called over her shoulder. “There are treasures in here.”

Delighted, she bent down for a closer look. They weren’t in bloom, but come next spring—

A flash of movement in the cottage caught her eye, and she straightened, expecting to see a maid with cleaning supplies. But it was Sir Robert who stepped through the open door, a pleasant smile on his face and pistol in his hand.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Brice.”

Later, Adelaide would be unable to recall her immediate reaction to the sight with any clarity, but what she could remember would make her blush with embarrassment. She gave a small cry of alarm, and then she went perfectly still, the thick and icy grip of fear freezing her helplessly and uselessly in place.

A gun. He had a gun.

“Adelaide, back away.” Connor’s calm and steady voice cracked the ice.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and realized with a sinking heart that he was a good ten yards behind her.

Sir Robert shook his head. “She stays where she is. Or better yet . . .” His smile grew into a chilling grin. He transferred his aim from Connor to Adelaide. “Come here.”

Connor’s voice snapped like a whip.
“No.”

Adelaide was in full agreement. There was no telling what Sir Robert would do if he had hold of her, but kidnapping seemed a very real possibility. She shook her head at Sir Robert. She’d rather be shot in her own garden than dragged off someplace else and shot there.

Smile faltering, Sir Robert swung the weapon back on Connor. “Come
here
, or I’ll blow a hole through his gut.”

Oh, God. Oh, God. He meant it. She took a hesitant step. She’d rather be dragged off someplace else than see Connor shot in the garden.

Connor moved forward. “Adelaide, no.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sir Robert waved the gun. “You move, she dies. She doesn’t move, you die. Are we clear?”

Adelaide moved forward, keeping her eyes trained on the gun. Sir Robert grabbed her arm and yanked her forward the last few feet. For one brief second, she thought she might have been in a position to reach for his weapon, but the opportunity was gone almost before she’d recognized it. Sir Robert spun her around, splayed his fingers on her waist, and rubbed his thumb back and forth in a revolting mockery of a caress. “Told you I’d have her eventually.”

The taunt was for Connor. Somehow, that infuriated her more than the indignity of Sir Robert’s touch. She’d not miss the next chance to try for the gun, she thought with dark determination. She’d not miss the chance to shoot him.

There was no visible reaction from Connor. His voice was low and eerily calm. “Let her go, Robert. This is between you and me. She has nothing to do with it.”

“Neither does this gun. All the same, I believe I’ll keep both for the time being.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, all manner of things,” Sir Robert replied cheerfully.

“Our feud is over. Let—”

“Oh, is it?” Sir Robert’s voice became needling. “Because you say so? Because you’ve had your fun destroying what’s mine, and now you want to be done before—?”

“I haven’t destroyed you. But I will. Harm a single hair on her head and I’ll—”

“What?” Sir Connor snapped. “What will you do? You’ve ruined my name. Stolen my life.” He pitched his voice higher when Connor shook his head. “Don’t deny it. Don’t you dare deny it. I know it was you behind the sham investments. And you who sent those letters.”

“What letters?”

“What . . .
What letters?
Dozens of them! Bloody hundreds!” Sir Robert’s chest rose and fell against her back like an overworked pair of bellows. “A mob formed outside my door. I had to crawl out a window. A window, you bastard. I barely escaped Edinburgh with my skin. I can never show my face in society again. Every husband, father, and brother in Britain wants a piece of my hide. I can’t go home, and now I haven’t the funds to go anywhere else. So tell me, please, what worse could you do?”

Adelaide’s mind whirled. He’d learned of the fictional investments. But husbands and fathers? The forged letters Connor had told her about? It couldn’t be true. Connor had burned those. He’d burned everything. She’d watched him. With a bone-chilling wash of dread, she realized it didn’t matter what she’d seen, what she knew. Someone had sent letters, and Sir Robert would never accept a denial of guilt from Connor.

Connor obviously reached the same conclusion. “I’ll give you the funds to—”

Sir Robert’s arm tightened around her waist. “Oh, you’ll give me more than that.”

“I’ve two hundred pounds in my pocket. Let Adelaide go and you can have it. I’ll see you make it safely out of the country. Anywhere you want to go.”

Sir Robert fell silent, and Adelaide held her breath. Maybe he would take the offer. Maybe he was considering the wisdom of retreat. Maybe—

“Who the
devil
keeps two hundred pounds in his pocket?” Sir Robert’s voice was a strange mix of bafflement, amusement, and disdain. “Idiot mongrel.”

“Take the money,” Connor pressed.

Sir Robert snorted. “Live off your largesse? My every move subject to your will? Even if I were fool enough to take you at your word, I’d not debase myself with your brand of charity. I’d rather hang for a murderer. At least I’ll have the pleasure of watching the grief in your eyes as I swing.”

“You won’t hang,” Connor said. “Your title will see to that. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison or a madhouse.”