Scandalized by a Scoundrel (7 page)

“Little me?” She scoffed, clearly offended. “I’m taller than most any other woman I know.”

“So does that mean you’d rather reverse roles, or shall we just continue at a slower speed?”

Sighing hardily, she finally acquiesced. “Yes, fine, we’ll go in slow motion.”

He did his best to keep his triumphant grin to a minimum. Before she could change her mind, he nodded his approval. “Excellent choice. For this move, I’m going to grab your shoulders. Like the last one, the key is not to fight strength with strength. When your life depends on it, you fight dirty.

“What I want you to do is deliver an open-palmed slap to both my eyes like this.” He tapped his face to demonstrate. “Understood?”

“Yes, I think so.”

He reach out and laid his hands on either side of her neck. His palms grazed the delicate swoop of her collarbone, and his thumbs brushed the bare skin at the base of her neck. He drew a slow breath through his nose, trying to ignore the feel of her damp, silky skin beneath the roughened pads of his fingertips. “Whenever you’re ready. And go as slowly as you like,” he added, his voice slightly gruff.

She raised her hands on cue and gave a light tap to both his eye sockets. Her hands were exceedingly gentle this time, so much so that she barely touched him.

He released his hold on her shoulders and lightly gripped her wrists. “You’re a little high,” he said as he guided her hands into place. “You want your fingers to connect with the eyelids while the palm slaps the cheeks.”

Her fingers were cool against his face, and he lowered her hands without thinking and rubbed them between his own to warm them. Her eyes widened, the bottomless pits of her pupils seeming large enough to get lost in.

“Do you want to try again?”

Amelia shook her head slowly. “No, I think that’s good.”

Reluctantly, he released his hold on her hands. Each time they touched, it seemed a little harder to let go. “I think one more should be good for now. I’d hate for you to catch your death out here with me.”

A smile lifted the corner of her beautiful mouth. “I think you’ll find I’m made of sterner stuff than that.”

He readily returned her grin. “I think you are right.” He wanted for her to stay the whole day with him, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Even he realized that would be pushing the limits too far. Clearing his throat, he said, “Is there any situation you would like to know how to escape?”

Tilting her head, she thought for a moment. “What about if someone grabs me from behind?”

He nodded and made a little twirling motion with his finger. This attack seemed the most impossible to get out of, but there was one guaranteed way to get a man to release you. The difficulty was how to put it in a way that wouldn’t completely scandalize her.

She obediently turned around, presenting him with her back. Amelia’s dark hair was piled high on her head, and it was impossible not to admire the slender length of her neck. Gabriel stepped right up behind her, sternly admonishing himself to stay on task. The light, floral scent of her hair wasn’t helping things. She smelled like summer rain, and it was all he could do not to slide his hands around her waist and draw her closer to him.

“All right. I’m going to wrap my arms around you, and I want you to pay attention to what you can and can’t do in that position. Are you ready?”

“I am.”

Taking a deep breath, he settled his arms around her. It was far and away the most scandalous thing he had ever done with a proper young woman. He closed his eyes for a moment, refusing to give in to the desire to transition into an embrace. Swallowing, he said, “Now is your chance to see what you can move.”

He realized almost at once his mistake when she started to wiggle against him. Her hips slid back and forth as she tried to extract her arms. She went on for a few moments, shimmying this way and that. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay detached.

Finally giving up, she shook her head. “I’d say I’m well and truly trapped.”

“Not at all,” he replied, keeping his voice low since his mouth was so close to her ear. “You can move your hips, can’t you? And your lower arms?”

She nodded, turning her head to look at him. “Yes, but I can’t seem to do anything of use.”

Her breath, sweet and warm, fanned across his cheek as she spoke. God, this was as close to a lover’s embrace as one could get. His heart kicked in his chest, and he pressed his eyes closed, trying to keep his wits about him. These lessons were the best and worst idea he had ever had.

After a few seconds, she shifted in his arms. “Lord Winters,” she murmured.

“One second,” he said, trying to overcome the thrum of his blood in his ears and right the tilting sensation in his gut.

Cold hands touched his forearms as she relaxed back against his chest. “Gabriel.”

The sound of his name on her lips was like setting a match to tinder, undoing all his efforts. He opened his eyes, tilting his head in order to look down at her. Her gaze was settled squarely on his lips, her own mouth slightly open as her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They were suspended in time, a hairbreadth away from giving in to the desire that stretched between them like an electrical current. She opened her mouth, and he knew that her next words would send them both over the precipice. The only thing he wasn’t sure of was whether they would fall backward or forward.

Chapter Six

Amelia had no idea what had changed between them. One moment, they were deep in their lessons, and the next her heart was thundering, her whole body crying out for the feel of his lips to hers. All the longing she’d ever felt in her life seemed to come roaring back all at once, overwhelming her with the desire to finally be kissed.

And not just kissed—kissed by him.
Gabriel.

The man who saw
her
, not the tragedies of her past. The man who teased her and bantered and made her heart pound. It was something she had sought to avoid, but now that the moment was here, she was helpless to deny the powerful pull of attraction. Lifting her gaze to his, she whispered, “
Please
.”

She didn’t have to say it twice. Instantly, his mouth was on hers as he tightened his arms around her. Sparks showered through her belly like fireworks cascading through the night air. Enveloped in his warmth, cradled in his embrace, she relinquished all control, letting him lead her. It was her first kiss, and she shouldn’t have had the first clue what she was doing, but it felt so perfect, so incredibly natural, all the nervousness she might have had fell away completely.

His lips parted, and the tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips. She hesitated, not sure what to do, not even sure what to feel. He started to pull away, as though her hesitation was a sign that she didn’t want more, so she twisted in his arms, turning so that she could wrap her arms around him, too.

He paused, as if unsure whether to go on, but a moment later he slid his arms more fully around her waist and deepened the kiss. This time, when his tongue touched her lips she readily opened to him. Her stomach danced as their tongues twined. He tasted of lemon and honey, tart with a hint of sweetness, and so perfect she never wanted the kiss to end.

The rain started to pick up, but she barely noticed. Water trickled down her face and onto her chest, cooling her heated skin. After a time—a few seconds? A minute? It was impossible to tell—Gabriel slowed the kiss, pressing his lips against hers once, twice, three times before finally pulling away.

Neither one of them spoke at first. She looked up into those gorgeous, velvety-brown eyes, wondering where on earth her sanity had gone and why she didn’t care.

Smiling, he slid a knuckle beneath her chin and guided her lips to his for one last kiss. “That,” he said, his voice low and raspy, “was not the lesson I had in mind.”

A grin came to her lips. Lord have mercy, she’d just kissed a man. All these years she’d been so sick of being protected, of being held back and coddled, she’d probably been hoping for just this exact outcome without even realizing it. “I hope you can forgive me for taking advantage of you like that.”

He barked with laughter. “I believe that is supposed to be my line.” He shook his head. “I think I’ve just made a complete mess of the student-tutor relationship.”

That was an understatement. They’d both crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Lord knew there was no way she could convince herself she was only here for the lessons now. Still, she found she couldn’t regret it. She
wouldn’t
regret it. She may have done little more than torture herself with a taste of something she could never have, but right then, with her lips still damp and her heart still fluttering, it seemed worth it. “Oh, I don’t know. I definitely learned a lot just now.”

The comment didn’t have the effect she expected. Instead, his eyes grew serious, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, swiping at the moisture that dripped down his forehead from his hair. “That really shouldn’t have happened. You’re a respectable woman and I’m…me.”

She tilted her head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Wariness dulled his eyes as he gave a little shrug. “I mean, it was wrong for me to kiss you, seeing how there is no understanding between us, nor could there be.”

No understanding? For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t as though she was expecting an offer of marriage. In fact, she didn’t
want
one, and couldn’t accept even if he offered one. Her father’s state would never allow for her to marry and move away. Still, it stung that he felt he needed to lay out the fact that there was to be nothing between them. “My, aren’t you a romantic. Just what every girl wishes to hear upon her first kiss.”

He raked a hand through his hair, slicking it back from his face. Cursing under his breath, he said, “I’m mucking things up, and that is not my intention. You are a lovely woman, Amelia. You don’t need a scoundrel like me messing things up in your life.”

All the warmth of moments ago seemed to dissipate all at once, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh, for the love of Pete. It’s not as though I am going to trap you into marriage based on one kiss. And you are right about one thing: I don’t need a man like you, anyway.”

Her pride stung painfully, all the more potent with her mortification. She turned and marched to where her bonnet lay, every step feeling awkward. Cramming it on her head, she yanked the ribbons into a knot, all the while glaring at the viscount. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, brushing past him.

“Miss Watson, wait.”

Miss Watson? Amelia only moments ago and now she was Miss Watson again? She paused, lifting a single eyebrow in question.

His hands dropped to his side as though unsure of what to say now that he had her attention. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I, Lord Winters.” With that, she hurried back toward the house, feeling like the worst sort of fool.

***

Gabriel was not looking forward to the wedding.

Which made him feel even more like a bastard than he already did. Here he was, supposed to serve as witness on the most important day of his friend’s life, and all Gabriel could think about was what a royal arse he had been the last time he’d seen Amelia.

What the hell was wrong with him? How on earth had he managed to take advantage of the very woman he had been trying to help? Her first kiss should have been reserved for her future husband, not some wretch just passing through. Especially knowing how sheltered she’d been most of her life.

Sighing, he inspected himself in the mirror one more time. His cravat was neatly tied, jacket brushed and perfectly in place. His boots reflected the morning light filtering into his bedchamber. Fleetingly, he mourned the loss of his regimentals. The navy jacket he wore made him look far too much like the viscount he now was.

Three sharp taps sounded on the door. He turned and called over his shoulder, “Enter.”

Norton let himself in, his whole face lit with the most jovial of smiles. “Winters, my good man. The time is at hand. Tell me, how do I look?” He spread his hands wide, inviting inspection. He wore his dress uniform, looking as sharp as Gabriel had ever seen him. Happiness came off him in waves, his whole body radiating a sort of anxious energy.

Keeping a straight face, Gabriel said. “Jesus, man, could you at least smile? You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

Norton laughed out loud and clapped a hand to Gabriel’s back. “Didn’t you know? I am. Time to bury the bachelor life for good.”

Pushing aside the dread that lined his stomach like lead at the thought of seeing Amelia again, Gabriel returned his friend’s grin. “I’ve never seen a man so happy to rush into the parson’s noose. Far be it from me to keep you waiting. Shall we?”

Less than an hour later, they stood together in the village’s small church as Miss Abbington held Norton’s hand, repeating the vows that would tie them together forever. Her eyes sparkled with tears of joy as she spoke, even as her cheeks must have ached from the smile that wreathed her face.

Norton said his vows next, his voice strong and confident, easily carrying over the small congregation. Miss Libby Abbington sniffled from the first pew, her arm tightly entwined with her aunt’s. Lady Margaret wiped away a tear with her free hand, her face absolutely glowing with pride.

Gabriel let his gaze slip over the congregation, knowing exactly who he was looking for. He found her toward the back, seated beside a gray-haired man with wide mutton whiskers. Amelia’s eyes were trained squarely on the happy couple, and Gabriel allowed his gaze to settle on her for a moment. She looked beautiful in her cerulean gown, a color that, even from this distance, made her eyes stand out. Her mahogany hair was arranged in neat curls, so different from the way she had looked the last time he had seen her, when they had both been soaked.

He dropped his eyes to his hands, picturing her as she had looked that day, a study in contrasts. Strong but vulnerable. Innocent by world-weary. Proud but wounded.

Wounded by him.

Damn it all. He had to talk to her at the wedding breakfast. He had to try to make things right after making such a royal muck of it all.

The vicar was wrapping up the ceremony, and Gabriel turned his attention back to his friends. As the groom slipped the ring onto his new wife’s finger and stole a kiss before God and man, the congregation erupted in an impromptu little cheer.

Gabriel smiled, happy for Norton and his blushing bride. It was so nice to see love triumph in the world they lived in. His gaze flicked back to Amelia, whose eyes were still trained on the bride and groom. She was smiling, though it didn’t seem to reach her eyes.

He clenched his jaw, determination stiffening his spine. Come hell or high water, by the end of the day, he
would
make things right for her.

***

As the carriage rumbled toward Lady Margaret’s house for the wedding breakfast, nervous energy gathered in Amelia’s belly. It had been so hard not to look at Gabriel in the church, especially when she could feel his eyes on her. She’d gritted her teeth, absolutely determined not to meet his gaze. It had been two days, and lingering embarrassment still heated her cheeks.

“Are you feeling quite all right, poppet? If you’re unwell, we should return home immediately.”

It was tempting to say yes, knowing she would be whisked back home and likely never see the viscount again. But Eleanor was her friend, and she wanted to celebrate with her. Besides that, she was no coward. She wasn’t about to run away just because she felt like a fool. Pressing her lips into a smile, she shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine, Papa.”

Uncertainty hovered in his eyes for a few seconds, but finally he nodded and settled back against the squabs. She turned her attention to the window, watching the familiar trees lining the road to Lady Margaret’s home pass by.

It had made her heart swell, seeing the happiness in her friend’s face. Witnessing the look in Mr. Norton’s eyes when he gazed at his bride had been wonderful and awful all at once. Wonderful to know Eleanor was so thoroughly loved, terrible to realize that no one would ever look at her like that.

And even if they did, what then? She couldn’t leave her father, not with his nerves. Yes, she longed to travel, to see all the places she read about. Yes, even as she still suffered from the mortification of her first kiss, she nonetheless wanted to share such an experience again someday. She had come alive in a way she had never known during that kiss. For the first time in her life, no thoughts or worries had clouded her brain. She had been free to do nothing but
feel
.

If only Gabriel had left it at that.

No, he had to go ruin the whole thing. His sudden worry that she might somehow force him to marry her based on single kiss still stung her pride. She was not some sort of desperate woman, eager to lay claim on the first man who looked her way.

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. So much for adventure.

Half an hour later, the celebration was in full swing, with a veritable feast spread out and a string quartet providing lively music on the terrace. Three dozen or so guests milled about, laughing and talking as they admired the food, the clothes, and the exceedingly happy couple.

Amelia stood by the stone balustrade overlooking the garden, sipping a glass of lemonade and watching several of the village children dance around the garden in time with the merry music. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large, dark figure approach, and she gripped her glass with sudden nerves.
Gabriel.

“Good morning,” he said simply, stopping a respectable distance away. “You look beautiful in that color.” His voice was low and respectful, all too formal compared to what she was used to from him. Not that she was surprised—he wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea about his intentions.

Unable to delay it any longer, she met his gaze and nodded. “Lord Winters.”

Pressing his lips in a straight line, he nodded. “It seems as though I have earned that title, for once.”

She blinked, tilting her head in question. What was that supposed to mean?

“As I said before, the past Lord Winters have all been, well, less than gentlemanly.” He gave a small shrug. “It seems that I am to join their ranks.”

From what little he’d revealed about his family, she knew what an insult it was for him to say such a thing. Sighing, she said, “You’re not as bad as that. You merely made some rather…unflattering assumptions.”

“Let us say it like it is. I acted like an ass, and you’re quite justified in being angry at me.” That was the tone she recognized. Slightly acerbic, vaguely self-deprecating—but thankfully, no longer painfully polite.