Desire Becomes Her Read online

  “What do you want to drink?” Mrs. Gilbert asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  “This time of day—a tankard of ale, I think.”

  Mrs. Gilbert waved over Mary, and once she had given Mary Luc’s order, she turned back to him. “I heard that you were escorting Mr. Ordway’s nieces around the other day,” she said. “You should have stopped—the day was chilly as I recall and I’d baked a nice Cheshire pork pie. It would have been my pleasure to serve the ladies in one of the private rooms and allow them to warm up near the fire before riding back to High Tower.”

  Luc grinned at her. “You just want to be the first to meet them.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure they would find The Crown more to their liking than Nolles’s place—even if Ordway’s nephew and his friend prefer The Ram’s Head.” At the sharpening interest in Luc’s gaze, she added, “One of my regulars happened to stop in there last night and saw the pair of them sitting at a table with Townsend and Nolles.” Slyly, she added, “I also heard that you were there last Friday night—watching Harlan Broadfoot gamble with the squire.” When Luc remained silent, she went on, “Now if you gambled with the squire that might explain why he has been whining to Nolles all week about his losses ... to young Broadfoot.”

  Luc shook his head as Mary came up and set down his tankard of ale. “Diantre!” he exclaimed, amused and annoyed at the same time. “Does nothing happen in the neighborhood that you don’t hear about?”

  Mary giggled and shook her head. “Now, Mister Luc, you know that you can’t hide anything from Ma. There’s some in the village that think she’s a witch.” She dimpled. “A good witch.”

  “I run a tavern—people talk,” Mrs. Gilbert said, her blue eyes amused.

  Someone called Mary’s name and she danced away to answer the call. Mrs. Gilbert watched her daughter’s slender form a moment before looking back at Luc. “Heard, too, that you were the one who found Silas Ordway that same night and rescued him from the ditch.”

  “After I’d taken young Harlan home—drunk as a wheelbarrow.”

  “I heard about that, too ... and what a wonderful run of luck he had pitted against the squire,” she retorted, disbelief in her tone.

  “Oui—it was quite remarkable,” Luc said, his expression guileless. “I was amazed at the boy’s skill.”

  Mrs. Gilbert shook her head and laughed. “You’re a very good liar.”

  Luc looked modest and Mrs. Gilbert chuckled. “Very well, since you won’t tell me what really happened, tell me about Mr. Ordway’s nieces.” Thoughtfully, she added, “Odd that they should show up now for a visit, when to my knowledge it’s been years since they were last here. And now his nephew has also shown up on his doorstep—practically on their heels. Interesting, don’t you think?”

  “My dear Madame, surely you do not expect me to gossip about my betters?” Luc teased.

  Mrs. Gilbert snorted. “I doubt that you consider anyone your ‘better.’ ”

  “That’s true,” Luc agreed. He was fond of Mrs. Gilbert, but he didn’t want to talk about Silas’s nieces with her, and if it had been anyone else but Mrs. Gilbert, he’d have frozen her with a look. Yet because of his fondness for her, for her whole family, he didn’t want to snub her either.

  Mrs. Gilbert occupied a unique position within the American Joslyn circle, and none of them considered her merely a tavern keeper. Her connection with the Townsend family was long and close—she had been Emily’s wet nurse, and Emily and Cornelia held her in great affection. The smuggling scheme had deepened the bond between the women, and from the moment Barnaby had awakened in The Crown’s best bedroom, after nearly drowning in the Channel, he’d found himself in close association with Mrs. Gilbert. She knew, Luc thought with a smile, where all the family skeletons were buried. But that doesn’t mean, he admitted, that I intend to gossip about Gillian and Sophia with her. Now Stanley ...

  “Did you hear anything else about Stanley Ordway’s visit to The Ram’s Head?” Luc asked abruptly.

  Mrs. Gilbert shook her head. “Why are you so interested?” she asked.

  It was his turn to shrug. “Idle curiosity.”

  She didn’t believe him, but since she knew nothing else, she changed the subject, asking after Emily and Cornelia. After a few minutes of conversation, she rose from the table. Pausing for a moment before leaving, she looked down at him and said, “I don’t know why you were at The Ram’s Head talking to Nolles the other night, but I would remind you to step carefully around him.”

  “Please, non, not you, too,” Luc said disgustedly. “I’ve already heard the lecture from both Lamb and Barnaby about how foolish I was.”

  She bent near him, her eyes serious. “Luc, Nolles is a killer—no one knows it better than I. He hates Barnaby for what happened earlier this year and don’t think for a moment that because he’s made no move against any of you so far that he won’t do so when the mood strikes him. And it will. I don’t think he’s bold enough to go after Barnaby or Emily, but hurting you, or even killing you, would please him enormously because he knows how much pain it would cause your brother. Stay away from him.”

  “I don’t fear Nolles, ma belle. What would you have me do? Hide?”

  Her expression troubled, she muttered, “Just stay away from him. Don’t bring yourself to his attention.”

  Luc rode away from The Crown mulling over what he had learned. That Townsend had been whining to Nolles about the losses he’d sustained Friday night wasn’t surprising, nor was the news of Stanley and Canfield’s visit to Nolles’s place. Knowing their propensity for heavy drinking, wenching and all games of chance, he knew that High Tower wouldn’t provide the pair of them with the excitement and entertainment they craved. His lips quirked. And The Crown was far too respectable and staid to appeal to two gentlemen who considered themselves bucks of the first head. Yes, he thought, they would blend right in with the rough crowd, profligate gamblers and drunken revelers found at The Ram’s Head.

  Turning his horse onto the drive that led to the Windmere and the Dower House, he considered Mrs. Gilbert’s warning about Nolles. Luc didn’t dismiss her words or take them lightly. Nolles was dangerous, and it was only a matter of time until the poisonous little viper struck, Luc admitted.

  There had never been any question that sooner or later, Nolles would seek revenge against Barnaby, and it was curious that he hadn’t done so as yet. Luc frowned. And Mrs. Gilbert was right that Nolles wouldn’t go after Barnaby directly. Even Nolles, he thought, wasn’t brazen and foolish enough to kill someone of Barnaby’s standing... . But there were other targets. Himself for one. Lamb for another. So what, he wondered, was Nolles waiting for?

  He turned the question over in his mind as he mounted the steps to the Dower House, but coming to no conclusion, he put the problem away for the time being. He had something far more enjoyable to contemplate—dinner at High Tower with his friend ... and crossing swords with a woman who stirred his blood and piqued his interest.

  It was only after bathing and dressing, as he prepared to leave for High Tower, that Luc admitted that he was looking forward to seeing Gillian Dashwood with far more anticipation than he liked. And reminding himself that she was a murderess and most likely preying on the affection of an old man for her own ends did little to dampen his appetite for her company. She was, he decided, as dangerous as Nolles—perhaps even more so. A grin flashed across his dark face. But so am I, he thought, so am I... .

  Chapter 6

  Luc may have been looking forward to dining at High Tower that evening, but the idea of sitting down at a table with Canfield and Luc Joslyn filled Gillian with anything but pleasure. Stanley was endurable, but having to be polite to that reprehensible Canfield galled her. As for Luc Joslyn ...

  Her physical awareness of him troubled her. Even if she was inclined toward dalliance, which she was not! her present circumstances made flirtation with any man impossible ... and unwise. Besides, she reminded herself, I don’t even like hi
m—even if he is the most attractive man I’ve met in ages. Or noticed, she thought unhappily.

  No, she wasn’t looking forward to the evening, and the knowledge that Silas was going to announce that she and Sophia would be making High Tower their home only added to her anxiety. Her brother’s displeasure at the news was to be expected, and she was positive, like Luc Joslyn, he would attribute the basest of motives to her actions. She didn’t care what either one of them thought about her, or at least not a great deal, so she could dismiss their reactions, but she was uneasy about how Canfield would take Silas’s announcement. Her finding refuge with her uncle would strip away his biggest weapon against her and he wouldn’t, she suspected, take it well. As the dinner hour approached, her stomach was in knots and her nerves stretched thin.

  Not wishing to spend any more time than necessary with the gentlemen, she convinced Sophia to delay their appearance downstairs. Consequently, when the ladies entered the salon, it was to find the gentlemen already assembled and waiting for them.

  The four men were scattered around the room, Silas in his usual chair, Stanley and Canfield off to one side, Luc standing next to the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantel. At their entrance the gentlemen looked over at them.

  Canfield lifted his quizzing glass and leisurely inspected Gillian, and she stiffened with resentment. It took enormous willpower for her not to march up to him and slap the quizzing glass right out of his hand.

  Regal in a gown of straw-colored crepe with bronze embroidery, Gillian brushed passed Stanley and Canfield with the faintest acknowledgment and walked directly toward her uncle. Reaching Silas, she gave him a warm smile. “Have we kept you waiting?”

  Silas twinkled up at her and, taking her cold hand in his, gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Not long, my dear.” He glanced at Sophia as she joined them, approving of her buff glazed chintz gown, a fringed shawl in shades of cream and rose draped around her shoulders. Glancing from one niece to the other, he added, “Far be it from me to object to waiting for such a pair of beautiful women.”

  Gillian’s cheeks pinkened and she murmured, “And you are a terrible flirt.”

  “Not terrible,” said Sophia, giving Silas a tap on his good arm with her painted fan, “practiced.”

  While Sophia and Silas chatted, against her will, Gillian’s eyes slid in Luc’s direction and her heart stuttered in her chest when she realized that he was staring at her. Her cheeks even pinker, she dropped her gaze, but the picture of masculine beauty he presented as he stood tall and lean by the fireplace could not be erased from her brain.

  Oh why, she asked herself bitterly, did she find him so appealing? He was a notorious gambler for heaven’s sake! And illegitimate in the bargain, she reminded herself. He was the last man she should find attractive. But thinking of those broad shoulders encased in a burgundy silk jacket trimmed with silver thread, and the long legs sheathed in dove-gray breeches, her breath quickened and a flush that had nothing to do with embarrassment spread through her body.

  Ignoring all the reasons why she shouldn’t, she risked another glance in his direction and nearly stamped her foot in vexation to find him still staring at her, a smile on that mocking mouth. He had no right, she decided resentfully, to be so distracting. His eyes holding hers, Luc cocked an inquiring brow and, her face flaming, she averted her eyes, but the memory of that mobile mouth remained—as did the glitter in the azure eyes. Ruffled, she fixed her attention on her uncle, determined to keep her wayward gaze away from Luc Joslyn.

  Luc knew women. Until he’d been shipped off to Virginia to his father’s home, except for an uncle and a male cousin, he’d grown up in a household of women. His mother and her widowed sisters and her sister-in-law and their daughters had doted on him, perhaps, trying to make up for disapproval shown by his oncle and his cousine Jereme. From that bevy of smiling, petal-skinned, loving females, Luc had learned much about women ... such as when a woman was interested in a man... .

  The sprite tries to hide it, Luc thought, intrigued, but she is not indifferent to me. Non, not indifferent, but she is not very happy about it. He knew precisely how she felt. Since she’d entered the room, he’d been unable to tear his eyes away from her. She drew him like a moth to the flame and it irritated him. But there was something about the way she moved, the sweet swell of her breasts peeking from beneath the crepe bodice and the flow of the material across her thighs ... Juste ciel! he thought disgustedly. Whether she killed her husband or not, whether she was scheming to take advantage of Silas, he wanted her out of that charming gown and naked in his arms ... and before long, he swore, he’d have her there, too.

  Forcing a certain part of his anatomy to behave, he stared at the flames in the fireplace. A harmless seduction was one thing, but falling under the spell of a murderess had no part in his plans. Unfortunately, whenever she was near he tended to forget precisely who she was and what she was up to and would think more of her curvaceous little body and how much he wanted to taste that tempting mouth.

  Leaving Gillian talking to Silas, Sophia walked over to Luc and, smiling at him, said, “It is delightful to see you again, Mr. Joslyn.”

  “It is my pleasure, Madame. It is kind of you and your uncle to invite me to dinner.”

  “It’s small thanks for rescuing my uncle the night he broke his arm and for you being so considerate in taking my cousin and me for a ride on Wednesday.”

  “You have nothing to thank me for—even if Silas wasn’t my friend, I would have lent him assistance. I wouldn’t have left anyone at the side of the road with a broken arm.” He smiled. “As for the ride—I enjoyed it.”

  Stanley walked up to them, and after complimenting his cousin on her looks, he turned his attention to Luc. Clearing his throat, he said, “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation as I approached... . I apologize for not thanking you the other day for coming to my uncle’s aid. I am indebted to you. It might have been much more serious for Uncle if you had not arrived when you did. You have my gratitude.”

  “You’re welcome. I only did what anyone else would have done. You owe me nothing.” After the initial reception he’d been given by Stanley on Wednesday, the other man’s friendliness was unexpected and his thanks seemed sincere, but he couldn’t help wondering what Stanley was up to. Disarming him? But to what end?

  Sophia looked approvingly at her cousin. “I must say, Stanley, you surprised me. First you actually gave me a compliment and then you were polite to Mr. Joslyn. It was most gentlemanly of you.”

  Stanley flushed and fidgeted. “I know that I don’t always live up to everyone’s expectations, but I ain’t a barbarian and I’m as fond of our uncle as anyone.” His flush deepened. “Even though you and Gillian think I only see him as a pile of money bags.”

  “I never doubted your affection for him,” Sophia said calmly. “But I do question your affinity for his, ah, money bags.”

  Stanley scowled at her, but before he could reply, Meacham entered the room and announced that dinner was served.

  There was a flurry of movement as the group prepared to leave the room. Despite his broken arm, Silas insisted upon escorting Sophia, and Stanley offered his arm to Gillian, leaving Canfield and Luc to follow them as they exited the salon.

  Following Silas and Sophia as they walked down the hall toward the dining room, Stanley said to Gillian, “I must say that you are in good looks tonight—told Sophia the same thing.” He smiled. “The country air must agree with both of you.”

  Gillian looked at him warily. “Are you being nice to me?” she asked with a raised brow. “I don’t believe you’ve ever complimented me before—on anything. Generally all you do is complain about me and what I’m doing or not doing.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time we put away our childish rivalry? We’re not children anymore, Gilly,” Stanley said, using his pet name for her from childhood. “We don’t have to live in each other’s pocket, but I would remind you that we are a very small family and
it wouldn’t be a bad thing if we treated each other with respect and politeness—if not affection.”

  The use of his childhood name for her touched Gillian, and she reminded herself that he hadn’t always been a pompous little beast. If she tried, she could dredge up some pleasant memories from when they were children. She sent him a glance from beneath her lashes. Was it possible he was sincere? Perhaps he wanted to bridge the chasm between them? Cautiously, she asked, “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but we’re both adults now,” he said. “Our uncle is old, one day it will just be the three of us—you, me and Sophia.” To her astonishment, he looked wistful. “It would be nice if we could be around each other without daggers drawing.”

  Silas and Sophia turned into the dining room and as Gillian and Stanley entered the room behind them, Gillian asked, “Are you suggesting a truce?”

  “A truce would be a start.”

  She smiled uncertainly at him, not quite believing in this change of heart, but willing to try, she answered, “Very well then, a truce.”

  Dinner went well. It wasn’t until the dessert course had been cleared and the ladies prepared to rise from the table and retire to the salon for tea and coffee that Silas tapped his wineglass, capturing everyone’s attention.

  Looking around the rectangular linen-draped table, he said, “I have an announcement to make tonight that gives me special pleasure. After a discussion with them on Thursday, a momentous decision was made: my two dear nieces will be living permanently at High Tower with me.” He beamed around the table. “It has long been my wish that they live with me, and they have finally taken pity on an old man and relented and agreed to share my home. I couldn’t be happier.”

  The announcement didn’t surprise Luc; he’d already suspected that Gillian had been maneuvering for such an outcome, but he was a little surprised that Sophia was going along with it. Yet thinking it over, knowing that she was a widowed lady and dependent, if Emily and Cornelia were correct, on Gillian, he concluded that Sophia hadn’t had much of choice. Stanley looked poleaxed, but it was Canfield’s reaction that caught his attention. Now why, he wondered, watching the flash of rage that crossed Canfield’s face, should Lord George Canfield find that news so infuriating?