Naughty or Nice? Page 27

  Her breath quickened as he increased the rhythm of his hips. She could orgasm just by having him rub against her. Pushing against him, she slid the tattered remains of his shirt down toward his shoulders, reveling in the silky hardness of his flesh.

  Then she felt it. Beneath her right palm, just beneath the knobby bones of his left shoulder, his skin was different. It was smoother, thicker—puffy. It was a scar. A scar that hadn’t been there eight months ago.

  Her head suddenly very clear, Elizabeth pushed him away, despite the silent protest her body made at the loss. He stared at her, his dazed expression slowly giving way to something far more guarded and wary.

  She dropped her gaze to his shoulder. And gasped at what she saw.

  It was all that was left of a bullet wound—two of them. She’d seen enough of those to have no doubt. It was still pink and ugly, despite looking as though it had been well cared for.

  The tears were back as she reached up and tugged on his arm, turning him just enough so that she could look at his back. The exit wound was bigger and not as neat. This was the wound he’d received at Waterloo.

  He’d almost died. Tears, hot and fat, slid down her cheeks even as she fought to keep them at bay. A few inches lower and they would have gotten him through the heart. As her fingertips gingerly ran along the satiny expanse of flesh, she remembered what he’d said to her that night on the boat—about dying in battle. He said he’d die protecting his loved ones, but not for England.

  “You got this fighting for the woman you love.” Her voice was flat in her own ears. God, how she hated this woman—this Caroline. Did she know what this man had gone through for her? Did she appreciate it? Elizabeth hadn’t seen the actual battle, but she’d seen the product of it.

  Garrett caught her fingers in his own. His gaze was dark and intense as it met hers.

  “I got it fighting for you,” he murmured huskily.

  For her. The implication of his words was more than Elizabeth wanted to face. She didn’t want to be responsible for this. Better it be a tribute to his family than to something fleeting, something that could never last. The woman he thought he loved was an illusion. She wasn’t real. At that moment, Elizabeth would have given almost anything to be what he wanted.

  Choking on the sobs that threatened to consume her, Elizabeth pulled free of his grasp. “Your efforts would have been better spent on Caroline, my lord. Or perhaps even England. I’m sure either one of them would be more appreciative of the gesture.”

  And then, before she could make an even bigger fool of herself by bursting into tears, Elizabeth ran from the room.

  This was just ridiculous.

  It was Christmas Eve and the last of Regina’s guests had just arrived for her annual party. The ballroom had been opened up especially, and decorated with boughs of holly and mistletoe. Jewels flashed and glittered as dancers whirled by and the air rang with music and laughter. Even Elizabeth seemed to be having a good time.

  Until she looked at him.

  Whenever their gazes met she looked away so fast Garrett was amazed her neck didn’t snap in two.

  He didn’t understand. How could such a woman possibly think she wasn’t good enough for him? Aside from his title, which wasn’t very grand, and his wealth, which was by no means staggering, there was nothing terribly special about him. He was just a man.

  A man who was engaged to another woman. Honor held him to the betrothal, but there was part of him who’d toss honor to the wind if he thought Elizabeth would have him. Would she have him?

  He watched above the rim of his glass as she danced with Reverend Jones. The good reverend’s expression was far from holy as he stared down into Elizabeth’s smiling face—and the impressive amount of cleavage displayed by her stunning amber silk gown.

  She looked like a goddess. The color of the gown matched her eyes, brightening them. The square neck plunged low across her breasts as was the fashion, and flaunted the porcelain smoothness of her skin. Her hair was drawn up onto her crown in a thick coil, with one long chunk left free to snake over her shoulder like a lush black snake. Her only jewelry was a pair of dangling diamond earbobs.

  She was magnificent, and everyone there knew it. Men made idiots of themselves just to get near her, which was why Garrett kept to the shadows, sulking.

  It hadn’t bothered him when she danced with Lord Posseton—Harry, as Regina called him. And it hadn’t bothered him when she danced with the Marquis of Cheltenham—Charles. If she didn’t think herself good enough for a mere viscount, an earl and a marquis were certainly no threat.

  No, it was the young, handsome clergyman who had Garrett grinding his teeth and drinking far more Scotch than his normal habit. He could tell just from the relaxed line of her back and shoulders that Elizabeth felt at ease with this man. He was her equal in her eyes.

  Garrett snorted and then drained his glass. As if a soft-spoken, easy-going man like Jones could ever match a woman of Elizabeth’s passionate nature. It was ludicrous to even think about. Still, that didn’t stop him from wanting to stomp out onto the dance floor and peel the clergyman’s hand off the small of Elizabeth’s back and slap him with it.

  She belonged with him, not with some lily-handed bookworm who would compare her to an angel and compose psalms in her honor. And she certainly didn’t need to be with another man who would make her feel second to his occupation.

  He’d meant it when he called her husband an ass. Why couldn’t Elizabeth see the fault was with Thomas, not with her? Had she been that in love with him that she refused to see his faults? It would explain why she had promised to carry on with his work. But she’d referred to that promise as her “duty.” Surely that wasn’t the term a grieving widow would use?

  And he doubted a grieving widow would have allowed a stranger to take her on a table. In fact, he didn’t doubt for a second that he was the first—if not the only—man Elizabeth had been with since her husband’s death. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but there was a bond between them, forged that night on her boat, and it was stronger than either of them wanted to admit.

  She laughed at something Jones said. Garrett’s heart leapt in his chest.

  Oh hell, he loved her. There was no point in even trying to deny it any longer. At first he’d thought it was obsession, plain and simple, but as he watched her sparkling eyes gaze up at the good reverend, the painful revelation hit him like a fist in the chest.

  He couldn’t stand that she could smile like that at another man. He couldn’t stand another man touching her. In fact, he wouldn’t stand for it any longer.

  Setting his glass on the tray of a passing footman, Garrett threaded his way through the swirling dancers with steely determination. Guests scurried to clear a path for him, nervous of his fierce expression. He didn’t care that they watched with interest as he approached Elizabeth and Jones. All that mattered was the flicker of excitement he saw in Elizabeth’s eyes before they clouded over with trepidation.

  The music faded to a halt as he stopped in front of them. Flashing his brightest and most charming smile, Garrett turned to Jones. “I believe the next dance is mine. You don’t mind, do you, Arthur?”

  The smaller man smiled in return, completely oblivious to the tension between Garrett and Elizabeth—or that people were staring. Lord, Jones didn’t have a sexually aware bone in his body. He was definitely the wrong man for Elizabeth.

  Of course, they were all wrong. He’d already established that fact.

  “Not at all, Garrett,” the reverend replied, adhering to Regina’s rule about no titles being used under her roof. He bowed toward Elizabeth. “I hope to enjoy your company again this evening, Elizabeth.”

  A snarl bubbled in Garrett’s throat, but he forced it down. Gesturing to the orchestra for another waltz, he turned to Elizabeth. “Shall we?”

  Warily, she stepped into his arms. He was made to hold her like this, close enough that he could smell the spicy warmth of her perfume. Close enough th
at he could watch the pulse jump at the base of her throat.

  “You’re holding me closer than is proper,” she informed him in an icy tone as he drew her through the first turn.

  “I’m not proper.” He turned her again. She followed him effortlessly, every step perfectly attuned to his. It only strengthened his conviction that they were perfect for each other.

  “So I noticed.” Her gaze locked with his, full of censure. “It was rude of you to chase Arthur off like that.”

  His sister’s rule or not, the sound of another man’s name on her lips infuriated him. “Arthur’s easy to chase off.”

  “He’s a very nice man.”

  “He’s boring.” He twirled her faster this time, catching her off guard. She gasped, but could not be swayed.

  “He’s dependable.”

  “He’s unemotional.”

  Her eyes hardened. “He’s available.”

  Garrett stiffened, almost stepping on her foot as he faltered. So that’s why the good reverend was getting all her attention, was it? To punish him for not being available?

  “He also loves God more than he could ever love any woman.”

  All the blood save for two angry red splotches drained from her face. “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman.”

  Lord, but she was like a dog with a bone! “For men like that, like Arthur and Thomas, there is no such thing as the right woman.”

  Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Her lips, red from mulled wine, tightened. “And for some men there seems to be more than one.”

  The blow hit its mark. Drawing a deep breath, Garrett stared into her eyes, letting her see the depth of emotion there. “No,” he replied honestly. “There’s only ever been one. I’m looking at her.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “I’m certain your fiancée would be pleased to hear that.”

  Sighing at her sarcasm, Garrett steered her away toward the edge of the dance floor.

  “What would you have me do, Elizabeth? Would you have me dishonor myself and break the engagement?” He couldn’t believe he was even suggesting it. It was one of the lowest things a gentleman could do. Caroline would be able to take legal action against him for breaking their betrothal. It would be an awful scandal.

  “Because I’ll do it, if that’s what it takes to prove how much you mean to me.” He wanted to tell her just how much he loved her, but he couldn’t, not here where everyone could see her reaction.

  Elizabeth blinked, her tears evaporating as a shocked expression froze her face. “If you broke your promise because of me you wouldn’t be the man I think you are.”

  Frustration clawed its way up from Garrett’s gut, sinking its talons into every fiber of his being. “Then what?” he demanded. “What do you want from me?”

  She opened her mouth, and for a moment he thought she might actually—miraculously—have the answer, that she might admit her feelings for him, that she would desist in the foolish notion that she wasn’t good enough and that they would live happily ever after.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “There’s nothing you can do, Garrett.”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn’t believe this was it, that it was over, not after he’d tried so hard to find her. He’d waited all his life for a woman like her. There had to be a way. There had to!

  The music was fading. In a moment he would have to let her go. He couldn’t. If he did, he knew he’d never have the chance to hold her again.

  “Look, everyone!” cried a voice Garrett instantly recognized as Elsa’s as the music stopped. “Uncle Garrett and Eliza are underneath the mistletoe!”

  Garrett froze. Elizabeth stiffened in his arms. Together, they lifted their heads, gazing up at the ball of leafy green above them with a mixture of excitement and dread.

  “A kiss!” someone cried.

  “We demand a kiss,” yelled another.

  Laughter and voices rose up around them, roaring in Garrett’s ears as he lowered his gaze to Elizabeth’s. Their last kiss and it wouldn’t even be in private. It would be chaste and proper, for all the village to witness. God, he didn’t want to say goodbye this way.

  Swallowing against the dry, hard lump in his throat, Garrett pulled her closer, dropping her hand so that both of his could circle her waist. Could anyone watching see the horrified expression on her face? Could they see the sorrow and grief that seemed to surround them both like a heavy shroud?

  He lowered his head.

  “Garrett!”

  He could have cried. He laughed instead. Straightening, his arms still wrapped around the woman he loved, he turned toward the door where his betrothed stood, a blue and blond blur as his eyes filled with tears of laughter and despair.

  “Caroline.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My whole is the three united

  And it’s very simple to do

  And these little words will tell the world

  just how I feel for you.

  Garrett didn’t waste any time. As soon as the study door clicked shut behind him he turned to his betrothed. “What are you doing here?”

  Caroline arched a pale brow. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Garrett.”

  Now it was Garrett’s turn to be surprised. He’d never heard Caroline speak with such sarcasm.

  “Merry Christmas, Caroline. Now—” Crossing the blue and cream carpet to the desk in the far corner, he perched one hip on the polished rosewood top and folded his arms across his chest. “What brings you to Devon on Christmas Eve?”

  She wrung her hands. “I had to see you.”

  Just what Garrett didn’t want to hear. If Caroline wanted to make some kind of declaration to him, she’d picked a rotten time to do it. Or maybe it was the perfect time, depending on whether or not she wanted to watch him torture himself with guilt.

  “What did you want to see me about?” How cool he sounded, how detached!

  Caroline dropped her gaze. “Who was that woman you were in the ballroom with?”

  Garrett sighed in frustration. He didn’t want to play this game. He wanted all the cards on the table—now.

  “Her name is Elizabeth Vail, and she’s a friend of Regina’s. She’s also the woman who rescued me from the French prison I was in.”

  Caroline’s head snapped up. “She’s the reason you waited so long to propose.”

  So surprised was he by her insight, that Garrett couldn’t keep his shock from showing on his face. “Caroline, you know very well that I didn’t propose because I was going to Waterloo—”

  “To look for her.” Gone was the nervous rabbit. This Caroline was confident, almost cocky as she sauntered toward him. “You didn’t propose before you went because you were hoping to find her again. It wasn’t until you came home and my family made their wishes known that you finally asked me.”

  Frowning, Garrett swallowed. She made his actions seem so devious and underhanded, which of course they were. He wasn’t going to lie to her—not when so much was at stake. He couldn’t marry her and give her the love and respect she deserved, not when his heart belonged to someone else.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “She’s why I put off proposing.”

  She stared at him, realization brightening her delicate features. “You’re in love with her.”

  He was such a cad. “Yes.”

  If he expected tears, he was disappointed. In fact, Caroline looked almost . . . pleased by his announcement. Not the reaction one would expect from a cuckolded fiancée.

  Hand on her head, Caroline chuckled. “I can’t believe I was so worried about coming here. Had I known she would be here, I would have done this much, much sooner.”

  “Done what?” Garrett’s tone was wary, uncertain whether her laughter was from relief or some kind of mental imbalance.

  She met his cautious gaze with a smile. “Released you from our engagement, Garrett. In fact, had I known that you loved someone else, I never would have said yes in the first place.”

 
“You wouldn’t?” He knew he wasn’t much of a catch, but the fact that she would have dismissed him so easily came as a bit of a surprise, considering the nature of their relationship before he went off to war.

  Laughing again, she shook her head. “No. You see, Garrett, I’ve met someone else as well.”

  “You have?” It was his turn to chuckle in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I thought you wanted the marriage as much as my family did.” She grinned. “I came here to break the engagement. In fact, Jonathan is meeting me here in the morning and we’re joining my family in Cornwall.”

  “Your parents don’t know, then?”

  “They think I just wanted to spend Christmas with you.” Her smile faded a bit, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that Garrett hadn’t seen for a long time. This Jonathan made her happy. Good. “Does she know you love her?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see how she couldn’t.”

  Caroline didn’t bother to try to hide her surprise. “I don’t suppose you’ve tried telling her?”

  His smile was rueful. “It didn’t work. I don’t know what else to do.”

  She placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed. “Tell her you’re a free man. Tell her how you feel. Beg if you have to.” She grinned. “That’s what Jonathan did with me. He told me how much he loved me and begged me to stop being so stupid until I finally gave in.”

  Unfolding his arms, Garrett took her hand in both of his. Her joy was infectious. “I’ll give it a try. Thank you. Be happy, Caro.”

  She kissed his cheek, her expression one of warmth and genuine affection. They would always be friends, the two of them.

  “Merry Christmas, Garrett.” Straightening, she tugged her hand free of his. “I’m going to go tell Regina. You go find Elizabeth.”

  Standing, Garrett nodded. He was going to do just that.

  They left the study together, re-entering the ballroom as friends and more at ease with one another than they had been in months. Garrett had to shake his head. Imagine, neither of them had wanted to go through with the marriage, but they had both been willing to sacrifice their own happiness out of a sense of duty.