Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway Read online

  “I’d like to.”

  “Well, whenever I’m near you I feel the fizzing. It’s like my stomach effervesces and I feel quite giddy.” She sent him a smouldering look. “Why do you make me fizz, Gabe?”

  He laughed. “What you feel is desire, sweetheart. Don’t concern yourself. It’s the oldest reaction between a man and woman in the book.”

  “I do?” She opened her eyes very wide. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  “You dislike fizzing?”

  “Not in the least, but perhaps I shouldn’t have told you about it.”

  Gabe choked back a laugh. “Miranda, you’re sitting on my lap, with your hair in total disorder and my hands on your breasts. I think it’s a little late for modesty.”

  “Oh my goodness, so I am!” She blushed deeply, leapt from his lap and endeavoured to straighten her clothes. “Whatever could I have been thinking?”

  “Blame the fizzing.”

  “I’m more inclined to blame you. After all you’ve done for me, I feel obliged—”

  “I haven’t behaved well.” Gabe felt ashamed. “Please accept my apology.”

  “No apology is necessary. I’ve been sensible all my life, but now I’m finding that behaving outrageously is rather fun.”

  Gabe chuckled. “Perhaps, but it’s past time to retire.”

  She slid back onto his lap and smiled at him. “Don’t send me away. I’m afraid of the storm.”

  “Nonsense! You love storms.”

  “Damnation, it’s not gentlemanly to remind me I just said that.”

  “I’m not behaving like a gentleman at the moment.”

  She wriggled on his lap, causing his erection to throb, compelling him to stifle a curse. “Well then, we’re agreed.”

  Gabe didn’t recall agreeing to anything. Even so, he knew he was responsible for her aroused state and ought to do something about it. Well, that was what he told himself.

  “You’re a vixen,” he said, nipping at her lower lip as his hands found the ties to her gown and slipped it from her shoulders.

  Covered just by the thin fabric of her chemise, Miranda’s breasts were a sight to behold. Gabe duly beheld them, drinking in the sight of the firm flesh with their pert, oh so temptingly enticing raspberry-pink nipples. He lowered his head and sucked one into his mouth, his fingers caressing the fleshy mound and pushing it deeper into his mouth. Miranda squirmed and Gabe was absolutely certain she was enjoying herself a little too much.

  It couldn’t go on. He was no despoiler of maidens, especially when said maiden felt she owed him her gratitude. He released her nipple and tapped the side of her thigh. “No more.”

  “You don’t have to worry about my expectations,” she said. “I’ve already told you that I have plans for my future that have nothing to do with matrimony.”

  Gabe hadn’t given such considerations a thought. It was his own raging desire that had brought him to his senses. It had already ripped his insides to shreds and he didn’t trust himself not to give in to it.

  “We’re playing a dangerous game here, Miranda,” he said, pulling her gown back into place and retying it. “The storm has abated and so ought we.”

  He pulled her to her feet and stepped away from her, careful to keep a good foot of space between them. He looked her up and down. “Your gown hasn’t suffered but there’s not much I can do about your hair. You’ll just have to invent some story to satisfy Jessie.”

  “I sent her to bed. She works far too hard in the kitchens all day. She can’t be expected to stay up and wait on me as well. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

  Gabe picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “Good night then, sweet vixen.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  For the next two days Miranda saw little of Gabe during daylight hours. It was as though he now regretted what had occurred between them and was trying to avoid unnecessary contact with her. If he was uncomfortable about his conduct then it served him right. He was the one with all the experience and had deliberated enticed her, simply because he could. Well, that wasn’t precisely true, but she wasn’t ready to absolve him from blame.

  Heat crept up her cheeks as she recalled just how desperate she’d actually felt when he held her against him. The spiral of need that had started somewhere deep inside her the moment his lips covered hers, the frantic nature of her desire to…to what precisely? She had no idea, but she most certainly wished to know. For someone with an enquiring mind, she found herself in an unacceptable situation fuelled by frustration, embarrassment and deep-seated curiosity.

  But there was nothing she could do about it. The way she threw herself into his arms, he probably now had a very poor opinion of her moral standards.

  Furious at herself for allowing him to have affected her, Miranda swiped far too hard at a cobweb in the attic she was rooting through and finished up with it tangled in her hair. She screeched, hoping the spider responsible for its construction wasn’t at home. She hated spiders.

  Gabe was the one who understood the nuances that separated fizzing from desire. By definition that made him the one in control of their amorous experimentation, as she chose to think of it. Miranda suppressed a giggle when it occurred to her that Miss Frobisher would approve. She’d be horrified at Miranda’s wanton behaviour, of course, but would applaud her mental categorisation.

  An organised mind demonstrates great self-control, girls.

  The giggle escaped her best efforts to keep it in check. Sorry, not in this case, Miss Frobisher.

  The desire to smile abruptly left her when her thoughts returned to Gabe. In spite of her firm request to be consulted, he continued to control every little thing being done to reclaim the Wildes. She had to admit that the place was coming together beautifully, all thanks to him. The power of money, she thought wistfully. How she would ever repay him was a question she preferred not to address at present. Instead she continued to work herself into a state of righteous indignation about the ease with which he’d obviously dismissed the interlude between them. To a man of his standing, it probably didn’t count for much. Presumably he dallied with ladies all the time when boredom claimed him. He must be very bored indeed, buried away down here in Cornwall, and she was the only distraction within convenient reach.

  Much as she disliked being a distraction, recalling everything he’d gone to so much trouble to do for her made her ashamed of the direction her thoughts had taken. It didn’t matter that she’d been unable to stop thinking about Gabe’s kisses, the feel of his hands on her breasts, the passion she thought she detected in his eyes when he held her tight against him and looked down at her. Then there was the way his breath peppered her neck when…enough!

  He was still here, still helping her, even if he went out of his way to ensure they were no longer alone together. Munford had remained in the dining room the entire time for the past two nights, and the conversation between her and Gabe and been stilted and formal. She could perhaps understand why he didn’t wish to discuss their brief intimate interlude but his refusal to say anything more about the suspected arsenic production was infuriating. Every time she raised the question he adroitly changed the subject. He wouldn’t even tell her if he’d learned anything to confirm his suspicions. She knew from something she overheard Munford saying that he’d instigated enquiries. She had a right to know but he seemed equally determined to protect her from whatever was going on. It was most irksome to be treated like a mindless nincompoop.

  Everyone was on edge, that much she understood, awaiting the arrival of her guardians. Part of her wanted them to get here, just so that Gabe could leave with a clear conscience and she could go back to being herself. Another part of her wanted their arrival to be delayed indefinitely so she could enjoy Gabe’s dry sense of humour, his caressing looks, the sound of his laughter, the sight of him in shirtsleeves chopping logs like a common villager. She also knew that her guardians wouldn’t scruple to destroy his reputation if that
was the only way they could regain control of the Wildes or, failing that, line their own pockets. She smiled. Enough of this following behind. It was time to fight her own battles.

  “Miss Miranda!” Jessie panted up the narrow attic stairway, her cap askew. “The lad Lord Gabriel set to watch for their carriage in Looe just ran up and said they’re here, on their way up to the house.”

  “Damnation!” She glanced down at her grubby gown, recalled the cobweb in her hair and knew it was safe to assume that her face was as dirty as her hands were. “They certainly know how to choose their moments.”

  “I’ll help you get cleaned up, miss.”

  Miranda tripped lightly down the stairs, wondering why Gabe hadn’t seen fit to give her earlier intelligence of her guardians’ arrival. She felt sure he would have known about it long before Jessie did. “Such tyranny,” she muttered.

  Well, he wasn’t the only person who knew how to remain tight-lipped. She would have the final word and save him from entrapment if it was the last thing she did. Smiling to herself, she sailed into her room.

  “Come along then, Jessie.” She glanced in the glass and winced. “We’ll just have to make the best of a bad job.”

  Fifteen minutes later Miranda walked into the sitting room, clad in her serviceable brown gown, her hair tidy and cobweb free, her face scrubbed clean. Gabe was already there, of course, impeccably attired. He smiled at her when she walked in.

  “You’ve heard?”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “Stay, Jessie, if you please,” he said as her maid went to close the door on them. “Sit in the corner over there. It wouldn’t do to play into their hands and have them find Miss Cantrell and I alone.”

  Miranda recalled her plan and bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. Of course he was concerned about appearances. He couldn’t afford not to be because he knew nothing of the plan forming in her head to save him from tarnishing his reputation.

  “Sit down, Miranda,” Gabe said, indicating a chair beside the fire. “Try to remain calm and let me do the talking.”

  “I’m perfectly calm, thank you, Lord Gabriel,” she said loftily. “And well able to speak my mind. I have a few choice words to address to Mr. Peacock. And as for Mr. Nesbitt—”

  Laughing, Gabe’s upraised hand stopped her in mid-flow. “Think before you speak, vixen,” he said softly. “Inappropriate words can never be recalled.” He took the chair across from hers and elegantly crossed his long legs at the ankles. “You look like a volcano about to erupt. I’ve seen calmer debutantes on the eve of presentation.”

  “I’m sure you have.” Jealousy ripped through her at the thought of Gabe surrounded by wealthy young ladies dressed in virginal white, batting their lashes at him, their fans only partially concealing their admiring glances. “Being presented hardly compares with facing my perfidious guardians. This is the real world, Lord Gabriel.”

  He looked disconcerted by her acerbic tone, which she already regretted. Before he could respond there was a commotion in the hall and the door flew open. Mr. Peacock stood in the aperture, Nesbitt at his side. She could just see William Peacock’s head with its thinning brown hair behind his father’s shoulder. Tobias roused himself from his slumbers, hackles raised, and a growl rumbled in his throat. Miranda was proud that her dog was such a good judge of character.

  “There you are, Miranda,” Peacock said. “What the devil do you mean, taking off like that and leaving your fiancé distraught?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Peacock,” she said calmly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question. A merry dance you’ve led us, and it’s cost me a pretty penny to run after you.”

  “I live here. This is my home.”

  “Not yet it ain’t,” Nesbitt said, his upper lip curling. “Until you reach your majority, you’re our responsibility.”

  Gabe stood up, a good half head taller than all of them and considerably better dressed. “State your business,” he said calmly.

  “Who are you?” William Peacock spoke for the first time.

  “Lord Gabriel Forster at your service,” he replied, effortlessly emphasising the difference in their stations with his cut-glass accent.

  “I heard tell my ward had gallivanted off with some gent,” Peacock said. “Surprised to see you’re still here.”

  “Miss Cantrell is most anxious about her possessions,” Gabe said languidly. “Several valuable heirlooms appear to be missing and I understand you removed them.”

  “For safekeeping,” Peacock said defensively. “Why have you got such a large fire, Miranda? Complete waste of money. Just goes to prove my point. You know nothing of economy and aren’t fit to look after yourself.”

  “You will arrange the immediate return of Miss Cantrell’s possessions,” Gabe said with authority, “or I will involve the full force of the law.”

  “I am the law,” Nesbitt said, stepping forward. “And Miss Cantrell’s guardian. I have authority here and you are trespassing. I’ll thank you to leave so Miss Cantrell can make up her silly quarrel with her fiancé.”

  “I don’t have a fiancé to quarrel with,” Miranda responded, treating William to a scathing look.

  “No, but you have a fancy gentleman taking care of your every need,” Peacock said, his gaze sweeping the newly restored room and clearly taking note of every improvement. “Has he compromised you, Miranda?”

  Miranda simply laughed. “What if he has?” She ignored Gabe’s dropped jaw. “Besides, no one marries a girl who cares so little for her virtue. That means I can remain here alone and be perfectly happy.”

  No one said a word for several moments. Miranda couldn’t look at Gabe, unsure of his reaction. No one seemed to have believed her when she said she wasn’t worried about her reputation but it really was the truth.

  “Well then, that changes everything,” Peacock said, having exchanged a calculating look with Nesbitt. “I dare say William will forgive your slip. A young gal’s head can easily be turned by an experienced gent. Just make financial recompense to Miss Cantrell, sir, and we’ll say no more about it.”

  “I regret to be the bearer of bad tidings,” Gabe said, “but Miss Cantrell has a lively imagination.”

  “That ain’t the way I see it,” Nesbitt replied. “If we’d been announced, I dare say you’d have had a chaperone in here and everything would have been as it should. Instead, I find the two of you, cosy as turtle doves, huddled over the fire.”

  “In the first place, Nesbitt, gentlemen never huddle.” Gabe fixed him with a hard stare. “Not that I’d expect you to know anything about gentlemanly behaviour. In the second place, Miss Cantrell and I weren’t alone.”

  Jessie appeared from the shadows and stood beside Miranda, hands on hips. Damnation, Miranda had forgotten she was in the room.

  “I sleep in Miss Miranda’s room every night. It’s too cold in the rest of the house.”

  Miranda tried not to show surprise. Jessie didn’t sleep anywhere near her room. Damn it, she thought she’d let Gabe off the hook but he’d anticipated her. Did he want to blacken his own name?

  “I still maintain that you’re trespassing, Lord Gabriel,” Nesbitt said. “We must ask you to leave this place. We know what’s best for Miss Cantrell.”

  “I’m sure you do, all the while you steal her possessions and make her dance to your tune.”

  “I didn’t dance to their tune,” Miranda reminded him sweetly. “Nor shall I. Not ever.”

  “Locking young girls in their rooms and half-starving them might be your idea of discipline, Peacock,” Gabe said, “but it certainly isn’t mine. I’ll thank you to introduce full accounts for the management of this place by the end of the week.”

  “Nothing to do with you!” Nesbitt’s face turned puce with rage and, Miranda was gratified to notice, a modicum of fear too. “Look here, Forster, you can’t make those sorts of demands.”

  “It’s Lord Gabriel to you, Nesbitt, and I
think you’ll find that I can. Miss Cantrell has engaged me, or should I say my brother-in-law, to look into her financial affairs. She has no faith in either of you, you see, and thinks she’s been gulled.”

  “She’s under age.” Peacock made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat. “She can’t make those sorts of demands.”

  Gabe offered both men a quelling glance. “Sir Darius chooses to represent Miss Cantrell despite her youth.”

  “Sir Darius Grantley?” Nesbitt enquired, paling.

  “The very same.”

  “What the devil does he have to do with this business?” Nesbitt shouted.

  My thoughts exactly. Miranda blinked back her surprise. First I’ve heard of it.

  “I’d think twice before dismissing his right to become involved if I were you, Nesbitt,” Gabe said, looking as though he was enjoying himself. “Your reputation in legal circles is suspect, to say the least, whereas Sir Darius is universally respected. Who do you suppose will find favour in the courts if you choose to oppose his right?”

  “Have your clerk send the records to Sir Darius,” Miranda said, getting into the spirit of things.

  “I er…don’t have a clerk at present. I left London in a hurry, concerned for your welfare, much good it did me.”

  “You dismissed Mr. Blake, just for helping me?” Miranda glowered at Nesbitt. “How could you be so callous?”

  “He should learn the meaning of loyalty. He won’t find it easy to get another position, either,” Nesbitt said gleefully, “since I don’t intend to give him a character.”

  “But his mother depends upon him!” Miranda felt fit to burst with the injustice of it all. “What a disagreeable person you are.”

  “Don’t worry,” Gabe said, touching Miranda’s arm. “Blake has already secured a much better position with Darius.”

  Miranda hadn’t thought it possible for Nesbitt to pale any more than he already had, but this revelation proved her wrong. He was probably recalling all the secrets regarding his activities that Mr. Blake carried in his head, she surmised with considerable satisfaction.