Not Quite A Gentleman

“I learned very quickly, right after I lost not one but two waistcoat buttons, that while Petunia likes clothing-oriented snacks, she loves carrots and apples. It clearly states in the Official Spy Handbook that one tends to fare much better against one’s foes when the foes are offered what they want.”

“So you saved your clothing with-”

“Carrots and apples. Yes.”

She brushed at a streak of dust marring her skirt. “You might have mentioned that helpful hint prior to now.”

“You didn’t ask. Besides, it hadn’t occurred to me that you would arrive at the stables before me.”

“I wanted to make certain you didn’t try to sneak off without me.”

Her words had the effect of a splash of cold water and his shoulders stiffened. “We struck a bargain. I’m a man of my word,” he said in a cool voice.

Silence stretched between them. Reaching up, she tucked the stray curl into her bonnet and studied him. “Then I suppose I owe you an apology.”

He merely inclined his head and waited.

Another silence followed. Finally she said, “I’m not happy about the condition of my handkerchief.”

He stared at her, nonplussed, then shook his head. “Well, that was the worst apology I’ve ever received.”

“What do you mean? I admitted I owed you an apology.”

“Actually, you said you ‘supposed’ you did.”

“Exactly. What more do you want?”

“It’s not an apology without the actual words, Victoria.” He folded his arms across his chest and raised his brows.

Again she studied him for several long seconds, a strange expression on her face. Then she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Nathan. We struck a deal and you’ve given me no reason to doubt that you’re a man of your word.” She pressed her lips together, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It killed you not to add the words ‘so far,’ didn’t it.”

“It required an effort, yes.”

“Well, I accept your apology. And in the spirit of fairness, I offer one of my own. I am sorry that my goat wreaked havoc upon your handkerchief. I realize that this is a poor substitute, but…” He reached into his waistcoat, withdrew a folded square of linen and presented it to her with a flourish. “Please accept mine as a replacement.”

“That isn’t necessary-”

“But I insist,” he said, pressing the cloth into her hand. “And let us be grateful that Petunia didn’t nibble upon your shoes instead, as I fear mine would be much too large to offer as a replacement.”

Her lips twitched. “Hmmm. Yes. Especially as you already have one pet who is named for munching upon footwear.” She tucked both his handkerchief and her ruined one in the pocket of her riding habit, then extended her hand. “Truce?”

He shook her hand, but after doing so, some inner devil made him raise her hand to his lips. But suddenly touching his lips to her gloved fingers wasn’t enough, so he turned her hand to expose the thin band of bare inner wrist visible between her glove and the sleeve of her riding habit. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he touched his lips to that soft bit of pale skin. And immediately regretted it.

An elusive whiff of roses teased his senses, instantly filling him with the urge to bury his face against her soft skin so as to breathe her in. But it was her reaction that had him swallowing a groan of pure want. A quick intake of breath, followed by a long, slow, exhalation. Eyes that widened slightly then drooped to half mast. The tip of her tongue moistening lips that remained parted. She looked flushed and aroused and… bloody hell, the effect this woman had on him was absurd. She’d all but brought him to his knees by doing nothing save look at him. God help him should she ever deliberately attempt to entice him.

Damn it all, he should have let her stay angry with him. Should have strove to keep that bit of distance between them. It would have been much easier to resist her if she weren’t speaking to him. Challenging him. Looking at him with those big blue eyes. But no, he had to accept her offer of a truce. Instead, he should have insisted she cover herself with a burlap sack.

And now he was about to embark on an entire afternoon in her company. Where he’d be forced to visit the place where the worst night of his life had taken place.

God help him, he wasn’t sure what frightened him more-the thought of the afternoon beginning or of it ending.

Thirteen

Every Modern Woman deserves to experience one grand passion in her life, but unfortunately not every woman is blessed with finding someone who inspires such desire. If she is lucky enough to meet the man who makes her heart pound and her knees quake and her insides shiver, she should not allow anything to stand in her way of grabbing happiness with both hands.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Nathan slowed Midnight as they neared the curve in the shady, tree-lined path.

“Is this the place?” asked Victoria, riding beside him on Honey.

“Just around this curve.” He pulled in a deep breath and braced himself, but it did nothing to stop the onslaught. The instant he rounded that curve, the memories he’d fought so hard to hold at bay assaulted him, laying siege to the carefully built fortifications he’d constructed to ward off the guilt, remorse, and self-condemnation that had threatened to consume him from the inside out. He’d known he’d have to revisit this spot, but he’d hoped, prayed, that the images would have faded. Instead they impaled him like a knife in his gut.

Reining Midnight to a halt, Nathan’s gaze fell upon the spot where he’d come upon Gordon, then shifted to the hedge from which he’d pulled Colin. He squeezed his eyes shut. Vivid images cut through his mind, slashes of pain, each one stinging like the lash of a whip, deepening the scars of regret that already marked him. His chest and throat tightened, and he opened his eyes, his gaze scanning the ground. Three years worth of rain had washed away all traces of Colin’s and Gordon’s blood. If only he’d been able to wipe his memory as clean.

He felt a touch on his arm and turned his head. Victoria’s gloved hand rested on his sleeve and she was looking at him with unmistakable concern. “Are you all right, Nathan?”

No. I’m not all right. Everything that mattered to me was lost. Right here. And I’ve no one to blame but myself. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

He forced a half grin. “Thank you, although I must warn you that such honeyed words are apt to swell my head.”

No trace of amusement lit her features as her gaze searched his for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she said quietly, “It is painful for you to be here.”

He swallowed the humorless sound that rose in his throat and nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

An immediate no rose to his lips, but her voice and eyes were filled with a compassion that beckoned him. And suddenly he couldn’t think of one compelling reason not to tell her.

“Based on information I’d received from an informant, I retrieved the cache of jewels from a ship anchored in Mount’s Bay.”

“How did you retrieve them?”