Yes, that was exactly what Gemma was. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, and his body, it seemed, was at odds with his brain. Unfortunate.
“Shall we take the air?” He did not wait for her to answer but led her toward the garden doors.
“I… I am not sure we should be alone. Hawke is—”
“An idiot. I agree. Shall we?”
Gemma looked at him and laughed.
Devil take it, how he’d missed her laugh. The sparkle in her eyes when she was amused. It had been too long. Her brother had stolen that from her — stolen her joy of life.
Colin’s jaw clenched under the frustration of the months lost, when they could have been together.
“Are you all right?” Gemma asked once they were out of doors.
The cool night air did wonders for his demeanor. Colin released her hand and turned around to gaze back at his aunt’s house. They were alone, gloriously alone, but he did not want to take any chances that someone might spy them.
He held a finger to his lips and grabbed her hand, leading her down a narrow passageway of trees that ran alongside the east side of the house.
“Where are we going? Colin, what are we—”
His lips cut her off. Well, that was graceful. Not at all how he’d planned it, but he could not wait one more moment. No, he would have died.
Her mouth opened immediately, and a soft sigh escaped her as he slowly pulled back to gaze into her eyes. “I am not sorry.”
“Neither am I.” She smirked.
“I love you.”
Anthony would strangle him if he were present. No tact whatsoever. He led a woman into the shadows of the trees, interrupted her with his mouth, and then professed love. Safe to say, he could burn Anthony’s journal. No help whatsoever.
“What?” Gemma gasped.
Clearly he should have listened when Anthony spoke, but any sane individual would have blocked out that man’s words.
“I love you.”
“I heard you.”
“Oh.” Well, that was awkward. “I am sorry. I… I’m sorry to have taken up your evening. If you will just…”
And then she slapped him.
Blasted Anthony.
He never spoke of a woman’s reaction when one professed love! Was that normal?
Gemma gasped and threw her hands over her mouth, and then she began to laugh. She was laughing. At him.
“I’m so sorry!” She kept laughing. “I do not know what came over me. I was just… overwhelmed, and then so angry… but not at you! At my brother and the circumstances, and I wrote you letters—”
“Yes, and—” But she was clearly not finished talking.
“Beautiful letters, Colin! Letters about my whereabouts! I wrote them all to you! But you never received them, and I never received yours!”
“Yes. About that… I—”
“Can you believe my brother would do something so utterly wretched? And I thought I had lost you forever! I was so worried that after everything in the garden you were finally washing your hands of me, rejecting me as you must have believed I rejected you! But Colin, I never rejected you! I loved you!”
“Loved?” Colin repeated.
“Love.” Gemma clarified. “Love! I love you, Colin.”
Their mouths met with urgency as Colin endeavored to draw closer to the woman he loved. His only desire was to feel her skin. The woman he had for so long told himself he would never have, was finally in his arms, and by Jove, he wanted her now. No waiting.
Gemma threw her arms around his neck, closing the gap between them. All he felt was her. A guttural moan escaped his throat as her tongue plunged past the boundaries of his lips and mingled with his.
Good heavens, he’d died.
He was dead.
He lifted her into the air. It wasn’t enough. Even then they were not close enough. He pulled her closer still, rapidly losing himself in her arms.
Then came the rustling. Somewhere a distant sound growing ever nearer. Somewhere in the vicinity of the trees.
One would think, finally. But alas, Colin’s unlucky streak held. The kiss broke off. Gemma and Colin stared at each other, both holding their breath and listening to the voices drawing nigh.
“Are you sure?” came the woman’s giggling voice.
“My dear, Colin showed me this spot when we were but boys. Nobody will catch us.”
“But…” The lady laughed again. “Anthony! You terrible rake.”
“Say it again.”
“Anthony?”
Laughter followed, as well as a few moans. “No, sweetheart.”
“Terrible rake.”
“The worst,” he repeated.
“Shall I punish you?”
Gemma gasped. Colin, too horrified to do anything but listen, put his hand across her mouth and motioned for her to follow him out of the hidden alcove. Hand in hand, they were able to escape only a moment before Anthony’s dark head appeared through the branches.
“That did not go as planned,” Colin said once they were in the clearing.
Gemma looked at him and grinned. “Does it ever?”
“No.”
“Will it now?” She pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Yes. By the saints.” He kissed her one last time. “I will speak with your brother. That is, after I approach Ambrose and Anthony. Seems they have experience being on the opposite end of the pistol.”
“Do you truly think he will shoot you?”
“Do you know your brother at all, sweetheart?”
She nodded. “It will work. It has to work.”
“It will,” he confirmed. “Else I will come to you by night and whisk you off to Gretna Green.” He planted another chaste kiss on her brow. “Now, let us return you to the party. You look far too magnificent to miss the dancing.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rakes do not let their emotions get the best of them. Gentlemen, let me be clear on this one point — just because a woman kisses well and lifts her skirts, does not mean you love her. What you are feeling is nothing but a whiskey-hazed lust. I've seen many a man hitched to his first seduction merely because he allowed himself to get carried away. Do not let this happen to you. Stay unattached, distant, careless — and if for some reason — you do say ‘I love you’ on accident... Run. —The Private Journal of Viscount Maddox
What had been a gloriously sleepless night of joy and anticipation of that which was to come, too soon came to an end when Gemma made her way to the morning meal. Hawke awaited her, wearing a wide triumphant smile. She should have known then that it could only spell ill fortune for her hope of a life with Colin.