To Wed a Wild Lord (13 page)

“I seriously doubt that Lord Gabriel genuinely wants to marry me.” When she had both men’s full attention, she added, “He probably just intends to court the woman whose family he wronged so everyone will like him better.”

“Everyone already likes him just fine,” Poppy gritted out. “You and I are the only people who blame him.”

He had a point. “Well then, perhaps he has some other ulterior motive that doesn’t come readily to mind. Or perhaps he really does want to make amends for what he did to Roger. That’s what he says is the reason. And I begin to believe that he means it.”

Pierce was frowning, his gaze flitting from her to her grandfather with disturbing intensity. Odd how he wasn’t chiming in to voice his opinion as always.

“I’ll tell you what he wants,” Poppy said. “He wants to ruin you. I can see it in how he looks at you, as if he can see right through your clothes.”

She snorted. “Oh, for pity’s sake, he does not.” At least, not when anyone else was around. That day in the stables, he’d certainly looked at her with a great deal of heat. And his kisses . . .

No, she was
not
thinking of those again, not with Poppy sitting right here, watching her every blush.

She must have given something away, for her grandfather flashed her a sudden dark glance. “Don’t tell me you fancy him.”

“Certainly not.” That was the truth. Mostly. “Some women might find his devil-may-care manner attractive, but not me.”

What she found attractive was his apparent concern for her and her family. Not to mention that infernal cocky grin of his, and the way his kisses seemed to heat the very air that entered her lungs and—

Sweet Lord, she must stop this madness!

“I’m not that shallow,” she said, partly as a caution to herself. “I’m not swayed by dazzling good looks and fine muscles and an astonishing ability to drive a team with—” She broke off at the apoplectic look on Poppy’s face. “I’m really not.”

“And you weren’t impressed that he took such risks on the course for the mere chance of courting you?” Poppy prodded.

“No! Well . . . not exactly. I suppose some women would . . .
might
find it terribly romantic to have a man nearly kill himself for a chance at courting them, but—”

“He does have an ulterior motive,” Pierce broke in.

Virginia gave a start. He’d been so quiet up until now. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.” Pierce wore a grim expression. “I only have the information secondhand, so I wasn’t going to mention anything. But since you’re clearly losing your head over the bastard . . .”

“What ulterior motive?” she demanded.

“He needs money,” Pierce said tersely.

She stared at him, confused. “He’s not getting any from me. You know that.”

“Not from you.” Pierce steadied a dark look on her. “From his grandmother. He can’t gain his inheritance without marrying.”

“What are you talking about?” Poppy put in.

Her cousin met Poppy’s gaze coldly. “His grandmother gave him and his siblings an ultimatum—either they all marry before the end of next January, or she cuts them all off.”

She stared at Pierce, trying to take in what he was saying. The whole thing, the race and the courtship, was merely so Gabriel could get his inheritance?

Her heart sank. So it
wasn’t
a legitimate attempt to make amends for what he’d cost her family. Or even some grand attraction . . .

No, she’d never thought that. Had she?

But of course a tiny, foolish part of her had. The kisses and the dances and his determination to win the wager . . .

Tears stung her eyes and she struggled to keep them in check. “Are you sure?” She should have seen it sooner. She’d known he was up to something, and his initial proposal had been coldly unemotional, more calculated than passionate. Why should she even be surprised by this news? It fit with everything she knew of him.

And still, it hurt. “Who told you about the inheritance?”

“Chetwin.”

An odd relief coursed through her. “
Lieutenant
Chetwin? He despises Gab—Lord Gabriel. He’s merely trying to make trouble for him, as always.”

“Perhaps,” Pierce said, “but I don’t think so. Chetwin said he got it from a good source—someone who overheard two of the Sharpe brothers talking about it during a card game some time ago. And haven’t you noticed that three of his siblings have married within just a few months? After going years without showing any interest in marriage?”

“Perhaps they all happened to meet the right person at the same time.” That sounded inane, even to her.

“You said yourself that you thought he had an ulterior motive,” her grandfather said.

She nodded, a lump clogging her throat. This shouldn’t upset her. Everyone knew that Lord Gabriel was an utter scoundrel, and scoundrels didn’t decide to marry for no reason.

But she’d really begun to think perhaps she’d been unfair to him. Was her judgment so very bad? And his kisses—

Stop thinking about his kisses! He’s kissed a hundred women; it probably means nothing to him.

Which made it even more pathetic that it had meant something to her.

Fool. Idiot.
She fisted her hands in her lap. How could she have been taken in so easily? This was what came of giving rein to her wilder urges. It brought nothing good.

Poppy glanced out the window. “We’re nearly there. What do you want to do? We can head for Waverly Farm right now if you wish.”

Oh, how she wanted to leap at that suggestion, to run away and just forget she’d ever met Gabriel Sharpe. But she couldn’t. “No, that would be rude. Besides, I’d like to determine for myself what the truth is. No offense, Pierce.”

“None taken,” Pierce said. “I know you’re not going to believe it until you have solid proof.”

“Oh, I believe it,” she said, fighting to keep her tone even. “But I want
him
to know that I know. So he’ll understand why I can never accept his suit.”

“Forget about his suit,” Poppy growled. “You needn’t even speak to that scoundrel again. We can just go home.”

“I made a wager,” she said firmly. “If I were a man and reneged, you would call me out. Why should it be any different with my being a woman?”

She could see the struggle on Poppy’s face.

“So you mean to let him court you?” he snapped.

“Don’t worry, it won’t last long. I will put an end to it without reneging on our wager.”

She would make him squirm. Make him regret his pretense of caring about her and her family. She would expose the wretch, then cut him off at the knees.

“By the end of our dinner today, Lord Gabriel will have a decided change of heart about courting me. I’ll make sure of that.” She hardened her voice. “Because it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let him marry me to gain his inheritance.”

Chapter Seven

G
abe didn’t know why he felt so irritated as Oliver’s carriage lumbered toward Halstead Hall. Winning a race usually made him feel like a king. But Virginia’s reaction to his winning had unsettled him.

“She was right, you know,” Oliver said from where he sat next to Gabe, opposite Maria and Gran.

“About what?” Gabe snarled. He didn’t have to ask who
she
was.

“The enormous risk you took on that course. You could have killed her and you both.”

Blast it all, it was one thing to have
her
complain of it. It was quite another to have his brother chide him for it. “It wasn’t as if I planned to go up the hill, for God’s sake.
I
wasn’t the one to veer.”

“But you can’t blame her for veering. It was either that or run into the crowd. She handled a difficult situation quite well and without panicking, which is more than many men would do.”

Gabe didn’t need to be told that. From the beginning of the race, she’d proved herself an excellent driver—expert at controlling her team, adept at bringing out the best in them, and courageous beyond anything he would have expected of a sheltered young woman. “Once she made her decision, I did what was necessary to win.” As he always had.

“You should have reined in,” Oliver said.

He glared at his brother. “Why? I was in complete control at every moment.”

“Really? Your phaeton came very close to tipping over onto her rig.”

He said nothing. Oliver was right.

When he’d felt the balance of his rig shift, he’d had a moment of sheer terror. The very idea of his causing any accident that would hurt her . . .

He shuddered, then cursed himself for it. He’d always made it through these things by staring Death in the face, by not letting the idea of dying make him afraid. The fact that this race had done so—that
she
had done so—alarmed him.

Not wanting to live in fear was precisely why he’d avoided getting close to anyone outside his family. Having a mistress or a wife or children made a man afraid—of losing them, of having them yanked away from him, of dying and leaving them to suffer. The minute a man showed weakness, Death swooped in to conquer.

Look at how Death had come for his family. Mother had panicked at the thought that her son was being corrupted by her husband’s mistress, so she’d struck out—murdering her husband. And then, she’d panicked at the thought of being without him, so she’d killed herself.

That’s what he’d always thought, anyway. Now he wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure of anything in the past few months. And that scared the blazes out of him.

He scowled. No, damn it! He was not going to let that scare him. And he was certainly not going to let Virginia plant fear in his mind with her ravings about his foolhardy actions.

“Life isn’t worth living without risk,” he said, though for the first time, the words rang a little hollow. “Even Miss Waverly recognizes that, or she wouldn’t have challenged me in the first place.”

“That may be, but if you’re not careful, you’ll forfeit any chance at winning her,” Oliver said. “She lost her brother in a race. She won’t want to risk marrying a man she could lose in one, wager or no wager.”

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. “Is this the part where you lecture me about setting up a scandalous wager with her? And lecture Gran about keeping it secret from her family?”

Oliver gave a rueful chuckle. “Lecturing Gran is pointless. She’s never listened to me before, and I don’t imagine that will ever change.”

“I listen to you when you speak sense,” Gran said with a sniff.

“You listen to me when I agree with you,” Oliver countered good-naturedly. “Gabe doesn’t even do that.” He met Gabe’s gaze. “But in this case, considering the outrageous subterfuges I used to gain my own wife, lecturing you on setting up a wager would be rather like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I should think so,” Maria put in.

With one eyebrow raised at his wife, Oliver said, “Besides, Gabe, it looks as if you need all the help you can get with Miss Waverly. She stated she’d never marry a man as reckless as you.”

“She can say it all she wants, but she doesn’t mean it,” Gabe retorted. “I saw the look on her face when I pointed out that I had to win to be able to court her. She was pleased as punch, whether or not she admitted it. Women love having a man risk his life for them.”

Maria snorted. “Women like men who make intelligent choices. Not men who race madly into any reckless situation. A woman might be momentarily swayed by the romance of it, but in the end she wants a rational man.”

“Women don’t know what they want,” he countered, irritated that she was probably right. “Not until they get it.”

Oliver nudged his wife. “He’s doomed.”

“He is indeed.” Maria stared at Gabe. “Does she know that you’re marrying to gain your inheritance?”

Gabe tensed. “No. And I prefer to keep it that way until I can convince her to look past the accident with her brother and get to know me.”

“If she learns of it before you can tell her,” Maria pointed out, “you will lose your chance with her.”

“Nonsense,” Gran put in. “The woman needs a husband. Surely she will think sensibly when faced with the possibility of having a rich one.”

“I’d rather she didn’t know about the money just yet,” Gabe said. “I need more opportunities to prove what I already know—that she likes me well enough to marry me. If I can just get her to stop thinking with her head and start thinking with her . . . her . . .”

“Yes?” Maria asked, her blue eyes bright with humor. “With her what?”

Gabe glared at Maria. “The point is, I know I can bring her round, given half the chance.”

If he
got
the chance. General Waverly was the dark horse in this situation. If the general didn’t allow Virginia to honor the wager, Gabe would have a fight on his hands. He could only hope Virginia was good at getting around her grand father.

As soon as he and his family reached home, they were told that the Waverlys and Devonmont awaited them in the great hall. Gabe pulled his siblings aside and reiterated what he’d told Gran, Oliver, and Maria—that he wanted no mention made of Gran’s ultimatum.

They agreed to it, though Celia did so grudgingly.

Now all he had to worry about was the general. Fortunately, when the two families met, the general looked quite a bit calmer than before. He didn’t stay that way, of course—one glance at Gabe had him scowling—but he didn’t look as if he’d just been ordering his granddaughter to renege.

And Virginia looked . . .

Gabe caught his breath. Virginia looked like some goddess out of a man’s most erotic dreams. Her hair was still in disarray from the race, her cheeks were bright, and her eyes held a glint of cunning that would have given him pause if it hadn’t also mesmerized him. In her royal blue carriage dress, she was everything a man could possibly want in his bed.

One thing was certain—he would have no trouble consummating the marriage. The thought of putting his hands on her and showing her how to satisfy her desires and his made his throat raw. They would make an excellent pair. She’d see that soon enough.

They entered the drawing room to have a glass of wine and wait for dinner to be served. For once, he was glad of the trappings of wealth Gran insisted that Oliver use for guests. Their crystal goblets might have a scratch or two and the upholstery on the settees might be old and worn, but it was good crystal and expensive fabric, and the wine was of an excellent quality. If ever he’d wanted to impress someone, it was now.