The Stranger I Married

Chapter 3

Once appropriately attired, Gerard moved aside the curtain and stepped out into the short hall. He caught sight of Isabel immediately. Standing by the window, her auburn hair caught stray rays of sunshine and turned to fire. The contrast of those silken threads of flame against the ice blue of her gown was stunning, and very apropos. The heat of her desire had scorched him, even as she chilled him with her words. In fact, he was surprised she had remained the two hours it had taken to alter the pilfered garments. Gerard had half-expected her to leave. But Pel was not one to hide from things unpleasant. She may avoid discussing them, but she would not actually run from them. It was one of the quirky traits he rather liked in her.

He sighed, damning himself for pushing too hard, but he could do nothing differently. He did not understand her, and he could not make amends without comprehension. Why was she so determined to have nothing of importance between them? Why desire him, know he craved her in return, and refuse to act upon it? It was not like Isabel to deny herself the pleasures of the flesh. Did she perhaps love her present amour? His hands clenched into fists at the thought. Gerard was well aware that it was possible to love one person, and yet physically require the attentions of another.

At that thought, he cursed inwardly. He had obviously not changed all that much to have pawed and groped at his wife. What in hell was the matter with him? A gentleman did not treat his spouse in that fashion. He should be wooing her, not salivating to rut in her.

He called out as he approached so as not to startle her. “Lady Grayson.”

Pel turned to face him with a winsome smile. “My lord. You look very dashing.”

So it was that way, was it? Pretend as if nothing had happened.

He smiled with all the charm he possessed, and lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “A husband must, to escort a wife as fair as you, my lovely Isabel.”

Her hand shook a little in his, and her voice when she spoke had a slight catch. “You flatter me.”

He wished to do a great deal more to her, but that would have to wait. He tucked her hand around his arm, and led her to the door.

“Even I cannot do you justice,” she said, as he retrieved her flowered straw hat from the clerk and set it on her head, pinning it in place with the ease of familiarity. The door chimes rang, and he stepped closer, his back to the street, to allow the new customer to pass. The air sweltered between him and Pel, flushing her skin and tensing his frame.

“You need a lover,” she breathed, those sherry eyes wide and held by his gaze.

“I have no need of one. I have a wife who desires me.”

“Good afternoon, my lord,” the clerk called out, rounding the counter.

Gerard moved to her side, and offered his arm again. Now facing the doorway, he saw the distinguished-looking gentleman who wore an expression of such horror it did not take but a moment to register who it must be. And what he must have heard.

“Good afternoon, Lord Hargreaves.” His fingers closed over Pel’s on his arm, staking an irrefutable claim. Never having been a possessive man, he frowned and tried to examine why he should feel this way now.

“Good afternoon, Lord and Lady Grayson,” the earl said tightly.

Isabel straightened. “Lord Hargreaves, a pleasure.”

But it was not, not for any of them. The tension was palpable. “Excuse us,” Gerard said when Hargreaves continued to block the doorway. “We were on our way out.”

“Lovely to see you again, my lord,” Isabel murmured, her voice unusually somber.

“Yes,” Hargreaves muttered, stepping aside. “Quite.”

Opening the door, Gerard gave one last studious look at his rival, and then led his wife out with a hand at the small of her back. They walked slowly down the street, both lost in their thoughts. Several pedestrians attempted to approach, but a narrowed glance was effective at keeping them away.

“That was awkward,” he muttered finally.

“You noted that, did you?” she said, refusing to look at him.

In a way, he missed the overconfidence of his youth. Four years ago, he would have brushed off the encounter as amusing. In fact, he had done that very thing on several occasions, as social engagements had brought him face to face with Pel’s lovers, and she with his. Now he was all too aware of his flaws and shortcomings, and to his knowledge the popular and respected Hargreaves had none.

“I’ve no notion of how I will explain your comment to him,” she said, obviously upset.

“He knew the risks when he chose to dally with another man’s wife.”

“There were no risks! No one could predict that you would come home daft.”

“It is not daft to desire your spouse. Pretending you don’t, however, is ridiculous.”

He stopped abruptly as a merchant door swung inward, and a customer ran out directly before them.

“My apologies, my lady!” the man cried to Pel, tipping his hat before he strode away quickly.

Gerard looked at the establishment, curious about the reason for the man’s excitability. His mouth curved as he reached for the door.

“A jeweler’s?” Isabel asked with a frown.

“Yes, vixen. There is something I should have attended to years ago.”

He urged her inside, and the clerk lifted his head from the sales record book with a smile. “Good afternoon, my lord. My lady.”

“That was a happy man who just departed,” Gerard noted.

“Ah yes,” the clerk agreed. “A bachelor embarking on an offer of marriage, which is strengthened by the lovely ring he purchased today.”

In search of equal pleasure, Gerard perused the offerings in the glass cases.

“What are you looking for?” Pel asked, bending over beside him. Her scent appealed to him so deeply, he wished he could lay amongst satin sheets infused with it. With her graceful limbs entwined with his, it would be heaven.

“Have you always smelled so wonderful, Pel?” He turned his head to look at her, and found her almost nose to nose.

She pulled back with a blink. “Gray, really. Can we put off a discussion on perfumery, and find what you want?”

Smiling, he caught her hand, and glanced up at the hovering clerk. “That one.” He pointed to the largest ring in the case-a massive ruby surrounded by diamonds, and supported by a filigreed band of gold.

“Heavens,” Pel breathed, as it came out from behind its glass shield and sparkled in the light.

Gerard lifted her hand, and sized the ring on her finger, pleased to see it fit snugly, but not too tightly, over her glove. Now, she looked like a married woman. “Perfect.”

“No.”

He arched a brow, and discerned his wife’s distress. “Why not?”

“It…it’s too large,” she protested.

“It suits you.” He lounged against the case, and smiled, keeping her hand trapped firmly within his own. “While I was in Lincolnshire-”

“You were?” she asked quickly.

“Amongst other places,” he said, stroking her palm. “I would watch the sunset, and think of you. There were times when a ribbon of red clouds in the sky would exactly match the highlights in your hair. When the light catches that ruby, it reflects almost the same color.”

She stared at him as he lifted her hand to his mouth. He kissed first the stone, and then the middle of her gloved palm, relishing the opportunity to be close to someone again.

The sunrises, with all their warm golden beauty, had brought memories of Em. He’d dreaded them at first. Each morning reminded him that another day had come, and Emily would not be living it. Later, the warmth the sun brought had been a benediction, a reminder that he had another opportunity to become a better man.

The sunsets, however, had always belonged to Pel. The darkening sky and the welcoming blanket of night that disregarded his imperfections-that was Isabel, who never pried. The sensuality of a bed, and the moments when he could release the stress of the day-that was Isabel, too, lying on her chaise in her boudoir. How odd that her lighthearted companionship had come to mean so much to him, and yet he’d never noticed it when it had been his to enjoy.

“You should save your silver tongue for a woman less jaded than I.”

“Dear Pel,” he murmured, smiling. “I adore that you are jaded. You hold no illusions about my less-than-sterling character.”

“I have no idea what your character is anymore.” She pulled away, and he released her. Straightening her spine, Isabel glanced around the small store. When she saw the clerk busy recording their transaction, she said, “I don’t understand why you would say such things to me, Gray. You never had any romantic notions, nor sexual ones, to my knowledge.”

“What color are the flowers in front of our house?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The flowers. Do you know what color they are?”

“Certainly, they’re red.”

He arched a brow. “Are you certain?”

She crossed her arms, and arched her own brow. “Yes, I’m certain.”

“And the ones in the planters by the street?”

“What?”

“The planters by the street have flowers in them. Do you know what color those blooms are?”

Isabel chewed her lower lip.

Gerard tugged off his glove, and then tugged that lush bottom lip out of her teeth. “Do you?”

“They are pink.”

“They’re blue.”

He moved his hand to her shoulder, and stroked the creamy expanse of skin with his thumb. The heat of her flesh burned through his fingertips, and spread up his arm, igniting a hunger such as he had not felt in years. For so long he had been numb and frozen inside. To feel this heat, to desire to burn with her touch, to want so desperately to be scorched inside her…He relished all of it.

“Blue flowers, Pel.” His voice was huskier than he’d like. “I’ve found people tend to take for granted the things they see every day. But just because one fails to see something, does not mean it isn’t there.”

Goose bumps prickled her skin. He felt them, even through the calluses on his fingertips.

“Please.” She brushed his hand away. “Don’t lie, and say pretty things, and attempt to make the past into what you wish it to be in the present. We were nothing to each other, nothing. And I wanted it that way. I liked it that way.” She tugged off the ring, and set it on the counter.

“Why?”

“Why?” she parroted.

“Yes, my lovely wife, why? Why did you like our marriage as a sham?”

Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You liked it as a sham, too.”

Gerard smiled. “I know the reasons why I liked it, but we are talking about you.”

“Here you are, Lord Grayson,” the clerk said with a wide smile.

Cursing inwardly at the interruption, Gerard dipped the proffered quill in ink and signed the bill. He waited until the ring was boxed and tucked into his inner coat pocket before glancing at Isabel. As she had in the tailor’s, she stood staring out the window with a ramrod straight spine, every inch of her voluptuous form betraying her anger. He shook his head, and could not help but think that all the restrained passion in her was untapped. What the devil was Hargreaves doing, or more likely not doing, that left her so volatile? Another man might see the rigidness of her spine, and be discouraged. Gerard took it as a sign of hope.

He walked to her, drawn to the vibrancy that attracted everyone. Coming to a stop directly behind her, he breathed her in, and then whispered, “Can I take you home with me?”

Startled by Gray’s husky voice in her ear, Isabel spun about so quickly, he was forced to arch backward to avoid being whacked in the face with the brim of her hat. The near miss made him laugh, and once he started, he could not stop.

She gaped at him, awed by how young he looked when lost in merriment. His laugh sounded rusty, as if it had not been let out in awhile, and she loved the sound of it-deeper and richer than it had been before, and she had adored it even then. Unable to resist, she smiled, but when he grabbed his ribs and gasped, she had to laugh with him. Then he caught her about the waist, and spun her around, just like he used to do.

Setting her hands on his broad shoulders for balance, Isabel hung on, and remembered again how she enjoyed being with him.

“Put me down, Gray!” she cried.

With his head tilted back, he looked at her and said, “What will you give me if I do?”

“Oh, that’s not fair. You are making a spectacle of us. Everyone will hear of this.” She thought of Hargreaves’ expression when he’d seen them in the tailor’s, and her smile faded. How awful she was to cavort with Gray, when it would hurt John.

“A boon, Pel, or I will carry you around until you agree. I am quite strong, you know. And you are light as a feather.”

“I am not.”

“Are so.” His lip made that little pout of his. It would look ridiculous on any other man, but on Gray it made women want to kiss him. It made Isabel want to kiss him.

“You think too much,” he complained when she stared at him mutely. “You rejected my gift. Offering me a boon is the least you can do.”

“What do you want?”

He considered it a moment, and then said, “Supper.”

“Supper? Can you be more specific?”

“I want to have supper with you. Stay home tonight, and share a meal with me.”

“I have commitments.”

Gray moved to exit the shop. “My good man,” he called out to the clerk. “The door, if you would please.”

“You would not carry me outside like this.”

“Do you truly believe I wouldn’t?” he asked with a devilish smile. “I may have changed, but a leopard cannot completely lose its spots.”

Isabel glanced over her shoulder, and saw the street approaching and the multitude of pedestrians who strolled there. “Yes.”

He paused mid-step. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I will have supper with you.”

His grin was triumphant. “You are such a generous soul, Pel.”

“Stuff,” she muttered. “You are a blackguard, Grayson.”

“Perhaps.” He set her down, and then tucked her hand around his arm, leading her out to the street. “But really, would you want me any other way?”

Looking at him, seeing the lightening of the oppressive air that had surrounded him the day before, she knew she liked him best as a scoundrel. It was when he was most happy.

Just like Pelham.

Only a fool would make the same mistake twice.

Recognizing the voice of reason, Isabel reminded herself to heed it, and keep her physical distance from him. As long as he remained at least three feet away from her, she was fine.

“Lord Grayson!”

They both sighed as a rather large woman approached them wearing a monstrosity of a hat, and an even worse pink ruffled concoction of a dress.

“That is Lady Hamilton,” Isabel whispered. “A lovely woman.”

“Not in that garment,” Gray replied through his smile.

It took everything she had not to laugh aloud.

“Lady Pershing-Moore told me she saw you with Lady Grayson,” Lady Hamilton said, panting as she came to a halt before them. “I said she must be daft, but it seems she was correct.” She beamed. “So wonderful to see you again, my lord. How was…wherever you were?”

Gray accepted the offered hand, bowed over it, and said, “Miserable, as any locale would be without the company of my charming and beautiful wife.”

“Oh.” Lady Hamilton shot Isabel a wink. “Of course. Lady Grayson accepted an invitation to my rout, which will be held the week after next. I do pray that you intend to accompany her.”

“Certainly,” Gray said smoothly. “After my extended absence, I intend to never be away from her side for even a moment.”

“Wonderful! I now look forward to the event with even greater anticipation.”

“You are too kind.”

Saying her farewells, Lady Hamilton retreated quickly.

“Gray,” Isabel began with a sigh. “Why stir up gossip in this way?”

“If you think there is any possibility that we will not be gossiped about, you are delusional.” He continued down the street toward their waiting landau.

“Why add fuel to the fire?”

“Do they teach women how to speak in riddles in finishing school? I vow, you all do it so well.”

“Damn you, I agreed to be your escort until you find your footing, but that will not take long, and once you go your own way-”

“We are going the same way, Pel,” he drawled. “We’re married.”

“We can separate. After the last four years it would merely be a formality.”

Gray took a deep breath, and looked down at her. “Why would I want to do that? Better yet, why would you?”

Isabel kept her eyes ahead. How could she explain, when she wasn’t certain she knew the answer? She shrugged helplessly.

His hand over hers, he gave a soft squeeze. “A great deal has happened in the last twenty-four hours. Give both of us some time to adjust to one another. I admit, things between us have not progressed the way I anticipated.”

He assisted her into the landau, and then directed the driver home.

“What did you anticipate, Gray?” Perhaps if she knew his aim, she could find some understanding. Or at the very least ease some of her worry.

“I thought I would return, you and I would sit down with a few bottles of excellent vintage, and become reacquainted. I imagined slowly finding my way in this world, and settling into the comfort you and I once knew together.”

“I would like that,” she said softly. “But I doubt the possibility unless we can find a way to be like we were.”

“Is that truly what you desire?” He twisted in the seat to face her, and her gaze dropped, noting how muscular and powerful his thighs were. She could not seem to cease taking note of such things now. “Do you love Hargreaves?”

Isabel’s brows shot up. “Love him? No.”

“Then there is hope for us.” He smiled, but the determination in his voice was unmistakable.

“Not that I don’t care quite a bit for him, because I do. We have many interests in common. He is of a like age. We-”

“Does my age bother you, Isabel?” He studied her from beneath the brim of his hat, his blues eyes narrowed and considering.

“Well, you are younger, and-”

Gray caught her about the neck, and pulled her close, tilting his head to duck under her hat. His mouth-that sculpted mouth that could dazzle or sneer with equal effectiveness-brushed across hers.

“Oh!”

“I will not accept a sham anymore, Pel.” He licked across her lips, and groaned softly. “God, the way you smell drives me insane.”

“Gray,” she gasped, pushing at his shoulders and discovering just how hard he was. Her lips trembled and burned. “People can see us.”

“I don’t care.” He swiped his tongue quickly into her mouth, and she shivered at the taste of him. “You belong to me. I can seduce you if I want to.” As his hand at her nape stroked softly, his voice lowered. “And I definitely want to.”

He sealed his lips over hers, a brief tease, and then he pulled away, whispering, “Shall I demonstrate what a younger man can do for you?”

Her eyes drifted shut. “Please…”

“Please what?” His free hand rested next to her thigh, and kneaded her, sending waves of yearning through her body. “Please show you?”

She shook her head. “Please don’t make me want you, Gray.”

“Why not?” He tugged off his hat, and set his mouth to her throat, licking across her racing pulse.

“Because I will hate you forever if you do.”

He pulled back quickly in surprise, and she took the opportunity to shove hard, which effectively knocked him over. He fell to his back, his arms flailing outward in an attempt to halt his descent. She flinched as his shoulders hit the side with a loud thump, leaving him nearly prone.

“What the devil?” Gray stared at her, wide-eyed.

She scrambled over to the rear-facing squab.

“Yes, you can have your way, Gray,” she said grimly. “Much to my shame. But while my body may be all too willing to indulge, I happen to have morals, and a care for Hargreaves, who does not deserve to be set aside after nearly two years of companionship just for a rut.”

“A rut, madam?” he growled, cursing as he nearly fell off the seat in his attempt to sit up. “One does not ‘rut’ with their spouse.”

Once he’d managed to resume his perch, the full extent of his arousal was revealed by the stretching of material between his legs. Isabel swallowed hard, and looked away quickly. Good God.

“What else could it be?” she said crossly. “We know nothing of one another!”

“I know you, Pel.”

“Do you?” She snorted. “What is my favorite flower? Favorite color? Favorite tea?”

“Tulips. Blue. Peppermint.” Gray snatched his hat off the floorboards, shoved it on his head, and crossed his arms.

She blinked.

“Thought I wasn’t paying attention?”

Isabel bit her lower lip, and rifled through her memories. What were his favorite flowers, color, and tea? She was ashamed to realize she did not know.

“Ha!” he said triumphantly. “All well and good, Isabel. I shall give you the time you require to come around, and during that time you can learn all about me, and I about you.”

The landau rolled to a halt outside their home. She glanced at the planters by the street, and saw the blue flowers. Gray leapt down, and then assisted her. He walked her up the steps, bowed, and then turned about.

“Where are you going?” she called after him, her skin still tingling from his touch, her stomach clenched at the determined set of his shoulders.

He paused, and looked back at her. “If I go in the house with you, I will take you, whether you will it or no.” When she said nothing, his mouth curved mockingly. Within moments, he was gone.

Where would he go? He was obviously aroused, and virile enough that his release in the tailor’s shop would not affect his ability to perform again. The thought of him occupied in carnal pursuits prodded her in a horribly familiar way. She knew what he looked like unclothed, and she knew that any other woman who saw him similarly would be putty in his hands. An ache she had thought to never feel again gnawed at her belly. A twinge from the past. A reminder.

Entering her home of nearly five years, Isabel discovered, to her dismay, that it already felt almost empty without Gray’s vital presence. She cursed him for the upheaval he had wrought in only a few scant hours, and she took the stairs to her room determined to rectify the matter. Detailed planning of her dinner party was in order. She also needed to study her spouse, and ascertain his likes and dislikes.

Then, once she knew him, she would find the perfect mistress for him. She could only hope that Hargreaves’ plan would work, and work quickly.

Experience had taught her that men like Gray could not be resisted for long.