Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Instead, I learned he had recently left on a tour of the Continent. The duchess called to tell me. She had other news as well. It seemed Grayson had compromised Fannie that summer but did not wish to wed her. Of course, I had my theories on how such a course might have transpired.”
“You had dealt with her machinations, yourself, and wondered if the so-called compromising had occurred at her behest.”
“Yes. Either way, however, each of us must own our actions. Grayson was responsible for his part.”
“Yes, Grayson,” she said stressing his brother’s name. “What had any of it to do with you?”
He met her compassion-filled eyes, and knew she had already worked the answer out for herself.
“Lady Ashwood said atonement must be made. She said I owed Grayson and my father, and, if I did this one thing, I could consider the debt paid.”
“This one thing?” Gwen spat, then made a visible effort to tamp down her temper before speaking again. “She wanted you to marry Fannie in Grayson’s stead? Why could he not do right by Fannie?”
Gideon shrugged. “Unfortunately, he was not around to ask. In the end, I did her bidding, for my brother and my father. I could not allow scandal to wreak havoc on their lives when it was in my power to stop it.”
“Of course, because you are honorable and loyal to your core. Your family is very lucky to have you, sir.”
He shook his head, uncomfortable with her praise.
“I do not know about that, and after all, as you yourself said earlier, there are many different bases for marriage. This one was as good as the next. One thing, however, I have never been able to fathom, a truth I gleaned only after the ceremony.” He swallowed down the old bitterness.
“My brother had done more than dally with her.”
Gwen’s hand shook as she drew it to her face to cover her mouth. “You mean, the baby she died giving birth to was…”
“Grayson’s.”
“Oh, Gideon. And you married her not knowing.”
When Grayson returned from his long voyage, he came to see Gideon. Gideon had anticipated some sort of admission, perhaps an apology, or at the very least, thanks.
Instead, Grayson half-heartedly congratulated Gideon. “Better you than me, old boy,” he’d said.
Gwen cupped Gideon’s cheek. “Do you think…surely he did not know of the babe. And, if I know you, you did not tell him, so as not to cause him undue pain.”
Gideon covered her hand with his, then took it and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“I do not know if he was aware of the child. I like to think he was not, however, something Fannie said…” He broke off, not wishing to speak the words aloud.
“Something she said led me to believe Grayson did know about the child.”
He recalled Fannie, that last night, as she lay dying. I told him…about the babe, and he said…let Gideon raise my bastard. Tell him, Gideon, that it was a boy.
Mother and son were buried together. Gideon attended the funeral, then left for India the next day. Nothing had ever been the same between him and his brother since.
What had Brice said recently? Something about Grayson being a grown man now, and, as such, Gideon should leave the past behind. Mayhap he was right. Somehow hearing Gwen’s own tale made it clear in a way he had never understood before. To move forward, one must release the past or be bound by it.
Suddenly, he wanted very much to move forward, not that he knew what that might look like.
Gwen snaked one slender arm from beneath the covers and traced her fingertips over his brow, along his hairline.
He repressed a shiver, closing his eyes as she continued her gentle exploration.
“Gideon?”
“Hm?”
“You said, earlier, you’d already decided to tell me about Fannie. Why?”
He slit his eyes open and grasped a handful of bedcovers, pulling them back to slide between the sheets. He rolled to his side and pulled the lithe, sleek woman lying beside him into his arms. “I told you why,” he murmured.
“No, not precisely,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She wove her cool fingers into his hair and feathered kisses along his collarbone.
This time, the shiver would not be contained.
Gwen shifted her body against his, and he groaned as every part of him thrilled with the satiny feel of her. As he’d predicted not an hour ago, he went hard.
“I want you, Gwen,” he murmured. “Let me make love to you.” He heard the near plea in his voice and could not bring himself to care.
In answer, she pressed her mouth to his and curled one sinewy leg over his hip, opening herself to him.
He brought himself to the entrance of her sex and sank himself into her, inch by slow inch, not driven by the feverish rush he’d known earlier, but an equally fierce need to claim her as his. His chest burned with an unknown ache that only she could assuage.
“Gwen,” he murmured, “you feel so…I need…please…” He broke off, unable to form a coherent thought beyond this moment, this woman, this unbearable yearning to possess her.
“I know,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m here. Yes, Oh, Gideon, yes.”
Her release came without warning, triggering his own. Together, with him holding her, her clinging to him, their breaths mingled, their heartbeats, he could swear, melded, they tumbled into ecstasy.
Much later, as Gwen slept, her head pillowed on Gideon’s arm, he lay awake, thoughts and too many damned emotions churning.
Everything had changed tonight. Perhaps, it was more apt to say it changed the moment Gwen walked through his front door, claiming to be his wife. He had never met any woman he wished to marry, including his late wife. She had simply been thrust upon him.
In a matter of speaking, so had Gwen. He not chosen her, had never laid eyes upon her before entering his home to propose they make a pact to sort their individual affairs. Afterward, he assumed they’d go their separate ways. It had all seemed so logical, so simple.
That was no longer the case. Gwen had made it clear from the beginning she did not want a husband.
A woman of means, she had no need of one.
If Gideon cared about her, one could argue, he’d accept her wishes.
Not doing so would be exceedingly selfish considering what she’d lived through in her first marriage.
Call him selfish, then. He needed the light she brought into his life. The odd sense of freedom. He could not, would not let her go.
He only had to find a way to make her want to stay.