embarrassing twenty-four hours of her existence, or be standing here now in her same black hostess gown, attempting to look unconcerned that the clock had just begun chiming out the hour of eleven, and the exasperating man was nowhere to be seen.
And still she hadn’t told him what he needed to know about Adam. What he must know, why she had been so willing to sacrifice herself…and ended making a total fool of herself.
She would have thought, if nothing else, the earl was a man of his word. But perhaps not. Dangling a word like murder and coupling that word with your father should not be done lightly, not if the person doing the dangling didn’t mean to follow through with some explanation, for pity’s sake. Had the man no notion of what was correct?
Jessica rolled her eyes. Of course he did. He was the earl. She was the one operating an illegal gaming house. Then again, being an earl only proved he knew what was correct. It didn’t naturally follow that he’d do the correct thing.
Not that she cared. Except for the murder and the your father portions of the business. It wasn’t as if she ever wanted to see Gideon Redgrave again. Because he was an annoying man. Extremely annoying. Unsettling. So cocksure of himself. Why, it put her teeth on edge, just thinking about him.
But he had apologized about the rose. Why had he done that? Why had he worn it in the first place? Who was this man?
If only she could stop thinking about him… .
“Jess, he’s here.”
“Hmm?” she said as Richard’s roughly whispered words penetrated the introspective fog that was now her mind. She mentally shook herself back to the moment and turned her gaze to the landing in time to see Gideon once more looking perfectly put together, as if he’d just stepped out of a bandbox. He really was remarkable—a dazzling mix of precision and nonchalance, his dark handsomeness vying with his studied reserve.
She wondered if all women felt as she did when she saw him: how delightful it would be to see him discommoded, disheveled, vulnerable.
At her mercy.
Oh, dear, where had that thought come from?
Jessica lifted a hand to her high-necked bodice, perhaps to still her rapidly beating heart, and pasted a welcoming smile on her face as she crossed the room to where Gideon still stood, clearly playing Master of the Domain. Her domain.
“I warned you not to wear armor,” was his greeting, spoken quietly, yet reverberating inside her as if she’d suddenly grown harp strings inside her chest and he’d just plucked them.
The arrogance of the man! “And I did not, not this morning. Your ridiculous state of near undress to one side, I was nothing but presentable when I dared cross your threshold. Tonight, however, you are the guest, and what I wear is of my concern, not yours.”
His smile, so unexpected, nearly had her rocking back on her heels. “Perhaps we should give your brother the dressing of both of us. He’s convinced he’s in the very first stare of sartorial perfection.”
Jessica couldn’t help herself; she returned his smile. “I fear even your immense consequence could but crumble beneath the addition of a puce waistcoat, my lord. As for me, I’d rather go na—”
Gideon leaned in as if to hear her better. “Pardon me, I didn’t quite catch that? You’d rather what?”
“Could we possibly be serious, sir?” she asked, drawing herself up to her full height, which still made her feel small and insignificant in his presence. She wasn’t used to that. Her stature had always been a blessing, she’d thought. Why, she was taller than at least a quarter of the men in this room, including Richard.
“I rather thought I was being serious. You do know it’s inevitable, don’t you? You and I, that is. I won’t even point out it was you who began this intriguing dance of ours.”
“I apologize for that,” Jessica said quietly, shooting her eyes from side to side, praying no one could overhear them and this damning discussion. “Profoundly.”
“Ah, but not profusely. Profusely would be nice.”
“In that case, Gideon, I most profusely apologize for apparently goading you into the ridiculous display of ungentlemanly behavior I was so unfortunate as to witness this morning. You must feel so ashamed.”
He tilted his head to one side as he contemplated her, seemed to be measuring her in some way. “You’re not lacking in intelligence, are you? Or brass. There are few who would dare to speak to me so.”
“Perhaps if more did, you wouldn’t be so insufferably smug. I’m not afraid of you, Gideon. As to this absurd idea of anything between us being inevitable, I should point out that I have absolutely no interest in—Let go of me.”
“Don’t cause a scene,” he said, his grip on her arm looking to the casual observer to be one of easy familiarity, when in fact she swore his fingertips were crushing her bones as they walked straight cross the room to the doorway leading to her apartments. “We don’t want to rouse Richard’s suspicions. He’s got thirty years on me—it wouldn’t be a fair fight. And I’ll remind you, Seth is mine, not yours. Smile, Jessica. Let everyone know you’re just fine.”
“This is absurd. You…you’re kidnapping me in my own house,” Jessica whispered angrily, even as she saw the sense in not alarming Richard.
Richard paused in the act of drawing in the cards for a reshuffle. “You’re going upstairs?” he asked worriedly.
“We’ve some business to discuss, yes. I shan’t be long.”
“Very good,” Gideon complimented as she concentrated on inserting the key in the lock she’d earlier made sure was engaged this evening, which wasn’t a simple matter considering he had hold of her right arm and her left hand was shaking with nerves.
Once the door was open and he was forced to release her arm in the narrow hallway, she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs, thinking to slam the upper door in his face.
Which he appeared to realize, as he stayed so close behind her it was impossible to implement her admittedly less than hopeful plan.
Once inside the small sitting room he took hold of her arm again, swinging her about so that her body was fairly slammed against his, his face not two inches from hers.
“Now, you were saying?” he asked her smoothly.
She was? She’d been saying something? What had she been saying? Dear Lord, she couldn’t remember! He was so close. His smile was so…intimate. Mocking. Inviting. Infuriating. Intriguing…
“Can’t remember?” he asked her, his arms somehow having slid around to her back, holding her in place, one hand high, between her shoulders, the other lower…provocatively lower. “Let me refresh your memory. I had been saying what will happen between us is inevitable, and you were protesting that you disagree, you harbor absolutely no interest—in what, Jessica? In this?”
He swooped in like a bird of prey, capturing her mouth just as she opened it to say—what? What could she possibly say?
Oh, my. She could say that. If his tongue wasn’t in her mouth, she could
