Page 46 of The Lyon Returns
Gideon found he did not like his oldest friend scrutinizing Gwen from head to toe. He wondered briefly if she found the well-dressed, immaculately coiffed Englishman attractive with his broad forehead and cleft chin. Not that it mattered.
“I suppose you’re looking forward to meeting the duke and duchess tomorrow. Oh—you didn’t know?” he asked in practically the same breath.
He was deliberately testing her. Gideon decided he would give it another minute then find a way to extricate Gwen from the scene.
“Gideon mentioned his father was in town and that we would likely call on Lord and Lady Ashwood tomorrow evening, but I had not gotten confirmation—until now.”
“Leave it to me,” Brice said with mock humility. “I’m sure he’s filled you in on all the minutiae concerning the duke and duchess and Grayson, and myself for that matter. You must know how close he and his brother are, for one thing.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
Brice slid Gideon a coy look, as if he’d found her out.
He opened his mouth to put an end to Brice’s subtle interrogation.
“Especially as youngsters.” Gwen’s expression turned nostalgic. “I can just imagine the three of you, racing along the chalk hills—when Gideon and his brother’s studies allowed. You were a particularly bad influence, were you not?”
“Me?” he protested with a laugh.
“Was it or was it not your idea for the three of you to climb the garden wall that ended with Gideon’s arm in a sling?”
Gideon stared at her.
Brice erupted with raucous laughter. “Oh-ho, so hehastold you about me.”
“He also described the time you and Grayson pulled him from the river. That was particularly well done of you.”
Gideon moved to Gwen’s side. He wrapped one arm around her waist in a casually possessive stance. “Why, darling, you never cease to amaze me. I can’t believe you actually remember those tales when I barely remember telling you them myself.”
Flushing, she glanced up at him, her straight white teeth worrying her lower lip. “Don’t you? Probably one of those long nights at sea after one too many glasses of Madeira.”
Madeira, indeed. “No doubt.”
Her dimple winked into existence and her eyes danced.
The urge, theneedto kiss her, slammed through him. His fingerstightened reflexively, squeezing her midsection and drawing her incrementally closer.
Her blue eyes widened a fraction. She did not, however, look away, until Brice coughed into his fist—hiding laughter, though not very well.
The bloody man certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.
Gideon released her, and Gwen began backing for the door. “I’m sure you have much to catch up on. I shall leave you to it. Good day, Mr. Tyrell, Gideon.”
“Good day, Mrs. Devereux. It’s been an absolute delight meeting you,” Brice said with an ear-splitting smile.
“Pardon me, Brice,” Gideon said. With his long stride, he caught Gwen easily. He placed a hand on the small of her back and followed her out.
In the corridor, she gazed up at him, wary and expectant.
“Evidently we havemuchto discuss tonight, Gwen.” Such as how she had come to know details of his youth.
“Shall I come to you, like last night?”
“Exactly like last night. One thing more.” He lifted his hand without conscious thought, intent on tracing the tendrils framing her face. At the last second, he caught himself and lowered his arm to his side. “Your hair.”
“Yes?”
“It looks very nice. You’re quite pretty—although, I’m sure you know,” he muttered. Why on earth had he said any of that?
