Page 16 of Lady, Behave
“Pride in who you are is no crime,” he said.
“Pride in my looks? Assets that God gave me, but none I ever worked for?”
He lifted his hand and moved as if he would thread his fingers through her hair. But in the crowded room, he took note of his surroundings and lowered his arm. “You are lovely, sweetheart. And dash it, you are rather naive about its effect on men. You’ll outgrow that.”
She winced. “You think so?”
“I do.” He laughed.
“When?”
“As soon as you see that one man you want loves the beauty of your soul. You are too circumspect about your looks to be repulsively vain.”
“I am thankful for that, too.” She laughed, full to the brim with euphoria at his enchanting declarations. “While you, sir, are so devastatingly handsome.”
He gave a little yelp. “You are kind to an old man.”
“How old?” she asked, half dare and half tease.
“Thirty-three. Do I look aged to you?”
“No. But you are…may I say, more worldly than I?”
“I hope not irredeemably so, Addy, for that would never match with you.”
“I agree. But if you see yourself too dulled by life’s storms, I hope I might I lure you from the despair of it?”
“I welcome it.”
“Good!” She grinned. “I accept the challenge. But it is a small one, Gyles. Smaller, dare I say, than you think. What I mean is that you do not show the world the fullness of your suffering. You have coped with that. Successfully, I think, save for your headaches. But how?”
He inhaled and set his jaw. “A long story, my darling.”
“Tell me all of it. Please.”
He took his time to begin. “When I was your age, I had gone to France on holiday. Encouraged by the peace between that country and Britain, I wished to do part of a grand tour that I had delayed because of Napoleon’s wars. I had visited the chateaux of the Loire and the great cathedrals of Rheims and Aix when Napoleon canceled the Treaty of Amiens without warning. I hurried to pack and ride to the coast, but I was caught in Calais. We were put in chains and marched east to the Citadel of Verdun. Hungry, cold, our fine clothes frayed to rags, we feared each day for tomorrow. We were put away in one of France’s oldest dungeons. It was no way to spend one’s youth. I endured for more than two years. Later, with my friend Martindale and his father’s help, I escaped. I did not get far but joined a renegade band to spy on the French.”
“Dear Gyles,” she said, longing to kiss away his remembered horror, “how did you survive with your smile intact?”
“I ponder that. In truth? I do not know. Time heals.” He picked up her hand once more, and ignoring all in the room, he brought it to his lips. “But today, with you, I think you heal me.”
Her heart swelled with love for him. “Gyles, you are the finest man—”
“Ah, that I may have the chance to prove it you.”
Her whole body flared with the heat of desire for him. “I want more than your lips on my hand.”
His beguiling eyes danced a merry jig. “Tell me all you want of me.”
“Your hands on my heart.”
He smiled in such a slow seductive way that her belly quivered with need. “Your heart against mine.”
“Your skin on mine.”
“In a bed with candles burning.”
She caught her breath. “Or in a garden with the sun blazing.”
