Page 14 of Scoundrel for Sale
“Correct.”
As if her brother had the right to make such decisions for her. Had Hart been alive, Abbie would’ve clouted him right on his pompous head.
No wonder Gabe had been acting so strangely.
Abbie set her jaw. “Tell me what happened.”
“You don’t want to hear about it, Abbie. Trust me, it was horrible. It was the worst day of my life.” He looked down. “I just—I wouldn’t want you to feel sad.”
Abbie vowed right then and there that one day they would discuss it. She knew Gabe was only trying to protect her, but she was stronger than he realized.
That, and she knew all too well the burden of carrying your sadness all by yourself. Being able to honestly share her struggles with Gabe in her letters had been a godsend.
She was determined to give him the same gift.
But this was not the time to press it. “All right, then. But I insist that you tell me exactly what you said. The exact wording of the promise you made my brother.”
Gabe’s brow wrinkled. “He asked me to promise that I wouldn’t touch you. That I would never lay a hand on you.” His eyes were pleading. “That’s the only reason I can’t do this, Abbie. I would never want you to think there’s something wrong with you. There’s not. You’re beautiful, and desirable, and… and”—he broke off, staring across the room—“everything a man could ever want. But I gave your brother my vow. And I don’t mean to break it.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll return your money. But I can’t fulfill the terms of the auction.”
Abbie’s mind was churning, picking over everything Gabe had just said, and—
Of course.
It was so obvious.
She lifted her chin. “There will be no need to return the money.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right accepting it. Not even as a loan. Not after this.”
“There is no need for the money to be a loan. I have the perfect solution. You are going to keep your vow to my brother, and your promise to make love with me.”
“But… but…” Gabe shook his head, looking adorably confused. “That’s impossible.”
Abbie drew up all her courage and closed the distance between them. They still weren’t touching, but their bodies were so close she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. “My brother made you promise you would never touch me,” she whispered. “He never said anything about me touching you.”
Chapter 6
Gabe had not heard Abbie correctly.
He knew he hadn’t heard her correctly, because the words that had just come out of her mouth were not the kinds of words Actual Abbie said.
To be sure, they were the type of thing the other version of Abbie, Dream Abbie, said all the time.
Gabe had spent many hours thinking about Dream Abbie over the past six years. In that brief moment when Hart was dying, when Gabe had thought his friend was asking him to marry his little sister, he had been fairly certain he wanted to marry Abbie.
He had become completely certain he wanted to marry her upon returning to England. It wasn’t merely the fact that Abbie had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. She hadn’t looked particularly beautiful when he climbed out of the carriage at Pennington House, after all. She’d been blotchy-faced from crying, with red eyes and a dripping nose, and wearing an old black gown of her mother’s that fit her like a sack and concealed every one of the delicious curves she had developed in his absence. Even then, something about her had moved him. He’d wanted to scoop her up and go and find a sofa where she could cry on his shoulder for the next hour or the next year or however long it took to make her feel better.
Of course, he’d been able to do none of those things. He’d promised Hart he wouldn’t touch her, and the whole reason he was there was to make sure she married another man.
He hadn’t meant for his visit to go so badly, but it was impossible to be in the same room with Abbie without wanting to touch her. The only solution was to make sure he was never in the same room with her. He could tell how much his avoidance hurt her, but he didn’t know what else he could do. By the day of her wedding, she’d given up on trying to speak to him, and he knew he’d made a hash of everything.
She’d looked so beautiful as she walked down the aisle. Her aunt had prevailed upon her to set aside full mourning for the occasion of her wedding, and she wore a lilac silk gown. There had been no joy in her eyes as she said her vows, but there was a certain poignancy to her beauty intermingled with her sorrow. It had been horrible, watching her walk down that aisle and marry another man, and Gabe had left the second his duty to Hart had been complete.
It was only when he got back to Spain that the extent to which he’d botched everything became apparent. Because, of course, Abbie’s letters had been his one source of comfort on the battlefield. With her brother gone, and with him having bungled his visit so spectacularly, there wasn’t even a chance she would write.
The six months that followed were probably the darkest of Gabe’s life. But then, like a miracle, a letter arrived. Abbie’s hurt and anger had almost oozed from the ink, but Gabe hadn’t minded. He knew full well he deserved every ounce of ire she hurled at him. And with Abbie safely on the other side of the English Channel, Gabe was able to respond properly, to say all of the things he’d wanted to say the last time he saw her, the things he would’ve said if he hadn’t been so terrified he was going to sweep her up in his arms and never let her go.
But, needless to say, corresponding with wonderful, courageous Abbie, who felt so much and loved so fiercely, had done nothing to quell his suspicion that this was the girl he was meant to marry.
