Page 52 of The Bridal Quest

"Yes."

"It seems that throwing him out must have been something of a risk," Irene commented. "He and his cronies would have been valuable customers."

"It was more important to establish control of my business. I had no intention of allowing anyone to dictate how I ran it. Nor did I have any interest in letting noblemen, or anyone else, abuse my workers." He shrugged. "In any case, it did me no harm. I might have lost a few customers, but my policy attracted others who appreciated knowing that the house was free of the rowdiness and low behavior with which many of the gambling dens were riddled. And those customers, it turned out, were generally more plump in the pocket than Wyngate and Haughston and their group."

"Then you knew Lady Francesca's husband, as well?"

He nodded. "Enough to know that she is better off being a widow."

"I imagine you're right," Irene agreed.

They continued to walk. Irene was very aware of the quiet around them and of Gideon's presence beside her.

"Odd, isn't it?" Gideon mused. "She did not manage for herself what she is apparently well-known for doing for others."

"'Tis easier, I suppose, to see clearly when one is not personally involved," Irene surmised.

"Or perhaps she learned from her own mistake." Gideon glanced at her. "It seems that ladies often do not take their opportunity to ensure financial success for themselves when they marry."

"It is looks and honeyed words that all too often sway them. It was so with my mother. Perhaps it was so with Francesca, as well. Lord Haughston was a handsome man. Desire can blind one to one's own best interests."

She cast a sideways glance up at Gideon, thinking of the way her own desire kept leading her astray with him, beckoning her into making the mistake she had always sworn not to. He caught her look, and a smile touched his lips.

Then he stopped and turned to face her, taking her hands in his. "Desire," he told her softly, "does not have to be a mistake. One can make the wisest decision and still take the path that passion leads one to."

"I am not sure that one's vision can be clear in that regard," Irene retorted. "Emotions and uh ..." She cleared her throat, turning her gaze away from his eyes, for she found it difficult to speak looking up into their dark depths. "Sensations can make it difficult to think. To see one's way."

Gideon raised her hand and gently pressed his lips against the back of it. "Irene ... I think in this instance that your 'sensations' give you a very clear picture of what this marriage could be. You have only to let yourself believe it."

He turned her hand over and laid another breath of a kiss in her palm. She felt the trembling in her hand—and the way it spread insidiously throughout her body. She looked at his head, bent to press his mouth to her skin. She saw the thick darkness of his lashes against his cheeks, the sensual curve of his mouth. His hair brushed against her wrist.

Had she always thought him this handsome? she wondered. When she met him, had other men paled beside him, as the thought of them did now? She could not remember any other man whose gaze had enthralled her as his did, or whose smile she had awaited with such anticipation. When and how had her heart taken to tripping like a hammer whenever she saw him?

She thought of the way she had held herself aloof from him the past few days, hoping to avoid a repetition of the kisses they had shared the other afternoon. And yet, after those days, those hours and hours of avoidance, all it took was a look from him, a smile, a kiss upon her hand, and she felt once more as if her knees were turning to jelly, that simmering burn beginning to bubble again deep in her abdomen.

It was frightening to feel so little in control of herself, scary to know that someone could affect her so effortlessly, so quickly, slipping past her defenses with the ease of smoke. And yet ... and yet ...

Where, she wondered, was the harm in taking a husband who could make one feel this way? Was what she felt the foolishness of women like Francesca or her mother, who had married those they had come to regret wanting? Or was this merely one of the benefits of a wise marriage—an extra dollop of sweetness on a practical course of action?

Gideon raised his head and looked into her eyes. She wondered if he could see the thoughts that danced in her brain, confusing her. She rather thought he must guess how he disturbed her. She could see the trace of male satisfaction in his eyes even through the heat that flamed in them.

He drew closer, his body only inches from her now. He still held her hand, and now he brought it up to his face, cradling it against his cheek. She felt the flash of heat, the smoothness of his skin, the prickles of the dark stubble that was beginning to roughen his flesh. She thought about feeling his cheek against hers, of his mouth pressing against her lips.

She remembered the way his hands had stroked her body that afternoon after their first dance lesson. Her breasts tightened at the thought, her nipples budding with yearning.

"You think that you have fooled me the last few days?" he murmured, and there was a raw ache to his voice that stirred her. "That I cannot see past the plain clothes? That I do not remember how full and soft your hair is, or how it curls around your face? I have seen how you dressed, how you have stifled your curls into a governess's knot." He bent close to her, his breath brushing against her hair as he talked, and Irene could not suppress the shiver that snaked through her.

"But I know you, Irene," he went on, his voice low and gravelly. "I have kissed you, and I have held you in my arms. I know the passion that lies within you."

He hooked his forefinger beneath her chin and tilted her face, so that she looked up into his eyes. She drew a shaky breath, unable to speak or move. He was going to kiss her, she thought. He would bend down and take her in his arms, and his mouth would lay claim to hers once more. She trembled, scared and excited and utterly uncertain.

For a long moment Gideon simply looked at her. When at last he moved, it was not to seize her in a fierce kiss, but to lean down and merely brush her lips with his.

"Do not deny us what we could have," he whispered, pressing his mouth gently to hers again. She found herself leaning into him, prolonging the contact.

He raised his head. "Think well before you decide, my lady."

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, then turned and strode rapidly away, leaving Irene looking after him, every nerve in her body alive and tingling.