The Stranger I Married Part 5

So it was that way, was it? Pretend as if nothing had happened.

He smiled with all the charm he possessed, and lifted her gloved hand to his lips. "A husband must, to escort a wife as fair as you, my lovely Isabel."

Her hand shook a little in his, and her voice when she spoke had a slight catch. "You flatter me."

He wished to do a great deal more to her, but that would have to wait. He tucked her hand around his arm, and led her to the door.

"Even I cannot do you justice," she said, as he retrieved her flowered straw hat from the clerk and set it on her head, pinning it in place with the ease of familiarity. The door chimes rang, and he stepped closer, his back to the street, to allow the new customer to pa.s.s. The air sweltered between him and Pel, flushing her skin and tensing his frame.

"You need a lover," she breathed, those sherry eyes wide and held by his gaze.

"I have no need of one. I have a wife who desires me."

"Good afternoon, my lord," the clerk called out, rounding the counter.

Gerard moved to her side, and offered his arm again. Now facing the doorway, he saw the distinguished-looking gentleman who wore an expression of such horror it did not take but a moment to register who it must be. And what he must have heard.

"Good afternoon, Lord Hargreaves." His fingers closed over Pel's on his arm, staking an irrefutable claim. Never having been a possessive man, he frowned and tried to examine why he should feel this way now.

"Good afternoon, Lord and Lady Grayson," the earl said tightly.

Isabel straightened. "Lord Hargreaves, a pleasure."

But it was not, not for any of them. The tension was palpable. "Excuse us," Gerard said when Hargreaves continued to block the doorway. "We were on our way out."

"Lovely to see you again, my lord," Isabel murmured, her voice unusually somber.

"Yes," Hargreaves muttered, stepping aside. "Quite."

Opening the door, Gerard gave one last studious look at his rival, and then led his wife out with a hand at the small of her back. They walked slowly down the street, both lost in their thoughts. Several pedestrians attempted to approach, but a narrowed glance was effective at keeping them away.

"That was awkward," he muttered finally.

"You noted that, did you?" she said, refusing to look at him.

In a way, he missed the overconfidence of his youth. Four years ago, he would have brushed off the encounter as amusing. In fact, he had done that very thing on several occasions, as social engagements had brought him face to face with Pel's lovers, and she with his. Now he was all too aware of his flaws and shortcomings, and to his knowledge the popular and respected Hargreaves had none.

"I've no notion of how I will explain your comment to him," she said, obviously upset.

"He knew the risks when he chose to dally with another man's wife."

"There were no risks! No one could predict that you would come home daft."

"It is not daft to desire your spouse. Pretending you don't, however, is ridiculous."

He stopped abruptly as a merchant door swung inward, and a customer ran out directly before them.

"My apologies, my lady!" the man cried to Pel, tipping his hat before he strode away quickly.

Gerard looked at the establishment, curious about the reason for the man's excitability. His mouth curved as he reached for the door.

"A jeweler's?" Isabel asked with a frown.

"Yes, vixen. There is something I should have attended to years ago."

He urged her inside, and the clerk lifted his head from the sales record book with a smile. "Good afternoon, my lord. My lady."

"That was a happy man who just departed," Gerard noted.

"Ah yes," the clerk agreed. "A bachelor embarking on an offer of marriage, which is strengthened by the lovely ring he purchased today."

In search of equal pleasure, Gerard perused the offerings in the gla.s.s cases.

"What are you looking for?" Pel asked, bending over beside him. Her scent appealed to him so deeply, he wished he could lay amongst satin sheets infused with it. With her graceful limbs entwined with his, it would be heaven.

"Have you always smelled so wonderful, Pel?" He turned his head to look at her, and found her almost nose to nose.

She pulled back with a blink. "Gray, really. Can we put off a discussion on perfumery, and find what you want?"

Smiling, he caught her hand, and glanced up at the hovering clerk. "That one." He pointed to the largest ring in the case-a ma.s.sive ruby surrounded by diamonds, and supported by a filigreed band of gold.

"Heavens," Pel breathed, as it came out from behind its gla.s.s shield and sparkled in the light.

Gerard lifted her hand, and sized the ring on her finger, pleased to see it fit snugly, but not too tightly, over her glove. Now, she looked like a married woman. "Perfect."

"No."

He arched a brow, and discerned his wife's distress. "Why not?"

"It...it's too large," she protested.

"It suits you." He lounged against the case, and smiled, keeping her hand trapped firmly within his own. "While I was in Lincolnshire-"

"You were?" she asked quickly.

"Amongst other places," he said, stroking her palm. "I would watch the sunset, and think of you. There were times when a ribbon of red clouds in the sky would exactly match the highlights in your hair. When the light catches that ruby, it reflects almost the same color."

She stared at him as he lifted her hand to his mouth. He kissed first the stone, and then the middle of her gloved palm, relishing the opportunity to be close to someone again.

The sunrises, with all their warm golden beauty, had brought memories of Em. He'd dreaded them at first. Each morning reminded him that another day had come, and Emily would not be living it. Later, the warmth the sun brought had been a benediction, a reminder that he had another opportunity to become a better man.

The sunsets, however, had always belonged to Pel. The darkening sky and the welcoming blanket of night that disregarded his imperfections-that was Isabel, who never pried. The sensuality of a bed, and the moments when he could release the stress of the day-that was Isabel, too, lying on her chaise in her boudoir. How odd that her lighthearted companionship had come to mean so much to him, and yet he'd never noticed it when it had been his to enjoy.

"You should save your silver tongue for a woman less jaded than I."

"Dear Pel," he murmured, smiling. "I adore that you are jaded. You hold no illusions about my less-than-sterling character."

"I have no idea what your character is anymore." She pulled away, and he released her. Straightening her spine, Isabel glanced around the small store. When she saw the clerk busy recording their transaction, she said, "I don't understand why you would say such things to me, Gray. You never had any romantic notions, nor s.e.xual ones, to my knowledge."

"What color are the flowers in front of our house?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The flowers. Do you know what color they are?"

"Certainly, they're red."

He arched a brow. "Are you certain?"

She crossed her arms, and arched her own brow. "Yes, I'm certain."

"And the ones in the planters by the street?"

"What?"

"The planters by the street have flowers in them. Do you know what color those blooms are?"

Isabel chewed her lower lip.

Gerard tugged off his glove, and then tugged that lush bottom lip out of her teeth. "Do you?"

"They are pink."

"They're blue."

He moved his hand to her shoulder, and stroked the creamy expanse of skin with his thumb. The heat of her flesh burned through his fingertips, and spread up his arm, igniting a hunger such as he had not felt in years. For so long he had been numb and frozen inside. To feel this heat, to desire to burn with her touch, to want so desperately to be scorched inside her...He relished all of it.

"Blue flowers, Pel." His voice was huskier than he'd like. "I've found people tend to take for granted the things they see every day. But just because one fails to see something, does not mean it isn't there."

Goose b.u.mps p.r.i.c.kled her skin. He felt them, even through the calluses on his fingertips.

"Please." She brushed his hand away. "Don't lie, and say pretty things, and attempt to make the past into what you wish it to be in the present. We were nothing to each other, nothing. And I wanted it that way. I liked it that way." She tugged off the ring, and set it on the counter.

"Why?"

"Why?" she parroted.

"Yes, my lovely wife, why? Why did you like our marriage as a sham?"

Her eyes shot daggers at him. "You liked it as a sham, too."

Gerard smiled. "I know the reasons why I liked it, but we are talking about you."

"Here you are, Lord Grayson," the clerk said with a wide smile.

Cursing inwardly at the interruption, Gerard dipped the proffered quill in ink and signed the bill. He waited until the ring was boxed and tucked into his inner coat pocket before glancing at Isabel. As she had in the tailor's, she stood staring out the window with a ramrod straight spine, every inch of her voluptuous form betraying her anger. He shook his head, and could not help but think that all the restrained pa.s.sion in her was untapped. What the devil was Hargreaves doing, or more likely not doing, that left her so volatile? Another man might see the rigidness of her spine, and be discouraged. Gerard took it as a sign of hope.

He walked to her, drawn to the vibrancy that attracted everyone. Coming to a stop directly behind her, he breathed her in, and then whispered, "Can I take you home with me?"

Startled by Gray's husky voice in her ear, Isabel spun about so quickly, he was forced to arch backward to avoid being whacked in the face with the brim of her hat. The near miss made him laugh, and once he started, he could not stop.

She gaped at him, awed by how young he looked when lost in merriment. His laugh sounded rusty, as if it had not been let out in awhile, and she loved the sound of it-deeper and richer than it had been before, and she had adored it even then. Unable to resist, she smiled, but when he grabbed his ribs and gasped, she had to laugh with him. Then he caught her about the waist, and spun her around, just like he used to do.

Setting her hands on his broad shoulders for balance, Isabel hung on, and remembered again how she enjoyed being with him.

"Put me down, Gray!" she cried.

With his head tilted back, he looked at her and said, "What will you give me if I do?"

"Oh, that's not fair. You are making a spectacle of us. Everyone will hear of this." She thought of Hargreaves' expression when he'd seen them in the tailor's, and her smile faded. How awful she was to cavort with Gray, when it would hurt John.

"A boon, Pel, or I will carry you around until you agree. I am quite strong, you know. And you are light as a feather."

"I am not."

"Are so." His lip made that little pout of his. It would look ridiculous on any other man, but on Gray it made women want to kiss him. It made Isabel want to kiss him.

"You think too much," he complained when she stared at him mutely. "You rejected my gift. Offering me a boon is the least you can do."

"What do you want?"

He considered it a moment, and then said, "Supper."

"Supper? Can you be more specific?"

"I want to have supper with you. Stay home tonight, and share a meal with me."

"I have commitments."

Gray moved to exit the shop. "My good man," he called out to the clerk. "The door, if you would please."

"You would not carry me outside like this."

"Do you truly believe I wouldn't?" he asked with a devilish smile. "I may have changed, but a leopard cannot completely lose its spots."

Isabel glanced over her shoulder, and saw the street approaching and the mult.i.tude of pedestrians who strolled there. "Yes."

He paused mid-step. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I will have supper with you."

His grin was triumphant. "You are such a generous soul, Pel."

"Stuff," she muttered. "You are a blackguard, Grayson."

"Perhaps." He set her down, and then tucked her hand around his arm, leading her out to the street. "But really, would you want me any other way?"

Looking at him, seeing the lightening of the oppressive air that had surrounded him the day before, she knew she liked him best as a scoundrel. It was when he was most happy.