When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,100

time, hers. Strange, but she’d never really thought about him in such a way.

He’d been hers and now he was not. She would leave him and travel far, far across the world from him. She’d never see him again, her erstwhile lover.

And she would never take another lover.

She knew that suddenly and completely—Gideon was the only man for her.

And yet it changed nothing.

She looked up on the thought and found that Gideon had fallen asleep.

Messalina marked the page with a hairpin and gently closed the book.

He was so rarely still. Gideon seemed constantly in motion, planning and plotting, but now his thick, black eyelashes lay quiescent against his tanned cheeks.

She could examine him to her heart’s content.

The right side of his forehead was mottled with green and blue bruises. Beneath, his eyebrows still reminded her of a demon, dark and manipulative, but she had a certain…fondness for that demon now. He was her demon, after all.

Then there was his mouth.

Dear God, the mere sight of that sinful mouth made something warm within her.

But his appeal was more than his outer surface. He was intent and driven. Proud and unstoppable. Funny sometimes, harsh other times.

A man who kept secrets and lied without blush.

A violent man.

A man she could love.

If only…

If only he knew how to love—how to love her. Everything would change then. She might forgive him his machinations—hard as that was—and remain married to him. They could lie in bed together, lazy and content. Argue over the dinner table. Visit the theater and discuss the oddities of acting and the audience. She could spend her life with him, this devious man, this St Giles fighter, and never be bored.

Never dissatisfied.

But that was not to be.

Messalina sighed and bent to brush a kiss over Gideon’s forehead. And if a tear fell there, too, she would not admit it.

Chapter Seventeen

So Bet lay with the redheaded man, and in the morning neither he nor the fox was there. She spent the day tidying the little cottage, wandering the clearing, picking berries, and peering nervously into the wood. When the light began to die, the fox emerged from the trees and joined her for the evening meal.

And then he changed into a man and took her to bed.…

—From Bet and the Fox

It was a full two days later before Gideon could rise from bed without incurring Messalina’s disapproving brow.

Or worse—her tears.

The sight of her eyes shimmering with unshed tears had twisted something inside him. He simply couldn’t stand it.

Gideon pushed aside the thought and stepped into his entry hall.

Only a footman stood by the front door. Some new man. Gideon didn’t know the footman’s name.

He turned to look up the stairs. Where was she? He’d sent word to Messalina to meet him here at half past one and it was exactly that.

Perhaps she wasn’t coming.

Despite their unsteady truce, despite her willingness to read him adventure tales, she still hadn’t forgiven him. Maybe she was only doing what she felt was right for an injured man.

Oddly she hadn’t demanded her money yet and he wasn’t about to bring up the subject.

He was just about to go to her rooms to find her when he heard the tap of her heels on the stairs.

Gideon turned.

Messalina was wearing her favorite color, a sort of deep pink that complemented her glossy black hair. She lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve come to your summons. What is it about?”

Despite her demand, her eyes were alight with curiosity.

He shook his head as he held out his good arm. A lot rode on this—more, perhaps, than he could even acknowledge. He said gruffly, “We mustn’t be late.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Now you’re simply being maddeningly mysterious.”

“Come.” He led her outside to the carriage, which was already waiting. He helped her inside, settling on the squabs across from her.

She pursed her lips and looked him over. “Are you quite sure you feel up to a journey today?”

“I’m fine—as I told you yesterday and the day before,” he replied irritably and then took a deep breath, forcibly moderating his tone. “Besides, we aren’t going all that far.”

That only piqued her curiosity, and she started questioning him as the carriage drew away.

He watched her sparkling eyes, the curve of her lips, the animated way she spoke. What was he to do if this didn’t work? Before he’d married her, he would’ve been setting spies on Greycourt, repaying an attack with a greater one. He’d never been slow in his revenge and he never let