Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I require confirmation, Vale." Huntington's face was pulled into a displeased sneer. "Do I need to remind you of what is on the table here? We're a few weeks away from the season's most anticipated ball."

"I've told you," Gage replied without looking up from his task. "They will be there."

Huntington's eyes fell to the paint staining Gage's hands as he finished the last coat on the newly repaired columns gracing the sprawling entrance. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"A little hard work never hurt anyone."

"Unlike you, I do not seek to lower myself by performing menial labor when I can pay someone to do it for me. Much like how I'm compensating you to do something that needs doing, Duke ."

Gage gritted his teeth at the overt insult in the address. Yes, Huntington was exactly the sort to get others to do all the hard work for him. Gage couldn't wait until he didn't have to see the man's scornful face, lording his brother's vowels over him like a hangman's noose. He would clear the debt, and then he would find out whether the rotter had anything to do with what really happened to Asher. If so, there'd be hell to pay.

"Anything else, Huntington?"

The man scowled. "So, do I have your word, and should I make preparations?"

"I said as much. Now scurry along."

"Careful, Vale," Huntington said in a low snarl. "You might possess the title of duke, but don't forget that I am the most powerful man in London. It won't serve to insult me."

Based on what he'd learned from Lushing, Huntington's so-called power might be an exaggeration, but in spite of Gage's deep desire to take the cocky bastard down a peg or two, he forestalled himself. Eliminating Asher's debt wasn't worth the gratification.

Gage didn't bother to form a reply, staring Huntington down like they were facing each other at dawn. Or standing toe to toe in a blood-spattered boxing ring. His lips curled back from his teeth in a mockery of a smile. He'd give anything for the latter, if only to watch Huntington piss his pants.

Within seconds, the other man's shoulders sagged at the pure aggression in Gage's stance. "Don't fail me, Vale," he snapped.

The or else wasn't subtle. Then again, nothing about the arrogant prick was subtle.

After Huntington left, Gage ran a hand through his hair, uncaring that his fingers were wet with paint. He still had to convince Evangeline to go to London, but he was more confident in his ability to do so after their dance. There had been an encouraging… progression.

He hadn't seen her in the days following the country assembly, but he'd been busy with estate repairs and being fitted for a full wardrobe that he had little patience for. But that didn't mean he hadn't thought about her. The memory of how she felt in his arms had dominated his hours, and what he was lacking in experience, he certainly made up for in imagination. His nights had been… interminable .

The fit of her body against his combined with the look in her eyes had almost unmanned him. When he'd asked what she wished for, her expressive gaze hinted at untold wants and hidden desires. He'd seen those pretty eyes flash from ice blue to molten silver, bolts of hot color cresting along her high cheekbones.

What he would have given to be privy to those thoughts.

But in the space of the next breath, she'd tamped down every single one of those emotions with the ease of a seasoned card sharp being dealt a new hand at the gaming tables. Lady Evangeline was also a master at concealing her true sentiments, it seemed.

A throat cleared from behind him. "Goodness, this is rather a far cry from what the outside was before. A coat of paint can work wonders."

It was as though his very thoughts had summoned her.

Gage caught his breath, feeling as though he'd been punched in the gut. He was conscious of his paint-splattered shirtsleeves and hoary waistcoat, but his appearance could not be helped. She, on the other hand, looked every inch the earl's daughter, wearing a smart but worn riding habit with a deep wine-colored velvet jacket over striped cotton skirts that were buttoned up to one side. A jaunty, slightly battered plumed hat with a ribbon chin strap hid her moon-kissed hair.

"Lady Evangeline," he croaked, remembering his manners. He wiped his hands on his trousers and gave a short, cursory bow. "What brings you to Vale Ridge Park?"

The groom hovering behind her stepped forward to hand over a parcel. Unwrapping it, she held out a roll of documents to him along with several books. "I thought I would deliver these personally. They're some irrigation plans. It should help with your challenges in the fields when it rains."

Gage blinked at her in surprise. "Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you."

"It's a small thing," she said, a faint blush brightening her cheekbones. "The books were lying around, and it was no hardship to draw the diagrams."

Draw them? He reached for one of the rolled pieces of parchment. It was a drawing of his field, complete with scaled representations, detailing the channels that needed to be dug and the barricade that would have to be constructed. The lines were impeccably drawn, her handwriting neat and precise. "You did this for me?"

That blush on her cheeks deepened. "It was nothing."

"This is astonishing."

"Yes, it seems I surprise a lot of people," she said in a quiet, guarded tone. "Most in our set don't expect a woman's brain to be able to handle anything but needlepoint or the occasional pianoforte performance. Our brains are just as proficient as any man's, given the opportunity."

"You misunderstand me, lass. I meant it as a sincere compliment."

It was true. He was more than impressed. Her gaze bored into his, as though she was expecting some kind of trick in his reply. What had made her so disbelieving of genuine praise? Gage kept his face blank, showing nothing of his inner thoughts. Perhaps she had been belittled for her efforts before, though he couldn't fathom who would be so parochial.

"Do you have time right now?" she asked, shielding her gaze once more. "If I'm not interrupting, that is. We could take a ride out to the fields, and I could show you where I envisioned the work to be done. It won't take long."

Gage nodded. He was genuinely interested in her ideas, but it was also an opportunity to convince her to go to London. One he couldn't waste. "Give me a moment to get changed."

"You're fine as you are, Your Grace."

Most ladies would have sniffed and demanded he change into proper garments. In loose shirtsleeves and worn breeches, he wasn't dressed for polite company, after all. But then again, Evangeline wasn't like anyone he'd ever met.

He hid his smile and nodded, grabbing hold of a coat that Jenkins held out without comment, before accompanying her down to his stables, where he saw two horses had been hitched to a nearby post.

"I could have sworn that a woman like you would ride astride," he remarked, calling for his own stallion to be saddled. "And be fitted in men's fashion for such."

A pale brow arched. "A woman like me?"

"One who flaunts her irreverent disregard for the rules of polite society."

Those ice-blue eyes narrowed, offense flaring in their depths, as she directed a glance to the young groom who stood some distance away, before coming back to him. "Are you mocking me, Your Grace?"

"Does it feel like I'm mocking you, my lady?"

He could sense rather than see her spine snap straight at his silky reply. God, it gave him such sinful pleasure to tease her. Lushing had called her thoughtful and quiet, but for some reason, she was the exact opposite in Gage's company. He liked that. He liked that she fired up with him.

Her eyes were pure ice. "Yes, I do believe you are being provocative for reasons known only to you."

"It was simply an honest observation," he said, watching as she stalked toward her mount, with a near violent toss of her head. He did not hide his smile this time since she could not see it, but waited with bated breath for her reply.

"I do not flout the rules, Your Grace. I simply believe that some of them are much too antiquated and discriminatory toward my sex. Why shouldn't a woman ride astride? Catherine the Great did it. In the Middle Ages and Renaissance periods, women did so until it fell out of favor because such a thing was thought to compromise a lady's modesty. How insufferable! That our only virtue and value rests between our legs. Honestly, it's a wonder most women's hips and knees aren't in a permanent state of dislocation from being seated thus on a hundred stone of horseflesh." She let out a loud snort, face red from passion. "And men consider us the weaker sex? If it wouldn't hurt the horse, I'd challenge you or any male to ride in a sidesaddle for half a mile. You would not last two minutes."

"You are rather intense, do you know?" His cheeks were aching from the force of his delight at drawing her out. "Remind me never to dagger the dragon again, my lady."

"There's no crime against intensity, only unfair criticism because insufferable men feel that women should be seen and not heard. And I am not a dragon."

He let out a guffaw. "But you are, aren't you? With me, anyway. All fire, brimstone, and belching embers. In my company, you like being able to say what you please, let those erudite opinions of yours fly while knowing none of it will shock me. Knowing that I, in fact, might enjoy hearing your exceptional views."

He saw the apple of her cheek lift where she stood hidden by her horse, though she did not confirm his assertion. After adjusting the fastenings on her skirts and climbing nimbly into the stirrup—which was not a sidesaddle, he belatedly noticed—she speared him an arch look. Gage fought not to gawk as one slender booted leg, clad in a fitted pair of men's breeches visible beneath the split in her skirts, was agilely thrown over the horse's back.

She arched a brow at his gratified expression. "As far as my preferences in wardrobe, which once more should not concern you whatsoever, I was attempting to be fully covered while riding astride and not scandalize your poor ducal sensibilities."

"Scandalize away," he said, mounting his own horse and riding up to her. "And besides, I much prefer the true Lady Evangeline. The one who sips on brandy while hidden behind ferns, and the one who speaks her mind when it matters."

"I do not…" She pinned her lips and exhaled. "Hide behind ferns."

"Or swearing a blue streak and yelling ballocks at sinkholes."

Her porcelain cheeks burned. " You made me say that word!"

"Oh, is that the story you're sticking with?" Gage let out an amused laugh. "You and I both know, Lady Evangeline, that there isn't a soul on this earth who can force you to do something or say something you do not wish to do or say. And before you get your very resourceful skirts into a froth, that, too, was meant as a genuine compliment."

Pale eyes met his, holding his stare for an interminable moment before she broke the connection. "Shall we go, Your Grace? Unless you plan to stay here and pontificate my merits all day, in which case I will offer my regrets and leave you to it."

Gage barked out a laugh. Dear God, she was adorably salty.

With a scowl at his amusement and an expert touch, she tugged on the reins, setting her mount off in a gallop down the driveway. Guiding his own stallion forward with a wide grin that he could not banish for the life of him, Gage followed.

Evangeline was already in a fine froth.

Indeed everything inside of her was frothing .

Her blood, her curiosity, her completely indecorous passions.

God, the man was entirely too vexing! She had come here in person only because it was the right thing to do. And perhaps she'd needed to convince herself that the intensity of what she'd felt during their dance had been because of the brandy she'd drunk or being caught up in the waltz, and not because of any true attraction between them.

She'd been dead wrong on both counts.

Because the attraction fairly sizzled with heat.

And the moment she'd set eyes on him, the conflagration had blazed. Her breath had shriveled in her lungs, every nerve in her body vibrating to life, no stolen sips of brandy to be blamed.

Evangeline couldn't decide which version of him she preferred—the put-together duke, or this primal, earthly version of him in sweaty, worn shirtsleeves that was so deeply tantalizing… so wholly delicious that she had to bite her lip to keep from groaning in pure appreciation. Even with the flecks of paint speckling his copper hair and the trickle of sweat meandering down the tanned column of his scandalously bare throat, he was delectable.

Gulping, she clenched her fists over Ares's reins and refused to look behind to see whether the duke was following, though she could hear the pounding hooves of his mount as well as her groom's. While a compliment on her beauty might make her scoff, this kind of esteem felt sincere because it was rather specific to her. To her skills . Vale was applauding her mind, and it was… wonderful. A flicker of warmth gathered in her chest, which she quickly extinguished.

What was the duke's aim here? Men like Vale, dukes like him in their shared circles, did not esteem misfits like her, much less encourage them in their polemic and usually unwelcome opinions. Was Vale being facetious then when he claimed to enjoy her opinions? Her disdain for the vagaries of the ton? Her impassioned, unapologetic views when it came to the female sex and traditional roles of women? Her scandalous riding habit?

Something didn't feel right, and she was determined to find out what it was.

Soon, they reached the hillock that divided their properties, where she had a clear view of her fertile, well-drained fields, as well as his still-sodden and muddy pastures. Evangeline stiffened as he pulled up beside her, much closer than necessary. If her horse shifted an inch to the side, her knee would brush against his.

"Over there," she said breathlessly, pointing to the top of the field, handing him a small nautical telescope that she pulled from her saddlebag. "The buttress should be built there so that gravity does the work when you need it. See on our fields how the aqueducts are constructed? It eases the drainage so the ground doesn't turn into a swampy marsh."

"That's bloody brilliant," he said, peering through the glass.

"It has been effective on this type of soil."

"Genius."

She flushed with pleasure at the respect she heard in his voice. He was so close that Evangeline could smell the musk of his sweat cooling on his skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she sought out that glistening swath of flesh visible beneath his open shirt, inhaling a meager lungful of air when his Adam's apple bobbed on a swallow. Heaven knew why the sight of that made an ungodly shiver chase over her. How was a man's throat arousing? Evangeline turned her attention back to the fields.

She felt his eyes drift over her person.

"I see you found another pair of boots," he said.

"These are Viola's," she said. "I cannot justify the expense for a few moments of discomfort."

"More than a few moments," he remarked.

"It's of no consequence."

His horse shifted sideways, and suddenly, Evangeline was excruciatingly conscious of the heat of his leg, even through her riding skirts. A sliver of distance separated them, and yet, every part of her body tightened with yearning . What was this indescribable surge? It was as though she would settle only if he touched her… if they finally connected and she pushed her knee into his.

Folly, that was what it was!

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and nudged her horse a few paces away, where she could ease some air into her contracted lungs. The need churning beneath her skin lessened, but only slightly. She scanned the rest of the pastures and then jerked back as something caught her eye in the distance. "Goodness, is that smoke?"

"Where?" the duke asked, craning his neck toward where a thin plume of black soot was spiraling into the air.

"Do you see it? The east end of your property. What's over there?"

"An old barn, if I recall."

She whirled Ares around. "Well, it's on fire."

With both the duke and her groom on her heels, she swiftly reached the small dilapidated shack, which was absolutely on fire though it was reduced, thank goodness, by the dampness of the wood after the recent rain. But it was the sound of panicked bleating that made Evangeline's heart quail. She was only a few lengths ahead of Vale, but there was no time to be lost. The roof could come crashing down at any moment.

Evangeline dismounted and detached the skirts of her riding habit with a deft movement of her wrist. It was an ingenious design by the very talented Laila that offered the modesty her set demanded but allowed her the economy of movement beneath.

"What do you think you are doing?" Vale demanded as he reined his horse to a stop.

She gave him a blank stare. "What does it look like?"

"You cannot think to go any closer. It's much too dangerous. Step back before you get burned or worse."

Evangeline recoiled at the curt command. "It's too wet to burn properly, and besides, there's a terrified animal in there. Can't you hear it? A lamb, from the sounds of it. If we don't help it, it will die."

The duke leaped off his horse and stalked to where she stood, frowning at the gaping entrance where a door used to be. He seemed to be trying to determine the safest point of entry. Just then the sound of an animal in distress rent the air, more desperate than before. The poor creature must be trapped or confused, if it could not escape. She stepped forward, only to have a large hand clamp around her upper arm, stalling her. "Don't."

Evangeline glared at him. "Let go of me."

A growl rumbled from his chest. "You are not going in there."

"Who do you think you are?" she growled back.

He leveled her with a cool look, green eyes snapping with ire. "The owner of this property, and there's no way in hell you are going anywhere near that death trap."

More pitiful bleating reached her ears. Gritting her teeth, Evangeline wondered whether she could yank her arm out of the duke's grasp and make a run for it. As if he suspected her plans, Vale's grip tightened, not painfully, but enough so that she knew she would not easily escape him. "Please." She resorted to begging. "It will die if we don't do something, Vale."

A conflicted green stare met hers, filled with worry and compassion, but then he sighed and nodded. "Do not move," he said. "I'm serious, Evangeline. Promise me."

"I promise I will stay right here," she said, but crossed her index and middle fingers behind her back, hoping for God's forgiveness for the small lie. If he needed help or things took a turn for the worse, there was no way she wasn't going in after him.

Vale glanced at the groom, who also wore a resigned and long-suffering look on his face that Evangeline recognized. Philip was more than aware of the scrapes she often found herself in. This was not so far out of the ordinary.

"You there," the duke said. "Make sure she does not follow. Restrain her if necessary."

Evangeline gasped her outrage, but Philip nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Bloody lamb," he muttered and turned to her, sparks in those clover-green eyes that promised something… exactly what she did not know, but that look stole the breath from her lungs. "You owe me, leannan."

Evangeline had no idea what leannan meant, but the mere graveled sound of the word poured over her like molten waves of heat, making her nipples tauten as if they were in complete understanding of its meaning. She swallowed hard and bit her lip.

Philip moved to her side after the duke disappeared into the smoking structure, his huge frame barely clearing the collapsed entrance. She glared at the groom. "Don't even think about it, Philip. May I remind you who pays your wages."

"He's a duke, my lady."

"Yes, yes. I'm well aware that His Grace has astronomical powers, and the wrath of the heavens will come crashing down should he ever be disobeyed."

The sound of more terrified bleating came from the shed, drowning out her caustic reply, and a creaking, groaning noise filled the air. The structure was about to collapse!

"Vale! Hurry!" she yelled out. There was no response from the duke, even as a terrifying crash boomed and one wall of the barn buckled inward. "Your Grace!"

Damn and blast, something had gone wrong. She could feel it. She had to go in.

"Philip, go back to the residence and get help."

"But, my lady," he protested, eyes wide with fear. "You cannot go in there. It's too dangerous. The whole thing could come down at any moment."

She gritted her teeth. "Then we have no time to waste. Go now!"

Before he could stop her, she retrieved her discarded skirts and wrapped them around the lower half of her face, and plunged into the barn. It was dark, and the thick bands of smoke made her eyes water. Heat seared her skin from where the blaze ate at the load-bearing posts. She didn't dare look up for fear of what could come tumbling down.

The panicked bleats had ceased, but she was more worried about the man who'd gone in for them. "Vale, where are you?"

There was no answer, but the creaking of the wood above grew stronger as bright orange-red embers fell from the roof. Her heart thundered in her chest, knowing that the eaves could topple at any moment.

"Vale!"

Venturing deeper into the shadowy depths, she could feel the smoke penetrating and smothering her lungs through the fabric covering her nose and mouth. "Devil take it, you blockheaded, arrogant sack of rocks, answer me, or I swear to God I will turn around and leave you here!"

She could barely see, the smoke was so thick. Suddenly, an enormous form materialized in front of her, struggling to hold three soot-covered lambs tucked under each arm. Three!

"Don't you ever listen, woman?" he croaked, shoving the smallest of the lambs into her arms. "Here, take it, and quick, go before we're both crushed or die of smoke inhalation."

They rushed out, just in time, as the entire barn made an ugly grinding sound and crumpled inward. They both collapsed onto the grassy earth, coughing hard. When she'd caught her breath, Evangeline released the limp but still alive lamb from her arms as he did the same.

"There were three of them. You saved them!"

He shot her a furious glare. "I told you to stay put."

"You weren't answering me," she said, refusing to cower. "I sent Philip for help. What was I to do? Wait and watch that thing cave in on you?"

"Yes," he bit out, voice a raw rasp. "Exactly that."

She set her jaw. "You said it yourself—no one tells me what I can or can't do. Not even you, the all-powerful, all-everything, omniscient duke who is clearly too big for his boots."

The sarcasm was a mistake. She saw it in the flare of those darkening green eyes, a half of a heartbeat before he leaned in with purpose, his lips halting a hairsbreadth away. Goodness, was he going to kiss her?

Evangeline startled, her lips parting in invitation, chin tilting up, before she could grasp hold of herself, and he didn't hesitate as his mouth closed the distance to hers, his tongue sweeping in to torture hers with a punishing, velvet swipe that had her mind reeling.

He stank of soot and ash, but beneath it, the taste of him emerged like the most wicked of flavors. Rich, delicious, intoxicating . Heavens, she'd never felt anything like this kiss—the abrasion of his stubble, the sleek slide of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth—all the sensations coalescing into unadulterated need.

As if in agreement, a thick arm banded about her waist and yanked her into his lap, making her sharply aware of every hard inch of his body. And he was hard everywhere . His chest, his legs, his groin. Breath ebbed from her as her core pulsed with desire.

She wanted more .

Evangeline fisted her hands in his ruined coat, dragging herself to her knees and straddling his hips as she savaged his mouth, kissing him back as feverishly as he was kissing her. It was hungry. It was raw. It was real . Vale groaned into her mouth when she chased his tongue with hers, sucking, nibbling, and taking what she wanted without an ounce of shame. She might regret it later, but for now, all she wanted was to embrace the storm and drown herself in the pleasure he offered.

With one last punishing nip to her bottom lip, the duke pulled away from her, eyes like shards of brilliant jade. "Good then. As long as we're clear."

Bemused, Evangeline's brows pleated. "On what?"

"That I am superior in all things. And my boots are like the rest of me. Big."

Good Lord, the sheer arrogance of him.

"I only said that to feed your poor fragile male ego," she said with a sniff, reaching for the fraying threads of her composure.

The duke's mouth—swollen and red, she noted with a pulse of pure gratification—twitched as he sat up and stared morosely at his singed, tattered clothing. There were ragged holes in the elbows and black soot stains all over the white fabric of his shirt. Evangeline bit back a horrified snicker at his baleful expression.

"This is the third coat I've ruined in your company," he remarked. "I'm starting to think that it would be a fine idea to not wear anything I do not wish to lose in your destructive presence. Because what will be next after this poor shirt? My trousers?"

Evangeline fought the wild rush of snorts building. "Then you will not be fit for proper company, Your Grace, especially if you are nude."

"Precisely. And I promise you, I will not be held responsible for any ruined sensibilities from lascivious ogling. You will be the sole one to blame."

Evangeline's mouth fell open, even as the deep sound of his rumbling laughter at her thunderstruck expression filled the air. Good God, the mouth on him. Not to mention the vanity. It didn't even take a second before her own giggle-snorts came, hot on the heels of his easy chuckles, but for once in her life, Evangeline did not bother to stifle them.

It was either give in to her emotions or give voice to the catastrophic realization that after that kiss, her own sensibilities might be in grave, grave danger.