One Night To Be Sinful Read online

  "It's none of your concern." Her hands tightened into fists in an effort to stop their trembling.

  "Like hell." One of Calvin's hands reached out, rough and warm and very large, and wrapped around hers. "You came at me with that stick like you'd gladly take my head off. Someone came after you? Raleigh?"

  "No. Lord Raleigh would never leave the comfort of his home for anything other than the hunt."

  "Dobbs, then." Calvin's fingers tightened almost painfully, his breath fanning the hair at her temples as he snapped, "Dammit, woman, stop evading the subject. What did the man do to you?"

  "He gave me a fright, if you must know." Abigail's head turned, going silent for a moment as she realized they were as close as they had been before he kissed her. "He cornered me and said that Lord Raleigh wishes to have my property and left little doubt that he would go to great lengths to see he gets it."

  "Bloody hell, why didn't you say something sooner?"

  "Why should I, sir? I took care of the matter at the time."

  "Lady Abigail, I hate to spell it out for you, but a stern talkin- to will have little effect on a hired ruffian."

  Abigail glared at the man a full head taller than her, the heated intimacy they shared minutes before long forgotten. "What bothers you the most about me, Calvin? My independence despite being a woman or despite the fact I am lame?" Without waiting for his response, she lifted her good leg to the stirrup and hefted her full weight, with a fluidity that pleased even her, into the saddle.

  Chapter io

  Abigail took a deep breath and rapped lightly on the door. There was perhaps nothing more difficult, she mused as she stood patiently awaiting a response, than having to be the one to speak first after an argument. Though she wouldn't exactly call her ... interaction with Calvin Garrett the night before an argument. Their words had become heated, certainly, but they had remained silent for the journey from the pond back to the estate. Not that Abigail had encouraged conversation, remaining a yard ahead of the man for the ride back. She had felt the impact of his stare between her shoulder blades like a physical thing, but had refused to look back.

  In the upstairs hall of her home, the door before her still closed and silent, Abigail frowned slightly. She knocked again. "Calvin?"

  She couldn't imagine the man was deliberately ignoring her. This was his post, after all.

  "Did you need me, Lady Abigail?"

  She jerked at the sound from the top of the staircase. Abigail lifted a hand to her breast as she turned to face Calvin. "I had thought you were still abed as before."

  One of his dark brows lifted, his expression difficult to read in the shadows. "I believe I am now adjusted to rising early in the morn." His gaze flickered, and Abigail could have sworn he was looking at the bodice of her gown. "Going somewhere?"

  He was looking at her gloved hand.

  "Yes." Abigail nodded, moving toward the staircase. "I must make a call in the village." She glanced at Calvin from the corner of her eye as she stepped past him, hoping she would not have to ask.

  "I shall accompany you, then?" He turned to follow a step behind.

  "Please."

  "Before we go, my lady, I should like to speak with you about last night."

  It was highly improbable, but she could have sworn she felt his breath tickle her nape. Then his words registered. Suddenly a picture of herself in his arms flashed to mind, her breasts pressed into the hard wall of his chest and his lips parting over hers.

  She stopped halfway down the steps. "Oh?"

  "What is it exactly"-Calvin spoke calmly enough to the back of her head-"that Lord Raleigh has against you?"

  "Oh, that." Abigail winced at the high pitch of her laugh.

  "I know you think it none of my concern, but as I now live in this house and have seen the unsubtle threats of Raleigh's man, I would very much like to know what is going on. I'd like you to tell me." His tone suggested that he could hear the tale from someone else but preferred his employer's account.

  Abigail imagined there were plenty of individuals, most if not all from the estate bordering hers, willing to tell the story.

  "I have, since coming to live here in North Rutherford, been unmoved with the viscount's mode of living. He is very wealthy, and in the manner of some men with too much wealth, he indulges himself incessantly. During the season, he throws parties every night of the week, and something about the individuals he invites to these gatherings hints at impropriety." She peered over her shoulder at Calvin, who wore a look of quiet interest. "On the morning after one of these parties, Tuttleton had to remove two still-inebriated men and a partially nude woman from my garden."

  "Charming." Calvin's expression hinted at sarcasm not present in the word's meaning.

  "Indeed." Abigail nodded. "But that is not the only reason I do not care for Lord Raleigh, not even the greatest." Her tone was filled with distaste as she continued. "The viscount likes to think himself a great huntsman. I am somewhat unimpressed with his skills at the gruesome sport, however, in that he raises the animals he hunts on his grounds like sheep. The slaughter of these poor creatures comes at the end of the barrel. He even sends out his servants the night before a hunt to put up nets so that pheasants cannot fly away. The servants also run through the fields to frighten the animals out into the open. Beaters, I believe they are called."

  The fingers of her free hand curled into a fist. "And that is not even the worst of it. There are times when Raleigh and his cohorts are well into their cups, and the things they do to those poor animals before they die make death a pleasant future."

  "You've seen this?"

  A bitter taste filled Abigail's mouth as a heavy weight settled at the back of her eyes. She nodded.

  "I'm sorry, Lady Abigail." Calvin's tone curled about her eardrums and lifted the hair on her nape. "You strike me as a woman who has little tolerance for cruelty."

  "It is unbearable." She met his eye for only a moment, something in his intent gaze tugging at long-forgotten feelings deep within. Abigail turned and continued down the stairs. "He was even so bold as to put traps on my land for small game. That was when Tuttleton and Timothy began to search the property. They were good enough to return the blasted traps to Lord Raleigh's property in a heap. I thought it made an excellent point."

  "Raleigh didn't take it so kindly, I presume." Margot had put Abigail's coat on the table in the hall, and Calvin stepped forward to retrieve it before she had a chance.

  Her movements were awkward as she lifted her arms to the open sleeves. She was certain her heart stopped when Calvin's hand moved to straighten the collar of the long, navy-colored coat. Abigail told herself it was an accident when his knuckles brushed the underside of her jaw-though the contact was almost lingering-even as she decided that the velvet material of the coat was the same color as his eyes.

  "No." Abby struggled to focus on the conversation. "That was when all this trouble began, I'm afraid."

  "What about the horse he claims you stole?"

  "There is no horse," Abigail said with fluid ease. Her brows drew together. "How did you know about the horse?"

  Calvin's back was to her as he reached twice to get hold of the door handle. "I think Margot mentioned something about it after Mr. Dobbs debased your stable wall." He held open the door, and Abigail immediately found the outside air heavy with the promise of rain.

  She sighed.

  "After you, Lady Abigail." The movement stiff, Calvin bowed.

  She stepped over the threshold, before leaning on her crutch to glance back at the man again.

  He lifted his brows in question.

  "It's Abby."

  Calvin would have liked to tell himself he didn't know why a smile was curling at the corners of his mouth as he followed his employer to the carriage in the drive. But he did. It was more than the dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the soft gleam in her russet eyes as she glanced back and corrected him.

  Abby.

  It was ab
surd, but he felt like he had just won a small battle.

  "Timothy will drive the carriage if I must make a brief trip, mostly to a friend's home. He gets uncomfortable around large crowds and other vehicles, and I hate to ask him to take me to the village."

  Before Calvin could think to do what was in all probability part of his post, Abigail reached up to open the cab door. The vehicle was simple and well maintained, the inside seat heavily cushioned.

  "I'd have thought you would rather a phaeton, Abby." He used the familiarity because he could. "They would serve you more open air and be less-"

  "I do not care for phaetons."

  Her words were so abrupt and cold, he could not help but ask, "Why?"

  She was looking down at the tops of her slippers, one hand still on the carriage door and the other tightly wrapped about the handle of her crutch. "I was in an accident with one." She looked up, meeting Calvin's gaze, and smiled. Her eyes suggested she was sharing a joke, but the bittersweet curve of her lips struck him as humorless.

  Abigail shifted, her hand moving to hold herself steady as she lifted the wooden crutch. "If you would be so kind as to put this inside for me. On the floor."

  Calvin quickly complied and lifted a steadying hand to her elbow. He wasn't certain how he was to go about assisting Abigail into the carriage. His own footman did nothing more than open his carriage door and then close it once he was inside. He had never paid any attention to the etiquette for assisting ladies into carriages and was sure that-if he had-it wouldn't serve in his situation with Abby. He was again struck by the awkwardness of his post and his unsuitableness for it.

  Then Abigail looked back over her shoulder at him.

  For lack of a better idea, he slid one hand beneath her arm and knelt slightly to put his arm against her knees. She gasped, her hands moving quickly to grip the lapels of his coat as he lifted her into his arms. She was soft against him, the curve of her hip and her thigh tangible even through the material of her coat and dress. He noted that the leg brace she wore stopped at the knee, where his hand was pressed to the bulk.

  "Calvin...." Whatever she was about to say died off as her chin lifted until her lips were barely an inch away from his.

  He wondered if she was recalling their shared embrace of the night before. As he did so now, he felt flames curl against his loins. The same fire that had kept him awake for most of the night and then carried him into an increasingly familiar dream and an acute state of discomfort when he woke.

  When he had found Abigail at the door to his bedchamber not more than minutes ago, he had been sure it was to ask him to take leave of his post. He was more than a little irritated that she acted as if the kiss had not happened. Especially when the touch of her lips on his, not to mention that incredible thing she had done to his tongue, had affected him like none other.

  There, standing with her in his arms beside the open door of her carriage, he was sorely tempted to kiss her again. Just to be sure he hadn't imagined her response.

  "Lady Abby!" Margot barreled out of the house with her unbound hair trailing out behind her. She came to an abrupt halt in between the door and the carriage when she caught sight of Calvin and the woman in his arms. She blinked with curiosity, the rolled paper she had just been waving almost touching the ground in her limp hand.

  "Calvin was just helping me into the carriage, Margot."

  Abigail's voice, as she turned away from him to her speechless housekeeper, reminded Calvin of her brother's as he had lied. It suggested, then, that her thoughts had been drifting to a place she felt she had to proclaim they were not. Calvin felt the urge to smile again.

  "Ah, well ..." Margot started toward them again, this time letting her gaze move from her employer's features to Calvin's face. He scowled when she grinned. "You left your papers."

  "Oh!" Abigail's interest sounded forced as she released one of Calvin's lapels to take the rolled paper. "I very nearly forgot."

  "Have a safe ride." Margot continued to grin, not moving other than to let her eyes move between Abigail and Calvin.

  "I hope I am assisting you correctly, Lady Abigail," Calvin said as he turned her back to the carriage.

  Abigail wouldn't meet his eye. "This isn't how Mr. Tuttleton did it."

  Calvin said through clenched teeth, "What did he do, lie facedown on the mud and let you walk on his back?"

  "No, he held my arm and gave a little boost," Abigail said simply, totally unaware of his aggravated tone.

  Chapter ii

  There was a sign in neatly penned female script that read CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS set against one of the shop windows. It was the only spot in the two large windows that bracketed the door which was not blocked by unfolded sheets of the Post. Even the wooden sign that dangled from the overhang had been taken down to be repainted. Not for the first time, Abigail hoped she and Emily had not been incorrect in their belief that a renovation would improve their bookshop. As it were, business couldn't get any worse.

  There was a soft, welcoming jingle from the bell above when she opened the door.

  The two women who had been carrying books from a shelf to one of the many crates that lined the floor looked up together and smiled.

  'We weren't expecting you today, Abby," Augusta Merryweather said.

  "Emily said she and Harriet saw your designs yesterday." Isabel Scott produced a white hand kerchief to wipe her hands. "I should think that would have saved you the trip here."

  Abigail let the door close behind her, not unaware of the man who was leaning patiently against the carriage outside. "I wanted to be certain everyone liked the new plans."

  Dimples appeared in Augusta's cheeks. "They're perfect. We know it."

  "You cannot be certain without looking."

  "We are certain"-Isabel had gone on to polish her spectacles-"because you created them."

  "Would you please"-Abigail feigned frustration as she sighed-`just give them a quick onceover?"

  Isabel and Augusta exchanged a look before the latter reached for the designs. Both women's faces disappeared as they opened the blueprints and held them up for inspection.

  "Excellent, excellent." Isabel's tone was even more controlled than usual.

  "I love what she's done with the shelves," Augusta said.

  "Moving the counter. . . simply ingenious."

  "The reading nook in the corner is a brilliant notion."

  "Indeed."

  "And what's this she's done with the floor?"

  "Rugs, I believe."

  "Ahhh."

  Abigail folded down the top half of the designs so that she could see her friends' faces. Isabel gazed up at her innocently over the rims of her specs; Augusta was fighting to hold back a smile.

  "I wanted an honest judgment, unfettered by loyalties. "

  "Loyalty is one thing." Isabel neatly rolled the documents. "Knowing that your friend is a genius at architectural designs is another."

  "Thank you both." Abigail let her gaze travel the skeleton of the shop. "There is one more person I should like to share them with. Has Bernice returned from the buying trip?"

  "Not yet." Augusta was back at the bookshelf along the far wall, stacking various titles in the crook of one elbow.

  "I am under the impression"-Isabel lifted her chin-"that she has run off with Black."

  "I think the immodesty of that phrase is slightly hindered by the fact the man is her husband." Augusta rolled her eyes toward Abigail. "I received word from her at last. Bernice said she has found more than enough books to fill up our new shelves. She also mentioned that the countryside they passed in reaching the book dealer was quite intoxicating.

  "There is no reason for a woman to lock herself up in a country inn with the man who is her husband." Isabel countered. "It borders on impropriety.

  "Sounds romantic to me." Augusta shrugged, and Abigail was certain she was the only one who saw her smile falter.

  "Speaking of romance," Abigail said before she could lose her
nerve. She felt painfully on the spot when both women's gazes suddenly focused on her anew. "I must confess, your opinions of my sketches were not my only reason for coming here today."

  "Oh?" Augusta leaned back against the counter, her expression more than a little interested.

  Isabel eyed a wooden chair suspiciously before carefully laying her handkerchief atop it then sitting. "Go on, Abby."

  "I was hoping you both would be here today"Abby began to work the rolled paper between her hands-"so that I could have the benefit of two varied opinions on another matter entirely."

  "And what is that?" Augusta asked.

  "Did Emily happen to mention that I have found a man to fill the post Tuttleton left in his passing?"

  "No." Isabel folded her hands on her lap. "Harriet did."

  "She said," Augusta added, "he is handsome."

  Abigail winced.

  "Did he bring you here today, Abby?"

  "Yes. He's waiting outside."

  Without further ado, Augusta pushed off from the counter and moved to the clean glass pane that took up a good portion of the shop door.

  "Gus, come away from there!" Isabel whispered, as if the man beyond could hear.

  "He is not unattractive," Augusta mused aloud. She giggled softly. "Is it that his coat is too small or his shoulders are too big?"

  "Most of his clothes are a bit"-Abigail chose the word carefully-"snug."

  Augusta glanced back over her shoulder to clarify for the woman who could not bring herself to take a peek. "They are too short, much like Harriet's."

  Isabel pushed her specs up higher on her nose. "Perhaps he wears hand-me-downs also."

  "Perhaps," Abigail said.

  "But that is neither here nor there. What else was it you wanted our opinions on?"

  "Your butler?" Augusta was still gazing out the window.

  "Yes."

  "You do not like him?"

  Abigail felt her cheeks burn as she stared down at her gloved hands, which had gone tighter over her designs. "I kissed him."

  Isabel gasped at the same moment Augusta spun away from the door.