Ravished

"You are a very rare creature, my dear." His eyes gleamed. "Very rare, indeed."

"That is quite untrue, my lord. I am a perfectly ordinary female who now happens to be your wife. Gideon, I do not want to be an exhibition any longer. Have you not proven whatever it is you feel you must prove to Society?"

"Whatever your sister says, I did not send you to the theater tonight in order to exhibit you, Harriet."

"Are you quite certain of that, my lord?" she asked softly.

"Bloody hell. Of course I am certain. What a ridiculous question. I thought you would enjoy being with your family and I thought you would enjoy the theater. That is all there was to it."

"Very well," Harriet said, "the next time you suggest I go someplace I do not particularly wish to go, I will feel quite free to refuse."

He gave her an annoyed look. "Harriet, you are a married woman now. You will do as you are bid."

"Ah-hah. Then you intend to order me to go to places I do not wish to go?"

"Harriet—"

"If you do start giving me such orders, then I must conclude that you have some other motive than pleasing me in mind," Harriet said. "Thus far the only motive I can come up with is your desire to exhibit me."

"I am not exhibiting you." Gideon downed the brandy with an irritated expression.

"Then let us go back to Upper Biddleton," Harriet said quickly. "Neither of us is particularly fond of Town life. Let us go home."

"Are you so eager to get back to your fossils, then?"

"Naturally I am eager to get back to them. You know how concerned I am about someone else finding the other bones that go with my tooth. And as you are not enjoying Society any more than I am, I see no reason why we should not go back to Upper Biddleton."

"You and your bloody damn fossils," he growled. "Is that all you can think about?"

Harriet suddenly realized that he was no longer merely annoyed. Gideon was growing angry. "You know better than that, my lord."

"Is that so? Tell me, my dear, where do I rank in relation to your fossils? Other husbands have to worry about competition from men such as Morland. My fate is to find myself competing with a bunch of old bones and teeth."

"Gideon, this is turning into an idiotic argument. I do not understand you tonight, my lord."

Gideon swore softly. "I am not certain I understand myself tonight. I am not in the best of moods, Harriet. Perhaps you had better go to bed."

Harriet went toward him. She put her hand on his arm and looked up into his hard face. "What is wrong, Gideon?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"Do not fob me off like that. I know something has happened to turn you surly like this."

"According to you I am naturally surly."

"Not all the time," she retorted. "Tell me what has annoyed you, Gideon. Was it the fact that Mr. Morland came by our box at the theater?"

Gideon moved away from her. He went over to where the brandy sat on the small end table and poured himself another glass. "I will deal with Morland."

"Gideon. " Harriet was shocked. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying I will deal with him."

"St. Justin, you listen to me," Harriet snapped. "Do not dare contemplate the notion of trying to provoke Mr. Morland into a duel. Not for one single moment. Do you understand me? I will not have it."

"You are that enamored of him, then?" he drawled.

"For heaven's sake, Gideon, you know that is not true. What is wrong with you tonight?"

"I told you, it might be best if you take yourself off to bed, madam."

"I will not be sent off to bed like an errant child while you storm about in here like a great… a great…"

"Beast?"

"No, not like a beast," Harriet yelled. "Like a temperamental, difficult, insensitive husband who does not trust his wife."

That stopped him. Gideon stared at her. "I trust you, Harriet."

She read that simple truth in his eyes and a part of her that had been very cold grew much warmer. "Well," she mumbled, "you are most certainly not acting like it."

His tawny eyes were almost gold in the firelight. "There is no one else on the face of this earth whom I trust as completely as I trust you. Do not ever forget that."

Harriet felt a giddy rush of happiness. "Do you mean that?"

"I never say anything I do not mean."

"Oh, Gideon, that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me." She rushed across the room and threw herself into his arms.

"My God, how could you think I did not trust you?" He put down his brandy glass and wrapped her close. "Never doubt it, my sweet."

"If you trust me," she whispered against his chest, "why are you concerned with Mr. Morland?"

"He is dangerous," Gideon said simply.

"How do you know that?"

"I know him well. He used to call himself my friend. We had, after all, spent a portion of our childhood together. His family lived near Blackthorne Hall for some years while we were growing up. They eventually moved away. I met Morland again in London when I came down from university. He still called himself my friend, even after he slashed my face open with a fencing blade."

Harriet went still. She raised her head, eyes widening. She touched his scarred cheek with gentle fingers. "Morland did this to you?"

"It was an accident. Or so he claimed at the time. We were both much younger then. Mayhap a bit wild. In any event, we had too much wine one night and Morland challenged me to a fencing match. I accepted."

"Dear heaven," Harriet breathed.

"We did not have masks to protect our faces, but there were protective tips on the ends of the blades. Several of our friends cleared a space on the floor and took bets. The agreement was that the first one who got through the other's guard was the winner."

"What happened?"

Gideon shrugged. "It was all over in a few short minutes. Morland was not a particularly good fencer. I won, knocking his blade aside. Then I stepped back and lowered my guard. But he picked up his rapier and lunged forward suddenly without warning. The protective tip on the point of the sword had somehow come off and the blade sliced open my jaw."

"Gideon. He could have killed you."

"Yes. I have often wondered if that was his intention. There was something in his eyes during those few seconds. I saw it when he came at me. He hated me in that instant, but I do not know why."

"How did he explain lunging at you after he had lost?"

"He claimed later that he had not realized I had been judged the winner. He assumed the match was not yet ended, that I was retreating."

"And the fact that his blade was unprotected? How did he account for that?"

"An accident." Gideon shrugged. "In the heat of the match, he had not realized the protective device had fallen off. It was a logical explanation, as it happens all the time."

"What did you do?"

Gideon was quiet for a moment. "I saw the fury in his eyes and I reacted instinctively. I fought back as if the match had suddenly become a real one. Morland was so startled, he lost his balance and fell to the floor. I dropped my blade and picked up his. I held the bare point to his throat. He started screaming that it had all been an accident."

"And you believed him?"

"What other explanation was there? We had both had too much wine. I told myself it had to have been an accident. Morland was my friend. But I could never forget the look in his eyes when he had lunged at me."

"You remained friends?"

"After a fashion. He apologized later and I accepted the apology. I told myself it was over. I knew I would be scarred for life, but I also knew it was my own fault for agreeing to the stupid challenge in the first place."

"He claims he is the only one who stood by you when you were accused of abandoning Deirdre."

Gideon smiled his humorless smile. "And so he was. But as he had been the one who seduced her and got her with child in the first place, and as he was married at the time, he probably assumed it would be in his favor to pose as my friend. It made him appear completely innocent."