~Last one for tonight, then I'm done (zzz)~

Chapter Three

No person in good health should remain in bed after seven o’clock, or half-past seven, in the spring and summer; that may, in the present century, when the daughters of England are reproached with self-indulgence, be termed early rising.

~ The Habits of Good Society: A Handbook for Ladies and Gentlemen (The Last London Editor; 1860)

Vicky was going to murder her maid.

“Come on, miss,” the petite thing was saying sweetly, but with a definite note of command. She poked a finger into the huddled mass underneath several blankets. “Lady Colton and Lord Sinclair insist that you meet them downstairs for breakfast within the hour.”

Victoria grumbled inarticulately which was a good thing because the only words that came to mind were nothing pleasant to be uttered aloud.

“Miss Victoria, please,” the little maid, Bethany, implored. “They’ll not be too happy with me if I haven’t got you up yet.”

Blasted country hours, Vicky thought bitterly as she heavily threw the covers off her form and groggily lurched into an upright position. Her world tilted on its axis. When was the last time she got up at such indecent hours, she wondered? Her body was surely going to die. It was unnatural, getting up so early.

“Ugh.”

“There, now, miss. Was that so hard?” Bethany teased warmly earning a sleepy glower for her efforts.

The bathing and dressing process occurred in a dream-like state for Vicky. She numbly climbed into a morning-dress of soft yellow and only voiced protest when Bethany made a grab for the brush. After a brief and futile argument, the maid reluctant agreed to let Vicky do her own hair and departed with an uttered warning that she was expected down at breakfast in five minutes.

Utterly lazy and still feeling pangs of bitterness at her grandmother for bestowing her into this predicament, Vicky tossed the brush aside and hastily tied her hair to one side so that it fell over her one shoulder in a tangled mess. Honestly, it was all she could manage at this hour and it was so tangled and uncontrollable she feared she might burst into tears if she even attempted to straighten it out.

Gabriel, Henry and Delores were all at the breakfast table already, looking perky and awake which made Victoria even more annoyed than she should be. The last thing she wanted to do at this hour was make conversation. She knew she wasn’t capable of being polite. Even awake she wasn’t capable of it.

She dropped heavily into the nearest chair opposite Delores. “Coffee,” she croaked at a servant nearby.

“Absolutely not,” Delores piped up. “She’ll have tea.”

Vicky glowered at her before stating emphatically that she’ll have coffee. The other woman seemed to relent before Vicky settled back in her chair, cradling the cup between her fingers and sniffing the deliciously rich aroma welcomingly. God, she loathed mornings, especially early ones.

“Victoria is not a morning person,” Delores told Henry disapprovingly. “I don’t think she’s risen before noon since she was fourteen.”

Victoria made an inelegant sound and buried her nose in her coffee cup.

Gabriel stifled a small grin. “I rather enjoy the silence she provides this early,” he drawled.

It earned him a glare but no comment.

Really, he thought, she was quite fetching when she was quiet. She looked rumpled and sleepy and for some reason the thought that she had just crawled out of bed made him incredibly… hot. God, but she was pretty in that yellow gown, dishevelled hair swung over one shoulder and parting in a satiny sable curtain around one, full breast. Her long, tapered fingers entwined about that cup of coffee as if it were her sole giver of life. He’d never seen her like this before and… damn it all… but she was delicious in the morning.

“It is quite refreshing,” Delores agreed with him, smiling. “Let’s hope she doesn’t grow out of it too soon.”

“Does that mean,” she ground out hoarsely, “that I have more of these ungodly hours to look forward to?”

And then she opened her mouth. All thoughts suddenly evaporated about how lovely she was at this hour.

“Your deportment lessons occur every day at eight sharp,” Henry explained wryly. “You wouldn’t want to miss them, would you, my dear?”

Victoria eyed the fork next to her plate longingly, as if she’d quite like to jab the utensil into Henry Sinclair’s arm.

“Now, Henry, don’t frighten the girl,” Delores said as she heaped scrambled egg onto her plate.

“I doubt an ogre would be able to frighten that one,” Henry grunted.

Victoria yawned, a sound resembling a roar a disgruntled boar might make escaping her throat.

“Good God,” Henry breathed.

“Victoria!” Delores yelped. “You’ll shame us all!”

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed.

Victoria gave him a glare before turning to her grandmother. “You do realise that these deportment lessons are going to be futile?” she asked grumpily. “You’ve sent me to them before and look how that turned out. After all, you lead the horse to the water-”

“If you know how to behave then why the hell don’t you do it?” Henry snapped irately. “It’s not as if we’re asking the impossible, Victoria. Simple please, thank- you’s and, for God sake, sit up straight!”

Impervious to the older man’s wrath, Victoria shrugged a belligerent shoulder and raised her coffee cup to her mouth. “I don’t see the point,” she murmured.

“Don’t be obtuse,” Henry growled. “Explain yourself.”

“Henry, don’t,” Delores warned.

“No, Delores, I want to hear for myself why the girl refuses to behave with the rest of us. What makes her so damned important that she gets to act as she pleases?”

Gabriel had to admire Victoria’s calm but he suspected this had to do with years of being plagued with the same sentiments. Instead, she studied Henry with an impassively dark blue gaze before answering with deceptive coolness, “I merely fail to see what impact my behaving with the accordance of the rules that govern our rather small society will have on the rest of the world. I’d much rather be doing something worthy of my time, that I know will maybe help somebody else somewhere else, than simper and flirt in a ballroom.”

“And that’s why, I suppose, you wish to go to Africa?” Henry bit out.

Victoria nodded.

Gabriel covered a smile with the paper he was reading, secretly admiring her. The Victoria he had come to know he had labelled a spoilt, uncontrollable brat. However, he admired her words she spoke now with quiet sincerity, strong in her convictions. In her circles, it was rare to find a lady who had the same viewpoint on life. Indeed, her behaviour was scandalous but still. Gabriel was willing to excuse it all because he found her, simply, refreshing. Well, alright. Perhaps he wasn’t quite ready to excuse some of her traits, but it was a start. At least he was beginning to understand them.

“God help us all,” Henry muttered. Determinedly, he pointed a look at Victoria and said, rather firmly, “Could you at least, for these three weeks, just pretend that you cared about your family’s name and act accordingly? For just three weeks.”

For a moment, it seemed as if she was going to protest but then she seemed to slump in her chair resignedly. “From tomorrow, I shall try,” she sighed.

Satisfied with that answer, Henry resumed his eating. It was then that Gabriel felt quite bad for Victoria Colton for he had suddenly realised just how her life had panned out. To be constantly plagued, nagged, reprimanded for doing things that simply felt right to you must have left her even more rebellious, even more inclined to do otherwise than what she had been taught to.

“Perhaps,” Gabriel suddenly said, setting his newspaper to one side, “it seems only fair then that Victoria’s deportment classes begin tomorrow.”

Delores and Henry turned to him, wide-eyed. “I-I suppose,” Delores agreed slowly.

“But since I’ve already agreed to behave myself,” Victoria latched onto his opening with unsurpassed glee, “then do I really need to attend these lessons?”

Henry, however, was not impressed. “Once you prove to us that you don’t need them, we won’t send you to them,” he stated firmly as if he knew that she would be unable to control her wild demeanour.

But Victoria smiled and Gabriel’s stomach clenched. God, she was lovely when she smiled. Her eyes simply glowed and she became radiant, wonderful, simply breath-taking. Abruptly, he shoved his plate back and stood up. “Excuse me,” he muttered before exiting the room. 

Lord, what was the matter with him? Victoria… Vicky… His mind baulked at the thought of him wanting her, but his body was aflame with just that need. So sudden… where the deuce had it come from? A day ago he would never have thought of her in such vivid sexual ways but now, today, his body was taut with the need to be inside of her, to have her naked and writhing beneath him.

He groaned. This, he thought, was going to be the longest three weeks of his life. Best to find some silly little chit he could drag to the altar, produce a son with, and be done with it. Being within such close proximity to Victoria Colton was starting to look ominous to his well-being, indeed. The sooner he married someone, the better. He didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off Victoria long enough and where would that get him, then? Married to the woman, no doubt, and that thought cooled his ardour entirely. What was it about Victoria that made him balk at the notion of marrying her? Her behaviour? Possibly not as he had just found he admired her rather than loathed her. God, what a mess. He had previously found it quite easy to avoid the girl altogether, preferring his bachelor residence in London where he would only infrequently see the rest of his odd-matched family. From a safe distance, it had been easy to detest Victoria’s behaviour and pay as little attention as possible to her. Now, forced under the same roof for an extended period of time… damn, damn, damn!

Victoria watched Gabriel beat a hasty exit, a confused frown wrinkling her brow. He seemed perfectly amiable a mere two minutes ago. In fact, she could have sworn that he was actually on her side. She had actually felt slightly closer to him than she had ever done so before and it was… unsettling, that. They had an understanding between them, silent, but there nonetheless- they agreed to simply hate each other. 

It was strange that now they were presenting such a strong united front when forces were against them. They both didn’t want to get married, that much was certain, and this knowledge was obviously drawing them together. But, darn it all, she didn’t want to see Gabriel Sinclair as someone nice.

She supposed they had one common goal uniting them- the desire not to marry. Usually people became close for a lot less. It would probably be in their best interests if they aligned against their two guardians- and then it struck her.

“Victoria, aren’t you going to eat anything?” Delores enquired mildly, eyeing the empty plate in front of her granddaughter.

Unconsciously, Vicky had been batting away the servants’ attempts to spoon copious amounts of food onto her plate. “It’s too early to eat,” she grumbled distractedly as she finished the last dregs of her coffee. “May I please be excused?”

Not waiting to hear a response, Victoria scooted backwards and went in search of Gabriel.

Several minutes later, having checked all drawing rooms, his private study and library, she found him in his room. Knocking quickly, she entered- unthinkingly- and immediately ground to a halt on the threshold.

Curse the impetuous streak of her nature than conquered the urge to think before acting!

Belatedly, she realised that she should have waited for him in his study and sent a servant up to fetch him.

Fully dressed, Gabriel Sinclair was a devastating sight to behold. Shirtless, he was beautiful- a prime example of perfect masculinity and virility. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out her chest as she studied his broad back, rippling with defined muscles as he splashed water on his neck, face, shoulders and hair.  His tan trousers rode low on his narrowly tapered hips and there were two dimples on his lower back. Why, oh God, why did she find that so appealing?

Horrified, she uttered a strangled, “Oh, my God.”

He turned around.

And froze.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted, although what exactly she was sorry about she wasn’t yet sure.

His green eyes widened inexplicably before anger flashed through them. His jaw tightened as he grabbed a white towel from the washstand. “What are you doing here, Victoria?” he snapped as he dried his face and rubbed the towel through his hair.

Dishevelled and topless, Gabriel should be made illegal. Her knees began to quake as liquid, melting heat began to pool in a place she’d like not to think about.

“I wanted to speak to you,” she squawked, then cleared her throat. Bracing a hand on the frame of the door to steady herself, she tried to keep her eyes on his face and just his face but, Lord, it was hard. “I realise now I should have waited.”

Her eyes dipped to his broad, wonderfully muscled shoulders. Then shot quickly back up to his which were eyeing her with barely concealed annoyance.

“Yes, you should’ve,” he growled, tossing the towel to one side.

Her eyes dipped to his firmly muscled chest, sliding back up his strong arms to his face. Did the man even realise how perfect he was? Every woman on the planet would probably commit murder to have those thickly corded arms around her.

Roughly, Gabriel grabbed a white shirt from a chest of drawers and threw it over his shoulders. A deep sense of loss enveloped Victoria and she briefly considered the cause of it, then quickly put it from her mind. God, she was acting like a wanton hussy. He was just a man, an unkind man, who had a body that could incite sin. That’s all… he certainly did not appeal to her. If it were any other man in the same situation, any other well-formed man, she was sure she would have the same bone-melting reaction to him. It was merely the universal attraction to a prime specimen of the opposite sex that all women had that Vicky felt. That’s all…

He stalked towards her, the sway of his shoulders slightly mesmerizing as was the intent in his startling green eyes, before he grabbed her arm and yanked her inside his chamber before slamming the door closed behind her. “Do you realise,” he bit out, “the implications if anybody happened to see you here?”

She swallowed- loudly. “I realise now that I was quite silly-”

“Stupid and idiotic barely begin to explain your actions,” he growled, running a hand through his damp hair.

Being wet as it was, it looked almost as black as hers. It was also quite a mess, which made him look endearing. Longer than what fashion dictated, his hair curled enticingly over his brows and eyes, coiling about his neck and shoulders in a manner that made her fingers itch to touch it.

“I’ve said I’m sorry,” she growled, angry at herself for finding him so bloody irresistible. Churlishly, she crossed her arms under her breasts and began to tap her foot. His room, she noted, was quite grand in a masculine sort of way. It was much bigger than her own and lacked all the feminine frills and floral patterns. His bed was the main feature, of course, covered in a dark coverlet of deep green. Bloody well matched his eyes, she thought sourly.

“You can let me out or you can hear me out,” she pointed out.

Gabriel grunted, his body still seething with anger at seeing her here, in his room. It was enough to get his blood pounding- with passion, desire, need, want, lust. God damn her for this! Wasn’t it enough that she had inspired such urges in him that only a good dousing of cold water could dispel the queer desires of his body? To have her here, unannounced and uninvited, looking too damn alluring with her hair in that unkempt, wild fashion, her perfectly full lips pursed with frustration, the slant of her nose lifted imperiously higher than normal. His eyes traversed the stubbornness of her chin, the fine and strong lines of her jaw, down the side of her long neck- was that a beauty spot? He swallowed a low growl of appreciation, a sudden urge to kiss just that point almost becoming irresistible.

“What do you want, Victoria?” he ground out.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He glanced down at the floor. Her slipper, ironically dainty, beat a staccato against his floor. A curious action from her. Either it meant that she was irritated or nervous. How intriguing- were she nervous, that is.

“Well, I see now that having a discussion with you here might not-”

“Speak!” he barked.

His tone would usually warrant the receiver an immediate action of acquiescence. In this woman, however, all it aroused was pugnaciousness. She raised a haughty, gracefully winged brow at him, her cobalt eyes flashing with menace, before notching her nose in the air a bit higher and nearly spat at him, “With that tone, I don’t think I shall.”

“You just have,” he snapped impatiently.

“I won’t any longer, then.”

“Victoria,” he warned icily.

She huffed a sigh before unfolding her arms. “Alright, then,” she bit out sarcastically, rolling her lovely, large eyes, “since you asked so nicely-”

His control snapping like a brittle twig, Gabriel planted his palms on the door behind her, caging her between his body and the wood of her only exit. He shouldn’t, oh he knew he shouldn’t do this, but she provoked the worse in him. Truly, she did. “I will give you exactly two minutes to state your business before I ravish you,” he murmured in a dangerously husky voice.

Her eyes widened in shock, her delicious lips parted in surprise. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gabriel,” she breathed, or whimpered. He couldn’t be sure.

“I mean it,” he stated firmly, eyes hooded as he gazed at her lips and wondered if she tasted as good as she smelt. Lavender and something else. Something exotic and spicy applied to skin in lotion form- cinnamon? Not usually associated with a feminine scent but on her… mmm. God, he ate things that smelt this good. “I’ve wanted to undress you ever since I saw you at breakfast.”

She swallowed. “You hate me,” she said but there was little conviction in her voice. Rather she sounded out of breath and rattled. Good.

“I don’t hate you. Even if I did, it doesn’t mean I can’t want you.”

“Gabriel, this is insane-”

“I like the way my name sounds on your lips.”

Her eyes, so wide and so beautiful, grew dark and something he hadn’t noticed in them before came to the fore. She was so expressive with her emotions it was like reading an open book. He could feel her uneasiness, her wariness at his behaviour but also… desire? A need matching his own. He nearly groaned.

“You’re being impossible,” she said shakily. “Maybe I should go and come back later. It can always wait.”

“Your two minutes are nearly up,” he reminded with a wicked grin.

She stared at his mouth as if it were a strange insect she hadn’t seen before but the reminder served to jolt her out of the reverie to cast him a half-hearted glower. “I have a plan,” she began to explain, “about how we could maybe buy us some time with this whole absurd marriage thing.”

“Really?” he drawled distractedly, his eyes dropping to the creamy expanse of ample cleavage left exposed by her gown despite it being a morning dress. Surely, if he recalled, a woman should never be quite so exposed during the earlier hours of the day? If that were so, then she was clearly not an adequate fit for current fashion. Really, she was much too well-endowed for these gowns. Either he should thank her modiste or insist on something better fitting.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she murmured breathlessly. “You see, I thought that maybe if we said we’d agree to marry each other, our engagement would buy us some time-”

His head snapped up. “What?” Those words had more effect on his ardour than the cold water he had been intending to soak his head in moments before she stuck her little nose into his private chambers.

Much to his irate sensibilities, her blush was most becoming.

“Well, I know that it might not work,” Vicky explained quickly, “but at least it might buy us more time were we to pretend that we intended to get married.”

Gabriel blinked at her. Did the woman understand what she was saying? Was she aware of the violent physical reaction his body was having to her nearness?

“You’re mad,” he stated gruffly.

Her eyes brimmed with uneasiness, their shifting hue tantalizingly adorable. Adorable? Not an adjective he would have normally associated with Victoria Colton. Exotically beautiful, maybe… but adorable? Now she was wrinkling her pert nose at him. Damn it. “It could work, you know,” she pointed out. “I know we’d have to put up a good front, which might be difficult considering our past, but-”

“Victoria, just shut up,” he ground out.

She pursed her lips in anger, staring up at him with those wondrous eyes of her flashing. “You haven’t even heard me out.”

“It’s quite obvious what you intend to gain by this idiotic scheme,” he snapped. “A few more weeks to buy you time so that your inheritance will come in and you can quickly hop on board the next ship to Africa.”

Instead of contradicting him, she shrugged. Shrugged!

“It’s idiotic, that’s what it is!”

She raised a brow. “The fake engagement or Africa?”

“Both!” he snarled. Realising how close he was to her, he thrust himself off the door and away from her, stalking to the other side of the room where a large window looked out over the manicured lawns. “I’ll not be part of it, Victoria. I’ll not condone your scheme or your intentions on Africa.”

“Why?” she demanded.

He gave her a dark look and seeing her braced against the door, eyes flashing and brows drawn down in a frown, her sable hair curling around one breast, he almost forgot what he was going to say to her.

“It’s idiotic,” he drawled. “It’s foolish and despite what you may think I cannot condone your intentions on Africa. It’s no place for a woman by herself, no matter what kind of hellcat she may be.”

She stalked towards him, anger in her steps, and she stopped until she was within an inch from him. The sparks in her magnificent eyes matched his anger and his desire for her. She shouldn’t be so close to him. He could smell her. It was unsettling.

“Are you honestly telling me you intend to endure the next three weeks of brainless, simpering debutantes swooning at your feet?” she demanded furiously.

“No.” He thought she was marvellous when she was angry. He made a mental note to endeavour to keep her in that anguished state for as long as possible just so he could enjoy looking at her. “I pick one at the ball tomorrow evening, propose and be done with it.”

She frowned at that, stiffening slightly with affront. “That seems a bit… callous,” she mumbled hollowly and Gabriel felt a pang of guilt, of… something… whatever was being stirred by the disappointment he saw in her eyes.

“Were you going to go about it any differently?” he asked angrily. “You know as well as I that the only way you could get what you wanted from the arrangement was to use somebody.”

She looked away but not before he saw the guilty blush that stained her cheeks. “You make it sound so horrible,” she mumbled. “If I thought of it before, I’m certainly not thinking it now.”

“No, because you intend on using me,” he said bitterly.

She glanced at him, eyes contrite and sincere. He longed to wrap his arms around her. What was the matter with him?

“I thought we’d both benefit. We’d be using each other. Clearly, I didn’t think this through.”

She sounded so bereft, so utterly forlorn and hopeless, Gabriel felt his anger diminish. After all, she had thought that she would be helping him, too. He sighed raggedly. “Victoria, you thought the situation hopeless but it needn’t be.” She was still frowning, but her eyes were liquid and sooty, enticing him to lean closer to peer deeper into their depths. Almost tenderly, he tipped her stubborn little chin up to his face but forced himself to stop just as he found himself leaning towards her. “You’re young, very beautiful and quite clever when you want to be. Some man will come along and you’ll find him pleasant enough to marry.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Gabriel,” she croaked incredulously, “are you complimenting me?”

He grinned. “I believe I am.”

She leaned towards him, imperceptibly but he felt the motion nonetheless. Her scent surrounded him, fulfilling him and stirring him with intense yearnings of desire. What a pretty picture they presented, framed against the large window, sunlight streaming in, their silhouettes close together, lips inches apart.

God, the window. Anybody who chanced to look up would see them and that would be the end of it all. He would have to marry her, then, and although he found her quite enchanting in this moment, in this setting, he thought he wouldn’t feel quite the same way when she would try to jump ship after their marriage in an attempt to change continents.

He abruptly pulled away from her, taking a step back. “Get out,” he told her raggedly, noting the confused and hurt look crossing her face, “before I change my mind and rip that gown off your body.”

Her eyes widened before she stiffened indignantly. Obviously the space he’d given them let her gain the equilibrium she had needed to return to her own, waspish self. “As if I’d let you,” she retorted haughtily before sashaying out of his bedroom.

He let out a haggard breath before reaching for the basin of cold water.

****

Victoria Colton was not a graceful person. Elegance and poise did not come naturally to her. Which was why when she came to dinner that evening looking like she had just fallen down the stairs, she had. And it was why she accidentally dipped her elbow in her soup or dropped a fork-full of saucy food in her lap.

For the most part, her behaviour had taken a turn for the worse which negated away from the eye-catching traits of her clumsiness. But when she focused on not being clumsy was usually when she was her clumsiest, hence the disastrous dinner.

Of course they were all accidents but Henry and Delores did not see it that way. Which made Vicky sigh because, really, if they didn’t believe her, then who would? She was a disastrous klutz, an utter failure in all things graceful, and it made her feel miserable.

There was always one piece of furniture in a room that she would walk into and bruise her shin on, there was always one doorframe she would thump a shoulder into and always that one step she would miss. It wasn’t intentional and thank God her insurgent behaviour in the past had stopped people from noticing her follies. But now that she was actually trying to be on her best… God. What a disaster she would turn out to be. No one would marry her when she was bad. No one was going to marry her when she was good, either.

She sighed miserably as she climbed into bed, her gown tangled about her calves and pulling tight. She ignored it, tugged her feet down, and felt the sheer material rip up the side. Fantastic. Even her clothes were mocking her.

It took a long time for her to sleep that night. Firstly, she was unused to retiring at such an early hour. Secondly, the scenario with Gabriel earlier was replaying itself in her mind, especially the parts where he was topless and calling her beautiful. She even fantasized that he were doing both at the same time. And thirdly, how utterly despondent she was becoming because she was sure that she would never, actually, get to see Africa in her lifetime.

For what husband in their right mind would allow their wife to cross an ocean and spend time on the Dark Continent?

And that was the truth of it. She would never be able to cross the oceans and live her dream if she were to marry and despite her somewhat selfish attitude towards her own life, she didn’t think she’d have the heart to cuckold the man she married.

Miserable, defeated and hopelessly bereft, Vicky only fell asleep just as dawn began to lick the sky.