Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) Page 2

She grinned, clearly savoring every minute of his confusion. “I shall give you one more clue. Your skills with a pistol far outweighed mine; however, I bested you at archery.”

  Through the side of her mouth, she asked in a hushed tone, “Have you improved at archery since then, Your Grace?”

  “It can’t be.” His eyes widened. “Little Gwen MacAlistair?”

  She laughed. “Yes, well, ‘little Gwen MacAlistair’ is much taller now.”

  Gwen was much more of many things, but he snapped himself back from such impure thoughts before shaking his head in surrender. “You brat! You played some trick on me, didn’t you?”

  “I thought it only fitting, Your Grace, after the many years of abuse I sustained from you and my eldest brother.” Gwen winked at him as she emphasized his title.

  “Call me Sebastian. You always did.”

  She nodded in acceptance. “How are you, Sebastian and how is your sister?”

  “Victoria is well and has blossomed into a exquisite young lady,” Sebastian replied, proud of his sister.

  “Sebastian,” Gwen’s expression softened. “I was so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. We’ve been residing at our estate in Scotland and I’m afraid I heard news of the late Duchess’ death only after we returned to England, not quite two days ago. Please accept my deepest condolences. Your mother was a remarkable woman.”

  “Thank you, Gwen.” The pain from his mother’s passing was sharp as a blade, even after all this time.

  As if sensing his grief, she leaned toward him. “You never answered my question. Have you improved at archery?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he said in a dire tone. “And you? Have your skills with a pistol improved? The last time I saw you aim one, you nearly shot me in the shoulder.”

  Gwen gaped at him. “I did no such thing. That’s ludicrous.”

  “Ahem.” Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest to make a statement. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

  She narrowed her gaze, “Forgotten what?”

  “Allow me to restore your memory. I recall you, a pistol, and a ricochet bullet.”

  Gwen snapped her hand over her mouth then lowered it slowly. “I had forgotten about that incident.”

  “Have you shot anyone since then?” He arched his brow, his manner teasing. Sebastian enjoyed having the upper hand.

  “Of course not.” Her smile widened, “I gave up the sport for the health and safety of my brothers’ friends.”

  Sebastian howled with laughter, an uncommon sound for most of polite society. He then asked, “How are your brothers?”

  “Tristan is wonderful and should be attending this evening, in fact. He’s an attorney if you can believe it!” Gwen wrinkled her brow. “Colin, on the other hand, is currently traveling abroad. I’m sad to say I haven’t heard from him in a long time.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  She shook her head, as if tossing aside such unhappy thoughts. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sebastian. I detested hunting.”

  “You didn’t like to hunt?” He feigned indignation.

  “It’s true.” Gwen nodded. “I always felt sorry for the poor creatures. I realized after much deliberation that I only followed you and Colin on those outings to prove that a girl could do anything her eldest brother could.”

  He straightened. “I’m shocked. Why, between all the noise you made traipsing through the woods in order to scare the animals, and all the attempts you made at drawing our attention from our targets, I could have sworn you adored the sport.”

  Gwen smiled again and so did he. Sebastian couldn’t remember being so unreserved with anyone other than his mother, sister, and two members of their extended family – his closest friend Alexander Morley and longtime friend of his mother, the Viscountess Fiona Weston.

  In truth, Sebastian refused to trust anyone outside that small circle. He did so for the same reason he avoided love at all cost. His first memory as a child was of his father hitting his mother. For years, Sebastian watched his father abuse the dear woman until the day that Sebastian was old enough to protect her.

  Although he was still quite small and lacking in strength, he did not lack conviction. Grabbing a fireplace poker, he struck his father’s knees with as much force as his small frame could muster, threatening to stab him through the heart if he ever laid another hand on his mother. He had expected to feel his father’s wrath; however, the man appeared to be proud of him. Violence seemed to be all that his father admired. The revelation had sickened Sebastian at the time. It still did.

  On that day, the future Duke of Davenport vowed never to fall in love, certain the emotion led to heartache and humiliation. He also decided never to trust for much the same reason.

  Gwen shifted and Sebastian suspected she was about to excuse herself. Although he knew not why, he didn’t want their encounter to end.

  “Can I get you a glass of champagne?” he offered.

  She shook her head as she rose, tugging her gloves back on. “No, thank you. I must return to my father.”

  “It was delightful bumping into you, Miss MacAlistair,” He rose, offering her a mischievous grin.

  Her reply was sweet laughter, tinkling through the night air.

  He kissed the back of her hand. “Will you save a dance for me this evening?” Sebastian asked, straightening.

  “I’d like that.”

  She turned, walking away from him as he stood mesmerized by the woman swathed in a cloud of white fabric as she proceeded towards the ballroom, while an unknown emotion tugged at Sebastian’s heart.

  Was it disappointment?

  He had always acquired anything he wanted, with the one notable exception being the passing of his mother. What he desired most on this particular evening was to spend more time with Gwendolyn MacAlistair.

  His attraction to her astonished him. Temptation had nothing to do with it, or did it? Her family had been friends of his until they’d moved to the Highlands. Wasn’t he simply rekindling an old acquaintance?

  Sebastian’s heart pounded within his chest. He didn’t remember when he had last noticed it. Tonight, something inside of him had awakened. Of that he was certain.

  His gaze continued to find Gwen in the ballroom. He watched as a good-looking gentleman walked up to her and kissed her hand. The sight made him irritable. He then cheered in silence as the man withdrew before steering toward another eligible woman. It was obvious that Gwen declined the man’s invitation to dance and it thrilled Sebastian.

  Gwendolyn’s father whispered in her ear, and they left their small group. Sebastian excused himself from the throng of women surrounding him, including an intrigued younger sister whose eyes had widened, and headed toward the pair.

  He gnashed his teeth in frustration as several acquaintances waylaid him. After attempting unsuccessfully to break free from one of his mother’s plump friends, he groaned in defeat as Gwen and her father proceeded toward the exit.

  She had left without sharing a dance with him. Why did he feel as if he had been horsewhipped? There were many women with whom he could dance. Hell, he’d just left a group of them.

  But Sebastian only wished to dance with one.

  His mood remained sour for the rest of the evening.

  Gwendolyn leaned against the squibs of her father’s coach, well aware of the lines of concern etched in her forehead for she now suffered from a throbbing tension headache. “Are you sure you’re feeling well, Papa? Was the ball too much for you?”

  “Gwen, stop fussing!” Lachlan scolded her, straightening the pleats of his trousers before adding, “Please worry not. Being out amongst old friends tired me; that’s all. As you are well aware, my old body is not what it used to be.”

  Gwen didn’t know how to respond as sorrow washed over her in a rush. She let him be, choosing instead to stare out the carriage window, a lone tear tracing a path down her cheek.

  Wiping it away with her gloved hand, she tried to pu
sh aside all of her sadness by concentrating on one happy memory from this evening’s events. In immediate response, a vision of Sebastian filled her mind causing her heart to leap with excitement. He looked dashing and for the first time in her life, she understood the full force of what fluttering feelings an attractive man could cause within a young lady’s heart.

  During the brief time she’d spent with him, she had felt carefree. It was an emotion Gwen hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She needed that respite more than she ever imagined.

  Gwen glanced at her father. Until tonight, she hadn’t realized what tiring work it was to spend every waking hour trying to please him, struggling to gain his acceptance and his love.

  As she listened to the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, she sank further in her seat and stared out the carriage window, still fighting the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to overtake her.

  Turning again, she studied her father’s profile. For so many years, she’d excused his callous behavior, believing it was from grief over his wife’s death. But, what if her brothers had been correct in their assessments about their father?

  For the first time in her life, Gwen suspected that her father was keeping something from her. Had he truly already chosen her suitor as she feared?

  A chill crept through her, causing Gwen to clutch her cape tighter. She sensed a storm brewing, one from which she couldn’t hide. If her brothers were correct about their father …

  She shuddered at the possibility, convinced that it would destroy them.

  Dear God, please protect my fragile family.

  Gwen awoke from a restless night shortly after sunrise. Without hesitation, she donned her black riding breeches and crisp shirt then pulled her hair back with an ivory, satin ribbon.

  Bright sunshine streamed through the windows of the morning room where she found her twin brother, who had arrived around midnight.

  “Good morning,” she spoke in a singsong voice before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Did I tell you last night how much I’ve missed you? It is quite boring without you.”

  Tristan placed his newspaper upon the table. “I missed you too, Gwen.”

  “It’s a perfect day for riding.” She squeezed his broad shoulders then reached for the newspaper he had just discarded, skimming the front page.

  Her twin viewed her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night. Are you certain that you’re up for our ride?”

  “Me, too tired to ride? Absolutely not.” She folded the newspaper and placed it on the table before straightening her shoulders, her expression one of self-confidence. “Perhaps you are afraid that I’ll best you?”

  “Me, afraid?” he mocked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, “Absolutely not.”

  Gwen gave her brother an impish smile. “Good. Then I’ll race you.”

  She dashed into the hallway, sprinting out of the house toward the stables, well aware that she had caught Tristan off guard and now possessed an undue advantage.

  “That’s not fair,” her brother called out from behind her.

  By the time Tristan finally exited the house, Gwen was well ahead of him. Despite his longer legs, he arrived last at the stables.

  She leaned against the structure, waiting for him with her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot. “What took you so long?”

  Tristan fought to fill his lungs with the fresh morning air. “I’ll have you know, that was not fair.”

  “So you said though I beg to differ,” Gwen replied with a devilish smile. “We can race again, if you’d like – settle this dispute once and for all. Are you up for it?”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Her brother bent over, his arms resting on his hips, still recovering. “I’ll race you some other time. Something tells me I must train beforehand.”

  She giggled. “Come along old man, Rory is preparing the horses. That will give you few minutes to catch your breath.”

  “You really are a scamp, do you know that?” Tristan reached over and yanked the ribbon out of his sister’s hair, dangling it just above her reach.

  “Give that back,” She stretched in an attempt to grab the ribbon and failed.

  “This? You mean to say you can’t reach it?”

  Though she and her brother were twins, they remained distinct in many ways. Of course there were differences in the law, a man’s rights versus a woman’s lack thereof. Then there were the physical traits, such as the fact that her eyes were a golden brown while his were a rich mahogany. Another such trait was that Tristan measured six-foot and towered over his sister. Recognizing defeat when she saw it, Gwen stood in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Tristan,” she teased. “It has just dawned on me where I learned my wicked ways.”

  Her brother clucked his tongue, “Touché.” He then rumpled her hair before handing her the piece of ribbon.

  Their horses seemed to be as eager as brother and sister were to go riding on this particular morning. It truly was a beautiful day. Fluffy white clouds accentuated the vast bright blue sky as chirping birds soared, exercising their independence.

  Gwen raced her brother to a hill that overlooked their family estate by using the same route they had taken as children. When they reached the top, they skillfully dismounted their horses before Tristan tied their reins around the centuries-old trunk of a leafy tree.

  “Remember what we used to call this spot when we were younger?” he quizzed.

  “Hidden Hill.” She grinned, kicking a fallen leaf with her boot. This had been their secret place, their refuge while in England. Unfortunately, they had no such escape in Scotland.

  A horse whinnied, drawing Gwen’s attention away from her leaf. She watched as the magnificent animal bent his head before gnawing on the lush grass that blanketed the earth.

  Tristan’s tone turned boastful. “Father never knew this is where we spent our days.”

  Gwen surveyed the grounds before them. Although familiar, it appeared much different through adult eyes. Their lives had changed so much since departing England.

  Too much.

  She knelt then plucked a long blade of grass before shredding it with her fingernails.

  “Are you all right?” Tristan asked, his dark brows furrowing in concern.

  Gwen took great pains to sound cheerful. “I’m fine.”

  “I know you better than that. You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

  “Is that your veiled attempt at insinuating that I look dreadful?” Gwen did her best to appear affronted. “Some gentleman you are!”

  Her brother shook his head. “You know me well enough to know that I am not deterred by an offhanded remark and lest you forget, I know you well enough to detect that something is indeed wrong.”

  She squinted in the bright sunlight, her gaze spanning the thick, verdant lawns before them. “It’s being here, I suppose. This is where we spent so many happy years with Mama and Colin. I miss them more when I’m here.”

  He studied her while Gwen intentionally avoided his gaze.

  “There’s something else.” Tristan sat beside her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Gwen focused her attention on a butterfly with glorious yellow and black wings resting on a wildflower. It was a deliberate attempt to delay her inevitable confession since she knew precisely how Tristan would react to her news.

  It was her brother’s turn to tap his foot, his impatience mounting with every moment of silence.

  “As you know, Papa has been weak. He admitted to his impending death yesterday,” she admitted at last.

  Tristan’s tone hardened. “You can’t listen to a thing that man says, Gwen. You know he doesn’t say or do anything without an ulterior motive.”

  “I know no such thing.” Her tone was patient, as if she were speaking to a child. She couldn’t share her doubts with Tristan. Not yet. Not without a shred of proof.

  “For hea
ven’s sake, Gwen, when will you open your eyes?”

  An aggravated sigh escaped her lips. “Papa knew how you’d react. This is precisely why he doesn’t want me discussing this with you.”

  “Discussing what?” he demanded.

  Gwen steeled herself for yet another argument. “Father told me yesterday that it is his dying wish to see me wed.”

  “I knew it!” Tristan’s mahogany eyes flashed with rage.

  “It’s not his fault that his health is deteriorating, Tristan.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Papa can’t help being ill.”

  Tristan took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Is there someone in your life I’m not aware of?”

  Gwen gaped at him, feeling as though she’d been boxed in the ears.

  “Are you being courted, Gwen?” he insisted, his tone impatient.

  “Of course not,” Gwen shook her head vehemently. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Why do you find that notion so inconceivable?” Tristan stared at her with great intensity.

  She shredded another blade of grass, taking out her mounting discomfort on the lush lawn. “The best reason may be that no man has ever shown interest in me.”

  “Did we attend the same ball last night?”

  Gwen knew from her brother’s forceful tone that he wasn’t waiting for an answer, so she remained silent. He did not disappoint.

  “When I arrived at the Stocktons’ ball, I was greeted by at least a half a dozen eligible bachelors asking about you.”

  “They were curious.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Many haven’t seen me in ages and most have never met me. That always invites interest. It’s fleeting.”

  “Dearest sister, you have much to learn about my gender.” He leaned back against the thick tree trunk as if his knowledge was vast. “How many offers to dance did you receive last night?”

  Gwen paused in the process of mutilating another piece of grass while she pondered her brother’s question. She turned down most of her offers, except for Sebastian’s. Her heart sank as she was reminded of what she missed with him.

  Remembering that her brother wanted an answer, she fibbed. “Not many.”