Far Beyond Scandalous Read online

  The first wave of pleasure began slow, building gradually inside of Amy, but before she knew it, she was rushing headlong into oblivion, a feeling of need spiraling out from the very center of her. Her body contracted hard and fast around Gibson's cock, and from someplace inside of her that she had never known existed, she came in a rush, her body rising up to meet his thrust for thrust.

  He was right behind her, spilling his seed into her body, never thinking about pulling out. As a doctor he knew the consequences of what he was doing, knew that it was a risk. He could get her with child. As a man, he decided to take a chance and let fate decide. He loved her. In the end, that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Society Tales

  The sinfully handsome and exceedingly swoon-worthy "Viscount of Mystery" has returned to London and is causing a stir already! Lord M.C., the aforementioned Viscount B., has returned from Bath and is setting the ladies' hearts aflutter mere hours after his arrival. No matter their marital status! It also appears that, contrary to rumors, the viscount's vision has not been completely lost, which, I'm certain is a boon to all women everywhere. For how could he pick his ladylove - which he is certain to do now that he has returned to society - if he cannot see her? While this author knows it is possible, she also knows that it is better to see with one's own eyes - and heart - than to be surprised by what one cannot see.

  As for the supposed scandal brewing around Lady A., the viscount's sister, well, I can only say, what scandal? The viscount confirmed to all of society last evening that one Doctor G.B. was, in fact, escorting Lady A. at the family's direction and that the family considers him a dear and close friend. Did I not already tell you so, my faithful readers? As for the insults hurled at both the lady and the doctor in question, well, let us just say that Lord N.D. has been known to overindulge in the bottle when he is denied what he wants. And after last evening, it is abundantly clear that the last thing the viscount and his family want is the notorious rake as a part of their family!

  - Lady X

  "Do we have any idea who Lady X is?" Marcus pushed the gossip sheet aside and picked up his teacup. If it felt at all odd for him to be back at the family breakfast table, he did not show it, much to Amy's confusion. In many ways, he was behaving as if he had never been gone. "I have to admit that I do like her style. Not to mention the fact that she champions our family exceptionally well. She seems to have the right of everything in society, actually."

  "I do not know, but I believe Dr. Blackwell does." Amy was trying hard to adjust to Marcus' return, but it was not as easy or as joyful as she had imagined it would be. She was desperate to hide what she and Gibson had done the night before from her family. Though she was also fairly certain that no one could tell she had been well and truly tumbled - some would say ruined - merely by looking at her. Yet she could not be sure.

  There was nothing in any of the gossip sheets this morning to indicate that she had been spotted entering Gibson's home or returning to Cheltenham House in the hour just before dawn. Then again, those were not the place social spies tended to hang out, even if she had felt that peculiar sensation of being watched from the moment she had left the townhome. Still, there was nothing in print, so she doubted that anyone knew. If they had, that would have surely trumped the news of Marcus' return.

  Which, he had informed her a few minutes earlier, they would talk about later, as he was not quite in the mood to discuss the issue. That included inquiries about his sight. Or his partial lack thereof.

  Amy was, however, still terrified that with one look, Marcus would somehow know what she had done, as if it was branded on her soul. As her older brother, he had always been able to read her so easily, and know when she was up to no good. In the deep of the night, she had been brave, but in the hard light of day, it was not so easy to be fearless, she was quickly discovering.

  Last night, she might have been a seductress, but today, she was back to being The Paragon. For all of her brave words to Gibson, she was, in many ways, no better than he was when going after what she wanted.

  Gibson. Her heart lurched every time she thought of him. He had returned her home in the early light of day, and then disappeared into the rapidly growing dawn. He hadn't said good-bye, but then, she wasn't certain that she had wanted him to. A farewell, even for the day, seemed too final somehow. Perhaps preserving the illusion that they still had a chance was better than the cold truth that had faced her when she had awoken in his bed this morning, slightly sore and thoroughly tumbled.

  It had been their first, last, and only night together. They both knew it, even before he had gently said that things could go no further. When she had made the decision to go to Gibson the previous evening, Amy had been determined that if one night was all she was to have, it would be one to remember. The only night of true love and passion that she would ever experience. That was precisely what he had given her.

  There had been no discussion between them when they parted that morning. It was not needed. They both knew that with Marcus' return, things would change. She just hadn't imagined that particular change occurring so soon. She had simply thought they would be given more time.

  Now, sitting here at the breakfast table, Amy realized that she wanted more time, and that she was willing to fight for it. Last night was not enough. And yes, she had vowed that this time, she would stick to her promise and release Gibson if he wanted to be rid of her. But that was when she believed that he did not truly love her, and merely lusted after her. After last night, she knew that he did love her. More than he could say. She had seen the truth of his emotions in his eyes.

  And wasn't love the one thing worth fighting for, no matter the cost? Regardless of how "grown-up" one was? At some point, certainly, she would have to let him go if that was what he truly wanted, but her heart told her they had not reached that point quite yet.

  If only she could be completely certain that Gibson wanted her, as well. He hadn't specifically said that he loved her. He hadn't even hinted at it. Or maybe he had. She was so confused. Was it possible that she had been wrong, that there were no strong feelings on his part? If that was the case, had she simply given her heart to a man who didn't want it? Yet he had intimated differently so many times. What was the truth? She didn't know.

  The only thing she did know was that she hurt. A lot. The wounds, intentional or not, that Gibson had inflicted on her when he had departed so abruptly that morning had cut deeper than any blade ever could.

  "Dr. Blackwell?" Marcus looked at her incredulously, pulling Amy from her silent musings. "In your letters, you referred to him as 'Gibson,' so why the change?" When she just looked away, afraid of what Marcus might read on her face, he rose, being careful, she noted, not to bump into the edge of the table. While some of his sight had returned, he had not regained all of it, and on occasion, he had difficulty navigating rooms. He had admitted that much to her earlier when he knocked over a small footstool. "You can tell me, Amy. I promise that I will understand. Whatever it is that you have to say. I am your brother, and above all, I love you. I do not wish to see you hurting, and clearly, you are."

  She picked at the lace table covering absently. She could not tell him the truth. He was her brother, for God's sake! He would be furious. What would she say anyway? That she had given her heart, body and soul to a man who might or might not love her? No, she could not do that. Instead, she settled on the practical rather than the fanciful. "What is there to tell? Mother collapsed. Gibson was there at the ball as well and offered his assistance. When the two of us discovered that she had been running the estate in Father's absence, he offered to step in and help me. He was trained for that sort of thing. I was not."

  "And?" Marcus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He really was a bit more imposing than she remembered. Waiting. As if he knew.

  Sitting back in a huff, Amy looked at her brother and crossed her own arms in defiance. "And what, Marcus? What do you want
me to say? I had no one to help me, no one to turn to. I was afraid that Mama would die. I sent letters and runners, but received no response. I was alone, and we found that stupid directive. What was I to do? I had no other option!" She used her anger to disguise her pain, as it was the only weapon at her disposal to deflect her brother from the truth.

  Amy had told Marcus earlier that morning, not only about the directive, but about the steps she and Gibson had taken to keep the estate running in everyone's absence. It had been a short conversation, as she pertly informed her brother that Michaels could fill him in on the rest. There was nothing else to say, at least not on her part, for fear that she would reveal too much. Marcus and Gibson might be friends, but she highly doubted that the notorious Viscount Breckenright would approve of what she and Gibson had done in his bed. And elsewhere. Had her brother known, there was no doubt in Amy's mind that she would have been sent off to the nearest convent within the hour.

  Marcus gently laid his hand over hers, and she blinked in surprise at this display of his softer nature. Perhaps there was a little bit of her old brother left inside of him after all. "I do not question you or your decisions, Amy. I know they were not easy to make. I only want to know what is between you and the doctor."

  "Nothing," she said flatly, shaking her head. "There is nothing between us." That, of course, was a lie, but again, she could not admit the truth to her brother. They were her secrets. Well, hers and Gibson's anyway.

  "That, my darling daughter, is not true and you know it."

  "Mama!" Both Amy and Marcus said the word simultaneously.

  "What are you doing out of bed?" Marcus asked while Amy chimed in with "Is it not too soon for you to be up and about?"

  She waved a hand at both of them and slowly made her way to the table where she sat with some assistance from the viscount. "I am fine. Gibson was by earlier this morning and gave me the joyous news that I may get out of bed now. For a few hours anyway. I still need to rest much of the day, but I am recovering." She offered a wan smile. "And, as you can tell, I have my power of speech back." There was still a slight slur to her words, but it was not so noticeable that she could not be understood.

  "I did not know Dr. Blackwell was here already." Amy's heart hurt even more at the thought that he had not sought her out when he had come to check on the countess. He must have dropped her off at the mews and then doubled back so as not to arouse suspicion. It hurt. Greatly. Then again, she also knew that this was the way things must be between them. He had evidently made his choice, even if he had not spoken of it to her. He would not fight for her. He was content to let her go.

  She knew that it was time for her to do the same. She needed to let Gibson go, once and for all.

  "He was here at first light, which was odd. Even he does not typically rise that early," Thea replied a bit haltingly. She attempted to pour some tea but her hand shook, and she required some assistance from Amy. "I asked him to stay to breakfast with us, but he said that now that Marcus was home, he needed to return to his practice. He has been sorely neglecting it the last few weeks."

  Amy felt herself flush a bit. He had been spending all of his time with her, taking her to the park and to Gunter's, as well as to Madame LaVallier's and other places like the local bookseller. Oh, and ravishing her in the secluded old section of the park, and making her fall in love with him a little more each day. Must not forget those important events either.

  Still, he had not been working. That had probably cost him a great deal of money, not something a man in his position could afford. Her heart tightened again, thinking of all he had given up for her and her momentary anger abated. She could not blame him for his choice. In his position, she might have done the same.

  "That is understandable," Amy offered, uncertain of what else to say but now faced with another quandary. How much did her mother know about what had gone on between her daughter and Gibson? Did she know the depth of Amy's feelings for the man? Or had they been sufficiently careful? Moreover, did the countess know about last night? Amy had attempted to be as discreet as possible, but the maids and Cook had been awake and moving about belowstairs when she had returned. What if one of them had seen her and told her mother of Amy's early morning escapades?

  Thea's next words put any lingering questions to rest. She knew some, but not everything. "It is also understandable that you are despondent now that he will be gone from our daily lives." Amy stiffened, though she pasted a smile on her face for her mother's benefit. "After all, my darling daughter, you are in love with the man, are you not?"

  "I... I..." What could Amy say in defense of herself? Nothing. It was true. But how had her mother known? On the other hand, better that her mother guess at the emotion of love than to figure out that Amy and Gibson had shared a bed - not to mention their bodies - the night before.

  The countess' eyes took on a far away look, one that could almost be described as wistful. "Oh, my darling Amy, I have known since last summer that you had formed a tendré for the man. It was as clear to me as my own love for your father was the moment I met him. Despite my limited physical state, I knew that once Gibson began escorting you while I could not properly chaperone you, you would only fall more deeply in love with the man. And him with you."

  Thea sighed, though to Amy's surprise she did not seem at all unhappy with the situation. "It was a small price to pay to keep you safe, for I know that boy would guard you with his life if it came to that. Not to mention that you were finally happy when you were in his company. It was the very thing your father and I had always wanted for you - someone to love who loved you in return. The sadness was finally gone from your eyes and that old sparkle we so loved had returned. I would do nothing that might dim it."

  "You never said anything, Mama." Amy's gaze swung to Marcus, who was watching them both with a veiled expression so she could not know what he was thinking. "Nothing has happened. I swear it. Please do not think less of Gibson. He was always a perfect gentleman." Again, that wasn't even remotely true, but she would protect the secret of those magical hours in Gibson's arms to her grave. "He may only be a physician but he is a good man. You of all people should know this."

  "A mother knows how her daughter feels." Thea interrupted Amy's plea to her brother, though there was a look in her eye, Amy noted, that suggested, she might also be aware of far more than she was letting on. "And, despite everything, I know that Gibson is a trustworthy man. Your father trusts him with his life, and with the lives of both you and your brother. That is good enough for me." Thea smiled softly. "I also know that he is good and honorable, many things that men of society are often not. He also sees himself as unworthy of the few things he has left in life, and therefore, is not a grasping fortune hunter like Lord Drake."

  "The day you told me to trust Gibson and only him." Amy's mind began to quickly fill in the blanks. "That was what you meant, wasn't it? To stay away from Drake because you didn't trust that his intentions were honorable."

  Thea's gaze strayed to Marcus for a moment. "Partly. Lord Drake had begged permission to court you several times earlier this season, but your father and I found him to be dishonest in his intentions, so we refused. There is more, however." She worried her lower lip. "Do you remember your old music master?"

  "I do." Quickly, Amy relayed everything that Gibson had told her. It seemed a relief to her mother that Amy already knew the full story. "However, the Runner that Gibson hired could not determine if Mark Overton was dead or alive."

  "Oh, I am very much alive. And very ready to claim what has been denied to my family for so long."

  This was the third time in less than a full day that someone had made a surprise appearance at a doorway, and Amy would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. She would have, at least, if Michaels', her father's faithful steward, had not been standing in said doorway leveling a pistol at them.

  Then, he gave a small but elegant bow. "Mr. Mark Overton, at your service, my dear, sweet, and lovely Lady
Amy. Or should I say, my future wife?"

  The incessant pounding at the front door was only adding to Gibson's black and decidedly foul mood. "Go away!" he shouted from his position at his desk where he continued to do nothing more than stare into oblivion. "I am not receiving patients today! Not even for His Royal Highness!"

  What he very much wanted to do at the moment was get completely foxed out of his mind, but the bottle of scotch still sat beside him unopened. He could not bring himself to drink to forget, much as he might desire it. Not only would it take a toll on his body in the short term, but it might also erase the memories of last night, including the moment Amy had confessed her love for him. Him. Gibson Blackwell. The son of a traitor. A disgraced, would-be viscount. That confession, made as he was deep inside of her body, was a moment he wanted to cherish forever, even though he had not said the words in return. Foolish bastard that he was.

  It had been the kind thing to do, really. There was no future for them. Amy saw that now, surely. Better to hurt her now than later, when the cuts would be all the deeper. Even now, he could still smell her scent on his skin, that heady mix of lemons and lavender, and it drove him insane with a fresh wave of longing.

  Then he paused, aware of the flaw in his argument with himself. How could he ever have been foolish enough to think that one night with her would suffice? That it would be enough to sate the desire that had been growing inside of him from the very moment they had met? Worse, how could he think that he could live without her?

  Gibson loved Amy and he could not let her go. Not now. Not ever. He wanted her beside him forever, and, by God, he would find a way to have her.

  For once in his life, he would not give up on what he wanted so easily. He would fight for Amy. And this time, he would find a way to win.

  "I said go away!" Gibson roared as the knocking came again, louder this time, as if the person were using a battering ram on the weathered wood. Fed up, he rose and stalked to the door, intending to use all of his height and aristocratic bearing on whoever was on the other side. So when he yanked the door open only to find a badly beaten Lord Drake clinging unsteadily to a wall and clutching an old metal pot he'd used to make the commotion in the first place, Gibson was taken aback, not knowing what to think.