Her exiled Gamma

In the garden

*Castor*

Getting out of the cab, I amble up the drive toward the residence, feeling quite satisfied after spending an hour with my solicitor. A solicitor no one in my family is even aware I have retained.

It isn’t only the wagering and the thrill of winning at the tables that lures me to the clubs.

It is the information about various investment opportunities the members share that is also a draw. I know I can’t count on always coming out ahead each night if I want to save enough money to start my business. But if I wisely invest some of those winnings, then I might find myself in a better position financially. I am determined to supplement the inadequate allowance my father gives me. Then with considerable relish, I will return to my father every coin he has ever given me.

I know the greater the risk, the higher the return. Unfortunately, two investments has resulted in losses. One has yet to pay off, in spite of it showing earlier promise.

But last night, after taking a good bit of the Alpha’s blunt, the man had invited me for a drink and mentioned that he is investing in model dwelling companies, which is building much-needed residences for the poor. While I have invested only half of the amount I had won the night before, with luck, I will eventually see myself with a small but steady income. As my finances allow, I will follow with more investments.

I have a spring in my steps as I stride into the residence and hand my hat to the butler.

"Is my sister about ?" I ask.

“She is enjoying her afternoon nap, sir”. He says with a small bow.

I nod. "As is Miss Kiona, I assume”.

“No, sir. She's presently in the garden”. He informs me.

I don’t particularly like the way my heart pounds a little harder at the thought of spending time with her alone. If I was wise, I would retire to my bedchamber and read. But I have spent the afternoon being wise and am in the mood to be a bit reckless.

She is sitting on a cast-iron bench beneath the shade of an elm, near the delphiniums blooming in pink, purple, and white. But she is far more colorful in her lilac dress with her hair down and held in place with a white ribbon. I suspect she had un-pinned it before taking the afternoon rest. My mother insists all ladies require it. A wide-brimmed straw bonnet rests near her feet. I am glad she has dispensed with it, so her face isn’t lost to shadows. She is staring into the distance, her delicate brow deeply furrowed, her bottom lip barely visible as she gnaws at what should only ever be kissed. On her lap sits her small writing desk, seemingly forgotten.

“Aren't you supposed to be napping ?” I ask.

She jerks her head in my direction, and for a brief span of time, it looks as though she is pleased to see me. Then just as quickly, she shutters whatever emotions she is feeling, but still her smile, if not her eyes, remains warm. “It's such a lovely afternoon that it seemed a shame to spend it indoors”.

"You mustn't let my mother find out. You'll give her the vapors”. I tease.

Her smile grows. “She does believe a she-wolf must rest. I never nap at home and don't seem to suffer from it in the evenings”. She tilts her head a fraction, like a puppy striving to figure out its master. “You didn't join us for breakfast or luncheon”.

“I had some matters to attend to and dined at the club. May I ?” I indicate the empty half of the bench.

“Please”. Reaching out, she tucks her voluminous skirt against her thigh as much as

possible while I lower myself to the cool metal, not bothering to lean away from her.

The bench has been designed for lovers to take a rest while strolling through the gardens, so it places me nearer to her than I have ever been. The slight breeze causes her clean fragrance of delicious oranges ... my favorite fruit ... mixed with cinnamon to tease my nostrils. A few strands of her hair have escaped their b*****e of ribbons in order to frame her delicate face.

She doesn’t look at me directly but offers a little bit more than her profile. I wished I was killed at sketching. Instead I am left to commit the lovely image of her to memory. “What are you writing ?”

With a sigh, she gives me a sideways glance while my cheeks blossoms into a pinkish hue.

"I've been striving to catalog my good qualities”. She admits.

“Ah, for your letter to the Alpha”. The blasted Alpha, the man who will know what it is to have her thigh pressed against his with no tightly woven threads to keep her silken warmth from him.

She nods, her cheeks brightening further, until they are possibly in danger of igniting.

“It's a sobering experience. I believe I have identified the reason I find myself close to being on the shelf. I'm rather unaccomplished and boring”. She says with a sigh.

I very much doubt that. But I am beginning to think she is much more modest than I had ever assumed, and I find her modesty somewhat endearing. I doubt any other she-wolf is struggling to list her accomplishments, suspected a good many of them will take liberties listing what they consider their best qualities. A skill at dancing they might not possess. A tendency toward wit and humor when nothing they ever say causes even a hint of a smile. Perfect management of a household when they have yet to take any reins.

I hold out my hand. “May I ?"

She rolls her eyes with an exaggeration that would have had me taking my leave at any other time. “You'll only laugh or tease me about them".

For the life of me, I can’t comprehend why I care so much about what she has written, why it is suddenly important that she gains what she desires. “I won't. I promise”.

Shifting slightly, she faces me more squarely, the small pleat between her auburn brows once again forming. "Why are you being kind to me ? I'm accustomed to us sparring, not actually conversing".

The Devil takes me if I know, but I am not about to confess that. “Because the next time I return home after too much drink, I don't want you tempted to send me round to the back. I'd prefer you to help me up the stairs".

“You remembered everything ?” She gasps lightly.

“Everything”. The mischief in her eyes, the slight smile indicating she thought she was getting away with something wicked. I rather like how triumphant she had appeared when she had believed herself to have the upper hand.

Her sigh mingles with the whisper of the slight breeze, and a jolt of pure need travels straight to my groin as I envisions her sigh under a different circumstance, a carnal one where pleasure reigns. “I feel rather badly about my behavior toward you now”.

“Only because you got caught”. I point out.

A twitch of those pink lips. So much about her is fair. I wonder if the same applies to portions I can’t see.

“Yes”. She admits.

For a moment, I become disoriented, thinking she is confirming pale n*****s and the pinkest of skin between her thighs. The next breath I release is not as steady as it should have been. “Well, for what it's worth, neither my parents nor Isadora would have let me in, either".

“Do you often get that drunk ?” She asks.

“Not often. I had a disappointing night at the gaming hell and was feeling both sorry for myself and cross with myself. Bad judgment on my part led to disappointment. Last night went much better. Except for the spying bit”. I snap my fingers. “Show me what you have written”.

With a slow, tentative movement, she hands me the sheaf of paper.

‘Skilled at whist’.

‘Mastered the piano’.

‘Speak only when I have something important to say’.

The first two I can’t judge because I have never played cards with her or heard her perform. The last is debatable and no doubt her attempt to demonstrate that she can be quiet, although she often engages me when what she has to say isn’t important at all … just a desire to needle, to elicit a reaction. I have always been too quick to rise to the bait, mainly because any attention from her is better than none at all. But reading over her list again now, I know no matter how she words what she has identified as her strengths, the Alpha is going to toss her letter in the rubbish bin.

I guessed correctly. A woman can’t identify what attributes she possesses that would appeal to a man. “He wants a quiet wife. He's not going to play whist with you. He's not going to ask you to entertain him with the piano”.

I can’t help but believe that in foregoing those pleasures with her, the Alpha would be poorer for it. “That you have written two qualities in which he will have no interest makes him likely to question the veracity of the third”.

“What would you suggest, then ?” She asks.

“What are you willing to give me in exchange for my wisdom ?” I ask in return.

“You blackguard”. The teasing in her eyes causes a tightness in my chest. She had known I would want a favor. Contentment at her knowing me well enough to anticipate my move sweeps through me. “At the Alpha’s ball, I shall save my first waltz for you”.

I look at her. “You expect me to wait a couple of weeks to claim what I am owed ?”

"Anticipation will make it all the sweeter”. She says with a smile.

I have attended only a few balls, and have never danced with her. I imagine holding her in my arms, gliding her over the floor. Damned bloody hell, if it wasn't something I would like to experience once. “Pay close attention to what I am about to reveal. It is a rare thing for any man to give away secrets that would see another shackled in marriage”.

Her triumphant smile rocks me to my core. “You're accepting the trade ?”

I give a little shrug, as though the matter is of no consequence, as though I am not in fact looking forward to claiming my reward. “It will give me an excuse to learn the waltz”.

“You know how to waltz. I have seen you do so”. She points out.

Taking satisfaction in knowing she has noticed me at a previous ball, I hope I heard the tiniest bit of jealousy. "Have you ?”

She plucks at her skirt as though she has suddenly spotted an invisible thread unraveling. “You're the brother of my dearest friend. It's not as though I'm not going to notice you on the dance floor”.

"But you never acknowledge me on the dance floor”. I say.

She looks at me then, remorse in the eyes that is almost green today. I have noticed before how the hazel shade seems to alter slightly depending on what she wears. “I've found it sometimes easier to ignore when not certain of the welcome”.

“I might tease you on occasion, Freckles, but I would never do anything to embarrass you in public. You must know that, surely”. I say softly.

“I do now”.