“You don’t know that, and you can’t prove it.” Edward sat up, shuddering as he saw the mess the eggs had left. “So I’ll be sticking to that story, thank you very much.”
“Edward...” Gabriel leaned forward. His face, still gently rumpled with sleep, made Edward’s heart catch. “Aren’t you rather missing the point?”
“What point?”
“We’re alone. We’re alone, and unchaperoned, for the first time in seven days.” Gabriel took a step forward, helping Edward to his feet. “We’re...unsupervised.”
A shiver ran through Edward as he stood. It was true; no Caroline, no Maurice, no mewing cat. He and Gabriel were completely alone, for the first time in what felt like centuries...and he was drenched in egg yolk.
So much for a rakish seduction.
“I am covered in eggs.” He closed his eyes, wincing as another glob of egg white inched down his spine. “Hardly the picture of a handsome rake. And my complete incompetence at all tasks over the past seven days can’t have gone unnoticed.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Gabriel’s half smile sent shivers through Edward. “Although it does bring your assertion that you’re excellent at everything you do into debate. It makes me doubt your other talents.”
“That’s bait that I’m not taking.” Edward flicked away a drop of egg yolk, trying to ignore the way Gabriel’s body sent shivers through him. “No matter what.”
“Are you sure about that?” Gabriel moved closer. Edward found himself backing into the kitchen table, all too aware of the man’s proximity. “Are you absolutely sure?”
Yes. Edward was absolutely sure.
Absolutely sure, that is, until Gabriel put his arms around him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Oh, damn you.” Closing his eyes, abandoning every last vestige of self-control, Edward let his head rest on Gabriel’s shoulder. Gabriel’s mouth found his, a soft, trembling touch, rushing through Edward with the same uncontrollable power. Yes, this was kissing, a slow, delicious exchange of something wordless, something precious.
Edward lay open, lost to the feel of it, the sensation of floating high above the earth. Without meaning to, without even thinking about it, he deepened the kiss. He wanted more from Gabriel than these feathered touches; he wanted him open too, vulnerable, as lost in the feeling as he himself was. Feeling how quick Gabriel’s heartbeat was becoming as it sounded against his back, he let his tongue stroke the roof of the man’s mouth. Gabriel shivered, sighing, pushing back with a need that had Edward surprised again, caught off balance, taken aback by his own hungry acceptance.
He gasped as Gabriel’s hands moved downward, loosening their hold around his shoulders, stroking over his chest with a kind of reverent, marvelling want. He could feel the sheer strength of the man, the brute hardness of his chest, his arms, and a long-repressed part of him melted in response. When was the last time he’d been held like this, like something human, not some idol to be worshipped?
He shifted, bringing his feet to rest against the legs of the table. Hang the eggs, hang the mess—hang everything that wasn’t Gabriel’s arms pulling him closer, Gabriel’s mouth coaxing him into a longer, deeper kiss. He brought his hands up to Gabriel’s hair, tangling his fingers in his dark curls as he played with the man’s mouth, taking what he needed, moaning as Gabriel’s hands moved down to the small of his back. Yes, that was safe—his scars were higher. Their bodies pressed tightly against one another, each movement sending a delicious shock down Edward’s spine.
Gabriel broke the kiss, panting, his voice strained with passion. “I—I need—”
“Tell me what you need.” Edward kissed along Gabriel’s neck, down to his shoulders, delighting in the way Gabriel shivered at each touch of his mouth. “Tell me.”
“I need this.” Gabriel cupped Edward’s face in one hand, resting his forehead against his. “I’ve been... It’s all I can think about. You plague me.”
Edward silenced him with another kiss, Gabriel’s words coursing through him like wine. So it hadn’t just been him, then, struggling with a desire so strong that it threatened to split the walls of Hardcote House apart. “You have me.”
“Closer.” Gabriel’s whisper was coarse, his hands shaky as they moved down Edward’s back, coming to rest under his thighs. He lifted Edward off his feet with a sudden burst of strength, bringing his thigh up to rest against his hip with a force that left Edward gasping. Their rigid shafts lay together now, buckskin the only thing that separated them, each new movement causing a teasing friction that drove Edward half mad with desire. “Like that. More.”
Edward brought a hand up to Gabriel’s chest, sliding under his shirt, partly to steady himself, partly to feel the man’s skin under his fingers. He knew men’s bodies. God knows, he’d had enough experience. Even so, Gabriel seemed like an adventure—a challenge that scared him as much as it aroused him. He moved his hand lower and lower, slowly travelling over Gabriel’s taut expanse of stomach, marvelling at the thick ridges of muscle that led to the bulge in the man’s breeches. “Let me?”
“Do it.” Gabriel caught his breath, biting his lip as Edward’s fingers closed around his cock. Working quickly, praying that Gabriel wouldn’t change his mind, Edward unbuttoned the man’s breeches with stiff fingers. When his cock finally sprang free, thick and heavy in Edward’s hand, he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the most vulnerable part of the man was his.
“Tell me how you want it. How you like it.”
“Just...just do it, and don’t stop.” Gabriel spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t.” He threw his head back, brow knitted with frustration, moaning as Edward began to move his hand. “Like that. Please, please, like that.”
Edward kissed the hollow at the base of Gabriel’s neck, smiling, eyes closed as his fingers glided over Gabriel’s shaft. His own cock was so rigid that he half feared for his breeches, but there was time enough for that. Now was the time to please Gabriel, to make him shiver and moan and swear, to use every part of his considerable skill...even if this time it was more passion than talent that kept his fingers moving, flickering over the sensitive head of Gabriel’s cock, bringing the man every ounce of pleasure that he could. He stroked, whispering soft half nothings of encouragement, pulling Gabriel’s lips to his so he could feel the man’s moans in his own mouth. “Yes. God, I could do this all day.”
One of Gabriel’s hands pressed against the bulge in his breeches. “Let me touch you too.” Gabriel tugged impatiently at Edward’s breeches; Edward gasped as his hand closed over his cock, strong and sure and deliciously right.
“Yes.” Edward found Gabriel’s lips, trying not to tremble, beginning to move his hand again as Gabriel moved his, tentative and tender. He knew the rhythm that felt best—the firm, deep grind that would kindle the flash of lust in Gabriel’s eyes. The hard, purposeful movement that danced on the edge of pain, that flickered between hurt and divine intensity.
He was no longer a rake. Gabriel was no longer a priest—or perhaps he was, because Edward had to admit the edge of sacrilege only increased his desire. Two men driven to distraction, working on instinct, touching each other in the ways they needed most... Christ, how good it felt.
Logical thought was slipping away. All that mattered was sensation, Gabriel’s fingers sliding over his cock, caressing the head, his thumb effortlessly finding the sweet, throbbing pulse of feeling that ran along his cock. The urgent, animal movements of his own hips, the soft, low whimpers of frustration leaving his throat as Gabriel whispered in his ear, his patient voice acquiring an inexplicable air of command.
“That’s right...oh, you like that—then I’ll do it again...yes, moan when it’s good, well done...finish for me. Finish.”
The bastard was going to make him come first. That slow, seductive murmur in his ear, the fluid skill of Gabriel’s hand—he was going to lose control complet
ely. Edward pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s, lightly biting the man’s full bottom lip, feeling his cock twitch in his hands.
“Oh, yes.” There it was; a rising wave of pure pleasure, more powerful than he’d felt in years, sent throbs of feeling through every nerve in his body. He had to last longer—but how could he? How could he with Gabriel’s hand so tight on his cock, with his dark eyes compelling him, pushing him onward—
“Ah!” Edward’s knees buckled; his climax came as strongly as a blow, flooding his body with raw, ecstatic heat. He dimly heard Gabriel’s harsh moan in his ear, felt hot spurts hit his own palm and shirt as the man came undone in his arms, but his own pleasure drowned everything else out. Fierce, burning pleasure, so good it almost hurt—like letting go of something heavy, so heavy it had been crushing him...
...and then, then he was himself again, with Gabriel tight against him.
Blinking, the room spinning, he watched Gabriel take a corner of his shirt in his fist. With the same gentle, practical touch that he used for everything else, he began to clean them both. Edward bit his lip, oddly moved by the courtesy—the unthinking compassion that his old friend couldn’t help but show.
He leaned against Gabriel, panting, wondering why he couldn’t manage to catch his breath. All that built-up desire, the tension that had plagued him, should have dissipated—but it was still there, burning inside him, even though his body was exhausted. Another burst of strength and he would turn Gabriel around, bend him over the table, and show him exactly why he was such a scandal sheet favourite...
He wanted more. When had been the last time he had wanted more of anyone?
“This is unusual.” He kissed Gabriel’s temple, leaning against the range. “The house is still quiet. No swarms of bees, no storms, no Bryce...we remain uninterrupted.”
“It’s early. Perhaps God has other activities this morning. No doubt he’ll be back on the job soon enough.” Gabriel laughed, sighing. “But this is...pleasing. Being able to see you like this in the light, for one thing.”
Edward stilled. Here, in this cocoon of warm, infinitely pleasant unreality, perhaps he could tell the truth. “I don’t particularly like the dark. At all, actually. I get terrible nightmares.”
“Ah.” Gabriel looked up at him. “That would explain the half seduction of the other night, then. And all those rumours about no man ever staying the night at your London house.”
“How on earth have you heard those rumours?” Edward laughed, secretly pleased at Gabriel’s casual acceptance of his problem.
“The scandal sheets. I’ve been wondering why the cold-hearted rake striding through those pages seemed completely different to the man in this house.” Gabriel smiled. “For a callous stealer of hearts, you’re oddly awkward about it.”
“I can imagine.” Edward looked away. “I’ve been horribly disappointing in that respect.”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel’s hand shyly interlaced with his. “Disappointed is not the word I would choose.”
Dangerous territory again. He couldn’t seem to avoid it with Gabriel; every encounter, every conversation, was a tightening trap...and Edward was finding it all too enjoyable.
Leaning down, he softly brushed Gabriel’s lips with his own. “I am glad of it.”
For a moment, he felt the urge to unburden himself. To tell Gabriel more of his worries, the fears that plagued him every night. The nagging sense that there was something at his core, something dark and hidden, that rendered him incapable of being loved.
He opened his mouth. “I... I wanted to make breakfast for you. To show you that I could do it.”
He’d failed at telling Gabriel how he felt. But for a moment, the look of shy happiness in Gabriel’s eyes made it all worth it...perhaps he could try again.
He opened his mouth. In the same instant, a woman’s distant scream filled the air.
Chapter Thirty
They raced upstairs, Gabriel taking the steps two at a time as he fought a tide of panic. When he saw Caroline sitting on the stairs, wincing as she massaged her rapidly swelling ankle, he ran over to her as fast as he could.
“Buttons.” She looked at him, her expression dripping with exasperation. “He got under my feet as I stood—but Gabriel, that is not the point, there is a boy in this house—”
“What?” As Gabriel spoke, he heard Edward shout behind him. At the end of the corridor, looking at the trio with undisguised terror, stood a boy. Dark-haired, wiry, pinched with hunger and mistrust, he stared at Gabriel like a rabbit at the end of a gun barrel.
“The garden spy.” A flash of recognition shone in the boy’s eyes as Gabriel said the words. For a moment he leaned forward, as if he was going to say something...and then, as if thinking better of it, he bolted.
“Catch him!” He ran after the boy, Edward at his side, clutching fruitlessly at the fleeing child’s limbs as he shot down the corridor. For a moment it looked as if they’d lose him—but with a slow, evil creak of the study door, Maurice moved into the corridor with the speed of a stalking cat.
The yell the boy let out could have frightened an army. He jumped back, stumbling over his own feet—and fell directly into Gabriel’s arms. With a muffled mixture of threats and blasphemy, he kicked wildly at Gabriel’s shins.
“Let me—let me go, you horrible sod, you bast—”
“Enough.” Maurice leaned down. “Or you’ll be mulched in with the grapevines to encourage fruiting.”
“Don’t know half those words,” the boy said warily. But he stilled in Gabriel’s arms all the same, sensing the threat in Maurice’s voice. “I wasn’t even doing nothing. Just having a look. I saw people in here a few days ago. You lot. I thought I’d have a look.”
“Having a look...in someone else’s house. And then running away.” Maurice paused for long enough to make everyone in the hall distinctly unsettled. “Innocent people don’t run.”
“They do if they see a scary bugger like you in front of them.” The boy sniffed. “You’re like a bloody bad dream.”
Gabriel’s eyes met Edward’s, his shoulders shaking with the effort of not laughing. A little way away, leaning unsteadily against the wall, Caroline held her hand to her mouth as a soft burst of laughter escaped her.
Maurice’s face was carefully implacable. “I see.” He motioned at Gabriel to let the boy free. His eyes followed the child with the rapt, focused attention of a hawk tracking a mouse. “Well. I’m not chasing you now. Let’s see how long you can stay still.”
“Enough, Maurice—”
“Be quiet, Edward.” Maurice gestured to the door with mocking politeness. “Come now, little one. Go, if you need to go.” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course...then you’ll see just how dreadful I am.”
“Wait.” Gabriel looked properly at the boy, pale and cringing in the bright light of the drawing room. Hair hidden under a cap, his eyes red-rimmed and shadowed with exhaustion, he shrank from the scrutiny of the surrounding men with the expression of a dog whipped one too many times. “I know you. You were hiding in the bushes, watching the coaches. And haven’t I seen you by the Dog and Duck? And in the bakery?”
“I only sit by the Dog and Duck when there’s betting.” The boy sniffed mutinously. “I work in the bakery sometimes. Rolls and that. You’re the priest—you’re the one that buys all them bits for the tramps when they camp on the edge of town.”
“Now that we’ve made such polite introductions, let’s get back to the matter at hand.” Maurice waited until the boy quieted, his gaze never wavering. “Who are you? Who do you work for? Why are you here—and how on earth did you manage to enter our house?”
“It’s easy enough to pick a window lock.” Despite Maurice’s harsh glare, the boy looked up at Gabriel before speaking again. “I’m sorry I don’t go to church much, sir. Me and Mum keep to ourselves. But if you don’t let him hurt
me, I promise I’ll come every Sunday.”
“No one is going to hurt you, I promise. No one.” Gabriel looked pointedly at Maurice, who made it clear with a single glance that this was not a promise he agreed with. “Perhaps it behoves everyone to calm themselves. Given as you’re here by surprise, would you mind telling us your name? You know mine, I’m sure. Gabriel Winters.”
“I’m Ginger.” The boy looked mutinously at the assembled group, as if daring them to disagree. Given the dark brown shade of the hair peeking out from beneath his cap, Gabriel had to admit that the nickname seemed unusual. “And I’m nobody. I’ll work for anyone who pays, except for nobs. I hate nobs.” He glared at Maurice. “Stuffed shirts like you don’t help anyone, so says my mum. And she’s always right.”
“We would never dare say otherwise.” Edward knelt, his blue eyes suddenly alive with a warm, dancing humour seemingly designed to calm Ginger. “All mothers are right. I know how much I miss mine. How is your mother, Ginger?”
“She’s all right. She coughs, but she’s all right.” Ginger’s stubborn face dared anyone to argue. “She’s right as rain.”
“And no one would dare say different.” Edward’s tone was very careful. “Now, Ginger...do you think your mother could spare you for the day? We’ve grown ever so much food here. Most of the food in the gardens is given to the villagers, but we’ve been having some complaints. We need an inspector. Someone who can taste all the food before it leaves the house.”
Ginger’s eyes lit up, but his tone remained wary. “All the food? Even the potatoes?”
“Especially the potatoes.” Edward’s face was impeccably grave. “Those are the very things people have been complaining about.”
“We don’t take charity. We never have.” Ginger sniffed, appearing to consider. “But...but seeing as it’s a job, I’ll do it. And you’ll be paying me, of course.”
Gabriel almost smiled. Even Maurice’s mouth twitched. Edward only nodded sagely. “Of course.”
The Vicar and the Rake (Society of Beasts) Page 13