by Candace Camp
He bent over her and laid his lips tenderly upon her forehead. Then, giving her hand a squeeze, he left. Thea continued to feed Matthew. The room was warming up now, so she shrugged off her cloak and pulled the knit cap from her head. Gabriel made several trips bringing in more wood, and by the time he finished and dropped the bar down across the door to shut out the cold, as well as intruders, Thea had changed the baby, sending up silent thanks that she had thought to bring some of those necessary cloths with her.
Gabriel pulled off his many-caped driving coat and laid it over one of the kitchen chairs to dry. He settled down in the chair beside the fire and offered to hold the baby. Thea smiled her thanks and handed Matthew to him. Sitting down on the hearth next to the chair, she allowed herself to simply luxuriate in the heat for a moment. She looked over at Gabriel. Matthew’s head was bobbing sleepily, and finally, with a sigh, he laid his head down. His big blue eyes were still open, but his stare was becoming glazed, and Thea felt sure that within a few minutes, he would be asleep.
She stretched and sighed, leaning back against the rock wall beside the fireplace.
“Tired?” Gabriel asked.
Thea nodded. “It’s been quite a night. I’m happy and exhausted—and still my nerves are humming too much to be sleepy.”
She pushed back her hair, which spilled down over her shoulders in curling profusion. She had not plaited it before she went to bed as she usually did, and in all the rush and excitement, she had left it as it was. The damp weather had turned it into corkscrews. Thea divided her hair as best she could without a comb or mirror and began to braid it.
“No,” Gabriel said softly. “Don’t do that. Leave it that way.”
Thea raised her brows at him. “’Tis a mess. I look positively wild.”
He grinned, and a light sparked in his black eyes. “Maybe I like you positively wild.”
For some reason, his words reminded Thea of her actions the afternoon before, when he had touched her so intimately and she had responded with a shattering rush of pleasure. Color rose in her cheeks and she jumped to her feet, letting go of her hair. “I—I think I shall wash up a bit.”
“There’s a washbasin here?”
“Oh, yes, we have all the amenities,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away, pleased that she managed to keep her voice light and seemingly unconcerned.
Inside her was another matter entirely. There she was a fizzing mass of emotions. Thea had been shaken by the events of the night, her nerves stretched almost to the breaking point, then flooded with relief at finding Matthew alive and unharmed. She felt at once vulnerable and amazingly strong, vital and surging with life even as her legs still trembled, weak and watery as if she had been ill.
Thea went into the bedroom and closed the door. Taking out a towel and a rag, she poured water into the basin and began to wash. Her gaze kept straying to the bed beside her. She tried not to think about their sleeping arrangements, but that effort proved to be remarkably unsuccessful. What was going to happen tonight? Gabriel would be a gentleman, she told herself. He would sleep in the other room, no doubt. But she could not help but wonder whether she really wanted him to.
That she would even consider such a thing took Thea’s breath away. What was the matter with her? What had happened to her over the last week? She was the vicar’s sister, for heaven’s sake! She was virtuous; she lived as she should and did the things that she ought. She followed the rules.
Or at least she always had until she met Gabriel. Thea did not even want to think about all the conventions she had flouted since he came along. Still, she could not blame it all on him. He had provided the temptation perhaps, but every step she had strayed off the path had been willingly taken. The confusing tumble of sensations and emotions in her now was hers, not anything pushed on her by anyone else.
Thea could not help but think of all the years she had lived without feeling any of the things she had felt yesterday afternoon—the hours and days and months she had passed through without tasting the sweetness of Gabriel’s kiss or the pleasure of his hands on her. She wanted … oh, she wanted so much more than she had ever known. All her life, she had been plain. Ordinary. But when Gabriel kissed her, when his arms went around her and his body pressed into her, she exploded with beauty. She felt anything but ordinary.
She turned away, knotting her hands together and pacing about the small room. It was foolish to be thinking this way. Nothing was going to happen between them. Just because they were alone here together … just because circumstances had thrown them into a situation where it would be easy to give in to temptation, it didn’t mean that they were going to do so.
Afraid that her thoughts might show on her face, Thea decided to change the bed linens, too, before she returned to the other room. Finally, with no reason left to linger in here, she squared her shoulders and stepped out into the main room. Gabriel was slouched in the chair by the fire, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his dark head resting against the back of the chair, his eyes closed. Matthew lay on his chest, peacefully asleep. Thea came to an abrupt stop, an almost painful sweetness clutching at her chest.
Gabriel’s eyes opened, and a sleepy smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I think we can put him to bed,” he said in a low voice.
Thea nodded and went to the baby’s basket to take out the extra blankets and set them aside. Gabriel carried the baby over to the basket and bent to lay him down inside.
Thea let out a gasp. “Gabriel! You’re hurt! There’s blood on your head.”
He straightened, his hand going to his head. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. I told you, he gave me a thump with one of those logs.”
“You said he’d hit you,” Thea retorted in some exasperation. “You didn’t say you were bleeding.”
“I didn’t really know it.”
She took his arm and pulled him over to the table. Pushing him down into one of the chairs, she held up the lantern to take a closer look at his head.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t look too serious, just a scrape rather than a cut. But I should clean it.”
Thea poured water from the jug into a bowl and dipped a rag in it. Squeezing out the rag, she dabbed gently at the wound. Gabriel winced, but remained still. The blood remained stuck in his hair, so she held the wet rag against his head, letting it soak. She could not ignore how close she was to him. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body. The side of his head was at the level of her breasts, and without thinking, she ran her other hand over his tousled curls. Gabriel stiffened, and Thea felt the sudden surge of heat in him. Quickly she dropped her hand away, embarrassed by her action, and finished wiping the wound clean.
“I saw a bottle of gin in that cabinet. Perhaps I should use it on the wound. I have read of using whiskey to clean wounds. Gin would be the same, wouldn’t it?”
“I think I’d rather use it inside me,” he retorted, but shrugged. “Why not? They say pain makes one a better person.”
Thea pulled the bottle of liquor from the cabinet and poured some in a cup, which she set down in front of Gabriel. Then she poured a bit of it on the cloth and held it to his wound. He sucked in his breath sharply.
“What sort of books do you read anyway?” he asked. “Tales of cleaning wounds? Hardly sounds like what one would find in the vicarage.”
“I read almost anything I can get my hands on,” Thea answered honestly. She sat down at the table on his right. “I think I read that bit about whiskey in the memoirs of a traveling minister in the colonies.” She gestured at the bottle. “What does that taste like?”
“Blue ruin? Pretty ghastly, actually, but it does the trick. Here.” He slid the cup across the table to her. “Try it. It’ll warm you up.”
Thea picked up the cup and took a small swallow, making a face at the taste. “Oh! How bitter!” She shivered as it slid fierily down her throat and into her stomach. “It tastes like perfume.”
Gabriel chuckled. “My dea
r Thea, is it your habit to drink perfume?”
“Well, it tastes the way I would think perfume tastes.” She reached out and took another sip, then set the cup down with a shudder and slid it back to him. “Why does anyone drink that?”
“Cheaper than brandy or whiskey. And it has the result you want.”
“What is the result?” Thea asked curiously, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the table.
He smiled and reached out to run his finger down the length of her nose, brushing it over her chin as it fell away. “You look at one in such a way—as if you would soak up every bit of knowledge you could find.”
“Even Papa said I was an admirable pupil. I just … like to know things, to find out everything I can. I want to know why and how and where. I suppose it seems silly, living in a village out in the country as I do.”
“I think that makes it all the more understandable. The way a man imprisoned would want to discover all he could about the outside world.”
“Exactly!” Thea beamed, pleased and somewhat surprised at his understanding. “There is so much I have never seen or done. Those plays you were talking about the other day. The opera. Musicales.”
He poured more gin into the cup and took a swig. “If we were in London, I would take you. Well, the plays and the opera, anyway. Not the musicales. Those are deadly dull. But I should like to show you the plays.”
“And museums!” Thea exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I would love to go to a museum. My sister said her husband took her to Bullock’s Museum, and she saw Napoléon’s carriage. Oh, and the Tower—Traitors’ Gate … the ravens … the tower where the little princes disappeared …”
Gabriel laughed. “I can see I would have my hands full, escorting you about the city. No doubt you’d want to see Astley’s and Vauxhall Gardens, as well.”
Thea nodded and let out a wistful sigh. “I should like to see them all.” She glanced at the cup. “I think I know what you mean—about drinking that. I feel warmer and, I don’t know, relaxed.” She took off her spectacles and set them down on the table, running her hands back over her face and into her hair. Then she picked up the cup and took another drink.
“Careful.” He reached out to take the cup from her. “You won’t like it if you get foxed on daffy.”
“Daffy.” Thea smiled. “Blue ruin. It has such colorful names. But I don’t think you need worry about me becoming foxed. It tastes much too nasty. I don’t know how you have managed to drink what you have of it.”
“It’s an acquired taste.” He paused. “Not the sort of taste the vicar’s sister should acquire.”
“The vicar’s sister shouldn’t do anything,” Thea retorted, “except sit in the corner and knit.”
“I cannot imagine you doing that.”
“I can knit,” she answered with some indignation, though she added honestly, “but I’m not terribly good at it. Veronica was always better than I at such things. Mama said that was because Veronica practiced whereas I always had my nose stuck in a book. Which is quite true, of course. But it was much more boring to knit.”
“More entertaining to read about cleaning wounds,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling.
“Well, it was!” Thea lifted her chin. “Father said it was too bad that I was born a girl.”
A smile curled up one corner of his mouth, and his eyelids lowered a fraction. “I cannot agree with that sentiment.”
His voice was low and rich with meaning, and it teased at something deep within Thea. She shifted a little in her seat. “Well, he meant it was too bad that I could not take advantage of the sort of education a man could. Rather a waste of intellect.” She looked away, surprised by the hot sting of tears suddenly burning her eyes. “Though naturally he never meant to be harsh, I’m sure.”
Thea started to rise from her seat, but Gabriel’s hand clamped around her wrist on the table, holding her in place. “Nothing about you,” he said, his voice hard, “is a waste.”
She glanced at him, surprised. Gabriel’s face was fierce and unyielding. Thea smiled, warmth spreading through her at his words.
“That’s very nice of you to say,” she began.
He shook his head. “Not nice. Just truthful.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm, then held her hand against his cheek. Sighing, he let go of her hand. “Ah, Thea, I am not a good man.”
The tingling from where his cheek had touched her palm spread up her arm and through her chest. Her insides were in a tumult, needs and wants tumbling around madly. “You must not say that. I think you are a very good man.”
He looked straight into her eyes, and the heat she saw in them stunned her. “I would not be if I took advantage of this situation. Of you.”
Thea gazed back at him, and her next words were barely above a whisper. “What if I wanted you to?”
His eyes widened. “Thea … no. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He cleared his throat and turned away, rising to his feet. “I should not have given you that gin.”
“I am not inebriated,” Thea protested, jumping to her feet. “I hardly had two swallows of it.” She moved around to stand in front of him, blocking his way and forcing him to meet her gaze. “Are you going to try to tell me that I do not know my own mind?”
He smiled faintly. “Never that. But you don’t know what it will be like.”
“I know what it was like the other day.”
He swallowed convulsively, his face turning subtly warmer. “That was different. We were not alone.”
“So there was more chance of discovery and gossip.”
“You could have left then.” His voice was rougher, a hint of desperation on his tongue.
“And if I do not want to leave?”
“Blast it, Thea, do not make this any more difficult. I have put you in a very precarious position, and to do anything—to behave in the manner I would very much like to—would be dastardly on my part.”
“It certainly did not seem to bother you before now!” Thea told him tartly. “These compunctions came upon you rather suddenly.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“No. You are right.” She turned away abruptly. “I should not plague you. One cannot help it if one does not feel a … a certain way.” Thea returned to the table, embarrassment burning in her stomach. Why had she said so much? Taken things this far? The alcohol must have loosened her tongue. She busied herself with the things on the table, putting the cork in the bottle and moving it back to the cabinet.
“You think I don’t feel desire for you?” Gabriel rasped out behind her. “You think it’s easy? That I don’t care?”
“It does not matter.” Thea shrugged, still not looking at him. “I think that—”
“Doesn’t matter!” He crossed the room to her and took her arm in his hand, whirling her back around. “It matters to me!” He loomed above her, scowling, jaw set, his eyes glittering. He grabbed her other arm, and for an instant they simply hung there, staring at each other, scarcely breathing. Then he pulled her up hard against him and sank his lips into hers.
Heat rushed through Thea. She was suddenly intensely alive, every nerve ending tingling. Desire thrummed in her, warming her blood and stealing her breath. His hands slid down her back, sinking into her buttocks and pushing her up into him. He moved her hips against him, and she felt the unmistakable answering jolt of his desire. The message was clear, the hunger undeniable. Thea wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with all her fervor.
At last Gabriel released her and raised his head. His face was slack with desire, his breath rasping in his throat, his eyes wide and dark. “We shouldn’t—”
“I am tired of people telling me what I should not do!” Thea shot back fiercely. “For once I intend to do as I please.”
Cupping his face in her hands, she went up on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his, once, twice … and then, with a shudder, his arms clamped around her again, and he buried his lips in hers.
Gabriel carried her into the small bedroom and closed the door after them. He set her down, and as soon as her feet touched the floor, he was kissing her again. His lips moved over her face and neck and ears. He nibbled at her sensitive earlobe, then traced the whorls of her ear with his tongue, and Thea let out a small noise of surprise that soon turned into a soft moan as the things he was doing sent shivers through her. She felt as if she were melting deep inside, something low in her abdomen turning heavy and molten.
He sank his hands into her curls, his fingertips pressing into her skull, and his mouth came back to hers, claiming it in a deep, long kiss that left her shaken and speechless. Thea felt as if she might slide right down to the floor, her legs like jelly, and she curled her hands into the front of his shirt, holding on. His hands went to the back of her dress, expertly unfastening it. She had thrown on the easiest dress to don, one with only ties; it was equally easy to undo. Thea could find no fault in that as Gabriel’s hand slid beneath the open sides of the gown.
She did not mind the cool air, for Gabriel’s hand was deliciously warm in contrast. He trailed his fingers down her spine as he took her mouth in another searching kiss. Heat burned with a low, insistent throb between her legs, and Thea was almost overwhelmed by the flood of sensations his fingers and mouth awakened.
Thea wanted to feel his fingers on her bare skin, without all the layers of her clothes. She broke away, and Gabriel looked at her in faint surprise and question, his hand falling away from her. But when she pulled her arms out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor, a slow, sensual smile spread over his mouth. He reached out and took the ribbon bow of her chemise and tugged it loose. The thin cotton undergarment sagged, exposing the tops of her breasts, and his fingers teased in under it, opening the neckline wider and sliding it downward in torturously small increments.