‘Repentance is but want of power to sin.
‘Dryden,’ he replied with a chuckle, tightening his grip, pulling her fully into his lap, skirts riding up her legs until her calves were bared. ‘Ah, how sweet it is to love! Ah, how gay is young desire!’ he quoted back before taking possession of her mouth again, lips firm, mouth open, tongue sweeping inside like a marauder.
One arm wrapped around his neck, Imogen sent the other slipping down his chest, exploring. Gabriel hissed as her thumb found his nipple and began to circle it, slowly. Even through his waistcoat and shirt the sensation was distinct.
Where was at least a cursory show of resistance? Where the demure dismissal? What a deceptive little minx.
Stomach tight with the effort to control himself he took hold of her distracting hand and moved it up and away from his chest. If she slid that hand any lower he simply wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions.
She giggled, but she didn’t move her hand back to taunt him further. She’d made her point, and she knew it. Gabriel deepened the kiss, teeth clashing as he sought to overwhelm her. To shake her. He slid one hand slowly down to cup her bottom, delighting in the shiver that elicited, not to mention the lush feel of her. He groaned into her mouth, picturing her hair unbound in a wild halo, her lips and eyes smiling in welcome, her body clothed in nothing but dappled sunlight.
They were screened from the party taking place on the lawn, but he could hear the children’s laughter, mingled with snatches of conversation. All it would take was a lost ball or an arrow gone astray…Much as he wanted her, this was hardly the time or the place. Ignoring the very real urgings of his body, he broke off their kiss and pushed her off his lap so she was seated beside him. Even so, nestled against him as she was, it was nearly impossible to get his thoughts in order; not to simply roll her underneath him and pick up where they’d just left off.
Imogen sighed and laid her head back against the hollow of his shoulder. She caught one side of her lower lip between her teeth and glanced over at the stranger she’d just allowed to maul her. He was staring up at the branches overhead, seemingly lost in thought, but his body was taught beside hers, his awareness of her evident.
She watched the leaves dance overhead. She didn’t have another ounce of resistance left in her, and there was a distinct possibility that she wouldn’t like the outcome of whatever it was they’d just started, whatever it turned out to be.
There were other considerations as well.
While her family was content to ignore her now, if she was to set herself up as some man’s bird of paradise she was fairly certain they wouldn’t ignore that. Her brother’s threats had always been vague, but there was no doubt her situation could well go from bad to worse if Richard took a hand in it.
Beside him his nymph sighed again. An entirely different sigh than the last one. Registering her unrest, Gabriel blinked several times and forced himself to sit up, putting Imogen away from him as he did so. His nymph was unsatisfied, and he didn’t need any further reminders that so was he. He stood up carefully, reclaiming the pole as he did so.
‘You’ve lost half your hairpins.’
‘So I have,’ she agreed, in quite the friendliest voice she’d ever employed with him. He gripped the pole, gritting his teeth, willing his erection not to return. It would be entirely too evident in his current position.
Imogen pushed her skirts about, hunting for her stray hairpins, giving him a far too thorough glimpse of delicate ankles and rounded calves. She found the ribbon that had held his hair and passed it to him. She made quick work of rearranging her curls, twisting them up and jamming the pins in to hold them in place.
Gabriel watched, totally absorbed.
‘Is it all up?’ she asked, turning her head about.
‘Yes,’ he choked out, hoping he didn’t sound as constrained as he felt. ‘Not a hair out of place.’
‘They’re all out of place.’ She thrust her skirts down and lounged back. ‘One of the few perquisites of curly hair: It always looks a mess, so who can tell when it actually is?’
Gabriel gave a bark of laughter at her temerity and then applied himself to the pole. He pushed them out into the open again and headed directly for the dock.
It had to be now.
If he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t do it anytime soon.
George tapped Victoria on the arm and directed her gaze out towards the pier where Gabriel was assisting Imogen out of the punt.
Everyone else had re-joined the party nearly a quarter of an hour ago. When George had noticed that both Imogen and Gabriel had gone missing, she had not been pleased. She had thought that she and Victoria had understood one another, and had in fact, set themselves the same goal. But apparently Victoria had other ideas. The countess was suddenly enthralled with the idea of her naughty cousin tamed at last.
‘Are you sure, Victoria?’
‘Absolutely,’ Lady Morpeth replied with relish. ‘I’ve never seen Gabe in such a state. Just look at him. Rattled.’
George narrowed her eyes and studied the pair who were currently walking along arm in arm. Gabriel looked up suddenly and accidentally met her gaze, and with what she could only call a start, he abruptly turned and lead Imogen off towards where the children were practicing their archery.
‘They’ve only just met,’ she protested.
‘Pooh,’ the countess responded. ‘I knew the day I met Rupert, and though you were loath to admit it when you met Somercote, you did too.’
Chapter Five
We wish to reiterate that the rumour concerning Mrs F——’s having presented the Prince with squalling,
