Imogen pushed herself up onto her elbows, suddenly confused. He’d been kissing her, he’d started to disrobe her, and then he’d just stopped.
‘Gabriel?’
‘I, ah…’
He was going to leave. He’d spent all this time convincing her, seducing her, flirting with her, and now he was going to leave. She’d done something wrong. Or at least, she hadn’t done something right. Imogen pursed her lips and thought quickly. She could just let him go, but if she did, he was unlikely to ever come back. Once he’d decided she was off-limits, she didn’t think he’d change his mind.
She pushed herself up and got off the bed, moving around to stand in front of him. Her breasts were just about eye level when he was seated, and she stood in such a way that he couldn’t miss them.
‘Gabriel,’ she said again, in a more serious tone. When he failed to look up, she reached out with one hand and forced his chin up. She caught his eyes with hers and smiled down at him, mischievously. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking I shouldn’t be here.’
‘Stuff. The whole world thinks I’ve been doing this for years. For Christ’s sake, Gabriel, I was divorced for being an adulteress. I’ve not a shred of reputation left. And besides, I lost a wager.’
He smiled a bit sadly at that. Shaking her head at the general perversity of men, Imogen put her hand on his chest and pushed him slowly back on to the bed. She’d be damned if he left now. ‘Don’t be stupid, if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here.’
‘But—’
‘No buts.’ She shrugged out of her dressing gown and let it fall to the floor.
‘Imogen,’ he growled reprovingly.
‘Gabriel,’ she mocked him in exactly the same tone, unbraiding her hair and giving her head a shake. Her curls sprang loose, cascading in spirals over her shoulders. That was better. Less prim was surely a good thing?
If he backed out now, he’d never come back. She was sure of it. And if she lost her nerve and let him leave, she’d never find it again. Not just with him, but with anyone. If he left now, she’d quite possibly be alone forever.
Gabriel sucked in an agonized breath. He hadn’t realized she had so much hair, or that she was aware of his fascination with it. But she obviously was, for that was not the manoeuvre of a woman who was unaware of her power, or unwilling to employ it to her ends. That was not the manoeuvre of a woman who didn’t know exactly what she was doing.
She climbed into the bed and curled up against him, leaning over him almost exactly the way he’d just done to her, then she kissed him, sure as any courtesan. That magnificent hair fell over them in a curtain, and he reached up to run his hand over it, careful not to catch his fingers in the curls.
There was certainly nothing seductive about accidentally yanking a lady’s hair; pulling it on purpose was an entirely different thing, however. He locked his hand in the hair at the base of her skull, and slowly tightened his grip, exactly like she’d done to him during their encounter in the garden.
His nymph gasped, excitedly, and let her neck go limp so that her head fell back, exposing the extremely elegant curve of her neck. He put his lips to the tender pulse point, opened his mouth more fully, biting her very, very softly.
She ran her hand down over his chest, fingers pulling at the layers of coat, waistcoat and shirt. She reached his breeches, and the completely evident proof of his desire. She flattened her hand over his shaft so that it was cupped between her thumb and the side of her palm, and then slid slowly down the length of him, and back up again.
Gabriel pushed himself up against her hand. He couldn’t help it. He really should get up and leave, but she wasn’t going to let him. Lucky him. He’d tried to do the right thing—something he’d certainly never even thought to attempt before—and thick linen nightgown or not, she wasn’t behaving like a wholesome little wife. Thank God. Knowing he could only allow her to push him so far before he lost all semblance of control, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her roaming hand up to his chest.
‘You can do that some more later, minx.’
Imogen giggled again, but this time it was a wholly different giggle. This giggle he knew how to interpret. With an amused but reproachful smile he thrust her off of him and sat up again. He tugged off his boots, and unbuttoned the knees of his breeches, then stood to disrobe.
Imogen just laid on the bed watching him. He peeled away his coat and waistcoat, untied his cravat, and then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.
‘Don’t stop now.’ Her voice was pitched low, but the excitement and desire were unmistakable.
Gabriel raised his brows haughtily, and never taking his eyes from her, flipped open the buttons to his breeches, enjoying having her watch him. When he had the satisfaction of seeing the beginnings of her blush, he looked away long enough to strip off his breeches, along with his drawers and stockings.
She smiled tentatively and scooted up onto the bed, making room for him. Gabriel pulled the small box he’d been carrying all day in anticipation of tonight from his coat pocket and climbed into the rather small bed. He thrust the box under the pillows.
He reached down and began to slowly draw up her nightgown, continuing until he had her bare to the waist, then he sat up, straddling her thighs, and pulled it right over her head. In
