Quite a lowering thought really.
By now he would have had any other lady of his acquaintance naked and tumbled into one of the comfortable beds upstairs. Instead he was sitting here with slightly cold shins playing backgammon, struggling to find just the right way to approach her. One false move could very well result in her angry retreat, cursing them both to a lonely, unfulfilling night.
That was the last thing he wanted.
The first game ended quickly, Imogen’s thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Gabriel only wished he knew where. She was a mass of conflicting signals, and he was reluctant to bring up the issue of their names being openly linked, for fear that instead of clearing the air, it would shatter the tenuous understanding they seemed to have come to. His nymph was no fool. She was well aware of where this day was leading, prevaricate as she might.
He was used to being the victim of the scandal sheets. He even enjoyed seeing his face at the top of the Tête-à-Tête on occasion. Such events were usually good for a laugh. But there was nothing to laugh over this time.
The last time the tabbies had gotten their claws into his poor nymph they’d torn her apart. He was sure she’d meant to cut him, or at least to hold him at arm’s length. He was equally certain she’d not have succeeded.
Whatever her plans may have been, they were useless now. At least she would have that to salve her conscience with: circumstances clearly beyond her control.
Over their second match Imogen strove to collect her thoughts and to concentrate on the game. But she had very little luck. He wasn’t going to have to bother seducing her, she was quite successfully doing it for him. She couldn’t stop thinking about their night together in Newmarket; picturing it, reliving it. She felt like a cat in heat, and she almost couldn’t believe that he wasn’t aware of her state. She was practically panting. So much so that she couldn’t follow the game.
Luckily, he wasn’t in a much better state. A rather quiet hour later Imogen claimed victory in their third match. She plucked her last piece from the board and grinned. Their hands brushed as they collected the pieces and Imogen’s breath hitched. Her eyes flew to his, and she simply stared, trapped. It was the most damnable thing.
Gabriel returned her gaze steadily, merely raising one brow in response. If he gave the slightest push she’d fall readily into his arms, but clearly he was going to make it her choice. Her decision. Damn him.
He was not going to play the seducer. He was going to force her to be a willing participant in whatever might come.
Imogen smiled tremulously and held out her empty glass. Another brandy could only help.
Gabriel smiled back at her, his expression turning wolfish, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. And he probably did…she pressed her thighs together to alleviate the ache building in her groin.
Why didn’t he just carry her upstairs?
He filled both their glasses, raised his in a silent toast and drank.
Imogen swallowed hers in a single gulp, cursing the fact that her play for time had only resulted in further confusing things. His eyes seduced her, but he made no other move…he didn’t even touch her.
Frustrated, not at all sure what to do next, she rose and excused herself, assuring Gabriel that she would be right back. Nerves and too much tea had taken their toll, she simply had to find a chamber pot, and she desperately needed a few minutes to gather her wits.
When she returned the room had been set to rights, the backgammon set put away, the furniture back to its original positions. Gabriel was kneeling, stoking the fire, light playing over his hands, burnishing his hair. It glowed faintly red where it spilt over his shoulder, so dark it reflected the fire.
She watched him work. It was amazingly attractive to see a man do something so basic for himself. She wandered quietly back towards the fireplace. How on earth could she have thought she’d be able to endure his presence for a full fortnight without succumbing?
Not a soul alive would believe that the Portrait Divorcée had spent an innocent night alone with the ton’s infamous Brimstone, so why should she bother denying them what they both wanted? She poured herself more brandy and sank down beside him, welcoming the heat of the fire as it chased off the chill.
Gabriel glanced over at her, a seductive smile tilting up one side of his mouth. He poked the fire a few more times, rearranging the newest log so that it would burn better, then hung the poker on its brace and gingerly took a seat beside her.
‘Warm enough, love?’
‘Yes.’ Her decision made, she wanted to get on with it, before she changed her mind, or her common sense got the best of her. She wasn’t quite sure what to do next. She was alone, scandalously undressed, with one of society’s more notorious rakes. Who’d have thought she’d have to do anything? Shouldn’t he have had her on the carpet by now?
She risked a glance at him. He was staring at her, quietly absorbed. Their gazes still locked, she caught one side of her lower lip between her teeth; pondering her options.
She could feel the strength of his desire like a physical tug; it washed over her, warming her in ways the fire never could. He reached out and plucked her glass from her hand, setting it behind him, along with his own.
She leaned towards him slightly, and he pulled her against him, sliding her across the polished floor and into his arms. His mouth came down on hers, and she twined her arms around his neck.
This was what she wanted; what she’d been waiting for all
