Her Every Pleasure (10 page)

“So, you’re from a scandalous family,” she drawled. “They are fortunate their rank protects them from the ton’s censure.”

“Indeed.” He furrowed his brow. “You read the Society pages or something?” He wouldn’t have thought she could read at all.

“Oh, no,” she amended quickly. “I eavesdrop on fine ladies’ gossip.”

“Aha. Well, I seem to be the only nonscandalous member of our extended family.”

“So far,” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes.

He snorted, but then got distracted, watching her as she licked her lips slowly. She paused as though gathering her courage to ask the next question in this little interview. Gabriel braced for it.

“Was it in India that you got your scar?”

He nodded.

“How did it happen?”

He stared at her for a long moment and then heaved a sigh. “My cousin the Duke of Hawkscliffe’s boyhood chum and longtime friend of the family, Lord Griffith, came to India on a diplomatic mission. He’s a high-ranking negotiator with the Foreign Office—what, you’ve heard of the Marquess of Griffith, too, in all your eavesdropping?” he asked sardonically when he saw how her eyes had flared.

She nodded, wide-eyed.

Gabriel laughed softly and shook his head. “Well, considering the long-standing family alliance between the Hawkscliffe dukes and the Griffith marquesses, Griff made a point of visiting our branch of the family when he arrived in Calcutta. Which is where he met my sister, whom he ended up marrying, but I digress. To show preferment, Griff requested that Derek and I head up his diplomatic security detail for his mission into the interior. Poor devil had been tasked with trying to keep Britain out of war with the Maratha Empire.”

Sophia was staring at him as if she had seen a ghost. “You were a—diplomatic bodyguard?”

“On that occasion, yes. I can assure you my preferred location was the battlefield with my men, but my aristocratic family connections made me a favored candidate to shepherd various important personages around India when they came visiting from London. Simply put, it was my job to make sure they didn’t get killed. Stupid bleeders, most of them,” he muttered. “Like minding children. Tripping about as if they were still in Mayfair. Heedless of danger, insulting the locals without even realizing it.” He shook his head again. “Griff was one of the few who knew what the hell he was doing.”

Gabriel fell silent, staring into the candle’s dancing flame as his mind revolved around all that had happened during Griff’s mission, and their fateful visit to the Maharajah of Janpur. He shrugged off the past uncomfortably.

That Hindu prince had gone after his sister, Georgiana, and if he had to do it over again, he’d have killed the little bastard just the same. Nobody laid a hand on his sister.

“To make a long story short, we encountered opposition,” he said abruptly.

“Someone tried to kill your diplomat?” she murmured, studying him.

“Actually, someone tried to kill my brother.” Of course, Derek had instantly joined the battle to protect Georgiana. If it wasn’t for Griff’s quick thinking, they’d all have been dead.

He shook his head grimly. “Derek didn’t see it coming. I just reacted automatically. The next thing I knew, I was down. After that, I don’t remember much.”

Sophia’s eyes were wide, and her voice was barely a whisper. “You took a bullet for your brother?”

“Actually, it was an arrow,” he said.

“Oh,” she breathed, staring at him in apparent awe.

Gabriel shrugged and looked away, a bit uncomfortable with the flicker of hero-worship in her gaze. “Derek would have done the same for me.”

Thankfully, she let that painful thread of their conversation fade and smiled at him after a moment. “I see now my pulling a knife on you could have been suicidal.”

He scoffed. “I’d never hurt a woman.”

“I know. But I do apologize for it all the same.”

He smiled wryly at her. “No matter, Sophia. I’ve faced meaner enemies than you.”

“I’m sure you have.”

He stared at her, arrested by the subtle sparkle of her creamy skin in the candlelight, and once more felt the drift of his thoughts gliding off in a dangerous direction. He dropped his gaze and pushed his empty bowl away. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?” she asked guardedly.

“I think it’s your turn now to answer some questions,” he declared in a low tone.

She slanted him a dubious look as he rested his elbow on the table and propped his jaw on his fist, studying her with a faint smile.

“Like what?”

Gabriel took note of the nervousness behind her glance. He knew quite well she had been less than forthcoming with him, but at the same time, he sensed that pressing her for answers would only succeed in driving her farther away, and he did not want that.

After all his time alone, he was savoring the warmth of this unexpected bond between them too much to risk breaking it. The connection he felt between them was still too fragile, too new. It really was quite strange. Usually, he despised liars, and he knew she had not been honest with him, but somehow she was different. So, he opted for a gentler approach, and gave her a casual smile.

“What’s it like being a Gypsy?”

She let out a small laugh and dropped her gaze with a trace of relief passing over her face that she probably did not know she betrayed. “Not very nice, sometimes, when people assume you’ve only come around for the old snatch-and-grab,” she shot back with a pointed smile. “It’s most unpleasant to have false tales circulated about one’s tribe, you know.”

“Well, maybe you and I can clear up a few of those mistaken notions now,” he suggested.

“Let’s,” she agreed with a firm but playful nod.

“Babies,” he said.

“What about them?”

“Is it true you Gypsies steal little children if they misbehave for their parents?”

“Oh, yes,” she averred. “We use them as our slaves.”

“Horses?” He nodded toward the window through which he had seen the bay gelding first appear. “Is it true that Gypsies steal them?”

“By the herd.”

“Silk handkerchiefs?” he queried with a mock frown.

“Child’s play,” she purred.

Gabriel laughed, dying to kiss her.

She took another sip of wine and gave him a coquettish look askance. “Come, Major, I’m sure you don’t like it when Londoners assume you’re some sort of colonial savage, all for having been born in India.”

“Oh, but I am.”

“A savage?”

“Quite. And you’re ruining all my illusions! Surely some of those wonderful tales about Gypsies must be true. At least tell me you all still travel around the countryside selling trinkets and telling fortunes?”

“Well, yes, that much is true,” she conceded.

“Finally! So, you can see the future, eh? Do you have a crystal ball?”

“I don’t need a ball, my friend. I can do better than that.”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Can you read my palm?”

Holding his avid stare, Sophia reached toward him with a graceful twirl of her fingers and boldly captured his right hand, turning it, palm up, on the table. “Let’s have a look,” she whispered with a mysterious air. “Hmm…yes, I see.”

Gabriel gazed at her in delighted bewilderment. Sophia lowered her head, but when she traced her fingertip over a curved line across his palm, he quivered; she looked up through her lashes and met his feverish stare.

Maybe she did have magical powers, he thought, heart pounding, for no woman had ever conjured such a storm of want in him. He would have loved to introduce her to some of India’s more exotic arts.

She bit her lip, dropping her gaze to his callused hand once more. Her touch was warm and light and mesmerizing. He leaned nearer. “Can you divine my destiny, Sophia?” he asked in a husky murmur.

“I will—try.”

He was pleased to hear the breathy catch in her voice. Thank God he was not the only one so powerfully affected.

“What do you see?” he whispered.

“Long life…”

“Now I know you are a charlatan,” he teased in a low tone. “Small chance of that.”

“Long life,” she repeated insistently. “I see…courage…loyalty…strength. But wait—I see danger in your future.”

“Yes, you still have your knife,” he reminded her dryly.

She flicked him a chiding look and continued their flirtatious game. “There could be danger ahead for you, I’m afraid, but also much happiness. Your palm says you are destined for great things.”

“Could you possibly be more specific?”

Sophia looked at him intently. Her big, brown eyes were deep and soulful, at odds with his sardonic manner of a moment ago.

“What is it?” Gabriel murmured. Had he offended her with his teasing?

“Who were the candles for?” she whispered, quite out of nowhere. “I saw you lighting them last night, from the barn.”

He pulled his hand back in sudden wariness. “Why didn’t you make your presence known?”

She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “You looked like you did not want to be disturbed. Besides,” she admitted, “I was a little afraid of you. I thought it might be best to wait until morning to come and knock on the door. But the candles,” she said again. “Do you light them for someone you loved?”

“No.” He dropped his gaze, silent for a moment. “I light them for the men I’ve killed in battle. Glad you asked?”

When he glanced at her again, the trace of a frown wrinkled her smooth brow, but she appeared undaunted.

She picked up the bottle of wine and refilled his glass for him. Maybe he looked like he needed it. “Does that have something to do with why you’re living out here in the middle of nowhere?”

He shrugged. “All I seek now is peace.” Then he eyed her cautiously. “You Gypsies are said to possess occult abilities. Perhaps from your people’s lore, you can explain how this can be. The strangest thing…” His words trailed off as he hesitated, fearing she might doubt his sanity if he revealed his secret to her.

On the other hand, God knew he had to tell someone.

“Gabriel?” she whispered, tilting her head as she studied him more closely. “What is it?”

He passed a guarded glance over her lovely face. “I saw something when I was wounded. The surgeon…later told me that my heart stopped.” He watched her reaction with cloaked intensity.

She narrowed her eyes, then folded her arms along the edge of the table. “Do you mean to say you were…?”

“Dead. Briefly. Yes.”

She appeared to have been rendered speechless, then she lifted her eyebrows, taking this in stride. “I see,” she said after a moment.

“The surgeon said my pulse came back approximately two minutes later. I remember that. The choking feeling. I could see him trying to revive me. I could see them all working on me—as if I were a ghost floating up above my body.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I told my brother, but not even Derek believed me. What say you? Can your Gypsy secrets tell me what this means?”

Perhaps the tone of quiet desperation in his voice had roused her sympathy. She reached out to him, laying her hand on his forearm. She gave it a firm squeeze of steadying comfort. “All it means is it wasn’t your time.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I wanted to stay there, where it was peaceful, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I could not see their faces. The light was too brilliant. Angels, maybe. Ghosts? They told me I had to go back. That there was still something I had to do.”

Her eyes were wide as she searched his face in amazement.

Gabriel summoned up a rueful smile. “Now you think I’m mad.”

“No—”

“Believe me, Sophia, I know how absurd this all sounds. I am a commonsense man. A military man. I have never indulged in flights of fancy.” He shrugged. “But I know what I saw.”

She tossed back the last swallow of her wine, probably needing it at this point. She mulled over his words for a moment, then slid him a guarded look. “Do you have any idea what you’re still supposed to do?”

He shook his head. “That’s what I came out here to try to figure out. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. If there’s any place meant for contemplation…” His words trailed off.

“Hm,” she said.

He had not told her
all
of what he had seen in those weird, suspended moments, but he had said too much already. If he told her about the fiery part of his vision, that brief, hellish tour of the smoky battlefields of his past and all the death and agony he had caused his fellow man, she would think he was a lunatic for certain.

“At least I know one thing,” he declared in a confidential tone after a moment. “I know what my destiny isn’t. It’s not going back to the cavalry. I could not possibly kill another human being ever again. After what I saw, I’m quite sure that doing so would cost me my immortal soul.”

“Gabriel.” She looked a little shaken by his words, and touched his arm once more, offering him a small caress. Then, without warning, she leaned over and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his lips.

He closed his eyes, reminded achingly of that brief glimpse of heaven.

“All will be well,” she whispered as she cupped his nape, her fingers threading through his overgrown hair. “Now, listen to me. I’m sure all those weapons of yours can remain put away in that box. You just stay out here where it’s quiet and the air is clean,” she said softly. “In time, your peace will come.”

“So say your Gypsy powers?” he murmured skeptically, loving her touch.

“So says my heart.” Her gentle stare caressed his face. To his amusement, she pressed an almost motherly kiss to his forehead.

Leaning back again to her own chair, she smiled uncertainly at him.

Gabriel watched her every move with riveted intensity.

“It’s getting late,” she mumbled. “I’d better get these dishes done.”

“Leave them.”

“Mrs. Moss will have an apoplectic fit.”

“I’ll deal with her. You’ve done enough work for one day. Go and choose a suitable room and we’ll put some clean sheets on the bed for you.”

“Clean sheets for a person who smells like a stable?” she muttered, laughing in mild embarrassment.

He shrugged. “You can reuse the bath if you want. It’d be a simple matter to add a few pails of hot water to warm it up again. It’s just sitting there—or is that too Army for you?”