A Winter Scandal (22 page)

“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 dear 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.

They kissed until she could not breathe and the blood was pounding through her veins. Thea thought she might faint, but when he released her, she let out a murmur of protest. However, he let her go only to bend and sweep her up into his arms. Thea sighed with pleasure and rested her head upon his shoulder, her arms twining around his neck. In his arms she felt small and precious. Wanted. Not an awkwardly lanky spinster passed over by every male eye, but a woman who stirred a man’s blood, whose kiss could make him hungry with desire.

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.

His knuckles slid over the soft tips of her breasts and glided down, pushing the material before them until he hooked into the waist of her petticoats and pantalets. Releasing the material, he pulled open the drawstring of each garment, his eyes all the while remaining on her. Once more he began the slow journey downward, his fingers spreading wide over her skin as the material bunched and moved, exposing ever more of her flesh.

Thea’s breath grew ragged, and she was filled with a strange, wild mixture of emotions as he revealed every inch of her body to his eyes and hands—anticipation, pleasure, and a growing hunger roiled and clashed with the anxious fear that he might find her displeasing. His hands moved around to her back and curved over the soft mounds of her buttocks, and she heard a low noise, somewhere between a moan and a growl, escape his throat. She smiled to herself, certain that whatever Gabriel was feeling, it was not displeasure.

He pushed the underclothes the rest of the way down, impatience ending his slow teasing of their passion. The garments caught at the barrier of her half boots, and he went down on one knee to unhook the shoes. He lifted her foot, tugging the boot off, and she put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Gabriel gazed up at her, grinning his enjoyment of her from this new vantage point.

The other boot came off as easily, and Thea stepped out of her clothes. Gabriel did not stand, however, but instead put his hands on either side of her leg to roll down a final bit of clothing Thea wore, her stocking. He did the same with the other leg, his fingers lingering over her curves. Then he slid his hand daringly higher, moving over her calf and thigh, toward the center of Thea’s heat.

She let out a choked noise, remembering with vivid clarity the way his fingers had found her and caressed her there the other day. She knew she should feel embarrassed; no doubt it was weak and sinful to ache for him to touch her that way again. But she didn’t care. All she cared about now was the trembling ache inside her, the heat. But his hands halted on their gliding path, and he stood up, leaving the hunger still burning within her.

“Hardly seems fair, does it, that you are the only one undressed?” he said huskily as he tugged his shirt out from his pants and untied the top tie. He reached down and grasped the ends of his shirt and pulled it off over his head in one swift motion.

Thea’s eyes were fastened to his nakedness now as she examined the wide expanse of his chest, taking in every detail from the flat, masculine nipples and the ripple of muscle beneath his skin to the curling black hair tapering in a
V
down his chest and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. His body was hard and male, so very different from her own, and the sight of it stirred her. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the firm pad of muscle and the bony line of his collarbone, the sharp points of his shoulders. She wanted to experience the texture of his skin, to run her hands over the ridges of his ribs.