Sweet Madness: A Veiled Seduction Novel (13 page)

She narrowed her eyes on him, her mouth tightening in a stubborn line. “We can take whatever safety measures you want. We’ll utilize extra footmen or even hire minders, if that makes you happy. But we are
going
to Somerton Park.”

The carriage bounced as the driver hopped down from the box.

“Listen, Gabriel,” she said fiercely, her pale eyes flashing green sparks. “I didn’t just choose Somerton Park because it is a lovely destination. We
need
Geoffrey’s protection. You may still be considered
compos
in the eyes of the law, but that offers very little protection to a man who witnesses would claim suffers from lunacy. You know as well as I do that your family can have you taken back to Vickering Place by force. Who knows what they are thinking after receiving Mr. Allen’s report? And once they learn we have left . . . All they would have to do is overtake you physically, and I would not be able to stop them. But Geoffrey
can
,”
Pen insisted. “They wouldn’t dare come onto his property and try such a thing.”

He’d been free of Vickering Place for only minutes, but it seemed an eternity in his mind. Just the thought of going back, of being locked away again—no matter how gilded the cage—only intensified the trapped feeling he was already fighting. “How do you know Stratford will offer me sanctuary?”

“Because I already asked it of him and he agreed. They are expecting us any day. Both he and Liliana are well acquainted with the challenges men who’ve come back from war face,” she said. Her voice was probably meant to be reassuring, but in reality, it scraped him raw. “You couldn’t ask for more sympathetic hosts.”

Shame burned in his chest, mingling with his unreasonable fear. It crept up his neck, making even his ears hot. “I don’t want sympathy, Pen,” he bit out. “I want—”

The door to the carriage opened with a groan, and the driver poked his head through the opening. “Beg pardon, m’lord, m’lady. Is there summat amiss?”

Gabriel looked at the man, who glanced warily between the two of them. This was his last chance. If he went on with Pen, he would not only be involving her in this mess, but now her cousin and that woman’s husband. Did he have that right?

He could demand they turn around. And if that didn’t work, he could push past the driver and walk back to Vickering Place. His eyes strayed to the open door. It would be so easy. It was already all he could do to stay inside the coffinlike carriage anyway.

And yet Pen must truly believe he had a chance to be cured if she was willing to call in such favors. Could he turn his back on her and her family’s generosity?

It galled him to have to accept the charity of others, and his nerves burned with the desperate need to escape these close confines. But neither torment was strong enough to quash the damnable hope that Penelope’s faith in him gave him.

Gabriel gave a slight shake of his head. “No. My apologies, driver. Carry on.”

The coachman sniffed against the cold as he turned around, mumbling something as he shut the door. The carriage rocked as the man resumed his seat, then jerked back into motion.

“It is the best choice,” Pen said. “You will see.”

He closed his eyes, praying she was right.

As she watched Gabriel’s eyes flutter closed, Penelope offered up her thanks that he hadn’t balked. She’d seen the panic on his face. Had known he was considering going back, even if he had to leap from the carriage. She would have hated to order the coachmen to tackle and truss him up for the ride to Somerton Park, but she would have done it.

“There
are
other reasons, aside from Geoffrey’s protection, you know,” she said, determined to set his mind at ease. “First, no matter what else we may be dealing with, I know you agree that at least a part of it is battle fatigue, yes?”

He grunted his assent but did not open his eyes.

“Isolation only makes it worse. You need to be around other people, people who can offer social and intellectual stimulation and appeal to your rational self. Not only will Geoffrey and Liliana be at Somerton Park, but they employ several ex-soldiers on the estate.”

But Gabriel wasn’t listening to her. His face had gone eerily pale and his chest rose and fell entirely too fast.

Her gaze dropped to his hands, which gripped the seat of the carriage so hard they trembled. Penelope’s heart leapt into her throat. “Gabriel, what is the matter?”

His eyes flew open and beads of sweat popped out onto his forehead, glistening in the feeble light of the carriage lamps. He shook his head at her, as if to deny anything was wrong. But then he seemed to think better of it. “Can’t”—he sucked in air—“breathe,” he said, tugging at his cravat.

His fingers fumbled at the task. Penelope scrambled to help him, her own breath catching in her throat. She had to partially straddle him to reach him. She bent awkwardly over him, bracing herself with one hand on the squab beside his head. She used her other hand to pull at the knot until it gave way. White linen slid over her black gloves as she loosened the neck cloth. “Is that better?”

He nodded, taking in great gulps of air. His body quivered, tense as a bowstring against her. “Not even . . . a half hour away from Vickering Place . . . and I’m already descending into . . . madness.”

He tried for a self-deprecating smile, but his breathing was still too rapid for Penelope’s comfort, and seemed to be getting faster.

She’d seen this before. Many men suffering from battle fatigue experienced sudden attacks of nerves. Oftentimes it was brought on by a sudden noise, or a flash of memory, or being forced into a situation that reminded them of the trauma they’d experienced, whether they were aware of it or not. She had no idea what might have caused his. It could simply be the stress of the situation. Or the fact that he was leaving the perceived safety of the sanatorium.

Or . . . Gabriel
had
been acting strangely since the moment he stepped into the carriage. She glanced around at the tight, dark interior. Could it be he had a fear of enclosed spaces?

She framed his face with her hands and turned it up to hers. “No, you are not,” she assured him. If he truly worried that an episode was imminent, he would never calm down. Already, his heart pounded, his pulse visible in the hollow of his throat. “You have no warning before your episodes, remember? This is simply an attack of nerves, and it will pass. Just keep looking into my eyes.”

His gaze latched on to hers, panic glinting in his golden brown eyes. She reached down and found his hand, placing it palm down upon her chest. Then she returned her hand to his cheek. “Try to match your breathing to mine, Gabriel,” she said, taking slow, deep breaths through her nose and blowing them from her mouth. “Feel the rise and fall and focus on meeting the rhythm. In through your nose . . .”

He nodded jerkily and gave it his best effort, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. But he couldn’t seem to get enough air and opened his mouth to take in more. His panic was intensifying, she knew.

She had to find a way to calm him, had to jar him out of this before he spiraled out of control.

She could slap him across the face. No. No, she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

So she did the next best thing.

She kissed him.

I
t was a desperate measure, to be sure. Certainly an ill-advised one. And as she pressed her lips tightly against his, Penelope wondered if it would even work.

Beneath her, Gabriel’s chest still heaved, even as the rest of him went rigid with shock. Bursts of cool air struck her upper lip as he was left to breathe only through his nose now that his mouth was sealed by her own in an awkward kiss.

For a moment, it seemed as if he were calming. But then he lashed out, his fist striking the carriage door beside them. Dash it all. This wasn’t helping.

She pulled back from the kiss. “Look at me, Gabriel,” she commanded.

Wild golden brown eyes fixed on her. Their gazes held and he ceased struggling. It was an improvement, but his breathing was still too rapid.

She couldn’t sustain her half-bent position much longer. She twisted her legs and settled herself across his knees. There, that was better. Now she could caress his jaw with one hand, while her other moved to tug gently at his ear. She rubbed her fingers in opposing directions over lobe and cartilage, as she might soothe an animal.

Bit by bit, he came back to her. She felt it first in the subtle relaxing of his muscles against her. “That’s right,” she crooned, not stopping her ministrations. His shoulders lowered slightly as some of the tension ebbed from him . . .

And flowed directly into her.

For every bit that his breathing slowed, hers picked up. For every degree he loosened, she tightened. For every touch of wildness that left him, tempestuousness swelled within her. It was as if their bodies strove to share his burden equally. The sense of connection frightened her, but not enough to dampen the thrill of it.

And then Gabriel was there with her, his eyes clear and staring into hers. Their chests moved in the same harsh rhythm. His arms had come around her waist in a fierce grip, and she clung to him as well, as if they were balancing together on the edge of a tipping point. She didn’t know how they got here, but she knew one thing. No matter which way they fell, madness awaited them.

She touched her lips to his again.

This time, there was nothing awkward about it. Gabriel moaned deep in his throat, rising up to meet her even as he crushed her to him. There was no tenderness in this kiss. Just a conflagration of desire. His, hers, she wasn’t sure which burned hotter.

She decided it didn’t matter much as Gabriel’s tongue breached her lips. She opened wide for him, inviting him in even as he drove to possess her mouth with his own. Their mutual boldness tore a moan of pleasure from her as she clutched at him, both with hands and with the suction of her mouth as she pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Hunger crashed through her, swirling down her spine and settling in low places.

Gabriel shifted his hold, lifting her slightly as he twisted her, trying to bring her closer. It seemed only natural to shift as well. She brought one of her legs around so that she could straddle his. Her breasts slid deliciously against his chest as she settled atop him. At the same time, he braced his feet upon the carriage floor, bringing them into intimate contact.

She broke from the kiss with a gasp as shards of excitement cut through her. Lord, it had been so long since she’d felt this alive. Even through layers of clothes, she could feel the size and length of him. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel more.

Penelope braced herself with one hand against the squab again and brought the wrist of her other hand to her mouth. Grasping the leather edge of her glove between her teeth, she pulled it over and off of her hand before letting it drop, forgotten. She did the same on the other side, desperate to touch him with her bare skin.

“Pen,” he groaned with a longing that echoed in her chest. She answered him with one of her own, but as she started to slide her hands down his chest, his fingers dove into her coiffure, stopping her exploration.

What was left of her hairpins after their dash through the forest scattered this way and that, landing on the wooden floor with tiny clicks. Riotous curls sprang from their mooring, falling heavy around her face even as Gabriel levered his upper body off of the seat to fit his mouth once again to hers.

She sucked in a breath through her nose, expecting the onslaught their previous kiss had been. Instead, he rubbed his tongue sinuously against her. It brushed the corners of her mouth, tested the texture of the inside of her cheeks, skimmed over the surface of her teeth, before swirling with hers in an intimate dance, silken yet rough.

Sweet frustration rode Penelope. She’d never been kissed thus, this teasing give-and-take that left her insides quivering. She was no innocent. Even though it had been more than two years since she’d been intimate with a man, her body knew what came next. Knew and wasn’t accustomed to waiting for it once she was this far along. She clenched her knees against his hips and undulated against him, as if to spur him into giving her what she craved.

But other than to move his large hands to her hips and pull her more tightly against his hardness, he didn’t hasten his seduction. If anything, he slowed his kiss. Stopped even, moving his lips from her mouth to her throat, licking her there, a hard push of his tongue against her pulse that sent it racing ever faster. She moaned as tension corkscrewed inside her.

He
had
to give her some relief. She bucked again, instinctively trying to drive him over the edge, but all it earned her was a hoarse chuckle against her skin that raised gooseflesh. Drat the man! She was bursting with need and here he was, taking his sweet time, in possession of complete mastery over himself . . .

Penelope’s breath caught as cold washed over her.

What am I doing?
She’d kissed Gabriel in a desperate bid to break him free of his panic and bring him back to his senses. Well, it had worked. Better than she could have imagined, but she’d lost herself in the process, hadn’t she?

Embarrassment flushed her skin as she jerked away from his questing mouth.

Gabriel grunted at her sudden movement. He blinked up at her with surprise before his brows dipped in confusion. “Pen?”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, shoving off of his chest. She lifted her knee and twirled off of his lap in a move that would have made even the most demanding dance master proud. She landed gracefully on the seat across from him, plastering her shoulders against the squab to put as much distance between them as she could.

For a moment, only their heavy breathing filled the carriage. Penelope couldn’t bring herself to look over at him. She kept her eyes firmly on her boots as she heard the squeaking of his seat cushion—Gabriel straightening, no doubt. Finally, fabric rustled as he adjusted himself.

“Penelope . . .”

She lifted her eyes to him then. Gabriel looked as she felt, as if balanced on the knife’s edge of desire and trying to hide it. He sat a little too straight, the hard line of his jaw was a little too sharp, and his eyes were a little too dark, clouded with passion. “What—”

“I—I don’t know what came over me,” she said, her voice shaky. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? She might not know what had possessed her to initiate that second kiss, but she knew all too well what had come over her once she had. Lust, pure and simple. It had scorched her rational mind to a cinder.

Even now, molten heat churned through her center—the hot ache of longing. It had been years since she’d felt desire like this. During her marriage, she’d enjoyed a rather vigorous intimate life, so it wasn’t the need that surprised her. It was how quickly the budding awareness she felt toward Gabriel had turned into lust with a simple touch of her lips to his.

She brought her hand to her lips now, her cool fingers doing little to soothe them. “I’m sorry,” she said again, as much to herself as to him. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Much less all that had come after.

Gabriel didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued to watch her with his steady gaze. She was just beginning to think he intended to let the matter drop with her apology when he asked, “Why did you, then?”

“I—” How could she answer him when she didn’t know herself? At least not about
that
kiss. So she cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders and gave him her reason for the first. “It was necessary for your treatment.”

His eyes widened. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that.

Nor had it come out the way she meant it. “To snap you out of your panic, of course,” she clarified. “And it worked, did it not? You are no longer distressed.”

He blinked and looked around the interior of the coach, his forehead furrowing thoughtfully. “I’m not,” he said, a touch of wonder in his voice. Then he looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. “Though I’m beginning to think Allen was right to accuse you of immoral practices . . .” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were still dark with unspent passion, as she imagined hers were.

She felt her face flush, but she teased back. “I
did
consider slapping your face instead. It might have worked just as well. Do you think he would have approved of that method more?”

Gabriel gave a faux shudder. “Most likely. But
I
wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much.”

He smiled at her and she smiled back, even as her cheeks flamed hotter. Then he leaned back against the squabs and closed his eyes, resting his clasped hands over his stomach and crossing one ankle of his outstretched legs over the other, presumably to sleep.

Penelope released a pent-up breath. She had no idea what he must be thinking. She was only grateful he seemed inclined to let the matter go. Perhaps they would be able to move past this moment as if it never happened.

She dearly hoped that was the case.

“Pen?” he asked, cracking one eye open to look at her. “Do you treat all of the men you’ve helped with kisses like that, or is it only me?”

“I— What?” she sputtered. “
No
, of course not.”

He let his eye fall shut as he nodded. “Only me, then,” he said, and she could have sworn the far side of his mouth curved up in a smile.

And she knew he wasn’t going to forget any more than she was.

*   *   *

Gabriel didn’t know how much time passed as he reclined in the carriage across from Pen, feigning sleep. All he knew was if he opened his eyes and looked at her, she’d be back in his lap, skirts tossed above her waist and he’d be inside her before she knew it.

Christ, her lips had been sweeter than anything that had ever graced his tongue. He’d never be able to untaste her. Nor would he forget the feel of her against him or the low moans she made that were so different from her normally dulcet voice.

Not that he was complaining, but what the hell had
that
been all about?

He remembered her pulling him back from the brink of darkness, her voice calling to him, her touch soothing him. And then she’d kissed him and fire had licked through his body, burning away everything but her, bursting into an inferno that had gotten out of hand. If she hadn’t come to her senses—

They’d both be crying out their pleasure right now.

He stifled a groan and shifted in his seat, twisting his hips to the side so that his desire wouldn’t be quite so obvious if she glanced his way.

“You don’t have to pretend sleep for my sake, you know.”

He opened his eyes and glanced over at her. She’d repaired her appearance as best she could. He’d felt her gathering her hairpins from the floor earlier and had he been a gentleman, he would have assisted her. But he hadn’t trusted himself yet.

Hell, he didn’t trust himself now. Even in that dull black gown, with her blond ringlets not quite tamed, Penelope looked divinely kissable.

His eyes fixed on the corner of her mouth, which was turned up in a wry smile. He imagined running his tongue along—

“After all, what is a little kiss amongst friends, eh?”

His eyes snapped to hers. She was still smiling, but it looked a bit forced. She was embarrassed, then.

He uncrossed his legs and straightened in his seat, trying to decide how to respond. He didn’t think it would be polite to point out that
that
had been far from a
little kiss
. Particularly when it was apparent from Pen’s overly light tone that she was trying very hard to make mince of it.

“I only mean to say,” she went on as he was still pondering, “we needn’t make more of it than it was.”

“Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally. He almost stopped at that, but damn it all, that had been the singular most enticing kiss of his life, and he wasn’t ready to pretend that it had never happened. He leaned toward her ever so slightly. “And what, exactly, was it?”

Pen swallowed. “Well . . . you know.”

He raised one eyebrow to indicate that he very well did not know, and her cheeks flamed. She’d replaced her gloves, he noted as he watched her wring her hands in her lap. Perhaps it was cruel of him, but he enjoyed her nervousness. It meant that their kiss had not been an everyday experience for her, not that he expected it was with Pen. It also meant she’d been as affected as he by their all-too-short interlude.

But unlike him, she seemed determined to forget it. Pen straightened her spine and pursed her lips into a firm line. “A simple case of animal spirits, if you insist upon putting a name on it.”

He narrowed his eyes upon her.

“Not that we have anything to feel guilt for,” she rushed to assure him, misinterpreting his irritation. “We are both young and unattached, and—
and
we were in the midst of an intense moment. ’Twas only natural.”

“Natural,” he drawled. It certainly felt natural now. They sat so near each other in the tiny carriage that he could smell her arousal, an undercurrent wrapped in mandarin and vanilla. Sweet yet heady, like the woman herself. It made him want to—

“But it was also a mistake,” she insisted. “One that cannot happen again.”

Gabriel crossed his arms, leaning back into the squabs as he studied her. Her coloring was high enough that he noticed it even in the dim lamplight. He also found her word choice interesting . . . Was she trying to convince him? Or herself? “Cannot?” he asked silkily. “Or will not?”