Devil in Spring

Gabriel’s mouth quirked with a sardonic smile. “You and I both know this doesn’t have a damned thing to do with honor.” At her perplexed look, he added, “Don’t pretend you don’t know when a man wants you. Even you’re not that naïve.”

She continued to stare at him, a twitch of worry appearing between her brows as she realized there was something she was supposed to know, something she should have understood. Christ. She was that naïve. There had been no flirtations or romantic interests that would have taught her how to interpret the signs of a man’s sexual interest.

He certainly would have no problem demonstrating it. Bending his head to kiss her, he let his mouth drift back and forth until her lips trembled and parted. Their tongues met in a slide of tender wet silk. As he deepened the kiss, it became more and more delicious, her mouth lush and clinging and innocently erotic.

Carefully he lowered her to the velvet brocade cushions, keeping a supportive arm beneath her neck. His body was sweltering beneath the layers of his clothes, so uncomfortably aroused that he had to reach down and adjust himself. “Sweetheart . . . being around you makes me as hot as a buck in running-time. I thought that was obvious.”

Turning crimson, Pandora ducked her face against his shoulder. “Nothing about men is obvious to me,” came her muffled voice.

He smiled slightly. “How fortunate for you, then, that I’m here to enlighten you on every particular.” Aware of her fidgeting, he glanced down to see her trying to pull down the hem of her robe where it had ridden up to her knee. Once that was accomplished, she lay there unmoving, contained fire seething beneath the calm surface.

Bringing his lips closer to her exposed ear, Gabriel spoke very softly. “You dazzle me, Pandora. Every beautiful, fascinating, kinetic molecule of you. The night we met, I felt you like an electric shock. Something about you calls to the devil in me. I want to take you to bed for days at a time. I want to worship every inch of you while the minutes smolder like moths that dance too close to the flame. I want to feel your hands on me, to—what is it, sweet?” He paused as he heard her indistinguishable muttering.

Pandora flipped onto her back, looking disgruntled. “I said you’re talking into my bad ear. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

Gabriel regarded her blankly, then dropped his head with a smothered laugh. “I’m sorry. I should have noticed.” He took a steadying breath. “Perhaps it’s just as well. I’ve thought of another way to make my point.” He levered himself up from the sofa cushions and brought Pandora with him. Sliding his arms beneath her slim body, he lifted her easily.

“What are you doing?” she asked, floundering.

For answer, he settled her deliberately onto his lap.

Pandora frowned and squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t see why you—”

Suddenly her eyes widened, and she went very still. A rapid sequence of expressions crossed her face: astonishment, curiosity, mortification . . . and the awareness of a robust male erection beneath her.

“And you said men weren’t obvious,” Gabriel mocked gently. As she wriggled to adjust her position, it sent exquisite pulses of feeling through his groin and belly. He steeled himself to endure the sensation, breathlessly aware that it wouldn’t take much more than this to send him rocketing to climax. “Darling, would you mind . . . not moving . . . quite so much?”

Pandora gave him an indignant glance. “Have you ever tried sitting on a cricket bat?”

Biting back a grin, Gabriel moved most of her weight to one of his thighs. “Here, lean against my chest, and put your . . . yes, like that.” When he’d settled her more comfortably, he loosened the belt of her robe. “You look overheated,” he said. “Let me help you off with this.”

Pandora was undeceived by his solicitous tone. “If I’m overheated,” she told him, pulling her arms from the sleeves, “it’s because you’ve embarrassed me.” With a severe glance, she added, “On purpose.”

“I was only trying to make it clear how much I desire you.”

“It’s clear now.” She was pink and flustered.

Gabriel tugged the robe out from beneath her and tossed it aside, leaving her clad only in the muslin nightdress. He tried to remember the last time one of his sexual partners had been shy. He couldn’t recall what it was like to feel embarrassed during intimacy, and he was charmed out of his wits by Pandora’s modesty. It made something familiar seem entirely new.

“Didn’t your sister explain what happens to a man’s body when he’s aroused?” he asked.

“Yes, but she didn’t tell me it could happen in the parlor, of all places.”

His lips curved. “I’m afraid it can happen anywhere. The parlor, the drawing room, a carriage . . . or a summer house.”

Looking scandalized, Pandora asked, “Then you think this is what Dolly and Mr. Hayhurst were doing in the summer house?”

“There’s no doubt.” He began to unfasten the top buttons of her nightgown, and kissed the newly revealed skin of her throat.

Pandora, however, hadn’t yet finished with the subject of the summer house rendezvous. “But Mr. Hayhurst wouldn’t have returned to the ballroom with a . . . a protrusion like that. How do you deflate it?”

“I usually distract myself by thinking about the latest analysis of foreign securities on the stock exchange. That usually takes care of the problem right away. If that fails, I picture the Queen.”