“Let me go.” She yanked her hand once again, managing to wrest free. She took a step backward. “Whore’s daughter or kin of the queen, I would never sully myself by taking one such as you to my bed,” she spat.
Rage mottled his cheeks and for one moment she suspected he intended to hit her, but then his gaze moved past her shoulder. She followed his gaze to the tall, commanding, and, more importantly, familiar figure just several paces away. Eventually, when Montclair was gone, there would be the implications of Gabriel’s arrival and inevitable questions. A man who loved his family as he did and pledged to ruin her if she brought shame to his family would turn her out in a moment. For now, however, her shoulders sagged in relief at his unexpected, but timely, arrival.
Montclair inclined his head. There was a faint mocking sneer on his lips. “Waverly.”
Gabriel moved that cool, crystalline stare between her and Montclair, and ultimately settled that hard gaze upon the earl. “Montclair,” he drawled. A lethal edge of steel underlined that one word greeting.
For one horrifying moment, Montclair gave Jane a prolonged look, and she believed he intended to reveal all to Gabriel, here, now, in this public way. But then, he dipped a bow and gave her a lingering glance. At the determined glint in his eyes, gooseflesh dotted her arms. He stepped around the marquess and made to take his leave. Some of the tension left her, but then he suddenly froze.
She fisted her hands at her sides as Lord Montclair looked Gabriel up and then down. What game did the calculated lord even now play?
“With your regard for your sisters, I would expect more care in the selection of their companion.” Jane went taut; her body so brittle she feared if she moved in any way she’d splinter apart. “Surely a woman with Miss Munroe’s past is unfit company for your sister.” She flinched at his deliberate use of her title miss. Then, the earl shot her a condescending grin and left.
With the earl gone, stilted silence stretched on between her and Gabriel. The lively strains of the string instruments from La Cenerentola mocked the volatility of the moment. She shifted on her feet. “We should return to your sister.”
He narrowed his gaze all the more. “That is all you’ll say?” That same unforgiveable tone fit more with the stranger who’d first ordered her from his home than the gentleman who’d shown her more kindness than she’d known in the course of her life.
At the unrelenting gleam in his eyes, Jane wet her lips. “Er, yes?” The silver flecks of fury in his eyes threatened to ignite. She skittered her gaze about. No, it was too much to hope he’d simply ignore the meeting he’d stumbled upon. Gabriel took a step toward her and took her by the wrist in a manner similar to Montclair’s, and yet, so entirely different. For the power of his hold, there was still a gentleness, a care to not harm her. Blasted emotion clogged her throat once again, but then she met his gaze squarely and there was nothing warm or caring in the green of his eyes. A startled squeak escaped her as he pulled her into a nearby alcove. The curtain settled about them, shrouding them in darkness. She blinked several times in an attempt to bring his face into focus. When she did, she wished she’d left the veil in place.
Fury, outrage, and questions stamped the harsh, angular planes of his face. “How do you know Montclair?” His touch, however, remained gentle and for that, she knew he’d not harm her. His words contained a wealth of questions that as a gentleman he was too proper to bluntly speak.
“Ask the question you truly wish to ask,” she spat out. “Am I his lover?”
Gabriel relinquished her so suddenly, she stumbled back. The thick, crimson fabric rustled in protest. He folded his arms about his broad, muscular chest and shrunk the space between them. “Well, madam?” His thick, black lashes swept low, veiling his eyes. But not before she detected the flash of fury there.
She bristled. Granted, she was a liar and a thief by the manner in which she’d entered his household, but she’d not be intimidated by him and treated as though she were a mere child. Jane angled her chin up. “Does it really matter whether…?” Her attempt at bravado slipped as he lowered his brow to hers. Of course it mattered. Even she, an outsider to Gabriel’s world, knew that.