A smile pulled on the corner of his mouth, but he fought it and stayed where he was, four chairs down the long table from her.
“I know you want to come with us when we use the net against Axia,” he said, visibly steeling his body for her reaction.
“Don’t start this again, Nolan.”
“What is it you’re trying to prove?” he asked.
“Nothing!” Gabby heard the transparency of her lie and leaned against the table. Had she not been wearing a corset, she would have slumped. “It’s only … I know I can be useful. I don’t have special powers like my sister and brother, and maybe I won’t ever be as good with a sword as you are, but I can be useful.”
Nolan made his way to her side. He made no attempt to touch her. “For what it’s worth, I trust Rory when he says you’re a damn fine swordswoman for the amount of time you’ve been training. I’m not saying you’ll never be ready. I’m just saying you’re not ready right now.”
She was watching his legs and his dirt-smeared tall boots rather than looking him in the eye. He scuffed his feet closer to hers.
“And hell, lass, whoever said you had to be useful to be necessary?” He traced her jaw and, hooking his finger under her chin, guided her gaze up to meet his. “You’re necessary to me, Gabby.”
For some reason, those words left her more breathless than when he’d told her he loved her.
“Maybe I worry about you more than the others,” he conceded.
“I worry about you, too,” she said. “If they take you to Rome and put you in that … that reformatory or whatever it is they call it … Nolan, what will we do?”
He held both of her cheeks now, his thumb passing over her scars as if they were not even there. Even she had forgotten about them until then.
“Don’t worry about that yet,” he said. “I’m not. We still have the end of human civilization to focus on. And then next in line is keeping that angel blood out of Hathaway’s hands.”
His attempt at humor to lighten the moment didn’t hit its mark. Gabby shook her head, dislodging his hands.
“I don’t know if I want to be Alliance, not if it’s led by people who would order assassinations, or force gargoyles into submission, or use angel blood to make themselves powerful.”
Other than Nolan, Vander, Rory, and Chelle, she didn’t trust the Alliance at all. She held more trust for Hugh Dupuis and his gargoyle, Carver, than she did for the Directorate.
“I know. They’re not what I thought, either,” Nolan admitted. “But the Alliance isn’t broken, Gabby, not yet. We can make it better. Together.”
She didn’t know what to say. Being together with Nolan sounded wonderful, though it was dampened by the idea of the Directorate being a kind of horrible extended family they would need to invite to holiday dinners.
Nolan stood so close she could feel the rise of his chest when he breathed.
“We haven’t been alone since your bedroom in London,” he said, bringing forward a rush of blush-inducing memories and images. He smiled when she squirmed against the table.
“We aren’t alone at all. There are at least twenty dangerous men across the hall, not to mention my mother and sister and a trio of very protective gargoyles.”
“Don’t try to dissuade me from kissing you, Lady Gabriella Waverly.”
“Fine. I give up.”
“It’s your resolve that really won me over, you know,” Nolan said, shushing her ready reply with the hard press of his mouth.
The fact that they were in Constantine’s dining room and could, at any moment, be interrupted by any one of a host of intimidating people—Mama topped the list, of course—did not stop Gabby from turning to hot liquid underneath Nolan’s lips and hands. She thought of the last bleak month in London and pulled herself closer, clinging tighter to his shoulders.
He lifted her feet from the thick carpet and set her down atop the polished oak table. Nolan rubbed his open palms down Gabby’s corseted waist and then along the round flare of her thighs.
He groaned and shifted his mouth to the curve of her neck. “You make it difficult to be a gentleman.”
Gabby threaded her fingers through his hair as she’d longed to do earlier. “I thought you enjoyed challenges.”
He laughed, his hot breath waving out over her skin.
At that unfortunate moment, the door to the dining room clicked open. Gabby froze and Nolan turned his face out of her neck, but he didn’t release her from her tabletop seat.
Rory took in the scene he’d interrupted with a brief twitch of his brow, as if he was an expert in such displays.
“Your timing is horrible, cousin,” Nolan said as Gabby wriggled off the table and smoothed her skirts.
“At least I’m not her mother,” Rory replied. “Ye should come back to the library. Quick.”
Nolan started forward, reaching for his broadsword. “Demons?”
Rory shook his head. “Angels.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR