chapter Ten
It 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?”
Pen inhaled sharply through her nose, taking his meaning. “Either,” she insisted. “B-both.”
But a slow smile overtook him. He couldn’t help it. As much as Pen pretended otherwise, she wanted him. Him. He didn’t believe that rot about animal spirits, though she probably did. Her way of justifying, he’d guess, but to him it reeked of “the lady doth protest too much.”
Gabriel had to stop himself from crowing with satisfaction. For the first time in months, he felt . . . powerful. As he used to. Like a man in his prime ought to.
More important, though, was what he didn’t feel: Hopeless. Sorry for himself. Or at a disadvantage.
In this, at least, Penelope was vulnerable to him rather than the other way around. Or at least equally vulnerable.
And he quite liked that idea.
“What happened was a onetime occurrence. There is no place for . . .” She trailed off, visibly struggling for words. “Intimacy between us. It won’t help at all in your recovery.”
“Ah,” he murmured, enjoying this. “But I thought your particular method of treatment was all about intimacy. Baring my soul to you and all that.”
“Your soul, yes. Other parts, no,” she said primly, and he couldn’t help but laugh, a booming sound that startled them both as it ricocheted back to them off the carriage walls. Then they both shared a smile.
“I am serious, Gabriel,” she said, but her words lacked bite in the face of their mutual amusement.
“I know you are, Pen,” he acknowledged. But he made her no promises. He hadn’t felt this optimistic or alive in an age. It seemed as if he’d left his old life behind him at Vickering Place, and what waited ahead was unknown but filled with both fears and possibilities. He wasn’t about to close off any avenues that might lead to this sort of happiness becoming his everyday reality, no matter what Pen said.
But even his small acquiescence seemed to make her feel better. She visibly relaxed, and spent the rest of the trip to Somerton Park in a constant stream of chatter. It wasn’t like Pen to talk so much, but he knew she did it to avoid any more conversation about that kiss or their feelings about it.
He didn’t mind. He’d always loved her voice. He could listen to her for hours. He enjoyed her easy smile as she spoke of her family and envied the obvious fondness she had for them.
He did think it odd that she mentioned more than once how brilliant Lady Stratford was. Pen seemed to think that her cousin would be an incredible boon in their cause, even more so than Pen herself. Silly woman. Not to take anything from Lady Stratford, but didn’t Penelope realize that the only reason he had any hope at all was because of her?
It wasn’t long before the carriage rolled through the manor’s gates. In truth, it had to have been more than three hours, as dusk now threatened on the horizon. But to Gabriel, it had seemed only moments.
As he stepped from the musty carriage into the crisp evening air, he marveled that the earlier pressing dread had not haunted him once after that kiss. No, after he’d had Penelope in his arms, it was as if his body had shifted all of his awareness to her, leaving no room for the fear.
As he watched her now, greeting her cousin with an enthusiastic hug, one thought reverberated through his mind, despite all that he’d vowed to protect Penelope from his madness.
If only I could keep her with me always.