“I don’t think badly of you for it,” Pandora hastened to assure him. “Lady Berwick says it’s often done by gentlemen, and ladies must pretend not to know about it.”
“All very civilized,” Gabriel muttered. His expression was dark as he continued. “There’s nothing wrong with the arrangement unless one or both of the parties involved are married. I’ve always considered marriage vows to be sacred. To lie with another man’s wife is . . . unforgivable.”
His tone remained even and calm, except for the self-loathing that colored the last word.
For a moment Pandora was too surprised to speak. It seemed impossible that this man, with his golden good looks and sophistication—a man so perfect in every way—would feel ashamed about anything. Then the surprise melted into a tender feeling as she reflected that he was not some godlike being, but a man with very human flaws. It wasn’t an unwelcome discovery.
“Your mistress is married,” she said without asking.
“She’s the wife of the American ambassador.”
“Then how do you and she . . .”
“I bought a house where we meet whenever possible.”
Pandora felt something clutch at her chest, like a set of claws digging into her heart. “No one lives there?” she asked. “The house is only for rendezvous-ing?”
Gabriel gave her a sardonic glance. “I thought it preferable to rutting behind the potted palms at the latest soirée.”
“Yes, but to buy an entire house . . .” Pandora knew she was belaboring the point. But it rankled, the idea that he had bought a private, special place for himself and his mistress. Their house. It was probably smart and fashionable, one of those detached villas with bow windows, or perhaps a cottage orné with its own little kitchen garden.
“What is Mrs. Black like?” she asked.
“Vivacious. Confident. Worldly.”
“Beautiful too, I suppose.”
“Very.”
The invisible claws sank deeper. What a nasty feeling this was. It almost felt like . . . jealousy? No. Yes. It was jealousy. Oh, this was awful.
“If the idea of taking a married woman as a mistress bothers you,” she asked, trying not to sound snide, “why didn’t you look for someone else?”
“It’s not as if one can advertise for a mistress in the papers,” Gabriel said dryly. “And attraction doesn’t always happen with convenient people. It bothered me a great deal that Nola was married. But that wasn’t enough to stop me from pursuing her, once I realized—” He broke off and rubbed the back of his neck, his mouth clamping in a sullen line.
“Realized what?” Pandora asked with a touch of dread. “That you loved her?”
“No. I’m fond of her, but nothing more.” Gabriel’s color heightened as he forced himself to continue. “I realized that she and I were very well-matched in the bedroom. I’ve rarely ever found a woman who can satisfy me the way she does. So I overlooked the fact that she was married.” His lips twisted. “When it comes to matters of character, it seems I’ll toss out every scruple in favor of sexual gratification.”
Pandora was baffled. “Why is it so difficult for women to please you?” she demanded. “What exactly do you ask them to do?”
The audacious question seemed to jar Gabriel out of his bleak mood. He returned his gaze to her, the corners of his mouth deepening. “I only ask that a woman be available, willing . . . and uninhibited.” Turning his attention to the buttons of Pandora’s nightdress, he began to fasten them with undue concentration. “Unfortunately, most women are taught never to enjoy the sexual act unless it’s for procreation.”
“But you think they should?”
“I think there are few enough pleasures for a woman in this world. I think only a selfish idiot would deny his partner the same satisfaction she gives him, especially when her pleasure enhances his own. Yes, I believe women should enjoy it, radical as that might sound. Nola’s lack of inhibition makes her unique, and very desirable.”
“I don’t have inhibitions,” Pandora blurted out, feeling competitive. She regretted the comment as soon as she saw the sparkle of amusement in Gabriel’s eyes.
“I’m glad,” he said gently. “You see, there are things a gentleman isn’t supposed to ask of his wife. But if we were to marry, I would have to ask them of you.”
“If we were to marry, I suppose I wouldn’t mind. But we’re not—” She was forced to pause as an irresistible yawn took over, and she covered her mouth with her hand.