Gabriel smiled and pulled her close, as if he were trying to absorb the feel of her. Pandora let herself rest quietly against the deep warmth of his flesh and the satiny golden skin. She was surrounded by the vibrant scent of him, fresh with hints of evergreen and dark spice. How familiar his smell had become in a handful of days. She would miss it. She would miss being held like this.
For a moment of biting envy, she imagined Gabriel going back to London, to the intimate little house he’d bought for himself and his mistress. Mrs. Black would be there waiting for him, perfumed and dressed in a beautiful negligée. He would take her to bed, and do wicked things to her, and even though Pandora had little idea of what those things were, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to spend hours in bed with him. Butterflies swirled in her stomach.
“Gabriel,” she said uncertainly, “I didn’t quite tell you the truth.”
His hand played in her hair. “About what, love?”
“I shouldn’t have said I have no inhibitions. The truth is that I mostly don’t have inhibitions, but I think there are a few. I just don’t know exactly what they are yet.”
A dark, soft whisper nearly singed her ear. “I can help you with those.”
Her heartbeats came even faster than falling rain. It felt disloyal to want him like this . . . disloyal to herself . . . but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Gabriel loosened the embrace and reached for her discarded robe, intending to dress her again. “I have to carry you to bed now, Pandora,” he said ruefully. “Or our rendezvous is going to turn into outright debauchery.”
Chapter 14
“Are you ill, milady?” Ida asked the next morning, standing at Pandora’s bedside.
Feeling her consciousness dragged upward, kicking and screaming, from the depths of comfortable oblivion, Pandora squinted up at her lady’s maid.
“I’m lying in bed in a dark room,” she said grumpily, “with my head on a pillow and my eyes closed. People tend to do this when they’re sleeping.”
“By this time every morning, you’re usually jumping about and chirping like a cricket in a hen yard.”
Pandora rolled to face away from her. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“The rest of the household is awake. You’re going to miss breakfast unless I can manage to make you presentable in the next half hour.”
“I don’t care. Tell whoever wants to know that I’m resting.”
“What about the housemaids? They’ll want to come in and clean.”
“The room is already tidy.”
“It most certainly is not. The carpet must be swept, and . . . why is your wrapper draped at the foot of the bed instead of hanging in the wardrobe?”
Pandora burrowed more deeply beneath the covers, turning pink all over. She remembered Gabriel carrying her to her room last night and laying her on the bed. It had been so dark that she could hardly make out anything, but Gabriel had exceptional night vision.
“Arms in or out?” he’d asked, straightening the covers efficiently.
“Out.” Pandora had been nonplussed and amused. “I didn’t know one of your bedroom skills was tucking people in.”
“Only very small people until now. Justin routinely gives me low marks for leaving the covers too loose.” Gabriel’s weight had depressed the mattress as he’d braced a hand and bent over her. As his lips had touched her forehead, Pandora had circled her arms around his neck and sought his mouth. He’d resisted briefly, his soft laugh rushing against her cheek. “You’ve had enough kissing for one night.”
“One more,” she had insisted.
He had obliged her, and she had no idea how long he’d stayed there with his lips playing against hers, while she’d responded with deep-dreaming intensity. Eventually he’d left her, vanishing into the darkness like a cat.
Pandora was wrenched away from the pleasurable memory as she heard the clang of the tin slipper-box lid.
“There’s only one slipper,” she heard Ida say suspiciously. “Where’s the other?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why were you out of bed?”
“I was looking for a book, since I couldn’t sleep,” Pandora replied irritably, filled with worry. What if Gabriel hadn’t remembered to retrieve the other slipper from the hallway? And what about the fallen candle? If one of the servants had found the items . . .
“It must be here somewhere,” Ida fretted, crouching to look under the bed. “How do you lose things so easily? Gloves, handkerchiefs, pins—”
“Your talking is waking up my brain,” Pandora said. “I would have thought you’d be pleased for me to stay unconscious longer than usual.”
“I would,” Ida retorted, “but I have other things to do besides wait on you all morning, Lady Slugabed.” Standing with a huff, she left the room, and closed the door behind her.