Her Every Pleasure Part 6

Tongue-tied with embarra.s.sment, she let out a queenly huff. After all, she was hardly accustomed to having to explain herself to anyone, let alone a commoner and a soldier in a towel.

"You are mistaken," she clipped out.

"Oh, really? Then what were you doing?"

"Cleaning."

"Right."

"Very well. Snooping. I admit it, I was interested in you. That's not a crime, as far as I know."

"Well, well," he murmured, moving closer. "And are you satisfied with what you learned?"

"No," she replied with a haughty toss of her chin. "I have many more questions."

"A pretty attempt at evasion," he whispered. "But I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a liar?" she exclaimed.

"Aye," he said, "and a thief."

"You blackguard," she growled at him.

She lifted her chin; he narrowed his eyes.

"You don't want to see me angry, Sophia."

"Ha! You already are, Mr. Saint."

"No, I'm not. But I am losing patience," he warned, which only escalated her taunting.

"What are you going to do to me, Major? Reach for your saber and lop off my head?"

"Oh, you are an impertinent wench." Gabriel stared at her, amazed. d.a.m.n her, he had put the reminders of his past away for a reason and did not want anyone dragging it all out into the open again.

He needed no help in triggering the memories of how dark and violent he had been in his former career. But he was different now.

At least that's what he had to believe.

And look at her! he thought, astounded. He had never seen such audacity. How dare this little servant girl stand up to him with such cheeky defiance after he had caught her red-handed, rifling through his personal effects?

He did not believe her lies at all. She was just trying to squirm out of her obvious guilt by some quick thinking. No doubt she had been trying to decide which items would bring the best profit at some London p.a.w.nshop.

Lord, I was a fool to let this lawless hoyden into my house. The worst part was, he knew exactly why he had done it. Her dark beauty had bewitched him-and G.o.d help him, he wasn't immune to her even now. l.u.s.t pounded in his brain right along with his fury.

It made him extra wary of her.

Sophia glanced down, supremely unintimidated by his wrath, never mind that back in the regiment, he had been known to reduce grown men to quivering heaps of terror when he was displeased. "What happened to you?" she demanded, nodding at his scar.

"None of your d.a.m.ned business, my love-and changing the subject won't save your pretty hide. Now, are you going to turn out your pockets, or shall I do it for you?" He did not wait for an answer but yanked her to him, pulling her off balance.

She gasped as the sudden tug brought her cras.h.i.+ng against his chest. Hooking his arm around her waist, Gabriel held her to him. He stared down into her eyes, searingly attuned to her soft body crushed against him. His heart pounded. She gazed up at him in speechless shock as he thrust his right hand down into the pocket of her plain skirts. He felt around inside of it for contraband.

The pocket was empty, but Gabriel lost his train of thought, his male senses suddenly distracted when his hand, cloaked in fabric, brushed against her shapely thigh.

The outer edges of his control had already begun to fray; boldly, he molded his hand against her leg, giving in to the blinding urge to feel her.

His rude advance infuriated her; he was glad.

"Let go of me!" she ordered, struggling against him, but Gabriel held her fast, brus.h.i.+ng his lips against her neck with a dark laugh.

"You don't like playing by the rules, do you, my Gypsy girl? But if you're going to misbehave, you're going to have to take the consequences."

"I haven't done anything wrong!" She pushed against his chest and shoulders, trying to loosen his tight hold on her. "Unhand me now!" she roared, but the way she was squirming against his body roused a starved moan from the core of his being. Her thras.h.i.+ng motions had him feverishly rethinking his monkish decision not to take her.

Ah, G.o.d, he needed it so badly.

"Let me go, I say! I did not steal anything from you!"

"Maybe I'll steal something from you," he ground out in a ragged whisper. "You call me a saint? You are so wrong." He bent his head lower and nuzzled her throat. Unable to resist, he parted his lips and tasted the warm salt silk of her skin.

She let out a soft groan; he could feel her melting against him in spite of herself. "Is that really necessary?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"More than you know," he panted as he captured her face and tilted her head back. The lure of her lips was more than he could bear.

Holding her soft curves against him, he could feel her pulse pounding in time with his own; his whole body throbbed as he cupped her nape and captured her lips with his own. She stiffened and tried to turn away, but he followed hungrily, and when he sought her mouth again, this time, seeing, perhaps, that she could not escape, or perhaps giving way to the curiosity he knew they both felt, she gradually yielded.

Playing reticent as a virgin, she forced him to coax her lips apart by the softest stroking with the tip of his tongue. Coy for a harlot, he thought. No doubt still rattled about being caught trying to steal from him, but no matter. She was not going to get away with anything with him, and at the moment, he rather liked her little game.

His heart slammed behind his ribs as she finally obliged him, letting him in to taste her womanly heat.

Gabriel groaned as he kissed her more deeply, his own reservations fading into oblivion. He felt her palms molding over his shoulders. She clung to him, all unsteady with their mutual pa.s.sion that was spiraling swiftly out of control. His body clamored for release.

Feasting on her mouth, Gabriel quivered as her hands inched slowly down his bare chest. Then she began exploring his arms so hesitantly, as if she had never touched a man before. G.o.d, she was driving him mad. His brother must have tipped the girl off on exactly how to seduce him; he must have warned her not to come on too strong with Gabriel after his long abstinence, and once more, Derek was right.

If she had been all over him like the sort of women he was used to, he would have found her so much easier to resist. Instead, her tentative approach made him ache. Her slow exploration had him quivering with impatience to feel those soft, sweet hands all over him.

He had sworn to himself he'd resist her, but what was the point? What was he trying to prove? He could no longer remember. There was only her beauty, her fire, her taste.

A chap was ent.i.tled to change his mind now and then, was he not?

Desperately eager to lose himself in sensuality with her, he was rock-hard, indeed, quite in danger of losing his towel, but he couldn't care less. His blood surged as he ravished her willing mouth; it was wonderful.

He felt alive again, and he wanted her.

His bed nearby seemed to beckon. Still lost in kissing her, he began moving her gently toward it.

Sophia had lost all memory of how they had gone from fighting to this.

Her fevered trance was too deep to keep track of such petty details as Gabriel's delicious tongue swirled in her mouth. His steely arms were wrapped around her, his hands traveling up and down her back, her waist, her hair. Her duty, the danger, her quest were all forgotten in the scandalous joy of his kiss.

The feel of his skin was so beautiful under her palms, with its kid-leather texture, still slightly damp from his bath, growing warmer; she could feel his temperature rising as she stroked him. Every inch of Gabriel Knight brought her greater pleasure.

His arms were outrageous, muscled with bulging curves of smooth stone-magnificent shoulders-and, ah, G.o.d, his sculpted chest.

She wanted to kiss him everywhere, but for now, she contented herself with caressing him. No, she could never get bored of that, and he certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Once more, she traced her trembling fingers along the line of his thick, st.u.r.dy collarbones, and then, down, through the crisp, light furring of hair on his chest. He growled with pleasure against her mouth as her hand glided tenderly over the swell of each pectoral muscle to play with the sweet little nub of each manly nipple.

Wobbly-kneed with desire, she was aware of his raging erection throbbing against her stomach. The layers of her gown and the towel still wrapped around his waist could not disguise the mighty evidence of his want. It made her a little nervous, admittedly. At the back of her mind, she supposed she was playing with fire.

Unfortunately, her powers of reason had fled-until the moment she realized that Gabriel was shepherding her oh-so-adroitly toward his bed.

When it dawned on her what he had in mind, she planted her feet on the ground and tore her lips away from his, coming suddenly back to her senses.

Good G.o.d, what am I doing? This could not happen. Where was her brain?

"What's the matter, angel?" Gabriel murmured with a steamy half smile.

"I can't do this!" she gasped out, still panting.

He touched her cheek, his gaze full of hazy-eyed need. "Of course you can."

"No-I can't."

"Why not?" His eyes had darkened to midnight blue; his lips still shone with the wetness of her kisses.

With a low whimper of frustration, Sophia tore her stare away from his too-delectable self. "My duty," she mumbled halfheartedly.

He let out a husky laugh. "Never mind the b.l.o.o.d.y housework. We've got better things to do. Come on, love. If it's a question of money-"

"It is not a question of money!" she exclaimed, reminded anew of his unflattering misapprehensions. Well, it had been her idea to let him reach his own conclusions about her supposed profession.

She dragged her hands through her hair, still muddled with pa.s.sion, and cast about for a reason that he might accept. "I am not going to do-that with you, after you just accused me of being a thief!"

"Ah, that reminds me," he murmured with a wicked smile, "I have not finished searching you yet..."

"You think this is funny?" she cried.

"I think you're gorgeous. Now, come over here and let me help you get rid of that dress."

She jumped back. "Gabriel!"

"Sophia, angel, I know you want me. You practically said it flat-out in the barn." His stare smoldered, traveling over her; his whisper was gruff with desire. "Come on, now. Don't tease a starving man. You're a naughty thing, but I know you could not be so cruel. Take those clothes off and get in my bed."

When he reached for her again, she panicked and whipped out her knife. "Stay back!"

It was the wrong thing to do.

Gabriel eyed the knife sardonically, but his response was automatic; he shook his head at her and in the blink of an eye, grabbed her wrist, peeling the tight curl of her fingers away from the hilt of her blade.

She cursed as he disarmed her with ease, then he stepped back, smoothly turned away, and hurled the knife hard across the room.

The blade plunged into the wall and stuck there, shuddering, sunk deep into the old, soft plaster.

When he turned back to her with a look of cold fury, she was staring at her distant knife, her pretty mouth hanging open.

"Any more tricks you want to show me?" he drawled.

She turned to him, wide-eyed with shock.

"Now, where were we?" His voice was still gruff with desire.

When he reached for her, she jolted back with a gasp, whirled around without another word, and darted out of his room.

"Sophia!"

Gabriel strode to the open doorway of his chamber, still clutching his towel around his waist. As he listened, confounded, staring into the darkened corridor, he could hear her rus.h.i.+ng down the creaky old stairs.

His frown turned to a glower. d.a.m.n it, what the h.e.l.l sort of coy, thieving tart had his daft brother sent him?

"Sophia, come back here!" he ordered in a full battlefield roar.

But the only answer he got back was the distant m.u.f.fled slam of the front door.

Sophia bolted away from the farmhouse, her hooded woolen cloak trailing out behind her. Her hastily retrieved knapsack b.u.mped against her shoulder with every wild stride, and the drumbeat of her pulse was nearly deafening.

She could not believe he had taken her knife!

Gabriel had disarmed her as though she were as easy to vanquish as a fly. He had left her utterly defenseless, but she knew it was her own fault. She shouldn't have done that, should not have attempted to brandish a weapon at a battle-scarred warrior. Unfortunately, his mind-melting kisses had addled her wits, and she had reacted automatically from all of her self-defense training.

It had served her well last night in fighting off her would-be abductors, but she understood now that with Gabriel, it was the worst thing she could have done.

She had realized her error the second she had seen that lightning bolt of rage flash through the indigo depths of his eyes. His reaction to her weapon had been chilling, but if she had not done something drastic to push him away, then she would have given in all too willingly to his pa.s.sion.

Even now, she could taste his kiss, her chin still tender, chafed from the short scruff of his beard, her hands tingling with the warm velvet texture of his skin. Running down the rocky drive as if she could flee her reaction to him along with escaping the house, it was bewildering to be aroused, insulted, scared, and angry all at the same time.

Well, she had fled her near-seducer, but now she was unarmed. And if she met her enemies out on the road, she knew she hadn't a prayer.

All the same, she was in a wholly different kind of danger if she stayed.

The autumn chill filled her lungs, and as Sophia ran down the drive, its coolness gradually helped to clear her head.

Where did she really think she was going to go?

Oh, this was a disaster.

She was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a man she could barely resist.