Page 11 of My Darling Rogue
A quivering spasm of bewildering need streaked through Celia. Gabriel had not found the same release she experienced. He was still hard. And he wanted her achingly aware of his current state as the firelight danced in shifting shadows across his features.
Light and dark.
Good and bad.
Merciless and tender.
The voice of an angel residing in the very Devil himself.
A wicked rogue she should stay far away from.
A slow grin of awareness spread across Gabriel’s face. He knew exactly what she was thinking. This was a terrible mistake. And she wouldn’t stop him from doing it again.
“I wish to return to my room now.” Her voice shook.
“I’ve no doubt that you do. After all, what if your mother should wake and find you missing?” He spoke with such calmness that Celia shivered in foreboding. She must escape, and quickly.
“You are no better than Lord Harvey,” she bit out, embarrassment making her words hot and uncharacteristically cruel. “Brutish louts, the pair of you. Rogues willing to take whatever you want from a lady. Worse still, you are nobody. A commoner with no social standing or station, regardless of Ravenswood’s support. I shouldn’t acknowledge your presence, and you should never think so highly of yourself to approach me for any reason. You will keep your distance from here on out. Now, I bid you goodnight, sir.”
During this dressing down, Gabriel merely listened, his manner serene, although his brow lowered at the comparison with the other man. When it became apparent Celia would make her escape, he rose to his feet. His movements were fluid, as smoothly confident as that of any high seated lord in Parliament.
Celia blinked, still taken by surprise when witnessing the innate elegance of his mannerisms.
Taking her elbow into the palm of his large hand, Gabriel rumbled, “You will permit my escort.”
“That is unnecessary.” Celia froze with the warmth of his hand, her anger arrested by a sudden, distressing realization. Only moments before, that same hand had been wrapped around her throat. “I don’t require nor need your aid.”
“I know Beaumont better than anyone. Maybe even better than Lord Ravenswood himself. I’ll return you to your room without detection, and you will remember your promise of avoiding empty gardens and deserted libraries in the dark of night.”
Celia was sorely tempted to snatch herself away from his grip. Promising this man anything left a bitter taste in her mouth. More than anything, she wanted to tell him to go to the Devil. How dare he ignore her demand to stay away? And how dare he not be affected by the insults she’d just hurled at him?
“I am waiting, my lady.” Gabriel’s unmarred eyebrow rose slightly.
Not a shred of regret existed in his darkly golden brown eyes. No remorse for forcing her to writhe on his lap as though she were a seasoned harlot. She hated him for that. Hated him for exposing that side of her. That side which had led her into trouble once before so many years ago.
The side of herself that could not help but seek out trouble.
Resentment nearly choked Celia, but she managed a terse nod.
“You have my word, Mister Rose. No more nocturnal library visits while I’m here at Beaumont. Especially if there is a chance of finding myself forced to tolerate your attentions a second time.”
CHAPTER7
“You look tired, my dear.” Lady Darby poured Celia a cup of tea, handing it to her from across the table set up in their rooms.
“I did not sleep well last night.” Celia took a steadying sip of the fragrant brew. “I’m fine, Mother. Do not worry.”
“I confess I never stirred during the night. I’ve slept so deeply these past few weeks. Your father’s condition has much improved since your brother and Violet’s wedding, and that certainly has helped matters. Their marriage has eased the earl’s mind.” Lady Darby winked at her daughter and teased, “Now, his only worry is seeing your future secured. With the right gentleman, of course.”
Celia ignored the tightening of her stomach and smiled brightly. “Of course. Although the selection is hardly noteworthy. It’s a rather bland, uninspiring lot, don’t you think?”
A tiny frown creased her mother’s brow. “You rarely give one the chance to prove otherwise, my dear. Perhaps a choice will become clearer now that so many of your friends have found their own husbands. Oh, I’m not saying you must rush about on a husband-searching mission, but you are reaching a certain age that will make things more difficult.”
“I’ve only just turned one and twenty, Mother. Surely, I’m not quite ready for a walking cane and help getting up and down the stairs.”
“The years fly by quickly when you are young, my love. Besides, the earl and I want nothing more than for you to find happiness and contentment, no matter the man you decided upon. But you will think upon it, won’t you, Celia? Surely, there is a worthy suitor with whom you might consider marriage.”
“I am trying, Mother. Truly.”
