Page 15 of My Darling Rogue
Although the threat of a rain storm loomed overhead, Celia thought Gabriel moved with a suspicious lack of speed. And the way he held her could only be considered indecent. Positioned sidesaddle, she sat wedged between the man’s legs. Her hip dug into his groin, and every time she wiggled in an attempt to create some distance between their bodies, Gabriel merely tightened his grip, which made her slide even closer due to the slick surface of the saddle.
He wouldn’t even allow her to don her bonnet, saying the wide brim impeded his line of sight. She held it by the ribbons with one knee jammed into the crown. Her boots were tied together by their strings and now lay draped over the horse’s neck. Cushioned by the fullness of her skirts, they did not needlessly bounce about.
“What is your horse’s name?” Celia asked, hoping conversation would dispel the uncomfortable silence. Perhaps it would make their time together pass more quickly.
Gabriel did not respond for a long moment, then with an exasperated sigh, he said, “Arion.”
The buckskin’s ears flicked backward at the sound of his name and his master’s voice.
Celia twisted to look at Gabriel. “But Arion was the swiftest of mythological horses. Yours, I’m afraid, moves incredibly slow. Were he responsible for carrying you away from battle and certain death, you would not survive as King Adrastus did.”
“I would not discount his abilities, my lady. Arion is very sensitive to insults.”
The horse tossed his head as if he understood everything being said, his silky black mane ruffled by the breeze.
Craning her neck to look past his body, Celia noted the distance between them and the other ladies increasing by the minute. Up ahead, Bentley and Ravenswood, with Sara and Ivy clinging to their backs, were already making the next bend in the road and would soon disappear from sight. She and Gabriel were essentially alone now. The realization was deeply concerting.
“I fear going any faster as it may increase your injury,” Gabriel explained dryly. “Besides, I doubt it will actually rain on us.” He adjusted Celia into a more favorable position, one which pressed her even tighter in the space between his legs.
“If you intend on manhandling me all the way back to Beaumont, I’d rather hobble the remaining distance on one foot,” Celia bit out through clenched teeth. Why did he have to be so muscular? And why must he smell so divine? The heady scent of spicy cloves and leather was most annoying. “I’d probably make it there long before you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t allow that.” Gabriel transferred the reins to one hand while steadying Celia with the other. “And why do you think I am manhandling you? I thought my actions to be most helpful.”
“You consider this helpful? My reputation is being torn to shreds every second we are together.”
Gabriel chuckled. “You have a very dark outlook on the world, Lady Celia. Your reputation is in no more danger than it was two nights ago.”
Celia’s face heated in a rush of embarrassment. “Don’t you dare bring that up. What you did to me was unconscionable.”
He laughed again, bending forward until his mouth brushed her ear. “WhatIdid, my lady?” Warm breath stirred the wisps of hair escaping her coiffure as the wind picked up. Celia stared stonily ahead as Gabriel continued in a voice smooth as melted honey. “I recall things a bit differently. If we are being honest, you used me for your own gain. Remember?”
Remember? How could she possibly forget? She’d thought of their encounter all through that night until dawn broke that next morning. She thought of it all during the following day while avoiding his presence. She’d thought of it during the visit to the village and the walk back to the manor. Blast it all, she couldn’t get it out of her treacherous mind, and now, Gabriel had the audacity to inquire if she remembered it.
Worst of all, he placed all blame for the incident at her feet.
“I refuse to continue this ridiculous conversation. Do not talk to me any further, Mister Rose. Just return me to Beaumont. Hopefully, you will then disappear from my life.”
Gabriel let out a heavy sigh threaded with amused exasperation. “Are you always this prickly, Lady Celia?”
“Only to scoundrels lacking good manners,” she replied primly.
“Ah, I see,” he said with a grin. “Am I to understand you’ve now included me on your extensive list of suitors?”
Celia truly could not help herself in that moment. Twisting around until her upper body was somewhat unencumbered, she drew back a hand and slapped Gabriel’s smirking face as hard as she could manage.
The muted crack of her kid-gloved palm against his cheek sent Arion jittering sideways with an alarmed snort. Celia was forced to grab Gabriel’s forearm to avoid being unseated until he reined the horse back under control.
The weight of his displeasure was evident in the restrained way one arm squeezed around her waist. There was a heart-pounding silence before he gripped her chin in the palm of his free hand and turned her face to his. Even the breeze seemed to steel itself for confrontation as he regarded her. Then his brow smoothed into an impassive façade, and not for the first time, Celia wondered how he came to have the thin, white scar slicing across his forehead.
“Try that again, my lady, and you shall find yourself over my knee for a bit of much-needed discipline. And unless I decide to show mercy, it will not be a pleasant experience for you.”
Seeing the determined glint in his golden brown eyes, Celia swallowed hard and screwed up her courage. “You wouldn’t dare.”
A strange sort of fire lit Gabriel’s gaze. His hand tightened on her chin, holding her immobile. The air surrounding them crackled with intense promise, and Celia hated that her entire body seemed attuned to his. His every breath was mirrored by her own, the heat of his chest burning her arm and the part of her upper body where it pressed against him. The discomfort of her injured ankle was forgotten as Gabriel’s stare melted her defiance and turned her into a trembling puddle of confused desire.
Why did the thought of his hand striking her tender flesh in such a vulnerable area leave her eager to test his resolve? It was absolute madness taunting him like this, and she was a wanton harlot for entertaining the idea of being sprawled across his lap. The leather of his riding glove landing on her skin would no doubt leave a mark should he follow through with such brazen threats.
“Your first mistake is believing I won’t do anything I damn well please with you, Celia Buchanan.” His gaze narrowed and darkened, dropping to her lips. He looked as though he wanted nothing more than to devour her, body and soul. “Your second mistake is believing you won’t enjoy every second of it.”
