Page 20 of My Darling Rogue
“You’ll find her in the Rose Parlor with Ivy and Sara. They are keeping her company.”
CHAPTER10
“The way he looked at you.” Sara sighed, placing a hand over her heart. “I declare, I almost saw flames coming off the man. It was so terribly romantic.”
“Romantic?” Celia snorted in amazement. She shifted on the divan, hiding a grimace when her foot slipped off the plush pillow it was currently propped upon.
“Oh, yes! Romantic. In the way his eyes lit up the moment he saw you. And how gentle he was while tending to your ankle. And, my goodness, when he scooped you into his arms and rode off with you, I thought I might actually swoon,” Sara swore earnestly.
“Did you know there is an art to swooning?” Celia asked, determined to change the subject.
Sara cocked her head, looking exactly like a perfect, blonde porcelain doll. “Is there? And how does that work precisely?”
Ivy adjusted the pillow lodged beneath Celia’s foot and frowned at Sara. “She’s merely attempting to change the subject, my dear. Isn’t that right, Celia?”
Celia averted her gaze from Ivy’s penetrative turquoise eyes. “It’s far better than discussing Mister Rose’s display of misplaced chivalry.”
Ivy tsked as she returned to her seat opposite the dark rose-hued divan. Picking up the teapot, she refreshed their beverages. “One thing I will always say of Gabriel: he is absolutely genuine. And there is kindness there you might not see at first glance. The man has his demons, but many gentlemen claim such. Ravenswood trusts him implicitly, as do I.”
“Does any of that matter?” Celia grumbled. “It’s not as though I have leave to consider the man as a suitor. Why the two of you are so eager for that impossibility is quite puzzling.”
The quick recrimination on her friends’ features was enough that Celia flushed with regret. “I do not mean to imply Mister Rose is beneath me. You know a man’s social standing matters little in my eyes. But it is true he is on the outskirts of our circle. Even if I wished it, which I don’t, I’m positive my parents would never approve.” She scowled with impatience. “Why does everyone insist on pairing the two of us, anyway? We’ve said no more than ten words to one another over the past year.”
Ivy smiled. “Much can be said in just a few words. And while you may believe it goes unnoticed, I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Oh, I’ll admit Mister Rose is a bit, shall we say, untamed. But there is no denying you share a mutual attraction, Celia. What harm can there be in exploring it?”
Before Celia could answer that dangerously probing question, there was a slight knock on the door. It swung open to reveal Gabriel, a grim expression on his features and her walking bonnet dangling from his broad fingers. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him, her cheeks suffused with heated embarrassment for what she’d done.
She’d stolen the man’s horse, leaving him to walk nearly two miles. Under threat of a thunderstorm.
With nervous fingers, Celia gripped the handle of her teacup. There was no concealing the tiny clatter when it shook against the matching saucer. The dark glint in Gabriel’s eyes when they slid over her prone form was a mixture of pure fury and concern.
“Ladies, may I join you for a moment?”
“Of course, Gabriel! Shall I pour you some tea?” Ivy smiled, patting the seat of an unoccupied chair at the end of the divan where Celia’s foot lay propped like a bizarre prize upon a fluffy pillow. Gabriel took the offered seat while Celia gulped in a desperate bid to contain her panic. He turned her poor bonnet over and over in his hands. She was sure, by the time it was returned to her possession, it would be hopelessly ruined.
“Yes, thank you, Lady Ravenswood,” he murmured while staring at Celia with eyes hot and dark.
His gaze roamed with breathtaking insolence across her body as she lay stretched out on the divan. From her stockinged toes, over her legs, her hips, her bosom, and on up until, finally, their eyes clashed.
Burnished whiskey bored with dangerous intensity into sweet chocolate.
Sara cleared her throat and hid a smile by taking a sip of her tea. Celia clenched her teeth, perturbed by her friends’ lack of alarm when it came to Gabriel Rose and his intentions. Could they not see how dangerous he was?
This was insanity. To lay thus, vulnerable and exposed. Although completely clothed with her feet only lacking shoes, Celia had never felt so… bare. And foolish.
Why am I frightened of him? After all, I am the one he accosted. The one he violated! He should consider himself fortunate that I only stole his horse. Oh, I hope his feet are blistered from walking! I hope he has stone bruises. I hope he is suffering from thirst and exposure. I hope…
Celia stirred with the intention of sitting upright, determined this man would not intimidate her a minute more.
“Stay where you are.”
Gabriel’s eyes pinned her in place, his command soft and resolute. Celia threw caution to the wind and defiantly pulled herself to a sitting position anyway.
There was only a small wince betraying the twinge of pain felt when her feet touched the floor. She set her teacup and saucer down on the low table in front of her. Then with a fierce glare, she leaned toward the man, snatched her bonnet from his hands, and impatiently tossed it onto the settee beside her.
A muscle ticked in Gabriel’s chiseled jaw. A flicker of emotion revealed by tiny flutters just beneath his skin and the shadow of a faint beard.
“I shall require a moment alone with Lady Celia,” Gabriel said, his gaze never leaving Celia. She noticed his hands had clenched into fists. That wasn’t encouraging at all.
