Page 8 of My Darling Rogue
“I-I thought a mouse ran across my foot,” she muttered.
After years of interrogating people, learning the secrets of the underworlds, and dealing with every sort of criminal, Gabriel knew when someone was lying.
And Celia was lying. Glancing down at her lovely, bare feet, he saw a smudge of dirt across the top of one. His hands itched to take it into his palm, to wipe the offending bit of dust away from the creamy skin. He would be so careful with such a delicate creature.
“Ah, I see. Regardless, I wish it had not come to the point you required concealment.”
Her lips tightened with faint irritation. “I agree. Harvey had no right following me here.”
Gabriel knew a moment of scorching jealousy. Robert Harvey had every right to be in the library with this girl. “It’s not unusual that a man might get certain ideas in his head once he’s been granted liberties.”
Celia half-turned toward him, eyes flashing with defiance. “I have not granted him anything beyond a few kisses.”
“Those kisses were enough, as evidenced by his behavior. I must insist you give your promise you will avoid such predicaments while you and your mother are guests of Lord Ravenswood.”
“Who are you to dictate my actions, Mister Rose?” she demanded angrily.
Gabriel leaned closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Why, Lady Celia, I am the enforcer of the rules set by the earl.”
He’d lied before, claiming he could not smell Celia’s perfume. It was a beacon for any man interested in her, and Gabriel was far from immune. It drifted over him. A soft layering of roses, the scent richly delicate and complimented by the essence of tart lemons he decided emanated from her glossy hair.
His gaze gravitated until it landed on her full mouth. A hint of brandy existed in her breath, sweet and heady. Desire washed over Gabriel like a typhoon set on a dangerous course. Kissing Celia would likely result in his complete obliteration. His utter ruin.
“And I will not tolerate disobedience. Do you understand?”
“Kisses mean nothing,” she flung back at him, ignoring his subtle threat. “Should I kiss you, Mister Rose, and prove their worthlessness?”
Gabriel’s eyebrow rose. “I’m not sure, Lady Celia. Should you?”
The cynical dismissal seemed to infuriate her. With a huff, she replied, “Yes. I think I will. If only to prove I am right. It meansnothing.”
True, he goaded her, but gentleman or not, he would not deny Celia the opportunity of proving her point. After all, he was simply a man. And wicked enough to anticipate the thrill of her mouth touching his.
He smiled at her and nodded his head.
“Then, by all means, Lady Celia. Do your worst.”
Gabriel nearly held his breath when she leaned in closer. They now faced one another in the library’s dimness. The crackling of the fire and their soft breathing were the only sounds in the room. Celia hesitated as if reconsidering her brashness, then suddenly, her mouth was on his.
It was a tentative brush of a kiss. Barely even a kiss at all, if the truth was known. And yet, it was as though the air around them was sucked into a vortex of flames. Gabriel’s heart thundered with awareness. With heat. With overwhelming want and need—all completely foreign.
And over far too quickly.
Celia eased back until space once again existed between their bodies. Her eyes were wide, confusion flitting in the dark depths. She appeared so lost that Gabriel suspected she’d experienced the same jolt of electricity.
Then she said in a less than triumphant voice, “There, Mister Rose. Do you see? Meaningless.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “You are not trying hard enough, Lady Celia.” His voice dropped to a silky purr as he deliberately licked his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of her mouth. “Pretend I am one of your many suitors you’ve stolen away with for a quiet moment. Pretend we are behind closed doors with others standing just outside. Or that we’ve hidden behind the tallest hedge of a maze garden. Maybe the corner of a terrace at twilight. Pretend for a moment and kiss me in the same manner you have so many others.”
A flare of comprehension spread across Celia’s features. “You’ve been watching me.”
Ah, if she only knew how often he watched her.
“A good deal of my position with Ravenswood requires observation from the shadows. It just so happens you frequently appear in those same shadows. And I know you do not kiss the men huddled with you in those dim corners in the same manner you just kissed me.”
“How dare you spy on me. I shall have you tossed from this house,” Celia vowed in a shaky voice. “Banned from all events and polite society.”
“I’ve never cared much for polite society.” Gabriel reached up, brushing away a dark curl that had fallen into her eyes. “But I am curious how you will accomplish your mission. What reasons shall you give for my banishment?”
