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“She’s not having an affair,” Pandora said. “It was only a rendezvous.” “Do you know what a rendezvous is?” “Of course I do,” she said with great dignity. “I’ve had French lessons. It means to have a meeting.” “In context,” he said dryly, “it means a great deal more than that.”
Bedding her wouldn’t be a problem. It was just everything else about her that would be a problem.
“The Ravenels have always been known for their volatile temperaments.” “Thank you,” Gabriel said sourly. “Now I won’t be surprised when my future offspring emerge with horns and tails.”
Having been raised by a loving mother, and grown up with two sisters, he understood women nearly as well as any man could. This girl, however, was something entirely outside his experience.
The truth was in her eyes. She was interested, no matter how she fought it. And God help him . . . so was he.
A woman will always surprise you with what she’s capable of. You can spend a lifetime trying to discover what excites and interests her, but you’ll never know it all. There’s always more. Every woman is a mystery, not to be understood but enjoyed.”
Gabriel gave his father a wry glance. “Don’t pin your hopes on Lady Pandora. In her opinion, marrying me would be the worst thing ever to happen to her.” Sebastian smiled. “Marriage is usually the worst thing to happen to a woman. Fortunately, that never stops them.”
“Lady Berwick told me there’s no choice. If I don’t marry, the only other option is to hurl myself into the nearest live volcano. Wherever that is.” “Iceland. And the only way you’ll marry St. Vincent is if you can convince me that you’d prefer him to the volcano.”
From now on, she would behave like a respectable, proper lady. People would marvel at her restraint and dignity. They might even become a bit concerned—“Is Pandora quite well? She’s always so subdued.” Lady Berwick would glow with pride, and advise other girls to emulate Pandora’s remarkable reserve. She would become known for it.
The old Pandora would have loved to use the binoculars during the ride to the house. The new dignified, respectable, proper Pandora, however, would entertain herself with her own thoughts. Ladylike thoughts. What did ladies think about?
“She was assaulted and knocked to the ground,” Lord St. Vincent began to explain. “Surely you don’t know her well enough for that yet.” “By the dog,” Lord St. Vincent clarified acidly.
“Take heed,” Lord St. Vincent advised Pandora sardonically, fastening the loose sides of his vest. “My father is the pied piper of gullible women.” “That’s not true,” the duke said. “The non-gullible ones follow me as well.”
“I don’t trust you around unfamiliar furniture,” Lord St. Vincent said. “It could be disastrous. What if I have to pull you out of an armoire, or God forbid, a credenza?” Embarrassed by the reminder of how they’d met, Pandora said stiffly, “It wouldn’t be proper for me to go on an outing without a chaperone.” “You’re not worried about being compromised, are you?” he asked. “Because I’ve already done that.”
“We’ve done nothing but sit all day.” Cassandra was instantly defensive. “Doing nothing is exhausting. I need to rest in case we do nothing again later.”
Looming over her, Lord St. Vincent braced one hand against an exposed tree root that ran up the wall. “I’m not planning to give you to another man,” he said evenly, “if only because for the life of me, I can’t think of a single acquaintance who would begin to know how to handle you.”
A shaky breath escaped her as she recalled that Lord Chaworth had called this man a notorious rake. “Oh, no. I hope this isn’t—you’re not going to try to kiss me, are you?” One of his brows arched. “Do you want me to?” “No,” she said hastily. “No, thank you, no.” Lord St. Vincent laughed gently. “One refusal is enough, darling.”
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t kiss you now, if you don’t want it.” Pandora managed to find her voice. “No, I . . . if it’s going to happen, I would rather you went ahead and did it now. Then we’ll have it out of the way and I won’t dread it.” Realizing how that sounded, she said apologetically, “Not that I should dread it, because I’m sure your kissing is well above average, and many ladies would be delighted by the prospect.”
Pandora had no idea how to respond. “Are you mocking me?” she demanded. Laughter danced in his eyes. “Pandora,” he chided, “don’t you know when someone is flirting with you?”
“The water must be like ice.” “It is. But there are benefits to a cold ocean swim. Among other things, it stimulates the circulation.” The idea of him swimming without a stitch on had certainly affected her circulation.
Amusement filtered through his voice. “Does your mind ever slow down, sweetheart?” “Not even for sleeping,” she said.
She played with the unselfconscious ease of a child, this woman of radical thoughts and ambitions. She was beautiful. Complex. Frustrating. He’d never met a woman who was so wholly and resolutely herself.
The rules of logic by which he’d always lived had somehow been subverted so that marrying Lady Pandora Ravenel was now the only acceptable outcome. He was unprepared for this girl, this feeling, this infuriating uncertainty that he might not end up with the one person he absolutely must be with.
Good God, she really did walk in circles. A pang of tenderness centered in Gabriel’s chest like an ache. He wanted all her circles to lead back to him.
She broke off as she saw him staring at Pandora’s distant form. “Lunkhead, you’re not even listening. You’ve already decided to marry her, and damn the consequences.” “It wasn’t even a decision,” Gabriel said, baffled and surly. “I can’t think of one good reason to justify why I want her so bloody badly.”
Lord St. Vincent—Gabriel—made no further attempts to kiss Pandora. He was a perfect gentleman, respectful and attentive, making certain they were chaperoned or in full view of others at all times. Pandora was very glad about that. Mostly glad. More or less glad.
Self-consciously she brushed at her cheeks with her fingers, wondering if there were a smudge on her face. Gabriel smiled absently and gave a slight shake of his head. “Am I staring? Forgive me. It’s only that I adore the way you laugh.”
Pandora said, “it’s definitely not true. My laugh sounds like a serenading tree frog swinging on a rusty gate.” Gabriel smiled. “Like silver wind chimes in a summer breeze.”
His lips moved softly along the rim of her right ear. “My sweet, there are altogether too many respectable ladies in the world. The supply has far exceeded the demand. But there’s an appalling shortage of attractive pirates, and you do seem to have a gift for plundering and ravishing. I think we’ve found your true calling.”
“Every night for the rest of my life, I’ll dream of the afternoon in the holloway, when I was waylaid by a dark-haired beauty who devastated me with the heat of a thousand troubled stars, and left my soul in cinders. Even when I’m an old man, and my brain has fallen to wrack and ruin, I’ll remember the sweet fire of your lips under mine, and I’ll say to myself, ‘Now, that was a kiss.’”
“I enjoy a woman with a lively nature.” “That’s a very nice way to put it, but I’m not just lively.” “Yes, you’re also beautiful.”
“It’s nice to be treated like an adult.” With a quick, awkward laugh, she added, “Even if I don’t always behave like one.” “Being imaginative and playful doesn’t make you any less of an adult,” Gabriel said gently. “It only makes you a more interesting one.”
But if you live in isolation long enough, it becomes part of you. And then when you try to change, it’s like looking into the sun.
“You’re supposed to be a gentleman,” she whispered sharply. Gabriel tried—and failed—to look apologetic. “I have lapses.”
“After what my sister Helen told me about the conjugal embrace, I can’t fathom why any woman would willingly consent to it. But I suppose if any man could make it slightly less revolting than it sounds, it would be you.” “Thank you,” Gabriel said, sounding bemused. “I think.”
“Didn’t your sister explain what happens to a man’s body when he’s aroused?” he asked. “Yes, but she didn’t tell me it could happen in the parlor, of all places.” His lips curved. “I’m afraid it can happen anywhere. The parlor, the drawing room, a carriage . . . or a summer house.”
“I usually distract myself by thinking about the latest analysis of foreign securities on the stock exchange. That usually takes care of the problem right away. If that fails, I picture the Queen.” “Really? I wonder what Prince Albert used to think about? It couldn’t have been the Queen—they had nine children together.”
“Are you thinking about the Queen?” he heard Pandora ask eventually, while the engorged length of his shaft throbbed vehemently between them. “Because if you are, it’s not working.”
“Am I in danger?” Pandora asked hesitantly, which certainly wasn’t an inappropriate question for a virgin sitting on a half-naked man to be asking. “Of course not,” Gabriel said, although he wasn’t certain either of them found that entirely convincing.
His forefinger slid along the seam of her closed thighs. “Just part them one inch. For me.” A hot breath of laughter fanned against her skin. “Not even an inch?” “It’s embarrassing,” she protested. “You’re bothering my nervous condition.” “This is a well-known treatment for female nerves.”
“So much for happy-ever-after,” Pandora said sourly. Kathleen smiled. “But wouldn’t it be dull if ever-after was always happy, with no difficulties or problems to solve? Ever-after is far more interesting than that.”
“I have the slipper,” he said. “Oh, thank goodness. Because my lady’s maid is on the brink of reporting it to Scotland Yard.” “That’s too bad. I’ve already decided to keep it.” “No, you can only do that if it’s a dainty glass slipper. If it’s a big floppy slipper made out of fuzzy wool, you have to give it back.”
Fuming, she looked at Phoebe and spread her palms upward, as if to ask what could be done with such an impossible human being. Phoebe gave her a commiserating glance. “We have two perfectly nice parents,” she said. “I have no idea how he turned out this way.”
Clearly puzzled by her silence, Gabriel loosened his arms and looked down at her with those eyes like a clear winter morning, while a tawny lock of hair slid over his forehead. In that moment, Pandora realized it would kill her not to have him. She might actually expire of heartbreak.
“The Challons come from a tradition in which a gentleman’s word is ironclad. They still honor tenant agreements that were made a century ago over a simple handshake.” “Then you think we can rely on his promise.” “Yes. But I also told him that if he doesn’t keep it, I’ll break both his legs.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Gabriel said in a relaxed manner, and sent Pandora a reassuring smile. Turning back to Devon, Pandora muttered, “Did you see that? He’s managing me already. And he’s good at it.” “I know the feeling well,” Devon assured her, his sparkling gaze flickering to Kathleen.
“Spending a few days together will help us ease into our new life. Marriage will be a considerable change, especially for you.” He lowered his mouth close to her ear. “You’ll be living in an unfamiliar house, with an unfamiliar man—who’ll be doing very unfamiliar things to your body.” “Where will you be?” Pandora asked, and barely restrained a yelp as he nipped at her earlobe.
“Acanthus scrolls,” she said with a crooked grin. “Like the ones in the settee at the Chaworth ball.” “I have a fondness for those acanthus scrolls.” His gaze caressed her as she put on the necklace. The double strands were so long that there was no need to unfasten the clasp. “They kept you in place just long enough for me to catch you.”
“I need to do something productive.” A lazy masculine arm curved around her front, pulling her back against a hard, furry chest. Gabriel’s voice was like dark velvet against her ear. “I, for one, have been exceptionally productive.”
“You need a hobby,” Pandora said severely as she felt his erection against her bottom. “Have you ever tried writing poetry? Building a ship in a bottle?”
“What are you doing?” Pandora asked with a spluttering laugh, twisting beneath him. “Accepting your invitation.” “What invitation?” “The one you gave me by reclining on the bed in that seductive pose.” “I flopped backward like a dying trout,” she protested, squirming as he began to hike up her skirts. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist.”
