Mary felt the wash of cold air envelop her as Gabe set her angrily to the ground. He quickly closed their bedchamber door behind them then turned to face her, a dark scowl marring his handsome features.
“What the bloody hell was that about?” he hissed.
Mary frowned in return, hurt by his anger. “I’m afraid I do not know what you mean.”
He gestured wildly toward the door and whispered heatedly, “Tha’! Yer behaving like a whore ready te lift her skirts fer any man te offer!” His accent slipped through his practiced veneer.
Pain sliced through her chest, sending ripples down to her fingertips. “There you are, calling me a whore again,” she whispered back. “Somehow you seem to have mistaken me for a lady. I am not highborn; I am a spy, Gabriel, and an actress. It is my job to behave in such a way.”
“Aye! Tha’ is precisely my argument.” He pointed at her. “Ye should no’ be put in this position from the first, Mary, it isnae right.”
No matter how many times she had heard him say so, it still hurt to know that he did not believe her capable of being a spy. “I have just as much of a right to be here as you do, Gabe,” she said, her voice growing in strength as she warmed to her topic. “I was offered this life and I accepted wholeheartedly. This is mine, whether you approve of it or not. It is decidedly not your choice what I do with my life and my body.
“Why is it,” she continued, incensed, “that it is acceptable for a man to have lovers and mistresses, and it is okay for those women to tup as many men as they please, but it is not acceptable for me?”
Gabe flinched at her coarse language, but she continued anyway. “What is it, exactly, that has you so upset? Do you believe I will fall in love with one of them? Do you believe me capable of switching my alliance to join a traitor?”
“Nae,” Gabe grumbled, appearing discomfited.
“Then what is the issue, pray?”
Gabe stood mutely, his mouth a thin line and his eyes devoid of emotion. “Reddington is very likely a traitor, and fer all we ken, a man capable of unknown evils. And he wants ye.” He stood straighter, as though he believed he found the winning argument. “He even suggested tha’ I share ye with him. He said tha’ everyone ‘shared’ here.”
Mary could almost laugh. “I am aware of Reddington’s wish to bed me; what do you suppose he was whispering in my ear all through supper?”
Gabe’s jaw clenched. “And ye encouraged him.”
How could she make Gabe understand? “I was trained for this, Gabriel,” she continued in hushed tones. “I went to school just as you did. I learned how to defend myself and how to use this very sort of undesirable situation to my advantage. Which is precisely what I aim to do. If I can bring these men to not only desire me, but to believe me flighty and unintelligent, then they will confess any number of sins in a belief that gloating will gain them my favours. And, should that fail to work, at the very least I am able to distract them while you search for the documents.”
Gabriel’s disposition was positively thunderous as he scowled at her from under his dark eyebrows. “I do no’ like it. I do no’ think ye should—”
Mary shook her head, cutting off his argument, both hurt and tired of the entire issue. “You gave up any claim to give me advice when you abandoned our friendship, Gabriel.”
If he clenched his jaw any tighter, Mary was certain he would chip a tooth.
He turned away with a mumbled “verra well” and pulled his coat from his shoulders.
Mary turned to do the same, removing her slippers and stockings then pulling her night rail out of the small wardrobe that they shared. “By the way,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, “you may wish to focus on your accent. You seem to have forgotten it.”
That statement earned her a grumble as he draped his waistcoat over a chair and began to unknot his cravat.
“Would you please unfasten me?” Mary gave him her back.
There was silence for a moment, and Mary began to wonder if Gabe would ignore her request and she would be forced to sleep in her gown and corset, but then she heard the shifting of fabric behind her.
The moment his hands touched the buttons at her back, Mary was swamped with need. She was brought back to those moments she spent on his lap and a furor of nervous fluttering erupted in her stomach. She must admit, at least to herself, that all of the teasing done to him had not all been for the sake of their cover identities. She could easily have simply sat atop his knee and whispered a few words in his ear. Instead, she had allowed herself those moments to satisfy her curiosity. She had never before felt such emotions while teasing a man, let alone ones so very strong. She wanted to explore…to taste…to nip…to take as much out of the experience as she could possibly manage.
Mary bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sighing.
Her buttons undone, Mary held her gown to her chest as Gabe set to work on the ties of her corset.
She took that moment to correct her wayward thoughts.
Gabe did not even like her, let alone harbour intimate feelings—or even warm feelings—for her. In fact, Mary was quite certain that he thought rather poorly of her, if his constant comments about her being a whore were any indication.
Mary cleared her throat of the sudden lump that had lodged itself there and changed the topic.
“I believe that we may have reason to include Lady Kerr in our list of suspects,” she whispered.
Gabe’s hands paused briefly before he let out a hoarse laugh and finished with her corset.
“What is so amusing?” She turned to face him as she removed the loosened articles and hung them over the same chair he had used.
“What in God’s name,” he said, correcting his accent, “makes you think that Lady Kerr is a potential suspect?” He was not smiling, but she could hear the barely suppressed mirth in his voice and saw the slight crinkle beside his eyes.
Mary listed the reasons off on her fingers. “She gives me long, calculating stares, she has an excellent bluffing expression as noted by her gameplay, she asked what precisely it was that enamoured me to you, the shrewdness behind her gaze, and…” she crossed her arms defensively as he cocked an eyebrow at her, “I have a feeling about it. Instinctually.”
He shook his head, laughing. “Have you any notion of how mad you sound?” He lowered his voice, “Lady Kerr is not a spy.”
Incensed, Mary stepped toward him, her hands on her hips. “You only believe her incapable of treachery because you cannot give credence to her flirting with you only to gain something.”
“You only believe her capable of treachery because you cannot give credence to her flirting with me at all.”
Mary grit her teeth at the ring of truth to his words and shook her head. “This is not merely a matter of feminine competition or jealousy, I assure you. I have no desire to be intimate with you or to renew our friendship,” she lied. “Ours is purely a business association and nothing more. So you may trust that when I say I suspect Lady Kerr of wrongdoing, my opinion is unclouded by emotion.”
* * *
Gabe gazed at Mary, his stomach knotted so painfully he was certain he would be sick. This entire discussion had bound him in an emotional coil, wound so tightly he did not know which sensation to trust.
A business association, indeed. Whatever Mary thought, Gabe knew that those youthful years of friendship were more than mere childhood reveries. He just didn’t know what they did mean. Or how he should behave towards the woman that continued to muddle his thoughts.
He clenched and released his jaw before he shook his head. “You are wrong, Mary.”
His gaze bored into hers as his mind worked, his throat tightening. Something was there, but the answers were just out of reach. He didn’t yet know what he wanted out of his association with Mary, but it wasn’t a damned business transaction.
With one last searing glance, Mary turned her back on him and went about her nightly ablutions. Gabe watched her as she moved, both gracefully and almost…mournfully. The shadows cast by the flickering fireplace dancing along her spine like a wicked marionette. Gabe was suddenly very aware that she was mostly nude, her only article of clothing the thin chemise that clung to her every curve.
Cursing himself for even looking, Gabe removed the remainder of his outer clothing and draped them over the nearby armchair. With agitated movements, he snatched a pillow from atop the turned-down bed and tossed it atop the rug before the hearth. He lowered himself to the floor wearing just his smallclothes and curled his knees up to lie on his side, keeping his back to—and his eyes away from—Mary.
“Would you like a blanket?” Mary said from behind him.
“No,” he grunted. “The fire will keep me warm.”
“As you wish, then.”
His gut still in turmoil, Gabe forced his eyes to close against the brightness of the flickering fire.