M eanwhile, in Gabriel’s chamber, Kate had opened the salacious little volume, peered just long enough to ascertain that, yes, Aretino’s men provided little comparison to Gabriel in the most pertinent area, and closed it again. She didn’t have any wish to examine engravings of men and women intertwined on a bed. Or on a chair, or anywhere else.
She had the living, naked body of Gabriel in her mind, and nothing could interest her besides that.
She put the book down and walked over to a large table set up before the window. Gabriel had forgotten to show her the pot that once held a child’s toys, but she guessed it was represented by a carefully arranged collection of shards. To the right of these was a piece of foolscap, covered with precise, beautifully written notes about the pot.
But that wasn’t all the table held. There was another fan, besides the one he had tossed her. It looked even older, and the paper was peeling from its delicate spines.
There was a small book entitled The Strangest Adventure That Ever Happened, Either in Ages Past or Present , a little pile of copper coins, roughly formed and obviously very old. A chart appeared to calculate the motions of seven planets, and a little vial was marked “Diacatholicon Aureum.” Kate picked it up curiously, pulled the cork, and sniffed, but couldn’t tell what it was.
Finally she picked up a much-thumbed journal called Ionian Antiquities , moved back to the velvet chair, and began to read. Twenty minutes later, after an exhaustive and probably learned discussion of Desgodets’s Les Edifices Antiques de Rome , she moved to the bed.
She told herself to wake the moment Gabriel’s feet sounded on the marble steps, the very moment the door opened. She could leap off the bed and it wouldn’t look in the least as if she was inviting him to join her.
When Gabriel opened the door to his chamber Kate was curled like a small kitten in the middle of the bed. Her wig was askew, and bright strands of hair had fallen over her face. She’d taken her slippers off, but otherwise she was dressed as when he had left her.
She was bloody beautiful. Her skin was honey; Tatiana’s was cream. Tatiana’s cheeks were dimpled and round; Kate’s cheekbones were just this side of gaunt. Tatiana’s lips were pillowy and soft; Kate slept fiercely, her lower lip ruby red, as if she had bitten it in her sleep.
After one glance, his rod was straining his breeches again. Gabriel turned away with a silent groan.
He had the one night, only this one night.
Walking silently behind the screened area of his chamber, he opened a little wooden door that stood about waist-high, reached in, and rang a bell that sounded in the kitchens.
A moment later he heard the trundling, bumping sound that indicated the lift was on its way up. He waited until it was at the top of its journey, then reached in and grabbed the pail of boiling water and dumped it into his bathtub, released the rope, and sent the bucket back down to the kitchens again.
He almost splashed himself with the next bucket and realized that he couldn’t get his coat wet, as he had to return downstairs, if not for dinner, then for the dancing.
Neatly and quickly, with the sort of fastidiousness that he gave to every task, he stripped off his coat, waistcoat, shirt, and breeches, draping his clothes over a chair. He left on his smalls; it was Kate’s turn to be naked.
A few moments later he looked at the bathing room with satisfaction. He had lit candles on every surface, and placed a glass of wine within tempting reach of the bath.
A length of toweling on his arm, he returned to the bed and sat gently next to Kate. Her face had smoothed out now, and her lips were curled in a little smile, as if whatever had worried her earlier had stolen away, leaving her in a happy dream.
He pulled a pin from her hair. She didn’t stir. He pulled another, and another, until he had all the hairpins he could see. Then he tried a gentle pull on her wig, but nothing happened.
Her eyelashes fluttered and he thought she was waking up, but she merely rolled over so her shoulder and back were presented to him.
In fact, Kate was carefully regulating her breathing and wondering desperately what to do. She had seen with a flicker of an eyelash that there was a naked chest bending over her.
Aching desire made her want to open her eyes and wrap her arms around his neck. She wanted to pull that beautiful body over hers and let her fingers run over his chest and back. It was an all-consuming fever that pounded in her chest and sent licks of fire down her legs.
But the cautious part of her brain had her frozen in place, her eyes shut, trying to persuade Gabriel that she was still sleeping. She was afraid.
He was too tender, in the way he was carefully pulling her hairpins, as if frightened to wake her.
He was too beautiful, sitting beside her, nearly naked in the golden light of candles.
He was too much, too everything. With a pang she knew exactly what was frightening her: It was the terror that there would be no satisfying life without this prince. That he was everything to her, and that without him she might as well go back to Mariana and spend her life wretchedly protecting the tenants.
“Kate,” he murmured, and she realized that his lips were against her throat, pulling back her hair, drifting over her ear. “It’s time for your bath. I have a tub full of steaming water waiting for you.”
“Ah . . . hello,” she said foolishly. But she didn’t turn over. He had pulled off her wig, and one hand was stroking through her hair. It felt so tender that she let herself drift, eyes closed, feeling only the sensual stroke of his fingers.
Then she suddenly realized what was happening and tried to stop him—but it was too late. His nimble fingers had unfastened all the buttons down the back of her gown. She sat up, clutching her bodice.
“Gabriel,” she said warningly, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You promised I could kiss you anywhere,” he said, hooking a finger into her bodice and giving a gentle tug.
“I don’t remember saying that! And why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
“I am wearing my smalls,” he said. And then added wryly, “Except for the part of me that isn’t.”
She looked down, just long enough to see that, in fact, a part of him was jutting straight out the top of his waistband.
“You shouldn’t,” she protested, but at that moment he bent down and pressed his mouth on hers. Even so, she kept talking, but the words fell away as his tongue traced the soft line of her lips.
“I could kiss your mouth all night,” he whispered.
Kate told herself that kisses were what she had promised. True, she hadn’t thought that he would be naked . . . But at least he was wearing smalls. Even if they didn’t seem to cover that part of him.
A small part of her will gave way, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He responded instantly, taking her open mouth and pulling her against his bare chest. Kate melted, a sensation so overwhelming that she began trembling all over. He kissed her until wildfire danced in her veins, until desire slid like brandy through her limbs.
“Gabriel, I . . .” she whispered.
“Hush, sweet Kate,” he said, pulling back. “I’m going to take your gown off now.” Without waiting for an answer, he slowly drew forward the gown, pulling it over the tops of her breasts, over her corset with the wax inserts, down to her waist.
“My arms,” she said, with a gasp. “I can’t move.”
“ My kiss,” he said, and his voice made the wildfire burn higher. It was hoarse, as if he was holding on to his control as best he could. He didn’t free her arms.
She watched as his hands deftly unlaced her corset and then pulled it wide. Her bosom friends were tossed to the ground; her breasts, pushed high and rigid by the corset, fell into his hands like ripe apples.
He froze for a moment, and then pulled her chemise tight across her bosom. It was silk, as frail as gossamer.
“Oh God,” he said, sounding as if the word was ripped from his lungs. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Never.”
Kate’s lips parted to say something, but no words came out because Gabriel had rubbed a slow thumb across her nipple. The feeling smoldering in her legs burst into flame. A choked cry came from her lips.
“I have to taste you.” With one swift movement, he put his hands to her chemise and wrenched. The silk parted as sweetly as a sliced peach falls in two.
“Gabriel!” she cried, but she could tell he didn’t even hear her. He was looking intently at her breasts, his eyes blazing.
In his hands, her breasts didn’t look too small. They didn’t look as if they needed bosom friends to plump them up. They looked lush and round, exactly the right shape.
Then he bent his dark head and she felt the touch of his lips on her breast. She’d seen it in Aretino’s pictures—men suckling women as if they were babes in arms. She had wrinkled her nose and turned the page, convinced that the Italian was depicting some sort of ludicrous perversion.
But at the touch of Gabriel’s mouth she felt a surge of pleasure that was unlike anything she’d felt in her life. She couldn’t breathe, and a cry came from her throat. Gabriel sucked harder and a thumb rubbed across her other nipple; Kate’s mind went completely blank and her body arched up, a moan breaking from her lips.
“I knew it,” he whispered roughly. He raised his head just long enough for her to see the mad exultation in his eyes. “I—” But his words were lost as he lavished attention on her neglected breast. And for her part, Kate had no ability to shape words, no power to do anything other than writhe under him, gasping.
When he raised his head again her body was throbbing, the blood singing through her legs. “Gabriel,” she whispered.
He returned to her mouth, kissing her punishingly, making her arch against him, lost in a firestorm of sensation and desire.
When she broke away, she knew perfectly well that her will was sapped, the whole practical side of her dismissed, as if it didn’t exist. “Please let me move,” she begged huskily, her eyes wandering over his chest . . . the chest she hadn’t been able to touch because her arms were still trapped by her gown.
He moved back without a word, but she saw the way he was struggling to draw in air.
With a swift movement Kate swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. She shrugged her arms from the sleeves of her dress, but held it to her waist, letting his hot eyes appreciate her.
“What’s fit for the goose is fit for the gander,” she told him, a smile stealing over her lips.
His eyes widened and she slowly, slowly let the gown drop to the floor. Gabriel had ripped her chemise to the waist, so she pulled it off her shoulders, but didn’t let it fall, holding it to her breasts, pulling it slowly past her nipples, shuddering at the feeling of silk rubbing parts made tender by his mouth.
Gabriel made a movement, as if he were about to fling himself off the bed, but she stopped him with one glance.
“You undressed yourself,” she said, letting one hand slide from her collarbone, down over the curve of her right breast, down to the frail silk of her chemise as it clung to her hips.
“Please,” he said hoarsely.
Kicking her gown away from her feet, she turned her back on him and saucily walked over to the table. “You look a little hot, Your Highness. Perhaps the fan will help.”
Picking up the fan he had handed her a few hours ago, she sauntered back toward the bed. “I always use it when I’m overheated,” she crooned, flipping it open and fanning her face. Then a bit lower, her breasts. A bit lower . . . Her chemise rippled in the breeze.
“I don’t know why it is,” she said, “but I seem to be uncommonly overheated at the moment.”
“Kate,” Gabriel said, his voice a groan. “You’re no virgin. Tell me you’re not a virgin.”
Her smile slipped, and the fan fell to the floor.
Gabriel lunged off the bed as if he were possessed, jerking her into his arms. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Kate tried to say something but the feeling of his body against hers had stolen her logic again, sent her into a storm of sensation and desire. His body was hard and demanding against her, delivering an unmistakable male demand that made her knees buckle.
“You’re a virgin; I know you’re a virgin and I respect that,” Gabriel was saying into her hair. “I would never imply otherwise, darling. It was just the cry of a man who was wishing that fate was different.”
She curled against his chest, feeling his heart thumping wildly. “You’re wishing that I was the hussy I feel like,” she whispered. Excitement curled tighter in her stomach. She raised her head to meet his eyes. “Tonight you’re just a man, remember?”
“I don’t know if I’ll survive this night,” he said raggedly.
A smile curved her lips and she broke free of his arms. “I hadn’t finished undressing. Are you planning to expire before that happens?”
“No,” he choked.
Somehow her poor chemise had clung to her hips. With a little wiggle, Kate sent it sliding down her legs, over the butter-colored hair that covered her most private area.
Then she raised her arms and pulled the last pins from her hair. It fell below her shoulders, ringlets and curls, thick and silky. She ran her fingers through it, shaking her locks free, enjoying the way her breasts rose in the air.
“You are so beautiful,” Gabriel growled, his voice little more than a thread of sound.
“I believe it’s time for a bath,” she said, turning her back on him. Then she paused and looked over her shoulder. “You did say that there was a bath prepared for me?”
He didn’t seem to be able to speak, but he leaped ahead of her and pulled away the velvet curtain that concealed his bathing area.
“How lovely!” Kate cried, seeing the huge iron tub full of gently steaming water, candles throwing golden specks of light over the velvet of the curtains, over the water, over her body.
She stepped forward and put in a toe, then, with a sigh of pure pleasure, relaxed into the curve of the tub, sweeping her hair behind her so that it hung over the edge.
The only sound in the room was the gentle plash of water and the harsh sound of Gabriel’s breathing. She couldn’t stop smiling. If she, Katherine Daltry, decided to be a wanton, she would be the best wanton this castle had ever seen.
“Soap,” she said, holding out her hand.
Gabriel put the ball in her hand without a word.
“Mmmm,” she said, sniffing it. “Apple blossom?”
“Orange blossom,” he said. His voice was dark and sinful.
She sat up just enough so that she could soap her left arm. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed so that you can go back downstairs?” she asked. “I’m afraid everyone will be wondering where you are.”
His eyes were fixed on her hands as she soaped her right arm.
“Gabriel?” she inquired innocently, her hands straying to her breasts. “I’m sure you said that you would come and go. That was your plan, wasn’t it?”
His gaze was so hungry, so hot, that she was surprised the water didn’t evaporate. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you finish washing, and then I’ll go. Unless you would like some assistance?”
She raised a leg from the bath and slowly, slowly washed her toes, letting her fingers stray up her leg.
“I suppose,” she said, stealing a glance at him under her lashes, “someone might help me with this other leg.”
Somehow it felt entirely different when strong male hands stroked soap over her leg.
And Gabriel’s interpretation of leg was not exactly in line with her own. Kate was no sooner lying back in the bath, enjoying the tingling sensation of his strong fingers stroking her thigh, than they crept higher . . . and then higher still.
She sat up. “Gabriel!”
“Hush, darling,” he said. And with that, his fingers slipped into a caress. This was no kiss . . . She should stop him.
Instead her legs fell farther apart in a silent plea that he continue. Whatever he was doing was fatal to her self-control. Kate’s common sense, her willpower, all the parts that made her fierce and strong, deserted her. All that was left was a body that rejoiced in his touch, arched toward him.
His other hand wandered to her breast and she actually threw her head back and cried aloud. His hands were like fire, teasing, tormenting, stroking her . . .
“I—” she gasped.
A finger dipped into her most private place for one throbbing instant and she shattered, crying out, her arms flying around his neck, her body shaking as stroke after stoke of fire shot through her body.
Kate came to herself slowly, finding that her wet arms were locked around Gabriel’s neck, that her eyes were squeezed shut. His fingers eased from her plump folds, giving them a little farewell pat that sent a final shudder through her body.
“God almighty, Kate,” he said in a kind of groan.
She didn’t move. She felt sweaty—and she was in a bath. Noises had come from her mouth that she hadn’t imagined any lady could ever make. Pleasure was replaced by a wave of embarrassment so violent that she would have preferred to die rather than open her eyes.
Plus—though it was a minor consideration—her legs were still throbbing.
“Kate?” he asked, his voice just as sinful as before. “Are you ever going to open your eyes?”
She shook her head, keeping her face tight to his skin. It smelled warm and male and indescribably enticing.
A hand slid down her back, following the curve of her spine under water, slid around the curve of her hip. “I want to kiss you there,” he said, conversationally.
Her body jerked in shock. “No,” she said, the word muffled by his skin.
“I must go downstairs and begin the dancing, but Kate . . .”
He gently pulled her arms from around his neck and stood up. Perforce, she opened her eyes. He was all taut muscle, even the part that stood fiercely above the band of his smalls.
“Won’t that be uncomfortable?” she asked, realizing instantly that her effort to make casual conversation was a failure. There was something aching in her voice, something that begged him to stay.
He couldn’t stay.
He was rubbing toweling over his chest and staring at her as if he couldn’t look away. “Yes,” he said flatly. “I’m going to have to wait on those stairs for a good ten minutes.”
Looking at his face, Kate suddenly realized that there was no reason for her shock of embarrassment. What happened between them, no matter how intimate, was not shameful.
So she pointedly let her legs fall apart, just as they wished to, and ran her hand down the inside of her thigh.
“What if I want that kiss . . . now ?” she whispered.
Her flesh throbbed under her light touch, at the very idea of it.
“You’re killing me,” he said hoarsely. “I have to go, Kate. You know that.”
She gave him a devilish smile. “It’s all right. As long as you remember that I’m here, waiting.” She let her head fall backward, and her breasts rose above the water.
He made a choked noise and disappeared through the velvet drapes. Kate heard the door close behind him.
A small smile curled her lips. She had learned something rather wonderful, it seemed to her.
Gabriel would go downstairs and do whatever it was he had to do . . . and then he would return.