Devil in Spring

Gabriel’s breath caught hard, and his body jolted. His fingers sank into her coiffure and he eased her head back, his wide, wondering eyes staring down into hers. His lips parted as he struggled for words.

Pandora’s face was scorched with shame. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I . . .” He sounded nearly as breathless as she was. “I don’t mind. I was just . . . surprised.”

“I can’t control my impulses,” she said hastily. “I’m not responsible for what just happened. I have a nervous condition.”

“A nervous condition,” Gabriel repeated, his white teeth catching at his lower lip in the prelude to a grin. For a moment, he looked heart-stoppingly boyish. “Was that an official diagnosis?”

“No, but according to a book I once read, Phenomena Produced By Diseases Of The Nervous System, it’s very likely that I have hyperesthesia or periodic mania, or both.” Pandora paused with a frown. “Why are you smiling? It’s not nice to laugh at other people’s diseases.”

“I was remembering the night we met, when you told me about your unwholesome reading material.” One of his palms came to rest low on her spine. His other hand slid around the back of her neck, closing tenderly around the small muscles. “Have you ever been kissed, love?”

Pandora’s stomach suddenly went very light, as if she were falling. She stared up at him mutely. Her entire vocabulary had collapsed. Her head was nothing but a box of loose moveable type.

Gabriel smiled slightly at her dumbstruck silence. “I’ll assume that means no.” His lashes lowered as his gaze fell to her mouth. “Take a breath, or you might faint from lack of oxygen and miss the whole thing.”

Pandora obeyed jerkily.

Fact #15 she would write in her book later. Today I found out why chaperones were invented.

Hearing the wheeze of her anxious breath, Gabriel gently massaged her neck muscles. “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.”

She felt a tremor of laughter run through him. “My kisses are above average,” he conceded, “but I wouldn’t say well above average. That might be overstating my abilities, and I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Pandora looked up at him suspiciously, wondering if he were teasing her again. His expression was perfectly bland. “I’m sure I won’t be,” she said, and steadied herself. “I’m ready,” she said bravely. “You can do it now.”

Perversely, Gabriel made no move to kiss her right away. “You’re interested in Charles Darwin, as I recall. Have you read his latest book?”

“No.” Why was he talking about books? She was shaky with nerves, and rather annoyed that he was drawing the whole thing out like this.

“The Expression of Emotion In Man and Animals,” Gabriel continued. “Darwin writes that the custom of kissing can’t be considered an innate human behavior, as it doesn’t extend to every culture. New Zealanders, for example, rub noses in lieu of kissing. He also references an account of tribal societies in which they greet each other by blowing air softly against the face.” He gave her an innocent glance. “We could start that way, if you like.”

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?”

“No. All I know is that you’re looking at me as if I’m excessively amusing, like a trained monkey playing a tambourine.”

With his hand still supporting her nape, Gabriel brought his lips to her forehead and smoothed out the furrow of her frown. “Flirting is like playing. It’s a promise you may or may not keep. It could be a provocative glance . . . a smile . . . the touch of a fingertip . . . or a whisper.” His face was right over hers, so close that she could see the gold tips on his feathery dark lashes. “Should we rub noses now?” he whispered.

Pandora shook her head. She had the sudden urge to tease him, catch him off guard. Pursing her lips, she blew a soft, cool stream of air against his chin.

To her satisfaction, Gabriel reacted with a quick double-blink of surprise. A flush of color made his eyes fever-bright, the irises spangled with glints of wondering amusement. “You win at flirting,” he told her, and his hand cradled her jaw, his thumb stroking a circle over her cheek.

Pandora tensed as his mouth came to hers, as light as a brush of silk or a zephyr breeze. He was almost tentative at first, making no demands, only feeling the contours of her mouth with his. Softly, softly . . . his lips moved over hers in sensuous touches that quieted the usual chaos of her brain. Mesmerized, she answered with hesitant pressure, and he shaped her response, played with her, until she began to dissolve in the slow, endless teasing. There was no interference of thought or time, no past or future. There was only this moment, the two of them standing together in a sun-drenched path of flowering vines and sweet dry grass.

He caught gently at her lower lip, and then the upper, the tender nibbling sending vibrant shocks down to the quick of her body. Pressing deeper, he coaxed her lips to part until an unfamiliar flavor whispered across her senses, something clean and soft and stirring. She felt the tip of his tongue, an intrusion of pure heat into the private space that had always belonged only to her. Bewildered, trembling in surprise, she opened to him.