Devil in Spring

“Don’t,” she said weakly.

His lips grazed along her jawline, his breath rushing unsteadily against her skin. “Why? Are you still worried about Australian pox?”

Slowly it registered that they were no longer standing. Gabriel was sitting on the ground with his back against the grass-covered mound, and—heaven help her—she was in his lap. She glanced around them in bewilderment. How had this happened?

“No,” she said, bewildered and perturbed, “but I just remembered that you said I kissed like a pirate.”

Gabriel looked blank for a moment. “Oh, that. That was a compliment.”

Pandora scowled. “It would only be a compliment if I had a beard and a peg leg.”

Setting his mouth sternly against a faint quiver, Gabriel smoothed her hair tenderly. “Forgive my poor choice of words. What I meant to convey was that I found your enthusiasm charming.”

“Did you?” Pandora turned crimson. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she said in a muffled voice, “Because I’ve worried for the past three days that I did it wrong.”

“No, never, darling.” Gabriel sat up a little and cradled her more closely against him. Nuzzling her cheek, he whispered, “Isn’t it obvious that everything about you gives me pleasure?”

“Even when I plunder and pillage like a Viking?” she asked darkly.

“Pirate. Yes, especially then.” 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.”

“You’re mocking me,” Pandora said in resignation, and jumped a little as she felt his teeth gently nip her earlobe.

Smiling, Gabriel took her head between his hands and looked into her eyes. “Your kiss thrilled me beyond imagining,” he whispered. “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.’”

Silver-tongued devil, Pandora thought, unable to hold back a crooked grin. Only yesterday, she’d heard Gabriel affectionately mock his father, who was fond of expressing himself with elaborate, almost labyrinthine turns of phrase. Clearly the gift had been passed down to his son.

Feeling the need to put some distance between them, she crawled out of his lap.

“I’m glad you don’t have the pox,” she said, standing and tugging at the wild disorder of her skirts. “And your future wife—whoever she is—will certainly be glad as well.”

The pointed comment didn’t escape him. He gave her an acerbic glance and rose to his feet in an easy movement. “Yes,” he said dryly, brushing at his own trousers, and raking a hand through the brilliant layers of his hair. “Thank God for sheep balloons.”

Chapter 10

The local families that came to dinner were quite sizeable, each with an array of children of varying ages. It was a merry gathering, with lively conversation flowing across the long table where the adults were seated. The youngest children were eating upstairs in the nursery, while the older children occupied their own table in a room adjoining the main dining room. The atmosphere was embellished with the soft music of a harp and a flute, played by local musicians.

The Challons’ cook and kitchen staff had outdone themselves with a variety of dishes featuring spring vegetables and local fish and game. Although the cook back home at Eversby Priory was excellent, the food at Heron’s Point was a cut above. There were colorful vegetables cut into tiny julienne strips, tender artichoke hearts roasted with butter, steaming crayfish in a sauce of white burgundy and truffles, and delicate filets of sole coated with crisp breadcrumbs. Pheasant covered with strips of bacon and roasted to juicy, smoky perfection was served with a side of boiled potatoes that had been whipped with cream and butter into savory melting fluff. Beef roasts with peppery crackled hides were brought out on massive platters, along with golden-crusted miniature game pies, and macaroni baked with Gruyère cheese in clever little tart dishes.

Pandora was quiet, not only out of fear of saying something awkward or gauche, but also because she was determined to eat as much of the delicious food as possible. Unfortunately, a corset was a misery for anyone fond of eating. Swallowing one mouthful beyond the point of comfortable fullness would cause sharp pains behind the ribs, and make it difficult to breathe. She wore her best dinner dress, made of silk dyed in a fashionable shade called bois de rose, a deep earthy pink that flattered her fair complexion. It was a severely simple style, with a low square-cut bodice and skirts pulled back tightly to reveal the shape of her waist and hips.

To her disgruntlement, Gabriel wasn’t seated by her as he had been the past few nights. Instead, he was at the duke’s end of the table, with a matron and her daughter on either side. The women laughed and chatted easily, delighted to have the attention of two such dazzling men.

Gabriel was slim and handsome in formal black evening clothes, a white silk waistcoat, and a crisp white necktie. He was flawless, ice-cool, utterly self-possessed. The candlelight played gently over him, striking golden sparks from his hair, flickering over the high cheekbones and the firm, full curves of his mouth.