Devil in Spring Read online

  “Port. Have the rest.” He curled his arm loosely around her bent knees.

  Pandora drank it slowly, relaxing as the port sent warmth all the way down to her toes. The storm whistled impatiently, rattling the windows, calling back and forth with the sea as it leapt in roaring liquid hills. But she was warm and dry, resting in Gabriel’s arms while the snapping light of the hearth played over them.

  He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat for a soft folded handkerchief, and blotted the last traces of perspiration from her face and throat. After setting the cloth aside, he stroked back a lock of dark hair and tucked it carefully behind her left ear. “I’ve noticed you don’t hear as well on this side,” he said quietly. “Is that part of the problem?”

  Pandora blinked in amazement. In a mere handful of days, he had detected something that even her family, the people who actually lived with her, hadn’t perceived. They had all learned to accept, as a matter of course, that she was careless and inattentive.

  She nodded. “I hear only about half as well in this ear as I do in the other. At night . . . in the dark . . . everything goes topsy-turvy, and I can’t tell what’s up or down. If I turn too quickly, I drop to the floor. I can’t control it; it’s like being pushed by invisible hands.”

  Gabriel cradled her cheek in his palm, regarding her with a steady tenderness that sent her pulse into confusion. “That’s why you don’t dance.”

  “I can manage a few of the dances at a slow pace. But waltzing is impossible. All that whirling and pivoting.” Self-consciously she looked away and drained the last few drops of port.

  He took the empty glass from her and set it aside. “You should have told me. I would never have asked you to meet me at night if I’d known.”

  “It wasn’t far. I thought a candle would be enough.” Pandora fidgeted with the belt of her flannel robe. “I didn’t count on tripping over my own slippers.” She extended her bare left foot from beneath her nightgown and frowned at it. “I’ve lost one of them.”

  “I’ll find it later.” Taking one of her hands in his, Gabriel lifted it to his lips. He wove a pattern of gentle kisses over her cold fingers. “Pandora . . . what happened to your ear?”

  Her soul revolted at the prospect of discussing it.

  Turning her hand over, Gabriel kissed her palm and shaped her fingers against his cheek. His shaven skin was smooth in one direction and softly abrasive in the other, like a cat’s tongue. The firelight had turned him golden everywhere except for those eyes, the clear blue of an arctic star. He waited, damnably patient, while Pandora summoned the nerve to reply.

  “I . . . can’t talk about it if I’m touching you.” Drawing her hand from his cheek, she crawled out of his lap. There was a persistent high-pitched ringing in her ear. Covering it lightly with her palm, she tapped her fingers on the back of her skull a few times. To her relief, the trick worked.

  “Tinnitus,” Gabriel said, watching closely. “One of our older family solicitors has it. Does it trouble you often?”

  “Only now and then, when I’m distressed.”

  “There’s no need to be distressed now.”

  Pandora cast him a brief, distracted smile, and knotted her fingers into a tight ball. “I brought this on myself. Do you remember when I told you that I eavesdrop? I don’t do it as much as I used to, actually. But when I was little, it was the only way to find out anything that was happening in our household. Cassandra and I took all our meals in the nursery and played by ourselves. Sometimes weeks would go by before we saw anyone other than Helen and the servants. Mama would leave for London, or Father would go on a hunting trip, or Theo would be off to boarding school, without even saying goodbye. When my parents were at home, the only way to attract their notice was to misbehave. I was the worst, of course. I dragged Cassandra into my plots and schemes, but everyone knew she was the nice twin. Poor Helen spent most of her time reading books in the corner and trying to be invisible. I preferred causing trouble to being ignored.”

  Gabriel picked up the length of her braid and played with it as he listened.

  “I was twelve when it happened,” she continued. “Or maybe eleven. My parents were arguing in the master bedroom with the door closed. Whenever they fought, it was dreadful. They would scream and smash things. Naturally, I poked my nose where it didn’t belong, and went to eavesdrop. They were fighting about a man my mother was . . . involved with. My father was shouting. Every word sounded like a piece of something broken. Cassandra started trying to pull me away from the door. Then it swung open and my father stood there, in a rage. He must have seen movement in the crack at the bottom of the casing. He reached for me, and fast as lightning, he boxed my ears. All I remember is the world exploding. Cassandra says she helped me back to our room, and there was blood coming from my left ear. My right ear mended in a day or two, but I could only hear a little out of the left one, and there was a beating pain deep down. Soon I took ill with fever. Mama said that had nothing to do with the ear, but I think it did.”

  Pandora paused, unwilling to relate any of the distasteful details of her ear suppurating and draining. She glanced cautiously at Gabriel, whose face was averted. He was no longer playing with her braid. His hand had clenched around it until the muscles of his forearms and wrist stood out.

  “Even after I recovered from the fever,” Pandora said, “the hearing didn’t come back all the way. But the worst part was that I kept losing my balance, especially at night. It made me afraid of the dark. Ever since then—” She stopped as Gabriel lifted his head.

  His face was hard and murderous, the hellfrost in his eyes frightening her more than her father’s fury ever had.

  “That bloody son of a bitch,” he said softly. “If he were still alive, I’d beat him with a thresher’s flail.”

  Pandora reached out with a fluttering motion, patting the air near him. “No,” she said breathlessly, “no, I wouldn’t want that. I hated him for a long time, but now I feel sorry for him.”

  Gabriel caught her hand in midair, swift but gentle, as if it were a bird he wanted to hold without injuring. His eyes had dilated until she could see reflections of herself in the dark centers. “Why?” he whispered after a long moment.

  “Because hurting me was the only way to hide his own pain.”

  Chapter 12

  Gabriel was stunned by Pandora’s compassion for a man who had caused her such harm. He shook his head in wonder as he stared into her eyes, as dark as cloud-shadow on a field of blue gentian. “That doesn’t excuse him,” he said thickly.

  “No, but it helped me to forgive him.”

  Gabriel would never forgive the bastard. He wanted vengeance. He wanted to strip the flesh from the bastard’s corpse and hang up his skeleton to scare crows. His fingers contained a subtle tremor as he reached out to trace the fine edges of her face, the sweet, high plane of her cheekbone. “What did the doctor say about your ear? What treatment did he give?”

  “It wasn’t necessary to send for a doctor.”

  A fresh flood of rage seared his veins as the words sunk in. “Your eardrum was ruptured. What in God’s name do you mean a doctor wasn’t necessary?” Although he had managed to keep from shouting, his tone was far from civilized.

  Pandora quivered uneasily and began to inch backward.

  He realized the last thing she needed from him was a display of temper. Battening down his rampaging emotions, he used one arm to bring her back against his side. “No, don’t pull away. Tell me what happened.”

  “The fever had passed,” she said after a long hesitation, “and . . . well, you have to understand my family. If something unpleasant happened, they ignored it, and it was never spoken of again. Especially if it was something my father had done when he’d lost his temper. After a while, no one remembered what had really happened. Our family history was erased and rewritten a thousand times.

  “But ignoring the problem with my ear didn’t make it disappear. Whenever I couldn’t hear someth
ing, or when I stumbled or fell, it made my mother very angry. She said I’d been clumsy because I was hasty or careless. She wouldn’t admit there was anything wrong with my hearing. She refused even to discuss it.” Pandora stopped, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. “I’m making her sound terrible, and she wasn’t. There were times when she was affectionate and kind. No one’s all one way or the other.” She flicked a glance of dread in his direction. “Oh God, you’re not going to pity me, are you?”

  “No.” Gabriel was anguished for her sake, and outraged. It was all he could do to keep his voice calm. “Is that why you keep it a secret? You’re afraid of being pitied?”

  “That, and . . . it’s a shame I’d rather keep private.”

  “Not your shame. Your father’s.”

  “It feels like mine. Had I not been eavesdropping, my father wouldn’t have disciplined me.”

  “You were a child,” he said brusquely. “What he did wasn’t bloody discipline, it was brutality.”

  To his surprise, a touch of unrepentant amusement curved Pandora’s lips, and she looked distinctly pleased with herself. “It didn’t even stop my eavesdropping. I just learned to be more clever about it.”

  She was so endearing, so indomitable, that Gabriel was wrenched with a feeling he’d never known before, as if all the extremes of joy and despair had been compressed into some new emotion that threatened to crack the walls of his heart.

  Pandora would never bend to anyone else’s will, she would never surrender . . . she would only break. He’d seen what the world did to spirited and ambitious women. She had to let him protect her. She had to take him as a husband, and he didn’t know how to convince her. The usual rules didn’t apply to someone who lived by her own logic.

  Reaching for her, he gathered her close against his thumping heart. A thrill went through him as she relaxed automatically.

  “Gabriel?”

  “Yes?”

  “How did you win that last hand of whist?”

  “I counted cards,” he admitted.

  “Is that cheating?”

  “No, but it still wasn’t fair.” He stroked back the wayward strands of hair that crossed her forehead. “My only excuse is that I’ve wanted to be alone with you for days. I couldn’t leave it to chance.”

  “Because you want to do the honorable thing,” Pandora said seriously.

  His brows lifted as he looked askance at her.

  “You want to save me and my family from scandal,” she explained. “Seducing me is the obvious shortcut.”

  Gabriel’s mouth quirked with a sardonic smile. “You and I both know this doesn’t have a damned thing to do with honor.” At her perplexed look, he added, “Don’t pretend you don’t know when a man wants you. Even you’re not that naïve.”

  She continued to stare at him, a twitch of worry appearing between her brows as she realized there was something she was supposed to know, something she should have understood. Christ. She was that naïve. There had been no flirtations or romantic interests that would have taught her how to interpret the signs of a man’s sexual interest.

  He certainly would have no problem demonstrating it. Bending his head to kiss her, he let his mouth drift back and forth until her lips trembled and parted. Their tongues met in a slide of tender wet silk. As he deepened the kiss, it became more and more delicious, her mouth lush and clinging and innocently erotic.

  Carefully he lowered her to the velvet brocade cushions, keeping a supportive arm beneath her neck. His body was sweltering beneath the layers of his clothes, so uncomfortably aroused that he had to reach down and adjust himself. “Sweetheart . . . being around you makes me as hot as a buck in running-time. I thought that was obvious.”

  Turning crimson, Pandora ducked her face against his shoulder. “Nothing about men is obvious to me,” came her muffled voice.

  He smiled slightly. “How fortunate for you, then, that I’m here to enlighten you on every particular.” Aware of her fidgeting, he glanced down to see her trying to pull down the hem of her robe where it had ridden up to her knee. Once that was accomplished, she lay there unmoving, contained fire seething beneath the calm surface.

  Bringing his lips closer to her exposed ear, Gabriel spoke very softly. “You dazzle me, Pandora. Every beautiful, fascinating, kinetic molecule of you. The night we met, I felt you like an electric shock. Something about you calls to the devil in me. I want to take you to bed for days at a time. I want to worship every inch of you while the minutes smolder like moths that dance too close to the flame. I want to feel your hands on me, to—what is it, sweet?” He paused as he heard her indistinguishable muttering.

  Pandora flipped onto her back, looking disgruntled. “I said you’re talking into my bad ear. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

  Gabriel regarded her blankly, then dropped his head with a smothered laugh. “I’m sorry. I should have noticed.” He took a steadying breath. “Perhaps it’s just as well. I’ve thought of another way to make my point.” He levered himself up from the sofa cushions and brought Pandora with him. Sliding his arms beneath her slim body, he lifted her easily.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, floundering.

  For answer, he settled her deliberately onto his lap.

  Pandora frowned and squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t see why you—”

  Suddenly her eyes widened, and she went very still. A rapid sequence of expressions crossed her face: astonishment, curiosity, mortification . . . and the awareness of a robust male erection beneath her.

  “And you said men weren’t obvious,” Gabriel mocked gently. As she wriggled to adjust her position, it sent exquisite pulses of feeling through his groin and belly. He steeled himself to endure the sensation, breathlessly aware that it wouldn’t take much more than this to send him rocketing to climax. “Darling, would you mind . . . not moving . . . quite so much?”

  Pandora gave him an indignant glance. “Have you ever tried sitting on a cricket bat?”

  Biting back a grin, Gabriel moved most of her weight to one of his thighs. “Here, lean against my chest, and put your . . . yes, like that.” When he’d settled her more comfortably, he loosened the belt of her robe. “You look overheated,” he said. “Let me help you off with this.”

  Pandora was undeceived by his solicitous tone. “If I’m overheated,” she told him, pulling her arms from the sleeves, “it’s because you’ve embarrassed me.” With a severe glance, she added, “On purpose.”

  “I was only trying to make it clear how much I desire you.”

  “It’s clear now.” She was pink and flustered.

  Gabriel tugged the robe out from beneath her and tossed it aside, leaving her clad only in the muslin nightdress. He tried to remember the last time one of his sexual partners had been shy. He couldn’t recall what it was like to feel embarrassed during intimacy, and he was charmed out of his wits by Pandora’s modesty. It made something familiar seem entirely new.

  “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.”

  Looking scandalized, Pandora asked, “Then you think this is what Dolly and Mr. Hayhurst were doing in the summer house?”

  “There’s no doubt.” He began to unfasten the top buttons of her nightgown, and kissed the newly revealed skin of her throat.

  Pandora, however, hadn’t yet finished with the subject of the summer house rendezvous. “But Mr. Hayhurst wouldn’t have returned to the ballroom with a . . . a protrusion like that. How do you deflate it?”

  “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.” As Pandora continued to chatter, Gabriel spread the sides of the nightgown open and kissed the tender valley between her breasts. Her fingers fidgeted at the back of his neck. “Do you suppose it was something like educational reform? Or Parliamentary procedure, or—”

  “Shhh.” He found the tracery of a blue vein in the alabaster glow of her skin, and touched it with his tongue. “I want to talk about how beautiful you are. About how you smell like white flowers and open windows and spring rain. About how soft and sweet you are . . . so sweet . . .” His mouth wandered over the gentle curve of her breast, and Pandora jerked, her breath stopping. A rush of excitement flooded him as he sensed her awakening pleasure. His lips traversed her chest in a pattern of lightly grazing touches. Reaching the pink bud of a nipple, he parted his lips and drew it into the hot interior of his mouth. He circled and teased with the tip of his tongue until the peak was textured and velvety.

  His mind was swimming with thoughts of the endless ways he wanted to take her, the desires he longed to satisfy. It took all his self-control to caress her slowly, deliberately, when he wanted to devour her. But everything was new to her, every intimacy unnerving, and he would be patient if it killed him. As he licked and tugged gently, he heard a frayed whimper in her throat. She touched his shoulders and chest hesitantly, as if she didn’t know where to put her hands.

  Lifting his head, he found her lips and possessed them hungrily. “Pandora,” he said when the kiss broke, “you can touch me any way you’d like. You can do anything that pleases you.”

  She gave him a long, wondering gaze. Her fingers went tentatively to the white necktie that hung loosely on either side of his open collar. At his lack of objection, she pulled it free and reached down to the fastenings of his low-cut silk waistcoat. He moved to help her, removing the garment and dropping it to the floor. Next she unbuttoned the placket of his shirt to where it ended mid-chest. Staring at the triangular notch at the base of his throat as if riveted, she leaned forward to kiss him there.