He didn’t answer, not entirely sure how to handle this new, strong-willed stranger. “Callie,” Ralston said quietly, firmly, in an attempt to bring reason to the discussion, “if you were caught, it would be the end of you. Gambling is one thing. But…at Brooks’s?”
“Is the great Marquess of Ralston afraid of what might happen if he takes such a risk? The same man who once compromised a Prussian princess in Hyde Park?”
He blinked. “I did no such thing.”
Callie couldn’t help the little smile that flashed. “Ah, so we finally discover a legend that is not grounded in reality.” His eyes narrowed on her as she pulled herself up to her full height and, with all the pride of a queen, said, “I don’t need you, you know. I can sneak into White’s on my own—using a letter of invitation from Benedick.”
Gabriel gave her a look of disbelief. “He’d never write it.”
“He doesn’t have to,” she said, matter-of-factly, “I sneaked into his fencing club without issue.”
“And you needed me to shepherd you out of there!” he said, a touch louder than was ideal for their clandestine location.
“Are you saying you won’t take me?”
“I am.”
“A pity. I had looked forward to your escort.”
He shook his head, dumbfounded. “You cannot do this.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“No! Because you’re mad! You will be caught!”
“I haven’t been caught yet.”
“I’ve caught you! Twice!”
“As I’ve said before,” she scoffed, “you’re different.”
“How am I different?” his exasperation was clear.
“Well, it seems you are my partner in crime.” She smiled then, a beaming grin not unlike the one he’d seen her give Oxford earlier.
He lost his bluster at the words, feeling the full force of her pleasure like a blow, and a nonsensical wave of pride coursed through him…pride at being the one she would turn to with such excitement, pride at being the one she would ask to escort her on such an adventure. And, in that sun-filled moment, with all of London mere inches away from their hiding place, he was struck by her beauty—her bright brown eyes and her hair, gleaming auburn in the light and her mouth, wide and welcoming and enough to bring a man to his knees.
She was really quite extraordinary.
The revelation made it difficult to breathe, so intense was the truth of it. “My God. You’re lovely.”
Her eyes widened in shock as she processed the words, then narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t try to throw me off course with your compliments.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Because I’m doing this. I’m gambling. I won’t be distracted from my purpose.”
“Of course not.”
“Certainly telling me that I’m—Well, that I’m—”
“Lovely.”
“Yes. That. It won’t deter me.”
“I didn’t mean it to.”
“I’m not a fool, you know.”
He took a step closer to her. “I know. I shall take you.”
“Even if you won’t take me—” She stopped. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I would take you.”
“Oh. Well. Then.”
“Yes, I thought it was rather magnanimous of me.” He lifted a finger and tucked an errant lock of hair behind one of her ears.
“I’m not lovely,” she blurted out.
One side of his mouth kicked up. “Now, there,” he said quietly, searching her face as if to memorize this new Callie, whom he’d just discovered, “I shall have to disagree.”
And then he set his lips to hers and she was drugged by his caress and his words, both equally intoxicating. This kiss was different from all that they had shared before—softer, seeking, as though they were both discovering something altogether new. This was a concert of stroking tongue and soft lips. Gabriel lifted his head and waited for her to open her eyes; when she did, he was struck once more by her loveliness. He searched her face, watching as she returned from the sensual place where the kiss had taken her.
“You said I was plain.”
He shook his head slowly, marveling at the clear, brown depths of emotion in her eyes. “There is nothing plain about you.” And then, he kissed her again.
Her mouth was his banquet. He sipped at her lips, savoring their taste, their softness. Her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair—threading through the dark locks. The caress sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He ate at her, nibbling at her lips before gently laving the worried skin there with his tongue. When he pulled away and met her eyes once more, they were both breathing heavily, and Gabriel was wishing that they were anywhere but here, hundreds of Londoners mere feet away.
He had to stop. He was about to do exactly what he had resolved not to do. Had he not promised himself that he would not compromise her again? He owed her more. Better.
A vision flashed in his mind of Callie naked, spread before him in a pool of sunlight, and he pushed it aside. This was no time to indulge in fantasies that would further arouse him—as it was, his excitement was embarrassingly obvious in his breeches. Reaching up, he unwound Callie’s arms from around his neck, kissing the knuckles on both hands before meeting her gaze once more.
“I owe you an apology.”
Her brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
He set a soft kiss to her forehead, smoothing the lines there, pulling her tightly into his arms before continuing. “An apology. For everything. For the afternoon at Ralston House, for the fencing club, God, Callie, for this afternoon, even. I have treated you quite abominably, nearly compromising you at every turn. And—I should apologize.”