Gabby snorted in her turn. “No decent woman would allow that sort of thing,” she said without a trace of hesitation in her voice. “If my father knew—” She broke off. That was an inconceivable thought. “You’re a reprobate,” she said. “And what is more, you, you looked at me!”

“You’re beautiful,” Quill said, his eyes dark green and narrowed. “I want to look at you again and again, Gabby. Morning and night.”

She gasped. “Never! And it’s no wonder you’re giving yourself headaches, if this is the sort of thing you’ve been up to!”

Quill struggled with himself and managed to choke back his laughter. But Gabby saw the humor in his face and glowered.

Margaret scratched on the door and Gabby snatched it open. “Where have you been?” she demanded unfairly. “I can’t sit around in my chemise all day long!”

Quill lazily got himself to his feet and strolled over to his wife, who still had her arms folded across her chest, presumably hiding the damp cloth from Margaret’s eyes. He bent over and murmured in her ear. “You’re going to love it, you know. You will beg me to continue.”

“I would never do such a thing!” Gabby whispered back furiously.

“Care to make a wager?” said her husband.

“Gambling is the devil’s pastime,” she retorted. “I begin to think that you were raised with no morals!”

“I begin to think that you were raised with too many morals.” Her husband sighed and dropped a kiss onto the tip of her ear.

Margaret was on the other side of the room, pulling undergarments from the press. With one swift glance over his shoulder, Quill gave his inclinations free rein. He held Gabby tightly against the front of his body. Then he ran a hand down her back and cupped her delicious bottom, pulling her even tighter, up and against him.

“Gabby,” he said hoarsely, into her hair. “I am not only going to touch you all over, I’m going to kiss you in the same places.”

Gabby was silenced.

After he left the room and Margaret was lacing her into a corset, the only positive inference Gabby could draw from the whole conversation was that her father would have nothing to say to Quill’s sinfulness. She was absolutely certain such a wicked thought had never crossed his mind, nor that of any other man of God.

She walked numbly along the street, Margaret following behind. He wasn’t going to heed her refusals. She knew that. Quill was silent, but she would never make the mistake of thinking he was pliable. No, Quill was planning to touch her all over and look at her…and kiss her. She felt an unwilling lick of fire.