Several seconds of silence passed.

“Very foolhardy of you to meet with the man like this,” Gabriel remarked in a strangely lowered voice. “Here in Ravenswood’s home, I mean. Somewhat dangerous as well, with all manner of guests roaming about. Is your mother aware of your nocturnal adventures? I cannot imagine she condones such behavior. You would do well to stick with hasty kisses in alcoves and along deserted garden paths.”

Celia’s stomach dropped as Gabriel’s insinuations sunk in. Did he actually think she’d sought Robert out for a clandestine affair?

Indignation battled her fear of darkness in a war of emotions.

“Ah, well. No matter.” Gabriel let out a long-suffering sigh. “The incident resolved itself rather nicely. Do not fret over repayment for my assistance. A simple thank-you will suffice, as well as your pledge this will not happen again whilst a guest at Beaumont.”

The fear rippling through Celia blotted out Gabriel’s words. She heard him as if from a distance. As though she stood at the end of a long tunnel while he occupied the other end.

Oh, God. Did something just brush against her foot?

It happened again. Something warm. Something furry. Something small.

Her mouth opened with a demand for release from the coffin-like space, but all that escaped her lips was a pitiful whisper. She blindly lashed out, a fist connecting against the wall with a dull thump.

Somehow, she managed a reedy gasp.

“Please.”

CHAPTER 5

Gabriel shoved the panel open just in time, catching Celia as she slumped forward. Her eyes were wide, her face ghostly white, and where he gripped her forearms, her skin was cool and clammy.

“What the hell,” he muttered as she filled his arms. “You’re shivering, Lady Celia.”

Celia clung to him, snuggling closer than was proper.

Damnation, there wasn’t a single thing proper about any of this.

Walking her toward the divan, Gabriel refilled the crystal tumbler with a healthy dose of brandy, then sank onto the cushioned seat beside her.

“Here. Drink this,” he urged, placing the glass against her pale lips.

Celia’s huge brown eyes fixated on Gabriel’s face as she automatically sipped the liquor. A tiny grimace crossed her features but her hand clutched the tumbler, her fingers closing over his until they both gripped the glass.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened as she drank.

The brandy would help Celia regain her composure and, hopefully, quell the tiny quivers in the tips of her fingers as they pressed against his own.

Gabriel knew he shouldn’t, but it was impossible not to stare. His gaze raked her form, clad so sumptuously in all that billowy, yellow muslin. A pang of desire stabbed his insides.

He ruthlessly shoved it away. And pulled the glass away from her mouth.

Lady Celia Buchanan is not meant for the likes of you.

Her shivering was slowly subsiding, her skin tone returning to its usual creamy shade. Licking her lips, she moved her hands in a slight motion that let Gabriel know she wanted more brandy.