“One more sip,” he murmured as she closed her eyes and drank again from the glass. “It won’t do to have you intoxicated as well as compromised.”

Celia’s eyes flew open at that, the chocolaty brown depths darkening with his statement.

“I’ve had brandy before, Mister Rose.” She did not turn her gaze away as he considered her.

“Of that, I have no doubt, Lady Celia. But best not to complicate matters further, don’t you agree?” Gabriel set the glass down.

“Yes.” She sighed, her brow creasing with a tiny frown.

Silence fell between them once more, with Celia seemingly uncaring they sat indecently close on the cranberry-hued settee.

“Thank you for rescuing me.” Her voice was tiny, but just a shade resentful.

“You are welcome.” Gabriel used the same gentle tone used when digging out information from people reluctant to give up any secrets. “May I ask what frightened you before? When you were inside the passage?”

Celia’s eyes cast downward, the thick eyelashes casting shadows on her skin. “It is silly, of course.”

“I will not laugh.”

“I-I thought a mouse ran across my foot,” she muttered.

After years of interrogating people, learning the secrets of the underworlds, and dealing with every sort of criminal, Gabriel knew when someone was lying.

And Celia was lying. Glancing down at her lovely, bare feet, he saw a smudge of dirt across the top of one. His hands itched to take it into his palm, to wipe the offending bit of dust away from the creamy skin. He would be so careful with such a delicate creature.

“Ah, I see. Regardless, I wish it had not come to the point you required concealment.”

Her lips tightened with faint irritation. “I agree. Harvey had no right following me here.”

Gabriel knew a moment of scorching jealousy. Robert Harvey had every right to be in the library with this girl. “It’s not unusual that a man might get certain ideas in his head once he’s been granted liberties.”

Celia half-turned toward him, eyes flashing with defiance. “I have not granted him anything beyond a few kisses.”

“Those kisses were enough, as evidenced by his behavior. I must insist you give your promise you will avoid such predicaments while you and your mother are guests of Lord Ravenswood.”

“Who are you to dictate my actions, Mister Rose?” she demanded angrily.

Gabriel leaned closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Why, Lady Celia, I am the enforcer of the rules set by the earl.”

He’d lied before, claiming he could not smell Celia’s perfume. It was a beacon for any man interested in her, and Gabriel was far from immune. It drifted over him. A soft layering of roses, the scent richly delicate and complimented by the essence of tart lemons he decided emanated from her glossy hair.

His gaze gravitated until it landed on her full mouth. A hint of brandy existed in her breath, sweet and heady. Desire washed over Gabriel like a typhoon set on a dangerous course. Kissing Celia would likely result in his complete obliteration. His utter ruin.