A strange sort of fire lit Gabriel’s gaze. His hand tightened on her chin, holding her immobile. The air surrounding them crackled with intense promise, and Celia hated that her entire body seemed attuned to his. His every breath was mirrored by her own, the heat of his chest burning her arm and the part of her upper body where it pressed against him. The discomfort of her injured ankle was forgotten as Gabriel’s stare melted her defiance and turned her into a trembling puddle of confused desire.

Why did the thought of his hand striking her tender flesh in such a vulnerable area leave her eager to test his resolve? It was absolute madness taunting him like this, and she was a wanton harlot for entertaining the idea of being sprawled across his lap. The leather of his riding glove landing on her skin would no doubt leave a mark should he follow through with such brazen threats.

“Your first mistake is believing I won’t do anything I damn well please with you, Celia Buchanan.” His gaze narrowed and darkened, dropping to her lips. He looked as though he wanted nothing more than to devour her, body and soul. “Your second mistake is believing you won’t enjoy every second of it.”

“Always with the threats, Mister Rose.” Celia’s words rushed out in a shaky exhale of sarcasm. “Do you spend all your days dreaming up new ones? Or do you find yourself recycling those that failed the first time around?”

“Threats? I’ve found no need for them. I follow through with action.” Gabriel released her chin, but his arm remained a secure pressure around her waist. He nudged Arion off the roadway and into the tall grass.

With a worrying twinge of awareness, Celia realized the gelding was being steered toward a strand of trees on the other side of the small meadow.

Clutching his arm even tighter, her fingernails dug little half moons into the fabric of his riding coat. Did he mean to abduct her? Ravish her? There was little hope of escaping her fate with an injured ankle. A familiar sense of premonition stole over her, leaving her light-headed. She’d been blessed since childhood with an uncanny knack for predicting when things happened. With this man, that ability was diminished and Celia did not understand why.

“What are you doing, sir?” She could not conceal the panic in her voice. Oh, blast her impulsiveness, anyhow.

“Dispensing with words and moving straight away to your next lesson.”

Dread froze her limbs. She considered leaping from the horse’s back.

Gabriel dropped the reins so they lay crisscrossed over Arion’s neck. His arms wrapped completely around her waist, and a grim smile played across his firm mouth.

“Don’t even think about it,” he murmured.

“What?” Celia clenched her teeth.

“You know what I’m referring to. Jumping off this horse. You’ll only do yourself additional harm and make me angry.” With a cluck of his tongue and pressure from his knees, Gabriel directed the horse’s movements.