She’d stolen the man’s horse, leaving him to walk nearly two miles. Under threat of a thunderstorm.

With nervous fingers, Celia gripped the handle of her teacup. There was no concealing the tiny clatter when it shook against the matching saucer. The dark glint in Gabriel’s eyes when they slid over her prone form was a mixture of pure fury and concern.

“Ladies, may I join you for a moment?”

“Of course, Gabriel! Shall I pour you some tea?” Ivy smiled, patting the seat of an unoccupied chair at the end of the divan where Celia’s foot lay propped like a bizarre prize upon a fluffy pillow. Gabriel took the offered seat while Celia gulped in a desperate bid to contain her panic. He turned her poor bonnet over and over in his hands. She was sure, by the time it was returned to her possession, it would be hopelessly ruined.

“Yes, thank you, Lady Ravenswood,” he murmured while staring at Celia with eyes hot and dark.

His gaze roamed with breathtaking insolence across her body as she lay stretched out on the divan. From her stockinged toes, over her legs, her hips, her bosom, and on up until, finally, their eyes clashed.

Burnished whiskey bored with dangerous intensity into sweet chocolate.

Sara cleared her throat and hid a smile by taking a sip of her tea. Celia clenched her teeth, perturbed by her friends’ lack of alarm when it came to Gabriel Rose and his intentions. Could they not see how dangerous he was?

This was insanity. To lay thus, vulnerable and exposed. Although completely clothed with her feet only lacking shoes, Celia had never felt so… bare. And foolish.

Why am I frightened of him? After all, I am the one he accosted. The one he violated! He should consider himself fortunate that I only stole his horse. Oh, I hope his feet are blistered from walking! I hope he has stone bruises. I hope he is suffering from thirst and exposure. I hope…

Celia stirred with the intention of sitting upright, determined this man would not intimidate her a minute more.

“Stay where you are.”

Gabriel’s eyes pinned her in place, his command soft and resolute. Celia threw caution to the wind and defiantly pulled herself to a sitting position anyway.

There was only a small wince betraying the twinge of pain felt when her feet touched the floor. She set her teacup and saucer down on the low table in front of her. Then with a fierce glare, she leaned toward the man, snatched her bonnet from his hands, and impatiently tossed it onto the settee beside her.

A muscle ticked in Gabriel’s chiseled jaw. A flicker of emotion revealed by tiny flutters just beneath his skin and the shadow of a faint beard.

“I shall require a moment alone with Lady Celia,” Gabriel said, his gaze never leaving Celia. She noticed his hands had clenched into fists. That wasn’t encouraging at all.

“We’ll just step out into the hall and give you two a little privacy,” Ivy replied, standing and shaking out her skirts. “But just a little, you understand. We must maintain appearances, after all.” She winked at Celia and then linked an arm with Sara. “Just call out if you need us.”