CHAPTER 14

Celia was achingly aware of Gabriel’s displeasure. It rippled off him in little waves of discontent and lapped at her feet.

He was furious. Enough that it kept him from lurking in the shadows as he usually did in such situations. During the hour she remained in the ballroom, Gabriel stood like a sentinel.

Disturbingly close and stonily silent.

Despite her deep-seated inclinations toward rebellion, Celia remained seated, fuming even as she did so. She should accept one of the many offers to dance. She should stroll the terrace while on a gentleman’s arm. Enjoy the balmy night air and the fragrance of roses and jasmine. Maybe even grant a stolen kiss or two.

But thinking about those things made her stomach clench with distaste. How had Gabriel ruined those things for her? How had she given him the means of destroying any chance she possessed of finding a suitable husband? One perfect for her unfortunate situation?

Celia rubbed her leg in an unconscious gesture. Glancing in Gabriel’s direction, she found him staring directly at her. She froze in realization. She was assuaging the very spot his teeth had nipped.

Gabriel smirked, his golden-brown eyes gravitating to her thigh. And when he looked back up, their eyes connecting, Celia shivered with awareness. Gabriel appeared ravenous. As if he might pounce upon her and finish devouring her for dessert. Only the thinnest veneer of civility kept him from following through, and Celia wondered how long it would be before that shell cracked into a million pieces.

So attuned was she to him, Celia did not hear Miss Paula Heaton. The young lady asked her question a second time while sliding into an unoccupied chair.

“Will you still conduct the games, Lady Celia?”

Celia tore her gaze from Gabriel’s narrowed one, focusing instead on the pretty girl sitting beside her. “Yes, of course, Miss Heaton,” she replied with a smile. “Are there others still interested in such pastimes?”

“Please, call me Paula, if you like. And yes, so far, there are nine of us, including yourself. We are ready to begin if you are.”

Gabriel’s glare burned Celia. She could feel the heat of it, the intensity of his disapproval, but she refused to acknowledge him. He would not dare try and stop her. He would not dare.

His deep, rumbling voice surprised both Celia and Paula Heaton. Together, they stared up at Gabriel as he bent at the waist and executed a respectful bow.

“Gather them, Miss Heaton, and meet myself and Lady Celia in the library.”

Gabriel grasped Celia’s arm as they exited the ballroom. With his jaw set in a tight line, he was obviously furious. Marching her along, his anger made him forget the tenderness of her ankle.

Only when she stumbled with a small gasp of pain did the man come to his senses. With a muttered curse, he halted in the middle of the wide corridor. Celia found herself hauled up alongside him, his gaze impenetrable as it searched hers.