And how she’d used Gabriel Rose’s body in a quest for glorious pleasure in that magical hour after midnight.

Peeking at Gabriel through the sweep of her lashes, she knew he was remembering those moments as well. His full, plush lips curved upward, and the scoundrel actually winked at her.

Celia’s lips tightened with irritation. What was he doing here, anyway? In the months since she’d become aware of his existence, Gabriel never took part in such silly activities. He never danced. Never showed any interest whatsoever in any woman. His demeanor remained the same whether he was ignored completely or shamelessly flirted with. He may play cards or join the gentlemen for cigars and brandies, but he carefully maintained a distance between himself and members of the ton.

His presence in this library was surely some new method devised simply as a means of torturing her.

“I suggest Kiss The Candlestick,” Robert interjected.

Celia let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, not again.”

“Yes, it is a game played far too often,” Sir Jasper said. “You are always so clever, Lady Celia. I’m sure you can think of something rarely done.”

Celia watched as Lady Caroline inclined her head toward Gabriel. He responded by bending slightly so she could whisper in his ear. Whatever she said sent a smile spreading across his face.

Jealousy, pure and simple, hit Celia’s body like a lightning bolt. Without considering the ramifications, she blurted out, “We shall play Hot Cockles.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Gabriel rumbled, “You most certainly will not.” He glared at her, his eyes burning coals of dark golden fire. Beside him, Caroline bit her lip in amusement.

“I-I would not feel comfortable playing that game, Lady Celia. It’s entirely too scandalous,” Paula said, uneasily.

“I’m all for it,” Robert chimed in.

A chorus of agreeing voices echoed him, although three of the others still had yet to voice an opinion.

“It is the majority wishing to play,” Celia pointed out. “And it’s no more scandalous than Guessing The Kiss.”

Robert maneuvered his way toward Celia, his eyes alight with an odd glow. “Once again, you devise the perfect entertainment for the evening, Lady Celia.”

She spared the persistent Lord Robert Harvey a glance while squaring her shoulders. “I shall go first and choose the lap to lay my head. Paula, if you do not object, we shall use your pretty scarf as my blindfold.”

Again, there was a rumble of dissent from Gabriel, his eyes burning with fury over Celia’s willingness to play the game. A game in which she would lay her head in someone’s lap while allowing another to strike her hand, palm up, in the middle of her back. Correctly guessing the striker was how one claimed victory.

Despite Lady Caroline’s tugging of his arm, Gabriel stalked toward Celia. He stood close enough to touch her knees where she sat on the divan. Celia’s head tilted back so she could match him stare for stare.