He quickly spun her around, his large body blocking anyone from witnessing his actions. Now, she sagged against him, her back to his front, and he held her so tight she could not wiggle away.

Withdrawing his hand from the gown’s bodice, he clamped it over her mouth while the other remained wedged into the heat between her thighs. His broad, blunt finger stubbornly coaxed more of her response until she was limp with satisfaction and moaning with delight. The coolness of the night air danced across her thighs as Gabriel’s forearm held her skirts aloft.

“Do not come any closer,” he snarled.

Celia jerked at the feral quality of his tone, but the finger still inside her continued stroking with persistent tenderness. There was a fierce possessiveness in his voice and she shivered.

Celia felt the motion as Gabriel turned his head and glanced over his shoulder.

“If you value your lives, you will leave this garden immediately. Now.”

His words were directed at others. Not her. Celia stiffened in Gabriel’s embrace when she realized that the group hunting fireflies had discovered them. They gathered at the beginning of the rose garden maze, no doubt puzzled and maybe even horrified by the suggestion of Gabriel holding her captive.

No matter that she was safe from their prying eyes. And relished being held in such a commanding way by this man.

She should be fighting to get away, but that would turn matters even more dire. The situation was painfully clear as it was. There would be no doubt as to what had occurred between them. How Celia had been compromised. How she hadn’t fought it and had gone willingly to her ruin.

This was scandalous on a monumental scale. Gossip would spread quickly. It would be demanded that Gabriel marry her, taking the decision ultimately from her hands.

She would be his after all. Despite her fears. Despite the rejection of his proposal. Despite the fact he would be one of the most powerful men in England and she the most unworthy bride imaginable.

She would be his.

She wanted to be his.

And she wasn’t sure she was all right with that.

“Let her go, Rose. Damn you, if you think I’ll stand idly by while you attack her, think again,” Robert demanded in outrage, his voice quivering with emotion. “Lady Celia, come away with me now. Away from this blackguard.”

“Take one more step and I’ll dispatch you first, Lord Harvey,” Gabriel replied coldly. His palm, however, was hot as fire as he cupped Celia’s sex. His finger moved slowly out of her inner channel and slid through the moisture there. Finding the tiny bud of nerves, he stroked her with increasing intensity.

Celia sucked in a strangled breath behind the barrier of his hand. Lust was stirring again, and Gabriel knew it. She sensed his wicked grin before he thrust even deeper, his finger hooking in a manner that sent stars dancing before her eyes.

Thank God, no one saw the full effect of this man destroying her. How easily he accomplished destruction with just a crook of his finger. As far as the others were concerned, they’d simply caught Celia and Gabriel locked in a passionate embrace with only kisses passing between them. Scandalous and certainly ruinous but hardly the full truth of what was truly happening