But he wasn’t some green lad begging reassurance from his first woman.

And she wasn’t his woman at all.

“Madame was taken with an apoplexy when I returned to the apartment with him,” Effie continued. “But Franc and I weren’t to be separated. He was mine, and I was his, and that was all there was to it.”

Franc bestowed a phlegmatic sniff on a clump of weeds as his mistress finished her tale. He was far ahead on the path, at the very end of his lead, seeming to pay her no attention at all.

“Not the most fearsome protector,” Gabriel observed.

“On the contrary,” she said. “Franc could disarm anyone who attempted to harm me. I’ve taught him a great many commands for the purpose.”

Gabriel chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

Effie arched a brow at him in challenge. “Franc?” She whistled. “Faire le tour.”

The poodle’s small head jerked up. He at once sprang into action, tiny paws flying as he returned to Effie at a gallop. Still attached to his long velvet lead, he circled Gabriel three times, wrapping the lead around Gabriel’s legs and effectively bringing him to a halt. After the third revolution, Franc stopped and looked at Effie in canine expectation.

“Bon travail,” Effie told him.

Franc’s tail quivered with pleasure.

Gabriel dropped a sardonic look at his bound limbs. “Is that all? Or does he do something else?”

“Franc? No.” Effie stepped forward. Her full skirts pressed against the front of Gabriel’s legs. “But I can do anything.” She brought the flat of her hand to his chest, giving him a light push. “See? You’re my prisoner.”

Gabriel gazed down at her. A peculiar heaviness formed in his breast.

The sun shone through the tree branches, streaking the landscape in dappled warmth. Its rays kissed her upturned face, turning her skin to gold.

He was struck, all at once, by the visceral memory of how she’d looked on the terrace. She’d had no mask to protect her, then. No clever quips or catlike smiles to shield the rawness of her soul. Only an aching vulnerability too cumbersome for her to carry.

Once seen, it couldn’t be unseen. Even now, when she stood so straight and strong, with her little dog beside her, willing to take on Compton. Willing to take on Gabriel, too, if it came to that. The vulnerability was still there, a shadow beneath the surface of her.

It provoked an answering ache of vulnerability in Gabriel.

He set his hand over hers. His heart beat heavily beneath her palm. He was certain she felt it. “Surprisingly effective,” he said.

The triumphant gleam in her eyes dimmed. It was replaced by something watchful and uncertain. For all her boldness, she was still a young lady.

And he was still a man.

“I seem to be at your mercy,” he told her.