| She had already put him enough at
risk just by hiding here at his lonely farmhouse.
Fortunately, Sophia was confident that it would not be long before
her bodyguards reappeared to usher her back to her mission. She
merely had to give them a bit more time to locate her and she’d
be on her way, with Gabriel none the wiser about his peasant girl’s
true royal birth.
Perhaps if another twenty-four hours passed and there was still
no sign of her men, then she might consider asking him to help her
reach the castle where the diplomats had been expecting her.
But only as a last resort. With all her heart, she vowed to keep
him out of her family’s nightmare.
Just then, a hesitant knock sounded politely on the dressing-room
door.
Rap, tap, tap.
“Sophia?”
At the sound of her host’s deep, silken voice, she lifted
her head and looked over; his trusty nearness brought the hint of
a smile to her lips. Unfamiliar longings for an even greater closeness
with him rippled through her. “Yes, Major, what it is?”
“I, ah, got your bedroom ready and found you something to
wear.”
“How kind.” He had to know that she desired him, she
thought, biting her lip as she fought a girlish smile.
At supper, she had had such trouble trying to hide her attraction
to him. He must be able to feel it—to see it in her eyes.
A part of her wanted him to see it.
On the other side of the door, Gabriel cleared his throat as if
he could hear her thoughts. “I have a shirt of mine for you,
and a robe, as well, if you want it. I’ll hang them on the
door for when you’re ready, all right?”
Sophia sat up straighter in the tub and answered all of a sudden:
“Would you mind bringing them in?”
For a heartbeat, no sound returned.
She was motionless, having shocked herself with her scandalous
invitation. It sounded like she must have shocked him, too.
But why must they go on denying their mutual attraction? Who were
they fooling? He wanted her, she wanted him, and this might be the
only chance she’d get before her guards returned. One precious
night to shrug off the burden of her royal role and discover the
pleasures other women knew.
Yes, in one impulsive moment, Sophia decided to reach out to him,
to explore her first sensual experience with this man, if he was
willing.
If the old troubles of her family were back, then her days on earth
were probably numbered. It was too unfair to go to her grave never
knowing the sweetness of a skillful lover’s touch. Gabriel
Knight was beautiful in mind and body. More importantly, she trusted
him. It had to be him—for with every suitor who had ever tried
to court her, she was never sure if it was she herself that each
beau wanted or her throne.
But Gabriel had no idea of her true status. When he looked at her,
he saw a woman. That was all.
Besides, they were stuck here together anyway tonight, so why not
make the best of it?
No one else need ever know.
Certainly, she’d never get away with something like this
with her eagle-eyed head of security nearby—and stalwart Leon,
heaven bless him, was always nearby, watching over her. Well, old
Leon didn’t like it, but the fact was, the Virgin Queen was
not Sophia’s only model for a female ruler.
So was Cleopatra the seductress.
The door opened slowly.
Heart pounding, she leaned forward, resting her crossed arms along
the edge of the tub to conceal her breasts. As she watched and waited
for him to step into the little closet of a room, the first part
of him to appear was one ebony riding boot, followed by a thickly
muscled leg in dun-colored breeches, and then the man himself.
He glanced at her warily as he came in, his black eyebrows knitted
in a suspicious line. As his gaze swept over her bare skin, he looked
away at once, focusing his suddenly glazed stare on the clothes
he had brought for her. They were draped over his arm.
“Uh, where would you like these?”
Staring at him in avid interest, Sophia gestured toward the nearby
chair with an idle wave of her hand. “Over there, if it’s
no trouble.”
He bowed his head. “As you wish.”
Sophia tracked him with an almost predatory stare full of wicked
amusement as he walked slowly around the bathing tub. He threw the
shirt and robe down on the chair, and it occurred to her that her
chivalrous knight was trying very hard to keep his eyes averted.
“Well—there you are, then,” he mumbled. “Is
there, ah, anything else you need?”
She giggled. “There certainly is.”
He frowned at her, meeting her gaze at last as Sophia sent him
a mirthful glance over one bare shoulder.
“What is it?”
She tried to think of how to put it, exactly—and suddenly
lost her nerve.
“Nothing,” she blurted out, turning red.
“Ahem, well, then. I shall leave you your privacy.”
Gabriel started back toward the door, marching past the bathing
tub with a resolute look, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Sophia saw she was about to lose her chance. Oh, Lord, what would
Cleopatra do if her stallion of a soldier, Mark Antony, were about
to walk about out the door?
“Um, Gabriel?” she spoke up hesitantly, scrabbling
about for her nerve as best she could.
With one hand on the doorknob, he went motionless, not looking
back, still staring straight ahead.
As if a part of him knew exactly what she wanted. “Yes?”
he asked hoarsely. Why are you torturing me? his stiff posture seemed
to say.
“Could I have a towel?” she whispered.
Relief eased his tension a little. “Of course. Sorry. I thought
I gave you one.”
She could not take her eyes off him. “I don’t see it.”
“It’s right over here.” His hand slipped away
from the doorknob and he returned, rounding the tub toward the clean,
folded towel that lay in plain view.
He reached for it. Just as he turned and started to hand her the
towel, Sophia rose from the tub without warning, water coursing
down her body.
Gabriel’s lips parted as his gaze ran helplessly down the
length of her.
Her stare was locked on his face. His homed in on her jutting nipples,
tautened with the chill.
Lifting his arm with a blind motion, he offered her the towel,
clutching it with a white-knuckled grip.
She shook her head and commanded him in a whisper: “Dry me.”
His eyes flickered, lust in their blue depths; she waited, watching
his resistance crumble before her eyes.
Gabriel took a slow step closer. He dropped his gaze as he shifted
the towel in his hold.
She closed her eyes and bit back a soft moan as he touched the
soft cotton to her skin.
Acutely aware of his every move, she felt his hand draped in the
cloth follow the curve of her shoulder, down her back, over the
curve of her backside. Her chest heaved.
When she felt his lips skim along her shoulder in burning hunger,
she lifted her hand and raked her damp fingers through his black
hair.
Pressing her cheek with his fingertips, Gabriel turned her to him,
lowered his head, and kissed her with drugging depth. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and clung to him, a hot wave of desire
pouring through her.
Her pulse reverberated with the pleasure of his warm, smooth lips
ravishing hers, the heated chafe of his scruffy jaw against her
chin, the silken delight of his tongue caressing hers . . .
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