Chapter 34
“Are ye ready?” Gabe pressed his lips to the side of Mary’s neck as she gazed at her reflection in her dressing table’s reflective glass, several days later.
The fluttering reawakening of burgeoning desire worked its way through her as Gabe continued to kiss a path up to the dangling pearl earring hanging from her ear.
She batted his hand away. “Naughty man,” she scolded. “I only just managed to finish putting myself back together from your last eager bout of lovemaking. I haven’t the time to do so again.”
He gazed at her reflection with a wicked grin. “Just once more, lass. I will make it quick. And I promise no’ te touch yer pretty hair.”
She clucked her tongue and winked. “Shame on you, Gabe. We have a busy evening and I cannot be late.”
His smile fled as he pushed away from her chair to pace her modestly appointed bedchamber in Charles’ second house in town.
“I donnae like this, Mary.”
She finished applying her powder and turned to face Gabe. “You have said as much before, Gabriel, but I am a spy, and this is my assignment. I must follow through.”
He rushed to her with exaggerated dramatic flair, falling to his knees and gripping her hands tightly in his. “Ach, Mary, donnae hurt me so! Donnae be a spy any longer. Flee with me! We can go te—”
Mary laughed. “I am not certain, but I think that might be treasonous.” She pulled her hands from his and rose to retrieve her long, emerald green silk scarf, then draped it over her shoulders. “I am going on this assignment, Gabe. All will be well. I am perfectly capable of handling myself, I assure you.”
He sighed and stood, leaning a hip against her dressing table and crossing his arms across his chest. “Verra well. Do ye have yer pistol?”
“In my reticule.”
“Yer knife?”
“You know very well that it is strapped to my thigh.”
His gaze heated. “Show me.”
She shook her finger at him. “For shame, Gabriel! Now dirty your face, for heaven’s sake. You are far too clean for a coachman.”
He moved to sit in her place at the dressing table, but something caught his eye and he hesitated.
“My God…” he said in wonder.
She followed his gaze and knew immediately what he’d seen, and she cursed herself for bringing it to the safe house, but she couldn’t resist. She’d missed it during her days on assignment.
Mary’s cheeks heated embarrassingly, high on her cheekbones. Goodness, displaying her body for men to see did not cause her to blush, butthisdid? How silly of her.
She turned her gaze away and busied herself with gazing in her tall mirror as he picked up an item from atop her chest of drawers.
“Ye still have this conch shell, Mary?” he asked quietly.
She could feel his gaze at her back, but she refused to return it. She knew what she would find there, but it oddly left her feeling afraid. Somehow her secrets seemed to be revealing themselves, suddenly splayed out in the open for him to see…the long-buried softness in her heart for the boy who had given her the gift and the man who had abandoned her, taking her crushed heart with him. And it terrified her.
Nervous anxiety coiled itself in her stomach, fluttering and wavering with uncertainty. She knew that he found her desirable but didn’t return her regard…her love. He hadn’t said so, and she daren’t broach he subject. It would scare him away, and now that she had him positively in her life, she couldn’t risk losing him. Again.
“How… Why? Ye’ve kept this all these years, Mary?”
She knew what he wished to hear from her, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t say the words.
Spinning to face him and running her fingers along the long string of pearls at her neck, she forced an airy smile. “Yes, I have. I think it’s pretty. Now, will youpleasefinish getting yourself ready?”
He very obviously wished to say more, his judicious gaze seemingly seeing through her veil of fear, but he wisely took a seat at her dressing table and began to apply oil to his hair and soot to his face. He was already attired accordingly in a worn, brown woollen coat and matching vest and breeches. Each article of clothing was appropriately scuffed and marked. He had spent the days since their return to London growing mutton chops specifically for his role at the ball.
He thought they looked rather dashing, but Mary preferred his face clean and—oh pooh. Who was she kidding? She thought him handsome no matter what his choice of facial hair. Handsome, muscled, bold, talented, kind, and oh, so arousing!
