A handsome man who she knew only in relation to her brother. But he was a good man, or Alexandre would not be friends with him—no matter what stories Gabriel had about being saved by Alex. He was a good man, or he would not have risked so much to bring her here.
She did not know very many good men. If not for Alexandre, she would know none, believe in none.
But she believed in Gabriel. She believed that she could feel freedom and hope in his arms. Because if she could convince him to touch her, kiss her, be with her, that would be forher. Not to endure something. Not to save her.
No, it would simply be something to enjoy.
Would he be appalled by her thoughts? Amused? Or was his behavior at dinner, and a few other times over the course of all this, a sign that he might have thoughts along the same lines?
He thought herstrong.
She wanted him to show her strength. She wanted him to show her a million things. She wanted to feel alive, and independent andfree. She hadn’t yet. As much as this was better than the palace, a life being promised to General Vinyes, it had yet to feel like real, true freedom.
Hewould feel that way. But how could she make that happen?
There was a moment, brief and exciting, where she handed him a wet pan. He lifted his gaze, and it met hers. Hemusthave realized what was in her gaze—heat, interest, want. And he did not immediately look away or rebuff any of these things.
No, she saw each and every one of those in his own gaze, before he blinked them away.
And made his excuses to leave.
But Evelyne was beginning to formulate a plan. One that involved more than justgazesmeeting.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gabriel had plannedon staying three nights this trip. After that moment in his kitchen, he had his concerns about such a long stay.
Perhaps he should cut it short, just as he’d cut short helping her with kitchen cleanup. He’d leave in the morning with an excuse he’d gotten called away on business.
Cowardly. He was currently lying in a bed an entire length of the house away from where she would be lying in her own bed, arguing with himself over which was worse—a cowardly escape or an impossible temptation.
Would she be thinking of him as he thought of her?
She looked beautiful in candlelight. She looked beautiful in all lights. Her interest or curiosity or, he supposed,bothwasn’t lost on him. And in every under-the-lashes or sideway glance was a potential land mine.
He was not immune—could not seem to find the reserves tobeimmune. Not to Evelyne.
The straight-on look over dishes this evening was more than any land mine. He had seen stark invitation in her eyes, and he wanted to accept. The claws of need had insisted upon it.
Only a strength born of learning of his own potential to destroy gave him the strength to rip those claws out. He had learned that anything deeper than superficial interest could lead him to the depths of violence and loss of control. Something he could never afford again, especially around someone who had already suffered violence.
He could not touch Evelyne. The obsession would become untenable. It was already too much. He thought of her constantly when he was away. He found every new layer he discovered about her fascinating. Every time he planned his clandestine returns, he was filled with brand-new energy. Anticipation.
He wanted to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to inhale the subtle floral scent that followed her around every room. He wanted. Period. A want that had gotten too large in his mind.
He took some solace in the fact that his obsession with Evelyne hadn’t affected his work, but ithadaffected his social life. He had not enjoyed going out since he’d brought her here. Had not been with a woman since he’d gone to Alexandre’s wedding. All the surfaces he’d skated across no longer held any distraction for him.
Pathetic. He needed to fix that before he made a larger mistake. Here. Withher.
He had known she had spine and strength—to come out of a childhood raised by King Enzo and retain any sparkle took an immense capacity for both. And yes, she had Alex to cushion some of her blows, but not all.
But for some years he had kept his distance because he knew that the combination of her was a temptation not just in terms of sex—but in terms of this, the dangerous claws of obsessivewant. She was beautiful and alluring, but beyond that she was complex, intriguing, intelligent, with some added extra dash of something he could only describe asfun.
He got out of bed, frustrated that over ten years of learning how to be a different man seemed to crumble in the face of one woman.
There were threats against her, and he would save her from all of them. Protect her from anything that might touch her.
And he knew that in the depths of this obsession, it could lead him to kill.Thatwas inside him. No better than King Enzo, really, except he knew he had to control it.
