They both sat, lost in their own thoughts, as he drove for nearly a mile and then turned onto a more rugged but recently maintained dirt road.
“How far is it?” she finally asked into the silence.
“A mile and a half but it’s all uphill.” The road became narrow and steep in a few sections. Despite driving it dozens of times since coming to Misty Brooke, he was determined to be extra cautious with her for a passenger.
“I feel sometimes as though it’s loomed over me for most of my life. Of course, I don’t believe that my eye is a curse, but I have wondered sometimes if I’ve been cursed by the mine.”
He didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, and so he simply focused on avoiding the ruts in the road and staying away from the drop off that was quite steep at times.
“I never got an inkling as to my father’s belief until Will died. William Elwood Harlan Redfield, my parents’ pride and joy. He barely made it to the age of eight. He was a monster of a child, but he was our brother. My parents were never the same after his death.”
She hadn’t been so forthcoming about any of this before, so Gabriel remained silent. She was in an odd mood this morning, almost as though she needed to tell him, tell anyone her thoughts.
“Our parents withdrew from us… from life. It seemed as though Louella and I had ceased to exist for them, along with our brother. And then one day, my mother directed Mary to pack my belongings.”
“How old were you when your brother died?”
“I was nearly ten and seven. I was supposed to be the one watching out for him. He was always a sickly child but had been feeling better that spring, so Louella and I were allowed to take him outside. He ended up falling into the water and never recovered from the chill. Father blamed me. I should have been watching him closer—”
He was beginning to grasp where her narrative was leading.
“You cannot have had anything to do with his death. If he took ill, you could have done nothing to make him well.”
“It was shortly after William’s death that my father began restoring the dower house, where I live. I know it makes no sense at all. I don’t believe in curses or other such nonsense. But… I can never be certain.”
Gabriel drew the horses to a halt and then turned to face her. “Look at me.” He reached out and folded her hands between his much larger ones. She stared down for a moment before tilting up her chin and meeting his gaze full on.
He never failed to be affected by her eyes. In the morning sun, the color reminded him of a sparkling amethyst. Her left eye held particularly steady, wavering only slightly.
“There is no curse. There is only poor engineering, bad decisions, and sometimes plain and simple bad luck. You are simply a young woman who isn’t exactly the same as everyone else. And that is a good thing—a wonderful thing.” He shook his head, always taken aback by her utter lack of conceit. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize how beautiful you are.”
She swallowed hard and then bit her bottom lip.
He couldn’t resist. One small kiss. It would not go too far. It could not, as they were sitting on a narrow road and the horses would soon be restless.
She sighed the sweetest sound as he claimed her.
All his focus homed in on the soft flesh beneath his mouth and the fragile hands grasped in his, as those were the only two points of contact between them.
How was it that her breath, mingled with his, tasted so familiar, and yet so perfect? And he savored her all the more knowing he’d likely never taste her again.
She tilted her head, parting her lips, and Gabriel swept his tongue inside.
“Gabriel.” He barely made out her whisper.
Sweet torment.
He removed one of his hands from hers and reached up to caress her cheek, and then reluctantly ended the kiss.
He would someday be considered a saint for not attempting to take this further. “Absolutely beautiful,” he whispered huskily.
She stared at him, a million questions lurking behind his favorite eyes in the world. And his answers were all wrong. She’d torture him if she spoke them aloud.
He forced himself to drag his gaze back to the road and lifted the ribbons once again.
What was he doing? What had he been thinking?
As he drove, he could not help but recall the conversation he’d had with Stanton just before the wedding.Miss Redfield isn’t like other ladies. In addition to the fact that my fiancée dotes on her sister, keep in mind that the young woman has been isolated from Society. She’s the daughter of a viscount but has no prospects. If you dallied with her, she might build… expectations that you are unable to fill.
