Thea smiled, giving his son’s hand a squeeze. “It’s no trouble at all. In fact, we would welcome the company.”
“I’m not much company, miss,” Freddy mumbled.
The forlorn admission made Gabriel want to punch something. It was damnably true. Frederick’s affliction made him unable to tolerate stimulation of any kind. When Sylvia had been alive, she’d made sure that their son remained in secluded and tranquil environments, keeping him safe from the world.
Yet Gabriel had exposed the boy to danger by bringing him to a public place—and by failing to protect him. Anger blazed as he thought of Mademoiselle Fournier. Why had the governess tried to kidnap his son? Possibilities proliferated… he pushed them aside.
Time to hunt the bitch down later. Get Freddy to safety first.
“Well, itisdifficult to be good company when one hasn’t been properly introduced.” Thea was smiling at Frederick. “I’m Dorothea Kent.”
Christ,three months away from her and nothing has changed, Gabriel thought savagely. Just the sound of her voice, one bloody glance at her coral pink lips and shining hair, and he was filled with need. With the desire to do unspeakable things to her. To possess her completely.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Kent,” Freddy said shyly.
“Would you like to meet the rest of my family?” she asked.
Freddy gave a tentative nod. As she introduced her sisters and niece, the poor lad blushed, stammering out his hellos. One could hardly blame him. It required all of Gabriel’s discipline to keep his gaze vigilantly scanning the field for signs of threat. Even so, his senses hungrily absorbed Thea. Her honeysuckle scent curled into his nostrils, unleashing a ravening need.
The potent mix of danger and desire made him ready to fight, to fuck. For him, those base urges had always been two sides of the same coin, feeding off one another. When her gaze met his, softly inquiring, lust punched him in the gut.
Strathaven arrived soon thereafter with a spacious equipage, and they all bundled aboard, Gabriel carrying his son. Thea took the seat beside him. At every dip in the road, her body brushed with innocent sensuality against his, and he clenched his jaw against the sweet torture.
It’s not going to happen, you bastard. Get used to that fact.
Once, pursued by enemies through the crooked streets of Marseilles, he’d taken to the rooftops, leaping from one tiled surface to another. On the last jump, he’d nearly missed. The same sensations assailed him now. The desperate bid to regain balance, the instinct to hold on. The need to resist a greater force—because you knew what would happen if you didn’t.
***
Tremont paced before the fireplace like a caged lion. To Thea, who watched him discreetly from a nearby curricle chair, the plush green and gold backdrop of the sitting room furthered the illusion of him being some exotic beast of prey prowling jungle territory, his muscles sleek and rippling beneath his coat. Seated on an adjacent settee, Emma and Strathaven made attempts at conversation as they all waited for Dr. Abernathy to finish the examination of Lord Frederick.
In the months of their acquaintance, Tremont had mentioned his boy, of course, but only in passing. Whenever Thea had tried to ask more about the child, he’d turned reticent. According to Emma, thetonknew little about the marquess’ heir, and even Strathaven had never met the boy, who lived year round at Tremont’s seat in Hampshire.
Thea had assumed that Tremont’s reluctance to speak of the child was due to his natural desire for privacy… or perhaps lingering grief over the boy’s mama. It was common knowledge that he’d been grief-stricken by the loss of his marchioness, who’d passed away four years ago whilst giving birth to their stillborn child.
Everyone said that Lady Sylvia had been the ideal wife: beautiful and kind, the pinnacle of femininity. How could a spinster with a frail constitution hold a candle to such perfection?
Stop it,Thea chided herself.That’s over. Focus on the present.
Thinking of Freddy, she felt worry mingled with admiration. With his ailment, the little fellow carried a heavy burden and yet he’d shown such courage in standing up to the villainess who’d tried to abduct him. The boy was stronger than he looked, Thea thought, a true warrior. She prayed that his resilience would lead to a speedy recovery.
The door to the adjoining suite opened, and Dr. Abernathy, a beetled-browed Scotsman, entered. He bent his steely grey head in a precise bow. Thea smiled at him; she owed much to the gruff physician, whose unorthodox treatments had led to significant improvements in her own condition.
“How is he?” Tremont said tersely.
“My professional opinion, my lord, is that the lad has suffered from an overstimulation of the nerves. He requires rest.” The doctor’s brogue gave added emphasis to the advice. “I’ve given him a few drops of laudanum to help him sleep, and I’m confident he will recover completely.”
Some of the starkness eased from Tremont’s features. “I am in your debt, sir.”
“That is excellent news,” Strathaven said.
“Indeed.” Dr. Abernathy nodded. “A sennight or so abed and the lad should be right as rain.”
Tremont went still. “A week? He has to remain here that long?”
“Best to err on the side of caution,” the doctor said. “Today’s events have undoubtedly unbalanced Lord Frederick’s nervous system, which is sensitively calibrated due to his illness. He needs time to stabilize.”
Tremont’s stormy grey gaze suddenly swung to Thea, and awareness forked through her like lightning. Her breath hitched; her pulse raced. After these months apart, why did he still have such an effect on her?
