Gabriel followed her gaze, the early light tracing her collarbone, the faint mark his mouth had left there. “Then we have three hours and fifty-nine minutes,” he murmured, “to practice restraint very, very poorly.”
“Gabriel,” she warned, but it came out far softer than intended.
“Clara,” he returned, already leaning closer, his smile wicked and unrepentant. “I did promise honesty, didn’t I?”
“Honesty, yes,” she whispered, as his fingers brushed the back of her neck, “but not this sort of enthusiasm.”
“Too late for distinctions,” he said against her skin, and when she laughed, breathless and half-scandalized, it was the sound of surrender dressed as protest.
“Your aunt…
The mention of Lady Agatha had the same effect as a bucket of cold water. Gabriel groaned and fell back against the pillows. “Pray, do not put me in mind of that particular torment which lies before us. The formidable woman will cast but a single glance upon this house and instantly declare me fit for confinement.”
"The house looks perfectly respectable now, thanks to our efforts and the new staff who, I might add, have been working themselves to exhaustion trying to make this place presentable."
"It's not the house I'm worried about. It's my ability to maintain a facade of cold indifference when all I really want to do is lock the doors, send everyone away, and spend the next three weeks showing you exactly how thoroughly I plan to ruin you for all other men."
Clara's breath caught. "Gabriel, you can't say things like that when we have to pretend to be professionally distant in a few hours."
"I can say whatever I wish in my own bed, especially when you're wearing my shirt and looking at me like you're considering letting me follow through on that promise."
"I'm looking at you like someone who knows we need to get up and prepare for what's going to be an absolutely dreadful day of pretending we haven't been sharing a bed for three nights."
"Three nights of torture, you mean. Do you have any idea what it's like to have you pressed against me, wearing almost nothing, and not be able to do anything about it?"
Clara sat up, his shirt falling off one shoulder in a way that made Gabriel's hands clench in the sheets. "We should discuss our strategy for today. Your aunt is going to be looking for any excuse to declare you incompetent, and finding me in your bed would certainly provide that."
“Permit her to find you precisely where you are. I shall merely convey that I am undertaking a thorough evaluation of your housekeeping proficiency, a task which necessitates my constant presence and attention.”
“That, Gabriel, is altogether devoid of sense.”
"Your supervisory duties involve quite a lot of kissing for someone who claims to be maintaining professional boundaries."
"I'm examining your communication skills which are extremely important for giving direction to the other staff members."
Clara laughed, shoving him playfully. "You're impossible. We need an actual plan that doesn't involve you improvising ridiculous explanations for why your housekeeper is wearing your shirt."
"Fine. You'll sneak back to your room before the staff arrives, we'll maintain perfect propriety throughout the day, andtonight after Aunt Agatha leaves, I'm going to kiss you until you forget your own name."
"That's not a plan, that's a combination of common sense and wishful thinking."
"It's a perfectly viable strategy that accounts for both immediate necessities and long-term goals."
"Your long-term goal is to kiss me until I forget my name?"
"Among other things that would definitely scandalize you if I enumerated them in detail."
"I don't scandalise easily."
"Is that a challenge? Because I have an extensive imagination and three weeks to test your limits."
Clara stood, trying to ignore the way Gabriel's gaze tracked her bare legs. "I need to go to my room before Mary arrives to light the fires. The last circumstance we require is for unwelcome gossip to reach the critical ears of your aunt.”
Gabriel caught her hand as she passed, pulling her down for a kiss that was thorough enough to make her knees weak. "For courage," he said against her lips.
"Whose courage? Yours or mine?"
"Both. We're going to need all the courage we can muster to survive Hurricane Agatha."
