With Lady Ryan, he was allowed to be a flesh and blood man instead of a stone-cold survivor.
And where did that leave him? If she was going—and shewasgoing—and he carried on surviving by himself? When you’d tasted warm bread with butter, it would be very hard to eat raw turnips and call them delicious.
But this wasn’t about only him. He remembered enough about society to know you did not hurl yourself onto a young woman, hours after meeting her, and ravage her. Or nearly ravage her. She’d asked him to touch her, but she’d not been thinking clearly. She’d been terrorized by the highwayman. She was exhausted. She’d been overwhelmed with the responsibility of saving her family. He’d not taken advantage so much as sat down to an abundant feast when he should have eaten the rations he’d packed from home.
The honorable thing to do would be to apologize, and make some excuse, and remind her that nothinghad changed. And after he’d suffered through those great many words, she would go, and he’d be left in a wretched state of yearning for the rest of his life. Because—bloody hell—it hadn’t been enough. Not the sleepy hours holding her nor the mind-blowing minutes touching her. They’d been a fraction of what he wanted and an infinitesimal drop of what he would need again.Ifhe ever had the opportunity to lie again with Ryan Daventry. Which he would not. She would go—shehadto go—and he would remain and never again their paths would meet.
The realization of this made him so very angry. He shoved from the stall and knocked about the stables with terse, agitated movements. His jerks and grunts disturbed the horses, which only irritated him more.
“You said the rooster would awaken me.”
At the sound of her voice, Gabriel went still. He dropped a scoop of barley into a trough and slowly turned around. She was standing in a hazy pool of sunlight, hair pulled back, a cautious look on her face, hands folded. She was dressed in her muddy gown, her cloak hanging down her back. She gave him a shy smile.
Awhooshof sensation swept from his throat to the bottom of his feet. And just like that, he felt like a man entitled to abundance.
He turned away. “It’s early yet. I’m glad you slept.”
“When did you leave me?”
Why did she want to know this? Of all the things to ponder about last night, what difference did it make when he’d left her? Had he stayed too long? Should he have waited for her to wake up? He’d never lain with a woman more than ten minutes after—
He trudged to the next stall. “I’ve been awake for an hour.”
“Thank you,” she said, “for staying with me. In the dark.”
“You are not...” he began, but he could not finish. He scooped another cup of barley and moved to the next trough.
“You’re not troubled by last night?” he said finally, speaking to the bowed head of the gelding dipping his nose into the feed.
“No,” she said. “Not troubled.”
His shoulders had been tense, full of knots, and now the tightness eased. The tight pinch when he breathed was gone. He examined her tone for sincerity. He glanced back, checking her expression. She raised her eyebrows and he felt thewhooshagain. He turned away.
“Are you?” she asked. “Troubled?”
Yes, he wanted to say.Of course. Entirely.But that would be a lie.
They’d come to the stall of the stallion called Xavier, and Gabriel made his clicking noise, summoning him to the trough.
“He’s afraid,” Ryan observed. “Should I go?”
“It’s not you,” he said. “He’s a deep fear of me, and you, and any human, actually. He’s slowly warming to one of my grooms, thankfully. He was stolen from his owner and treated horribly by the thieves, only to be recovered and returned home. The abuse he suffered was severe, and he’ll no longer acknowledge his owner.”
“How terrible,” she whispered. “But is the horse so essential that the owner cannot simply put him to pasture? After all he’s endured?”
Gabriel shrugged. “He belongs to the son of a wealthy lord. The horse had been a gift of his late father; his first horse when he was a boy. He is attached to the stallion’s larger meaning within the family. Xavier, the horse’s called. He’ll not approach the food until we’re gone from the stable. Although, every day, I try.” Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a carrot, extending it to the horse. He made the clicking noise again. The horse eyed him from the shadows at the end of the stall but did not move.
“When we’ve gone,” Gabriel said, “he’ll eat.”
“When we ride to the edge of the forest, so I may return to the inn,” she added.
He felt this statement like a pin to his shoulder. He moved down the stalls, measuring feed. After a moment, he said, “I’ve a new proposition.”
“Oh?”
He came to the last horse and emptied the remaining feed into a barrel. Stalking across the stable, he took up his saddle and carried it to his own horse, Anton.
“Something to consider,” he said. “The least I can do.”
