Page 23 of Gabriela and His Grace

“Well, perhaps you can convince him. And if not you, his handsome looks will mean every prominent Liberal family will be dangling their daughters before him like livestock at market. Will you be content to sit by and watch it happen?”

Was that how it would be for him once the ship docked in Altamira? Had he traded one set of marriage-minded mamas for another, just in a different locale? Unease soured his mood…and that was without allowing himself to consider what Gabriela would think if her Mexican countrywomen were paraded before him.

For her part, Gabriela shook her head, glimpses of her crinkled brow visible from Sebastian’s vantage point. “Whitfield’s future has nothing to do with me. He barely tolerates me—”

“That’s not true,” Miss Moreno interrupted, her voice forceful.

Sebastian’s stomach dipped. Whatever carefully achieved apathy he may have felt toward Gabriela Luna had changed. Oh, she could still be overbearing and antagonistic, but he had come to understand that she was more than just that. He had softened toward her…just a bit.

Sebastian moved a step closer, intent on saying something to put her mind at ease over the game, when she spoke.

“We shouldn’t discuss this any further because the duke approaches.”

Miss Moreno glanced over at him and met his gaze. “He doesn’t speak Spanish, so it’s not like he knows what we’re saying.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Gabriela said, turning to face him. Her hazel eyes studied him for a moment, and Sebastian raised his brows in response. “He really is unfairly handsome. The women in Mexico will be beside themselves once they catch a glimpse of his blue eyes.”

Sebastian’s steps halted at her claim, because this was the first time Gabriela had ever hinted she found him attractive. Certainly they had made inconvenient eye contact across any number of ballrooms, and Sebastian’s anatomy had been only too willing to showcase its interest in the lovely brunette, but he’d always squashed such thoughts. Gabriela was Fox’s youngest sister by marriage, and a hellion with a serpent tongue to boot.

The bolt of heat streaking down his spine now to settle low in his gut was an aberration he would quickly suppress.

Stopping before the women, Sebastian whipped his hat from his head and pressed it to his chest. “Ladies, am I to assume you’re discussing me?”

Miss Moreno ducked her head, crimson coloring her pretty cheeks, but Gabriela tilted her chin up and met his gaze with her own. “Come now, sir, of all the topics we could discuss, why would we discuss you?”

Hellion, indeed. Sebastian just barely managed to contain his smile. “More appropriately, as two unmarried ladies, why wouldn’t you?”

Much to Sebastian’s surprise—and delight—she laughed. A sunburst of laughter that made the day suddenly seem brighter. “Despite your faults, Your Grace, your sense of self is unmatched.”

Sebastian rocked back on his feet. “Oh, my dear Miss Luna, if I were to claim to have an equal, it would be you.”

Sebastian managed to capture the surprise that fired like a cannon blast deep in her hazel eyes. He allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy her satisfaction.

“May I escort you ladies to lunch?” he finally said, breaking the silence. “If you’re anything like me, you’re famished.”

Gabriela’s brows stitched together. “Do you want to dine with us so you can taunt me with your victory?”

At any other time, he would have fired back a sarcastic remark about sore losers, but he resisted. Sebastian didn’t like losing, either. “It was a silly game of hopscotch. I had the benefit of playing without heavy skirts, which worked in my favor.”

“No one distracted you, either,” she remarked, then her shoulders sank with a sigh. “And now I’m in your debt. When do you plan to claim your dance?”

Sebastian flicked a hand, allowing just a tinge of arrogance to curl his lips. “When you least expect it.” When she made to argue, he shook his head. “Rest assured that my request will not come at the expense of your good name.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her bottomless gaze darting over his face as if looking for any signs of duplicity. But Sebastian was not lying; he would rather jump into the North Atlantic than knowingly embarrass Gabriela Luna in any way.

“Very well,” she said, nodding.

With that settled, Sebastian reiterated his earlier question. “May I escort you to lunch?”

Miss Moreno readily agreed, while Gabriela nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said, flashing a quick grin that hit him right in the solar plexus.

7

It was a very odd thing for Gabby to encounter Whitfield and not immediately feel her hackles rise.

But so it was, even now, as she watched him chat with several gentlemen across the first-class deck. Ever since their hopscotch match and their luncheon afterward, she and the duke had seemed to come to an unspoken agreement that they would avoid each other. Because it was obvious Whitfield was avoiding her. He went out of his way to walk on the opposite side of the deck and sat for meals either before she did or well after he knew she would. Gabby appreciated his circumspection because she wasn’t exactly keen to interact with him, either. Not because he’d been rude to her or even because he was a bore; neither was true. If Gabby were honest, Whitfield was a diverting conversationalist, and she’d enjoyed his company of late. And that was the thing; Gabby did not want to like the duke. He was a depraved rake, and she refused to think of him in any other manner, even if she was beginning to realize there was more to the man beneath his arrogant facade.