Page 16 of A Winter Scandal

“No. That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“That you are arrogant and unmannerly, and you treat people as if they were your servants.”

“I beg your pardon.” His tone implied that he did not mean those words in the slightest. “I did not order you to do anything.”

“No, you didn’t even speak, just grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind you.”

He grimaced. “Holy hell, are you going to continue to natter about this all the way into town? I need to see where you found my sister’s brooch. My manners were not the first thought on my mind. And would you quit squirming about? What are you doing?”

“Trying to stay upright. It’s a trifle difficult when one is holding a baby and has no purchase and is riding sideways in front of another.”

“Oh, the devil! What is the matter with you?” One arm tightened around her, pulling her flush against him. “Relax and you’ll be fine. I won’t let you fall off. Tempting as it might be to jettison you, I have to keep you.”

Thea would have liked to make a sharp retort, but her brain would not work. She was sure a blush must be spreading over her entire person. She had never had her body pressed against a man’s this way. Even with his coat and her cloak and all their clothes between them, it seemed positively immoral to be leaning against him. But the motion of the horse worked against her; it was much easier to sit this way, letting his body support hers.

However, she could not say that she was comfortable. She was far too aware of Gabriel’s body. His coat was unbuttoned, and as they rode, the sides fell apart, so that even the protection of that heavy cloth between them was gone. He was hard and muscular. She could feel his chest slide against her side with the rhythm of the horse, and the tightening and relaxation of his thigh muscles as he guided the animal. His arms enveloped her. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of his skin and the faint trace of shaving soap, the tang of spiced wine on his breath. Thea shivered at her immediate response to his nearness.

“Cold?” he asked, reaching down to draw his coat around her and the baby. He tightened his arms around her to hold the coat in place, literally wrapping her in his warmth.

Thea closed her eyes and lowered her head to rest against the baby’s. He was nestled against her, his small body relaxed, and she realized that Matthew was falling asleep. He made a soft noise and rubbed his head against her chest, sinking more deeply into sleep. Her throat closed, and she found herself blinking back tears. It seemed so sweet, so right, to hold the precious weight of this small body against her, to be cocooned in Gabriel’s embrace, his heat and strength all around her, protecting and sheltering her.

It was silly, she told herself. Gabriel’s gesture had been only a gentlemanly move, done more to protect the baby than anything else. It meant nothing. She did not want anything from him anyway. But she could not deny the way emotion surged in her, warming and opening her, a variety of sensations tangling through her in a most confusing way. How could she experience this maternal tenderness spreading through her chest and at the same time have an altogether different sort of stirring lower in her body? It seemed perverse and a little wicked, yet she could not deny that she felt both things.

She shifted fractionally, and something stirred against her hip. She realized that Gabriel’s body had moved in response to her own movement, and her cheeks flamed. Was he … had he … Thea could not even think the words; in truth, she could not really put words to what she instinctively knew. It was embarrassing, scandalous, and even worse was that she wanted, perversely, to feel that movement again. She was tempted to shift once more and see what happened, to press herself more firmly into his body, or to rub her cheek against his hard chest.

She knew that was wrong. It had to be wrong. She shouldn’t be wanting such things, thinking such thoughts. Thea squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut, concentrating on willing away her errant emotions. That was something she had mastered long ago, shoving aside that which did not fit or was not right or hurt too much. But it was rather harder, she realized now, to deny sensations that she was continuing to feel. How was she to stop thinking of the strength of his arms when they were hard around her? It was impossible, surely, not to notice the muscles that bunched in his thighs when the horse skittered a little to one side. And when his torso rubbed against hers with every step their mount took, causing the most intriguing friction, well, her mind simply could not seem to maintain control. She was a jumble of nerves, a confusing mixture of hot and cold and fear and eagerness.

With relief, she saw the first houses of the village in front of her. She straightened, putting a little distance between her and Gabriel, and glanced up at him. He turned his eyes down to look at her, but she could read nothing in his countenance. It was almost completely dark now, and his eyes were shadows in the planes and angles of his face.

She wondered what he had felt earlier, what he had thought. Had that physical reaction meant anything? She had no way of knowing. The male mind was a mystery to her. The only men she had ever known well were her father and brother, and she was certain that they were a world away from a man like Gabriel Morecombe.

“Well?” he asked, and Thea jumped, startled. For an instant, she thought he had been asking her about the direction of her thoughts, but then he went on, “Where are we going?”

“Oh. Yes. Turn left in the center of the village and go almost to the edge of town.” When they neared the vicarage, she pointed to it, saying, “There.”

“You found the baby here?” Gabriel pulled the horse to a stop. He dismounted, then reached up to lift Thea from the horse and set her on her feet. “What is this house?” He glanced toward the church looming past the house as he reached down to tie his mount’s reins to the low iron fence. “The vicarage?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, this is the vicarage. But it’s not where I found the baby.” She started up the walk, curving around to go in the kitchen door.

He fell into step beside her. “Then why are we going here? I thought you were going to show me where you found him.”

“I live here,” Thea answered simply.

He stopped abruptly. “You what?”

“I live here.” She turned to face him. “I am the vicar’s sister.”

His gaze narrowed, and he reached forward to push her hood back from her face. He stared at her for a long moment. “The devil you say. I met you at the dance. Miss Falbridge.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “Bainbridge,” she snapped at him. “My name is Althea Bainbridge.” She whirled and stalked away.

Five

Gabriel stood for a moment, looking after Thea, then followed her as she stepped into the kitchen. The warmth of the kitchen enveloped them, the air redolent with the scents of cooking. Mrs. Brewster turned at their entrance, and her eyebrows sailed upward at the sight of Gabriel Morecombe. She cut her eyes toward Thea.

“I was just about to take your brother an early supper on a tray to his office, Miss Althea. We wasn’t sure when you’d be back. You want me to change to the dining table, then?” Her gaze flickered back to Gabriel. “Should I set more places?”