Charmed and Dangerous (13 page)

“You can let me go now,” said Laura quietly.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I'm waiting for the man Sophie was talking to.”

This silenced her. Gavin waited. But he found he couldn't keep his mind on Sophie's former companion. It kept being distracted by the feel of Laura's lithe body, the intimacy of her breath on his cheek. The sensations gradually took over his faculties until he could think of nothing else. What did she do to him? he wondered. Why did she make him feel as if he hadn't understood passion until now. Unable to resist, he bent to kiss her again.

She was silk and steel, ambrosia, and an attraction more arousing than anything he'd known. He pressed her back against the side of the niche, intoxicated and a little mad. He knew how to draw an equal response from her. The knowledge was innate, unassailable. Coaxing with his lips, he felt her astonishment, her answering desire, as if they were his own.

Her body softened against him. Her hands slipped from his shoulders and up around his neck. Her lips yielded up everything. Exultantly, Gavin pulled her closer still and deepened the kiss. His hands moved on her back and then up along the subtle curve of her waist to cup her breast. Laura's breath caught, sending a surge of triumph through him. She wanted him; he had made her want him.

He let his lips drift down her neck and left soft kisses above the bodice of her gown, where the skin was even more silken. Then he took her lips again, letting his hands rove, showing her what pleasures they could rouse.

His mind was filled with images of tumbled bedclothes and flashes of naked skin when a jolt of reality intruded. He had to stop this. How had he let it go so far? With a heroic act of will, he pulled away, jerking the curtains aside and stepping back into the now empty corridor.

Laura remained leaning against the wall as if she needed its support. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her eyes were large and dark with emotion.

What the hell had he been thinking of? Gavin wondered. Or, more accurately, why hadn't he been thinking, instead of—whatever he had been doing? What sort of madness had overtaken him? His liaisons with the other sex—pleasurable as they had undoubtedly been—had always aided, not impeded, his work.

Laura was staring at him. He couldn't interpret the look in her eyes. What sorts of damnable complications were in store now?

Her lips parted as if to speak.

They were incredibly alluring lips, Gavin thought. But he had to resist them. And so, of course, he would. He took another step backward.

Laura blinked. She took a deep breath.

Gavin braced himself for a flood of emotion. She would expect vows of devotion, oaths of constancy—possibly even more. He couldn't restrain a slight grimace.

“You promised you wouldn't do that again,” said Laura breathlessly.

He gaped at her.

“You said there would be no more assaults—”

“That was not an assault,” he interrupted, suddenly furious. “You enjoyed it…”

A bit unsteadily, Laura pushed away from the wall and walked a few steps back toward the reception. “I thought you were a man of your word,” she said. “But you have broken it twice now.”

“I have done no such thing.”

“You said I could be your partner in the investigation only to put me off, didn't you? And now you have…” She gestured, seeming to find no words for what had just occurred between them. “I'm disappointed in you.”

“You are…what?” Had he ever been this angry? Gavin wondered. In a life marked by his struggle with a hot temper, had he ever been this utterly enraged?

“I thought you were a man of honor,” she added almost sadly, then turned and walked rapidly away.

Gavin stood where he was, fists clenched, jaw painfully tight, mind in total turmoil.

Laura sat curled in the window seat of her bedroom, watching the wind blow gusts of snow down the street. The sky was low and gray. Frost rimmed the glass panes in front of her. She shivered, drawing her blanket closer around her shoulders.

If she had found another post, she thought, she would have been in some other bedchamber by now, gazing out at the winter from some nobleman's home, presiding over another schoolroom and set of children. She would know them by this time; she would know their talents and faults and how to manage the combination. The world would be familiar and routine. She would be safely hidden. For the first time, she wondered if she had made a mistake in not going to that unknown house rather than coming to this one.

She rested her head on her knees, hearing the scratching of new snow at the window. Everything was so much more complicated now. She felt so exposed.

Laura turned her head so that her face was muffled by the blanket. Yet again she saw Gavin's face as he stepped back from her in the hallway niche. He had looked repulsed, apprehensive, and very sorry that he had kissed her. A few weeks ago, she might have found that gratifying, Laura thought. She had wanted to make him apologize. But that seemed like a very long time ago now.

The trouble was, she had enjoyed the kisses. Indeed, “enjoyed” was far too mild a word for what she had felt, Laura thought. She'd discovered whole new modes of sensation. In a few blazing minutes, she'd been enlightened about things she'd read, made sudden sense of what had been only words. It had been incredible, and thrilling. And then Gavin had stepped back and looked at her, and she had felt…sullied, or…that wasn't quite right. But something had come crashing down when she met his gaze.

She never wanted to see him again, Laura thought. She pulled the blanket closer and leaned back against the wall. She had not asked him to kiss her. Indeed, she had specifically requested that he stop his efforts to drive her off in this way. Did he think that she would give up her idea of helping him now? Had that been the motive for his kisses?

Laura's face grew hot. She could still feel his hands on her, the contours of his lips, and the way her own body had responded. Was that the difficulty? Perhaps he had never expected her to respond. All along, he had been trying to frighten her, to chase her away. If he thought his caresses were being welcomed…which they weren't, Laura thought sharply.

She sat up straighter, feeling inexplicably better. If he thought that, he would stop. And the matter would be settled. It was very interesting, of course, to have experienced some of the intense sensations that she had read existed. But she had no wish for a repetition. Gavin Graham interested her only because of the mystery they were both exploring. If he imagined anything else, he was deluding himself. And if he thought she would retreat now and forget that she had been promised a part in the hunt, he would soon discover his mistake.

Throwing off the blanket, Laura rose and shook out the folds of her gown. How had she allowed herself to fall into such a fit of the dismals? she wondered. It wasn't like her at all. Perhaps it was the weather. She'd never cared much for winter—the cold and the biting damp. And the holidays…well, she was already used to that. But now that she was on guard, it wouldn't happen again. She had far too much good sense and self-control to let it.

* * *

A swath of pine graced the mantelpiece, releasing its pungent scent into the room. The fire threw a reflected glow onto the walls, and more pine, tied with red ribbons, hung around the arched doorway. It did look festive, Laura thought, watching the general and his wife talk to the Merritts, the first to arrive for Christmas dinner. Catherine looked happier than she had for several days. Laura was glad she, too, had made some effort, putting on her dark green silk gown and pinning a sprig of holly in her hair.

The Phillipses were announced. They came in glowing from the cold and laughing about something they had seen on the drive over. Only one member of their party was missing now, Laura thought, and she couldn't decide whether she wished to see him or not.

She was no more certain a few minutes later when Gavin walked in. Her heart jumped, but her fists clenched as well. He looked terribly handsome, his dark gold hair set off by a midnight blue coat, his athletic figure moving with such power and grace. He greeted everyone pleasantly and correctly. There wasn't any hint of unease about him, she thought resentfully. And yet the last time they had met…her cheeks flushed at the memory, which
would
keep intruding no matter how often she suppressed it. She placed herself as far from him as possible in the long parlor and joined Catherine and the Merritts in discussing the chances of a blizzard and what effect this might have on the congress's work.

Laura had seen to it that she was not seated beside Gavin at dinner either. Instead she got to observe across the table as he entertained Mrs. Merritt and Mrs. Phillips, apparently with great success. The two women seemed to find him utterly delightful. She spent far too much time watching Gavin being charming from a distance, she thought. And yet he was so irritating at close quarters. Was it some sort of illusion? Did he single her out for insults? Well, of course he did. That was at an end, however, she vowed. She was not going to allow it.

After dinner, the group retreated to the parlor for coffee and further conversation. The guests had brought small gifts for the household, and the Pryors had chosen tokens for them as well. Laura watched Catherine unwrap Gavin's gift—a small Dresden figurine, perfect for his hostess. Naturally.

“I have something for you as well,” said a deep voice behind her.

Turning, Laura found that she could avoid Gavin no longer. He was standing right behind her, rather too close.

“Come over here and I will give it to you,” he added.

Too surprised to protest, Laura allowed herself to be led a little away from the group around the hearth. Gavin pulled a flat box from his coat pocket and handed it to her. It had no markings or wrappings. Laura gazed up at him in wary amazement. “I thought you would like it,” he said.

Her heart was pounding, from what emotion she couldn't say. A bit clumsily she opened the box, and revealed a small, beautifully made pistol resting on cotton wool. Her eyes flew up to his face and then down to the pistol again.

“I suggest you keep your back to the others,” Gavin said quietly.

Laura had turned a little. She swung hastily back, hiding the astonishing gift from the rest of the party.

“Have you ever fired a gun?” he asked, as if it were the most commonplace question in the world.

Laura shook her head.

“I will teach you, then.”

She met his eyes again. She couldn't fathom the meaning behind them, but she found she couldn't look away either. The sounds of the other conversations seemed to recede. The room seemed close suddenly instead of cozy.

“Since you insist upon taking risks,” Gavin explained, “I think you should know how to protect yourself. We can try it tomorrow.”

He deliberately kept her off balance, Laura thought. Just when it seemed that he had broken his promise to let her help, he brought her this. He willfully ignored what had passed between them the last time they met. He pretended that it was not exceedingly odd to present her with a gun.

She lowered her eyes. If that was the game, she could play it—if she wished to. “Thank you,” she said. “That would be convenient.”

* * *

Gavin had become obsessed with Laura's safety. Whenever he thought of her, as he did surprisingly often, his mind veered to the fact that she had gotten involved with dangerous people in a scheme that he himself did not yet understand. She took risks, she roused suspicions—without comprehending what the consequences might be. And she wouldn't listen when he tried to warn her to convince her to stay at home and let him untangle this plot.

That was why he had bought her the gun, and why he was on his way now to fetch her and teach her to shoot it. The pistol was not an ideal solution. But if she insisted on ignoring his orders and striking out on her own… Why couldn't she just listen to him? Of course, it was partly his fault, Gavin acknowledged. His control had faltered in that damned hallway. He shouldn't have given in to… He felt confused emotions rising in his chest, and he suppressed them. The important thing was to keep her safe.

Laura was ready when he arrived. When he found that she had arranged for one of the Pryors' maids to accompany them, Gavin felt a flash of annoyance. “It might be best if the Pryors knew nothing of this expedition,” he said in a low voice.

“Gemma is very discreet,” Laura replied without looking at him.

He started to protest, then shrugged. He would have no trouble matching this chilling correctness.

The gentlemen of Vienna had a shooting club in which to try out their favorite firearms. It wasn't as comfortable as Manton's, but Gavin had judged it quite adequate when he had made the arrangement for their visit. As he led Laura into the great barnlike room where the targets were set up, he watched her look around with lively curiosity, taking in every detail of the thick wooden walls, the exposed rafters, the stone floor, and layers of hay bales into which one shot.

There was no one else about on this cold December day. They could see their breath in the poorly heated room, and Gavin was happy to see that she had dressed warmly, as he had instructed. As the maid stationed herself near the doorway, Gavin went to one of the tables facing the target range and took a box of ammunition from his pocket. “I will show you how to load the pistol,” he said without preamble.

Laura brought it out, and he demonstrated. “You see?”

She nodded.

She had said almost nothing on the drive over, and Gavin found he was sharply disappointed at her silence. He had become so used to her eager questions and objections that he almost missed them. Of course, it was much better to have her listening and following his instructions for once, he told himself. “To aim, you look through here,” he said, pointing to the sight on top of the pistol. “The gun may tend to pull to the right or left. You will just have to learn that and make allowances. Are you ready?”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

“Very well. Let us try, then.” He cocked the pistol before handing it to her. “That target there.” He indicated the one directly opposite them on the far wall.

Laura raised the gun and held it out at arm's length, looking as if she wanted to get it as far from her as possible.

“No,” said Gavin.

She turned to look at him.

“It will be steadier if you hold it with both hands.”

“Isn't this how duelists stand?”

The comment was so like her. He hid a smile that would no doubt make her angry. “So I have heard. But it is not an effective stance for an inexperienced marksman. Your arm will waver.”

She brought her other hand up to the pistol.

“Here, like this.” He reached to adjust her grip, his arm lying along hers for a moment. He received such a fiery glance in response that he stepped back quickly. “Make sure your feet are securely planted,” he went on, as if nothing had occurred. “Concentrate your attention on the target.”

Laura drew in a deep breath and let it out. She stared intently at the straw target and then sighted it. Her muscles visibly tightening, she pulled the trigger.

She didn't jump or squeal at the blast, Gavin noted with approval. Indeed, the only perceptible reaction was a flush on her pale cheeks. He walked down the room to check the shot. “You missed the paper target, but you hit the hay bale here.” He indicated the spot. “A bit left, you see?”

She nodded.

“We will try again.”

They tried innumerable times, until Laura could hit the target two times out of three. She could also load the gun with dexterity and handle it like a familiar object. It was all one could hope for in a first lesson, Gavin thought. “I will show you how to clean it as well. You will not want to give that chore to a member of the household. The general would not approve of your acquiring firearms.”

He expected a smile, but got none. She was looking down the room at the targets. “You must be cold. There is a place here where we can get tea.”

“If we are finished, I should go.”

The flat tone she used, and the way she continued to refuse to look at him, roused something in Gavin. “Nonsense. You must get warm.”

“I am perfectly comfortable.”

She was practically shivering. “There are matters we must discuss,” he said.

“What matters?” Her voice was sharper.

He wanted her to stay. He wanted to make her acknowledge his wishes. So, although he knew it wasn't wise, he replied, “How to discover the identity of Michael, for one.”

As he had expected, this caught her interest. She allowed him to escort her to one of the club rooms and order tea, the maid being similarly provided for at a table a little distance away. “You appear to have a knack for firearms,” he said when they were seated. “You picked it up very quickly.”

“My pupils always claimed I had a deadly eye,” she answered, her gaze roaming the room, surveying its masculine style of decoration.

“How many pupils did you have?”

She turned to look at him then, seeming suspicious of the question. “Two,” she said finally. “Twin girls.”

“How old were they when you began?”

“You can't possibly care about that.”

“I'm quite interested,” he insisted. It was only partly a lie. He was interested in fathoming Laura Devane—in order to find ways of protecting her from herself, he thought.

“Seven,” she answered curtly.

“And you were, what? Eighteen? That must have been difficult.”

“I never had any difficulties with the children,” she said.

Implying that she had had other problems. With the gentlemen of the household? Gavin wondered. “I don't believe you said who employed you?”