On the whole, she liked it better when he was shaking her so hard the charming silk tassels on her bonnet had batted crazily against her cheeks. His topaz-flecked eyes had been sparkling with rage, and his breath came fast between his lips, and she could feel the immense strength in those big, long-fingered hands of his. Even better had it been when she had fainted and fallen off Daisy—not the fainting part, of course, but after, when he had held her against him, the whole length of her pressed against his muscled hardness: she had felt safe and protected and at the same time taken over by a languorous heat that seemed to set her very flesh and bones and blood on fire with the wanting of him.
Even now, standing primly by the fireplace, she could feel that same powerful and galvanic pull, as if some invisible, unnamable force connected her to him, compounded of highly improper but irrepressible curiosity and desire. What would he look like without all those clothes, the buckskins and waistcoat and impeccably tied neckcloth and whatever else it was that men wore underneath all that?
He would be breathtaking. She knew it.
And what would it feel like to run her hands across those broad shoulders, down his chest and along his arms, and to know that his eyes were glittering not with anger but with passion—with desire for her? Not in a garden or on a riding path or anyplace where they could be interrupted, but some private realm where they had all the time in the world to . . . explore each other.
Pressing her hands to cheeks that now burned with what was undoubtedly a revealing crimson, Livia tore her gaze away from Gabriel and looked down at the tips of her black and green half-boots, peeping from underneath the soiled hem of her riding-habit.
Here she was, indulging in the most indecent thoughts.
Oh, she would never be a true lady, that much was evident.
They’d been trying to make a silk purse out of her, but she was clearly a sow’s ear.
Still, maybe that was good news.
Maybe, deep inside, she was still herself.
So why didn’t she feel more cheerful?
There was a soft knock on the door, followed by the dignified entrance of Crenshaw. “The chairs which you requested, to convey you and Miss Cott to the Pump Room, have arrived, ma’am.”
Irritably Grandmama waved a hand in dismissal. “I shan’t be going to the Pump Room after all. You may send them away.”
“Very well, ma’am. Shall I bring refreshments, or order a nuncheon?”
“No, for we are all dispersing, and the sooner the better!”
Crenshaw bowed and left the room.
“Giving us our congé as well, Grandmama?” said Gabriel.
“Yes, for I’m tired, and feel a bout of dyspepsia coming on. Evangeline, prepare me another dose of tonic.”
Miss Cott promptly rose, and Gabriel said, with lifted brows, “Are you sure it’s not the tonic giving you dyspepsia? The odor alone is enough to make anyone feel ill.”
She glared at him. “It disperses excess bile.”
“I’m sure it does. Perhaps a little too thoroughly.”
“When I am wishful of your further interference in my affairs, be assured I will so inform you.” Grandmama took the glass of tonic from Miss Cott and with what had all the appearance of one throwing down the gauntlet she swallowed it at a gulp. Her eyes bulged slightly, but after rapidly blinking her eyes several times she smiled and triumphantly handed the little glass back to Miss Cott.
Livia saw that Gabriel was frowning.
“Grandmama, truly, are you quite well?”
“Spare me your empty words of concern! Exercise your mind instead by concocting a tale with which we might explain away your appalling escapade.”
When Gabriel did not reply, and continued to narrowly eye his grandmother, Livia blurted out:
“I hate having to make up an explanation! It’s so stupid!”
“You give the appearance of being stupid with your impertinent comment!” retorted the old lady. “Such is the way of the world, and the sooner you learn it, missy, the better off you shall be.”
“Then I think you ought to say that Gabriel was gallantly defending the Penhallow name! Which he was!”
“I agree,” Grandmama answered, unexpectedly. “And what about your role in this mess?”
“Oh, say merely that I’m an idiot! Stupidly trying to save a worthless dog. And that’s the truth also.”
Grandmama was silent for a moment. “I shall say that you behaved in a heedless but heroic way, bravely disregarding your own safety.”
“That last part at least bears some semblance to the truth,” remarked Gabriel. “Overall it’s an excellent tale, Grandmama, and I quite fancy being portrayed in such a flattering light. I encourage you to staunchly counter any animadversions with it.”