Reckless by Amanda Quick Page A

shadows as he leaned over her. "Do not misunderstand me. They are happy to serve their ladies, but they do so as they see fit."
    She frowned. "Be that as it may, you will find my guidance quite necessary, my lord. Not only can I supply information, I can also secure the invitations you will need."
    "Hmm. I cannot argue with you on that score," Gabriel conceded. "With your contacts, you can get me invited to the same parties and soirees that you will be attending."
    "Precisely." She gave him an approving smile. "And you will find me very useful in other ways, too. You see, my lord, we must work closely together on this. I don't mean to put too fine a point on it, but the fact is the quest to find my book is my idea. Therefore, it stands to reason that I should be in charge."
    Gabriel caught her face between his bare hands. "Something tells me that reason does not have a lot to do with this entire affair." He bent his head.
    Phoebe's eyes widened. "My lord, what are you doing?"
    "I am going to kiss you."
    "I am not at all certain that is a sound notion." Phoebe was violently aware of her racing pulse. Visions of his last unnerving kiss flashed in her head. "I believe knights-errant are supposed to admire their ladies from afar."
    "Now, that is where you are quite wrong." Gabriel's mouth brushed across hers with tantalizing slowness. "Knights-errant did everything in their power to get as close as possible to their ladies."
    "Nevertheless, it might be best if we—"
    The rest of Phoebe's half-strangled protest was lost as Gabriel's mouth came down on hers. She clutched at his shoulders, riveted by the intensity of feeling that was washing through her.
    The first time he had kissed her, he had been wearing gloves. Tonight the unexpected roughness of his palms against her skin startled her. Not the hands of a gentleman, she thought. Dear heaven, these are the hands of a warrior.
    Gabriel deepened the kiss swiftly, his mouth fierce and demanding. Phoebe felt herself respond with a sudden urgency that took her by surprise. She moaned softly. Her fan fell from her hand as she moved her arms up to circle his neck.
    She was even more dazed and breathless now than she had been when he had danced with her. Gabriel was consuming her and at the same time creating a shattering hunger within her. His lips moved on hers, seeking a response that matched his own. Phoebe hesitated, uncertain how to handle the still unfamiliar and utterly devastating sensuality he ignited within her.
    Then she felt Gabriel's callused thumb at the corner of her mouth. She realized he was coaxing her lips apart. Uncomprehending, she obeyed. In an instant he was inside, groaning heavily as he plundered her softness.
    Phoebe had been kissed before by the occasional overly bold suitor. Such embraces, frequently snatched in gardens outside a crowded ballroom such as this, had been hurried and generally uninteresting. They had filled her with nothing more than a desire to return to the ballroom. Neil Baxter had also kissed her once or twice, but never like this. Neil's kisses had been chaste and polite and Phoebe had never desired more than what he offered.
    With Gabriel she knew she was experiencing passion. This was the stuff of legend, she told herself exultantly. This was what she had always sensed was waiting for her somewhere with the right man.
    This was exceedingly dangerous.
    Gabriel's rough hand moved lightly over her bare shoulder. His finger slipped beneath the edge of the tiny sleeve of her gown. He started to slide it down her arm.
    Phoebe surfaced from the shock of the embrace. Her mind was still reeling. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, trying to find her voice. "My lord, I really don't think—"
    Without warning there was a movement in the darkness behind Gabriel. Phoebe went cold as she heard Anthony's voice slice harshly through the night.
    "Take your goddamned hands off my sister, Wylde," Anthony said. "How dare you touch