didn’t wish to be read to.”
“Consider it morbid curiosity. I’m dying to know what would engage such a humorless creature as yourself.”
“Very well.”
As she proceeded to read an amusing exchange between two brothers who had fixed their love on the same lady, Gabriel was surprised to learn that his nurse had missed her calling. She should have taken to the stage herself. Her droll inflections brought each character to vivid life. Before he knew it, Gabriel found himself sitting up in the bed and leaning toward the sound of her voice.
At the heart of a juicy bit of banter, she stopped in midsentence. “Do forgive me. I didn’t mean to ramble on and disturb your rest.”
Eager to know how the scene would end, he waved away her apology. “You might as well finish now. I suppose even your infernal yammering is preferable to the sound of my own thoughts.”
“I should imagine they’d grow tiresome very quickly.”
It required no trick of Gabriel’s imagination or memory to envision her smirk as she ducked back behind the book. But at least she did as he bade, taking up where she’d left off and reading to the end of the play. At the close of the last act, they both breathed a mutual sigh of satisfaction.
When Samantha finally spoke, her voice had lost its flinty edge. “Boredom must be the very worst of your enemies, my lord. Before the war, I’m sure you were engaged in the pursuit of many… pleasures .”
Was it his imagination or did her voice seem to caress the word? “Boredom was the worst of my enemies. Until you arrived at Fairchild Park.”
“If you’d only allow me, I could help alleviate some of your tedium. I could take you for long walks in the gardens. I could read aloud to you every afternoon. Why, I could even help you with your correspondence if you like! There must be someone who would love to hear from you. Your fellow officers? Your family? Your friends back in London?”
“Why spoil their fond memories of me?” he asked dryly. “I’m sure they’d much rather think of me as dead.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided. “I’m sure they’d all be heartened by a brief note letting them know how you’re getting along.”
Gabriel was puzzled by the brisk tap of her footsteps crossing the room. Until he heard the drawer of the writing desk slide open.
Acting purely on instinct, he threw back the blankets and lunged toward the sound. This time, desperation sharpened his aim instead of dulling it. His hands closed easily over the familiar contours of the drawer, slamming it shut. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he realized the soft, warm object trapped between his outstretched arms was his nurse.
Chapter 7
My darling Cecily,
Now that I’ve been bold enough to address you by your Christian name, dare I hope to imagine my own name shaped by your luscious lips?
F or a dazed moment, Samantha didn’t even dare to breathe. The hypnotic patter of the rain, the gentle gloom, the warmth of Gabriel’s breath stirring her hair, all wove together, suspending her in a misty cocoon where time lost all of its power and meaning. Gabriel seemed to be equally mesmerized. She had insisted that he don a shirt that morning, but she hadn’t insisted that he fasten it. The broad chest pressed to her back barely seemed to be stirring. His palms were still flat against the desk drawer, his muscled forearms rigid with strain.
Although their awkward stance wasn’t quite an embrace, Samantha couldn’t help but think how easy it would be for him to wrap his arms around her, to draw her into the raw heat of his body until she had no choice but to melt against him.
She stiffened. She wasn’t some weak-kneed, starry-eyed debutante, ripe for seduction at the hands of the first gentleman who crooked a finger at her.
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, breaking the dangerous spell that bound them. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just searching for some stationery and
“Consider it morbid curiosity. I’m dying to know what would engage such a humorless creature as yourself.”
“Very well.”
As she proceeded to read an amusing exchange between two brothers who had fixed their love on the same lady, Gabriel was surprised to learn that his nurse had missed her calling. She should have taken to the stage herself. Her droll inflections brought each character to vivid life. Before he knew it, Gabriel found himself sitting up in the bed and leaning toward the sound of her voice.
At the heart of a juicy bit of banter, she stopped in midsentence. “Do forgive me. I didn’t mean to ramble on and disturb your rest.”
Eager to know how the scene would end, he waved away her apology. “You might as well finish now. I suppose even your infernal yammering is preferable to the sound of my own thoughts.”
“I should imagine they’d grow tiresome very quickly.”
It required no trick of Gabriel’s imagination or memory to envision her smirk as she ducked back behind the book. But at least she did as he bade, taking up where she’d left off and reading to the end of the play. At the close of the last act, they both breathed a mutual sigh of satisfaction.
When Samantha finally spoke, her voice had lost its flinty edge. “Boredom must be the very worst of your enemies, my lord. Before the war, I’m sure you were engaged in the pursuit of many… pleasures .”
Was it his imagination or did her voice seem to caress the word? “Boredom was the worst of my enemies. Until you arrived at Fairchild Park.”
“If you’d only allow me, I could help alleviate some of your tedium. I could take you for long walks in the gardens. I could read aloud to you every afternoon. Why, I could even help you with your correspondence if you like! There must be someone who would love to hear from you. Your fellow officers? Your family? Your friends back in London?”
“Why spoil their fond memories of me?” he asked dryly. “I’m sure they’d much rather think of me as dead.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided. “I’m sure they’d all be heartened by a brief note letting them know how you’re getting along.”
Gabriel was puzzled by the brisk tap of her footsteps crossing the room. Until he heard the drawer of the writing desk slide open.
Acting purely on instinct, he threw back the blankets and lunged toward the sound. This time, desperation sharpened his aim instead of dulling it. His hands closed easily over the familiar contours of the drawer, slamming it shut. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he realized the soft, warm object trapped between his outstretched arms was his nurse.
Chapter 7
My darling Cecily,
Now that I’ve been bold enough to address you by your Christian name, dare I hope to imagine my own name shaped by your luscious lips?
F or a dazed moment, Samantha didn’t even dare to breathe. The hypnotic patter of the rain, the gentle gloom, the warmth of Gabriel’s breath stirring her hair, all wove together, suspending her in a misty cocoon where time lost all of its power and meaning. Gabriel seemed to be equally mesmerized. She had insisted that he don a shirt that morning, but she hadn’t insisted that he fasten it. The broad chest pressed to her back barely seemed to be stirring. His palms were still flat against the desk drawer, his muscled forearms rigid with strain.
Although their awkward stance wasn’t quite an embrace, Samantha couldn’t help but think how easy it would be for him to wrap his arms around her, to draw her into the raw heat of his body until she had no choice but to melt against him.
She stiffened. She wasn’t some weak-kneed, starry-eyed debutante, ripe for seduction at the hands of the first gentleman who crooked a finger at her.
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, breaking the dangerous spell that bound them. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just searching for some stationery and
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