Mary Blayney by Traitors Kiss; Lovers Kiss

room.
    Gabriel came from behind the screen and stopped at the window. Making a small opening in the heavy drapes, he stood watching the world beyond their retreat.
    She bit her lip and did her best to control her anger, while she reached for the flint to light the candle on the table near the bed. “What is there to see?” she asked. “This room is at the back of the house.”
    “I can see that it is twilight.” He spoke without turning around. “This place is already alive with business. Madame Rostine keeps a very clean house and she will tolerate no dallying among her servants.”
    “And how can you know all that?”
    Now he did look at her, smiling. “I have excellent eyesight.” He let go of the curtains, but then pushed them apart a little so that the last of the daylight filtered into the room. “My excellent night vision also tells me something else.” He came back to the bed and slid in beside her. “You are in need of more attention. You should be in fine spirits and I do not see even the smallest smile of satisfaction.”
    She made to rise from the bed, but he stopped her by kissing her shoulder and then the side of her neck.
    There was that damnable kindness. The feel of his lips made her want to turn to him, let him lavish his sweetness on every inch of her body, but there were a thousand reasons it was unwise.
    “Another one of my observations, Charlotte, is that sex changes the way things are between a man and a woman.”
    Less tension and more trust.
She could feel it too, in the one hand massaging her neck and in the way he spoke, as though sharing his observations was as intimate an act as the kiss.
    She forced herself to stiffen in his hold, knowing that despite the intimacy, his generosity was woefully misplaced.
    “Leave me alone.” Summoning the contempt that had been so completely eroded, she shrugged out of his reach and spoke without looking at him. “I gave you what you wanted last night. But once is entirely enough.”
    He stilled, then pulled her back onto the pillow, so that he was looking down into her face. “Are you saying that we had sex because you felt sorry for me?”
    “Yes.” The one word came out sounding brusque and callous. Though she was well aware of his temper, she went on. “I knew it would send you off to sleep as efficiently as a drug.”
    “You’re lying,” he said with what seemed to her like real amusement. “Charlotte, my dear, you wanted it as much as I did.” The humor in his eyes faded. “I could make you want me again.”
    He touched her lips with his, small tempting touches. Each awakening the tiniest memory and an unmistakable invitation.
    She turned her head away. “Is sex all men think about?” She hoped her breath of laughter sounded like exasperation. “If it is, then I can have Madame Rostine send someone to you. Need I remind you that your life is at stake? And I must go and see what can be done to preserve it.”
    “I hear
fool
even though it is unsaid. How wise of you not to actually speak it.” He moved away from her and she wondered if his words, that kiss, had been nothing more than a contest of wills.
    “If it is time to leave, then, madame, we will go together.” He left the bed and gathered his clothes.
    It would mean taking him to her house. Was there any other choice? She considered the question while she watched him.
    He dressed quickly and efficiently, as though clothes meant no more to him than body covering. None of the vanity of a society dandy for Gabriel Pennistan.
    The scars on his back were an insult to an otherwise impressive body. She admired what little she could see in the half-light—the narrow waist, the well-formed legs—and imagined the grim determination it took to walk endlessly around the cell for weeks that had stretched into months. She added the word
resolute
to the mental list of attributes she could make use of. And while it might not be easy to bend him to her will, once he was convinced, he