Samantha James by Gabriels Bride Page A

contrast between their skin was riveting. It gave her a start to notice that the quilt lay haphazardly across the narrow ridge of his hips. Unbidden, her gaze wandered lower, skimming parts that were best left unnoticed and bringing a bright flush clear to the roots of her hair.
    Swallowing an unfamiliar tightness in her throat, she jerked her eyes away only to find that his were open…and investigating her own lack ofdress with far more boldness than her own had displayed.
    “Good morning, Yank,” he drawled. “I trust you found my bed quite to your liking?”
    Cassie bit back the scathing retort that sprang to her lips. The next instant her eyes flew wide and she ducked her head when he shoved back the quilt and proceeded from the bunk. That he could be so casual about his nudity was quite beyond her comprehension.
    The instant his back was turned, she rescued the quilt from about her ankles. Hearing water splash in the basin, she dared a peek at him. She was relieved to find he had donned his breeches, but he had caught her glance as well.
    An arrogant half-smile dallied on his lips. “I’ve no objection to you looking, Yank, but it’s only fair you accord me the same privilege.”
    She regarded him unsmilingly. “I cannot think why you should want to,” she stated bluntly. “I am no temptress. You said so yourself.”
    He wiped his hands on a towel and returned to sit on the edge of the bunk. A blunted fingertip traced the graceful slope of one bare shoulder. “Ah, Yank, but perhaps I might be persuaded to change my mind.”
    She swatted his hand away. “I’ll thank you not to!”
    Gabriel watched the way her small fingers greedily clutched the quilt to her chin. Her eyes looked huge, like clear topaz. He was both mildly amused and slightly piqued that she chose to cling to this tack. Certainly he’d not expected a woman of her experience to be so discriminating in her modesty.With a shrug he arose and returned to the basin.
    He paid her no mind while he shaved. When he’d finished, he wiped the last traces of soap from his neck. He glanced at her, surprised to find her gaze still fixed upon him. Her expression was wary, yet he sensed something rather tentative in her manner.
    He dropped the towel on the washstand and turned to her. “There is something on your mind, Yank. Come now. You may as well come out with it.”
    Cassie moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. How could he know her so well already? She found the notion disturbing, and resolved to guard herself far better in the future.
    “I merely wondered…what I am to call you.”
    Raising a devilishly arched brow, he reached for his shirt. “What would you like to call me, Yank?”
    Yank . Why did he persist in calling her that? Already the address had begun to grate. Her eyes flashed and she flounced up unthinkingly, nearly losing the concealing protection of the quilt around her body.
    “I can think of any number of fitting names to call you, sir, though I venture to say you’d not like a one of them!”
    He pulled his shirt over the wide expanse of his shoulders. “Of that I have no doubt. But I do have a name, Yank.”
    “So do I, and it is not Yank! ”
    One corner of that hard mouth curled upward. “I see no reason why you should not call me Gabriel. As for yours, I told you the other night. ‘Cassie’ simply does not suit.”
    “ We do not suit, yet here we are—and wed yet!” She snapped the comment before she thought better of it.
    Gabriel’s smile withered. Her spirit roused his temper—as well as an unwilling, but thoroughly male appreciation of her charms. Indignant or no, she presented a fetching picture, with her hair swirling in rich, thick waves over her shoulders, and invitingly so. But he found himself possessed of the urge to tumble her back upon the bunk, to show this haughty little vixen that were he so inclined, he might easily turn her sharpness to panting moans of rapture.
    Blast! What nonsense was