Her Every Pleasure Part 5

Peeking into the various chambers that she had not yet reached in her dusting, she finally found Gabriel's quarters. He had the largest bedchamber in the house, and the only one that looked lived in-a place of dark walnut furniture and faded blues, the walls a robin's egg shade, with indigo draperies over the windows. Matching bed-hangings trailed down from the frame of the big, carved four-poster bed.

An Oriental carpet covered some of the dark hardwood floor and carried on the blue theme with a few dashes of red and gold and more browns.

Through the imposing frame of the canopied bed, she noticed an empty fireplace with a simple white mantel, a mirror above it. A large wardrobe stood by one wall, while, closer to her, a low night-chest sat beside the bed.

In all, it was a fairly spa.r.s.e chamber, with none of the gilded brilliance she was used to in her opulent interiors. Sophia let herself in quietly, surveying the room. She wasn't sure where to begin, and as she walked deeper into his chamber, she could feel her pulse accelerating.

It would have helped her peace of mind if she knew where Gabriel was. She hadn't seen "the master" since this morning. And although Mrs. Moss had ordered her to do this, she couldn't help but feel she was intruding.

She halted just a few steps into the room, glancing around. Too intimidated at first to dare touch a strange man's bed, she decided to start with the dusting.

Setting aside the clean, folded sheets, she approached the night-chest with her feather duster. Feeling acutely self-conscious and all too aware of Gabriel's bed right beside her, she made a few nervous pa.s.ses over the old, scuffed wood-and then suddenly stopped.

Her gaze homed in on the hilt of a sword that rested in the narrow s.p.a.ce behind the night-chest and leaned against the wall. Gabriel's sword? Of course, Leon always said it was wise to keep a weapon nearby in case of an intruder in the night, but Sophia was intrigued.

With a careful glance over her shoulder, she set the feather duster down and lifted the sword and its thick leather scabbard out from behind the night-chest. To her surprise, it was a curved blade, though not the great, arched, deadly scimitar of the Turks, the traditional enemies of her people.

No, if she was not mistaken, this was a cavalry saber.

Hm. Might that be what he meant when he'd told her he had a lot of experience around horses?

Emboldened by her familiarity with all manner of weapons-Leon had been training her to defend herself ever since her eldest brother's a.s.sa.s.sination-she pulled the saber only a few inches out of its scabbard.

Almost at once, she noticed the aged bloodstains on the blade...and then she saw the notches on the hilt. As if its owner had kept a tally of the foes that he had vanquished with this blade.

A chill ran down her spine as she saw the little notches all over the hilt, too many to count.

Deeper than their light scoring, beneath those wicked little lines, there were two words engraved in a flowing script, etched into the shiny steel.

No mercy.

Sophia thrust the blade back into the scabbard with a sudden shiver and quickly put the weapon back where she had found it. Her heart was pounding.

She turned around with a troubled frown, and as her questioning gaze swept the room, she noticed something she had missed before. On top of the tall walnut wardrobe sat a plumed helmet. Magnificent shiny steel like the sword, its dyed horsehair plume cresting down in the most regal fashion.

Just then, she heard water splashing from somewhere nearby-it sounded as though it was coming from somewhere inside the room! Rather confounded, she took a few more wary steps forward. As she started to round his bed, a flicker of light in the cheval mirror across the large, shadowy room caught her eye.

She turned and looked at the mirror and dropped her jaw at what she saw. The wide wardrobe had blocked her view of the dressing room door, which stood somewhat ajar.

The candlelight was coming from inside the dressing room, and there, in the reflection, she could see Gabriel relaxing in his bath.

His bulky arms rested along the rim of the steaming tub. His coal-black hair was wet, his chiseled face glistening with moisture. His eyes were closed and water starred his lashes.

Frozen where she stood in the deepening shadows, Sophia barely dared breathe, staring at him. The artless pleasure on his face as he dozed in the tub, the trickle of water down his throat and muscled chest.

Awe and longing filled her as she watched him, unable to tear her gaze away.

The man was simply the most seductive thing she had ever seen. Her own wild reaction shocked her, a trembling tingle that ran through her body. An image blossomed in her mind of herself touching him. Bathing him? This was a manner of serving the "master" that she could enjoy.

Her pulse pounded, and she knew she must be very wicked, indeed, but the bold streak inside of her actually toyed with the notion and dared her to chance it.

Yesterday had been her birthday, after all, and she had not received a single present. At the moment, she had a fair idea of what she would have liked for her birthday-namely, him.

She wondered how he would react if she were to walk in there, give him a smile, and pick up the sponge and soap. Would he be shocked? Would he protest?

Or would he welcome her intrusion, invite her to explore his incredible body, and let her learn the feel of his sun-bronzed skin? She wanted to run her hands along those ma.s.sive shoulders. Taste that mouth...

You are a fool, she told herself, putting a stern end to her dangerous fancies. She had seen that hungry look in his eyes when he had lain atop her in the stable and held her pinned beneath him. To go in there now would have been like baiting a wolf with a raw steak. On the other hand, she could think of worse fates than being consumed by Gabriel Knight.

Lord, she supposed she had all of the usual vices of royalty. It wasn't easy to rein in one's desires when one was accustomed to having wishes granted.

Her heart racing, she forced herself to turn away. There was more to royalty than self-indulgence, after all. First and foremost, there was her duty. And being the heir to the throne of Kavros came with a very steep cost.

She knew full well that her needs as a woman would have to be thrust aside for the sake of her people. In that sense, even the lowliest maid was rich compared to her.

Perhaps when she was older, she could afford a dalliance with a handsome cavalry officer. But until she was installed in power, she had to be very careful with men. So many of her highborn would-be suitors only wanted to take over everything that was hers and steal away her power.

In time, she would probably have to wed her way into a marriage alliance that would be advantageous to her country. But until then, she intended to model herself on her idol, England's greatest queen, Elizabeth I, of Shakespeare's day. The so-called Virgin Queen.

Clever Queen Bess had managed the male rulers of neighboring countries just as a cunning belle knew how to handle a crowd of amorous suitors, playing for an offer that would suit her own best interests, and in the end, refusing all.

In this world, a woman ruler was a rarity, and with all the disadvantages she faced, Sophia knew she'd have to use whatever gifts Nature had bestowed on her.

She could not afford entanglements that would compromise her control, sway her heart, impair her judgment, and make her life any more complicated than it already was.

Ah, but she could look.

Gabriel still had no idea she was there, or if he had noticed her presence, she thought, perhaps he simply didn't care. Most wealthy people simply ignored their domestics.

Sophia indulged herself in one long, last stare to imprint his delectable image on her memory. But when she finally dragged her heated gaze away, coming back to her experiment as a maid and recalling once more her endless list of jobs, she was left rather dazed, unsure what to do now.

She still hadn't changed the sheets and frankly dared not face Mrs. Moss without carrying out her orders. There seemed no other alternative than to step to it.

Still, the mere thought of such an intimate task made her blush after seeing Gabriel that way and reveling in her glimpse of his naked splendor. Doing her best to ignore her l.u.s.tful reaction to the man, along with his musky scent that clung to the sheets, she hurried to strip his bedding.

She then replaced the sheets, moving around the four-poster bed as quickly and quietly as possible, and blushing all the while at her own scandalous thoughts. Maybe Alexa was right and chast.i.ty was overrated...

Smoothing the clean sheets to make sure they lay neat and flat, her palm caressed the place where Gabriel slept. There was a long indentation where the feather bed had cradled his iron body.

It was her first time ever changing a bed of any sort, but eventually she muddled through it, stuffed his pillow into the pillowcase and plumped it for him, then set it where it belonged against the headboard.

Eager to get out of here before he noticed her, she gathered up the linens that she had just removed from his bed and started to exit the room. But on her way out, she realized she had failed to collect his dirty laundry.

Botheration!

Scowling, she spotted a mound of his discarded clothes on a piece of furniture in the corner. With a sigh, she set down her armful of bed linens, collected the feather duster, and then went to gather up his pile of laundry, deciding on the spot that all of her maids must receive an increase in wages for all that they went through.

She scooped up Gabriel's dirty work clothes, muddied and smelling of sweaty male, and added them to the bed linens to carry downstairs. But then, as she dusted off her hands, the piece of furniture that had been buried under his laundry caught her attention.

She had uncovered some sort of traveling trunk.

She noticed at once that it didn't fit in with the rest of the farmhouse setting. It was made of reddish teakwood and leather, and looked as though it had been through a war.

It seemed to be the only article of furniture in the room that was actually his rather than part of the rental property. Her heart beat faster as she tiptoed back toward the trunk. She bit her lip, fiercely tempted to see what was inside. Where was the harm in one small peek?

She glanced toward the dressing room and saw he was still dozing. This might be her best chance. If Gabriel really was a great warrior, if every notch on that sword represented one of his kills, then might not someone like him be a valuable a.s.set to her quest?

Perhaps she could recruit him. Hanging around this farm, he didn't seem to have anything better to do. Despite his reticence to talk about himself, she was determined to have answers to his mysteries-and the clues, she suspected, lay inside that trunk. Of course, this was prying, but she decided to chance it. At the very least, it would tell her more about the man she had put her trust in when she had decided to hide here.

Wiping her hands on her skirts, Sophia bent down, eager to investigate more closely. Silently, she opened the lid, and her first discovery confirmed her guess that, indeed, he was a cavalry officer.

His uniform coat lay neatly folded on top of his belongings inside the trunk, a dashing dark blue jacket of one of the hussar regiments. Shiny bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, gold epaulets. A pair of white dress gloves, soft kid riding gauntlets, were tucked under the black lapel.

Every find made her heart lift, confirming her decision to hide here at the farmhouse until her men found her. Why, she felt safer already!

Quickly, she dug deeper, lifting his uniform a bit to the side. More weapons were hidden beneath it: a cavalry broadsword with its thick, straight blade, a weapon her bodyguards said a man had to have the strength of a lion to use properly. Daggers and pistols, a carbine, a disa.s.sembled rifle with a bayonet. Strange weapons, too, some she had never seen before. A round thing like a star with blades all around it and strange writings on the top.

Next, she came across a colorful regimental flag...and at the very bottom of the trunk, hidden away as if they were something to be ashamed of, she found medals for valor and bravery.

Gabriel opened his eyes, sensing a presence nearby. He listened sharply with battle-honed senses, then relaxed. No. Not a threat. He had been in a deep state of rest but not sleeping, trying to summon up a meditative mood of peace.

With night coming on, it was harder to locate, especially now. Thoughts of the girl he had found in his barn had plagued him all day, her beauty awakening a hunger within him. In an effort to ignore his body's craving, he had worked too hard and had strained his middle a bit, where the muscles of his abdomen had only just knit themselves back together again after months of careful tending. G.o.d, for as long as he lived, however short, admittedly, that might be, he would never forget the moment he had looked down and found himself impaled by a Maratha arrow.

He should be dead.

But he wasn't. No, he wasn't...

And he had not made love to a woman since he had made his fleeting visit to the world beyond the grave.

Which was exactly why Derek had sent Sophia to him. His body ached at the thought of her. Lovely Sophia.

Tempting Sophia.

Naughty, wayward Sophia, he mused, for it was at that moment that he saw her in the reflection of the mirror over the fireplace.

Never one to let his guard down, he had angled the tub so that even when he was doing his best to unwind, he could still see into the adjoining room by the judicious placement of mirrors. Just in case of any threat.

Old habits died hard.

Leaning forward silently in his bathing tub, careful not to stir the water, he glanced through the open doorway at the mantelpiece mirror. The reflection bounced off that of the cheval gla.s.s...and there was his lovely Gypsy girl.

Robbing him, it would seem.

Gabriel's face darkened; he reached for a towel.

CHAPTER.

FOUR.

B ending over his open traveling trunk, Sophia was still marveling over her discoveries about her new employer. Dazzled, she hefted the weight of a chunky silver war medal in her palm, then traced her fingertip over the elaborate wreath that ringed it. Oh, how she could have used someone like him on her quest to take back her country.

No mercy, indeed.

With a battle-hardened warrior like this by her side, she was sure that the foes who had ambushed her carriage last night would think twice about ever attacking her again!

Shaking her head in awe at the evidence of his deeds, she started to put the medal back where she had found it, when all of a sudden, a steely hand clamped down on her arm. She let out a shriek and shot to her feet as Gabriel pulled her away from his things.

"What are you doing?" he barked as he spun her around to face him. His hold on her shifted to the other arm, but when Sophia saw him, she blinked: He was wearing a towel and a furious glower, and loomed over her like an angry G.o.d. "Answer me!"

She gulped and tried to back away, but he would not let go of her, his grip on her wrist like an iron manacle.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing in here?" he repeated in obvious outrage.

"N-nothing, I-I-" His nakedness and his towering size reduced her to fl.u.s.tered stammering. "Mrs. Moss told me to clean your room!"

Oh, G.o.d. She was perfectly mortified.

His eyes narrowed to cobalt slits in the deepening gloom of his chamber; she was caught in that blue, piercing stare. "Empty your pockets," he ordered.

"What?"

"You heard me! Empty your pockets-now!"

Sophia shrank from the angry warrior. Did he really have to be so scary about this?

Still holding her by one wrist, Gabriel flicked his fingers impatiently at her, then held out his palm. "Hurry up. Whatever you've taken, just hand it over and leave."

"Taken?" she breathed. Leave?

He shook his head at her in scorn. "You're really something, you know that? I try to help you, and this is how you repay me?"

Good G.o.d! she thought as the full brunt of his accusation sank in. She was guilty of prying, but the Princess Royal of Kavros was hardly a thief!

Oh, it was too lowering.

On the other hand, she could understand why he would jump to such a conclusion. Her heart sank. This did not look good at all.

She wished she could tell him her true name so he would know she had no need to steal, but protocol forbade it, and besides, if she tried to claim now that she was bona fide royalty, he would think that she was insane.

"Well?" he demanded. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"