Her Every Pleasure Part 7

Gabriel Knight turned her world upside down. She had never felt such things. Her desire for him was dangerous.

Both of them had nearly lost control.

Nearing the old barn where she had slept last night, Sophia dropped back to a fast walk, her chest heaving. Her knees still felt wobbly. Twilight was deepening by the minute to a clear, cool blackness, but the white-gold moon illuminated the lonely drive before her.

She glanced around uneasily in the gathering darkness, wondering where in blazes her bodyguards were. She would have thought they'd have found her by now.

Timo particularly had an excellent sense of direction, and after all, she had only gone a few miles.

Maybe something had gone disastrously wrong.

Oh, G.o.d. Sophia stopped walking and looked up at the moon as her vision blurred with frightened tears.

All day, she had managed to ignore her gnawing worries, keeping busy with Mrs. Moss's endless list of ch.o.r.es, but now, alone, defenseless, not sure where to go, and feeling all too vulnerable, her fears began to get the best of her. The tears flooded into her eyes.

Leon! Where are you?

She had never been without him for so long before. Since childhood, he had been her rock.

What if her masked enemies had wiped out her whole entourage the way that different foes had wiped out her family over the years?

What if her bodyguards weren't coming?

What if they all were dead?

Nothing had been taken.

At first Gabriel had thought there must be some mistake.

Moments ago, the bang of the front door had jolted him, helping to clear the fog of l.u.s.t in his brain. Slamming the heel of his hand angrily on the doorframe to vent his frustration, he had stalked over to his traveling trunk with a scowl, where a quick inventory of its contents soon revealed the startling truth.

All his belongings were there, confirming Sophia's claim of innocence.

With a curse, he threw off his towel and quickly pulled on some clothes. The realization that he had accused her unjustly was enough to turn his previous anger at her right around at himself.

Worse, he realized in hindsight that, harlot or no, he had terrified her with his randy insistence, so much so that, for all her pluck, she had seen fit to run for her b.l.o.o.d.y life.

d.a.m.n it, that was not the kind of man he was! He had never demanded s.e.x from any woman-he'd never had to-and he was not about to start now. Furious at himself, he stood and hastened to b.u.t.ton up his trousers, but winced at the denial as he pushed his long-starved c.o.c.k down into its proper position to the right. What was the matter with him, anyway? A gentleman did not grope his domestics, no matter what sort of d.a.m.ned sultry temptresses they were. He had given Sophia his word that she would be safe here, that she would not be used, and whatever his faults, Gabriel never broke his word.

As he bent down, hurrying to pull on his boots before she vanished again as mysteriously as she had appeared, it struck him that he genuinely did not want her to go.

It was a sobering moment of self-honesty, and made him pause.

All day long, throughout his ch.o.r.es and his grueling physical regimen, the truth was, he had been antic.i.p.ating the chance to talk to her again, though he had not wanted to admit it to himself.

Now he had chased her away with his clumsiness, and her absence left him starkly facing the true loneliness of his situation.

It was one thing to retreat from humanity for a time, but quite another to have a beautiful girl run away from a chap for acting like a barbarian.

Maybe I have been out here too long.

Straightening up again, he quickly strode across the room to retrieve Sophia's knife from the crumbling plaster. She was more dangerous with the weapon, but the dread on her face when he had disarmed her had twisted the very heart in him.

He should have let her keep the weapon, he thought, for in hindsight, he very much doubted that she would have really stabbed him. She had merely been afraid he might actually rape her.

G.o.d.

As he yanked the knife out of the wall, his attention suddenly homed in on the feel of the weapon in his grasp.

He was stunned by the sense of pleasure that rushed into his veins, bringing back ominous echoes of the warrior he once had been.

And no longer was.

Refused to be.

Still...it had been months since he had held any sort of weapon. It felt so good, so natural, in his hand.

Dear G.o.d, what had that girl awakened in him, that his whole body seemed to come alive again with the feel of the knife in his hand? His mind rebounded to the last time he had grasped a dagger in this fashion. The last time he had been in India...

Bloodthirsty memories churning in his mind, he paused just for a moment to run his fingers down the flat of the blade; wiping it clean of the chalky plaster dust, he caught a glimpse of himself in the cheval mirror from the corner of his eye.

Yes, he thought grimly, that was the real Gabriel Knight, the man they had called the Iron Major.

The icy b.a.s.t.a.r.d who had quit counting his kills when they surpa.s.sed a hundred. No mercy. The memory of his regiment, his fellow officers, and the motto they had coined for him in all their brash esprit de corps jarred him back to the present. He was no longer that man. That cold-blooded savage.

Shrugging off the memories and the dark uneasiness that crept over him with the return of nightfall, he marched out of the room. It was Sophia's knife, after all. He only wanted to give it back to her. For his part, he had no need for weapons anymore.

Wanting to make amends for his dishonorable behavior, he dashed downstairs and barreled out the front door, chasing after her.

"Sophia!"

His voice echoed back to him in this lonely place. Suddenly, he spotted her dark shape some distance down the moonlit drive. "Sophia, wait!"

The moment she turned and saw him coming after her, she whirled around at once and started running again.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

"Sophia, come back!" He picked up his pace, striding across the courtyard.

"Stay away from me!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" He began jogging toward her down the rocky drive, even though he knew she might interpret this as threatening. He wanted to rea.s.sure her, but first he had to catch up. "Please, just stop for a moment and listen! I'm sorry!"

"I don't want to hear any more of your accusations!"

She sounded like she was crying. Oh, G.o.d. He felt like such a heel. Gaining on her with his longer strides, he tried again in a more placating tone. "Sophia, I've brought you your knife. Don't you want it back?"

"Keep it!" she flung out.

"Sophia, don't go! Enough of this!" he exclaimed. "I'm not going to hurt you!" He ran faster, aware of a very slight pressure around his healing scar as he slowly closed the distance between them. "Would you just pause for a moment and give me a chance to apologize?"

"Ow!"

Ahead of him, he saw her twist an ankle on a large stone on the uneven drive.

He winced for her sake, but when her unladylike curse reached his ears, he couldn't help smiling ruefully. There was something so vibrant, so piquant about her, this strange, unpredictable Gypsy girl.

She could steal his very heart if he wasn't careful.

Tripped up by the rock, Sophia had not fallen, but she dropped back to a walk-or rather, a dignified limp.

"Are you all right?" he called in concern.

"I'm fine!" Ahead, she stopped-planted one hand on her waist-and slowly turned around, tilting her head to the side. She gave him a haughty look as Gabriel jogged toward her.

"That's far enough," she ordered, holding out her hand to halt him.

Still a good ten feet away, he stopped, not wishing to scare her again, but he was a little taken aback by her forcefulness. When she tossed her moonlit curls and lifted her chin, however, he saw through her show of bravado, and his heart clenched.

"Here," he mumbled awkwardly. "I thought you'd want this back." He tossed her knife, blade-down, onto the neutral turf between them.

Holding him in a guarded stare, she approached, moving stealthily despite her slight limp, and retrieved her weapon with an almost palpable satisfaction.

At least they had that much in common.

As soon as she had grasped the weapon, she hitched up her skirts and slid her knife back into its sheath, strapped to her thigh.

Gabriel's mouth watered, but he refused to ogle that beautiful stretch of sleek, feminine leg. Redoubling his will to resist temptation, he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat a bit. "I did not mean to scare you. I'm sorry. I acted like a beast. I accused you unjustly, as well. I saw that you didn't take anything."

"No, I did not!" She folded her arms across her chest, but she sounded somewhat mollified. "And yes, you did," she agreed.

Unaccustomed to making apologies for his usually impeccable behavior, let alone being scolded, however deservedly, by a mere slip of a girl, he furrowed his brow. "I don't know why you were looking at my things," he said in a slightly sterner tone. "In all fairness, you were really not at liberty to pry like that, but all the same, you did not deserve to be insulted. I apologize, and I hope you will forgive me."

She nodded, looking away and finally showing a shred of shame for her outrageous snooping. "As I told you, I was just a bit...curious...about you."

"If there was something you wanted to know, you could have just asked me."

"You wouldn't have answered!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm just a-a lowly Gypsy girl, and you're my employer," she said, eyeing him warily. "It's not my place to ask you questions."

He gazed at her for a long moment. "Why don't you come back inside and have dinner with me, and you can ask me whatever you want?"

He suspected it was the offer of food more than his company that brought a ray of hope back into her eyes.

He could just imagine how hard Mrs. Moss had worked her today. He doubted the girl had had a decent meal since noon.

But she was still hesitant.

"What is it?" he murmured. Was she not satisfied with his apology? For G.o.d's sake, that was as close to groveling as he would ever come.

"I'm not sure I trust you," she said carefully, keeping her distance.

"Fair enough," he conceded in a low tone. "I'm not sure I trust you, either. But I'm willing to put my faith in you if you'll do the same for me." He took a step closer. "You don't have to worry about me, Sophia, all right?" he offered softly. "I'm not going to touch you. You have my word on that. I know I overstepped my bounds. It was a momentary slip and it will not happen again. You've got your knife back. If I even look at you wrong, just stab me, as you planned. I promise, this time I won't resist. I'm sure I would deserve it after that."

She returned his sardonic smile guardedly. "I wasn't really going to stab you."

"I know." He held her stare with total sincerity. "And I would not in a million years force myself on you or any woman."

"I know." Her voice was barely a whisper; she dropped her gaze. "I think I can tell that about you."

"Good."

They stared at each other for a long moment in the moonlight. He shivered a bit, for the autumn night was cold and he'd run out without a coat. She was shivering, too, holding on tight to the strap of her knapsack over one shoulder.

He looked away, frustrated by the pathetic picture of the little errant waif. d.a.m.n, she was stubborn. What more could he say to persuade her?

"Sophia, I know you're eager to get the h.e.l.l out of here," he conceded, summoning up a final dose of patience. "But the nearest coaching inn is about three miles away-which you probably already know, since I a.s.sume that's how you got here. The stagecoach only pa.s.ses once a day, and you've already missed it. I'll bring you over there tomorrow if you like, and I already told you I'd buy your ticket back to London. But I simply will not be responsible for letting a young woman wander the countryside all night by herself. Come back to the house where I'll know that you're safe. Come now, chicken stew and a proper bed-that is my offer, take it or leave it."

"A bed?"

"No, don't worry-you misunderstand me," he amended hastily "I mean I'll make sure to give you a bedchamber where the door locks, nice and st.u.r.dy. Would it make you feel better to sleep with one of my guns under your pillow?"

"Yes, it actually would."

"Well-all right then." He hadn't been quite serious on that last point, but if that's what it took to persuade her she was safe with him, then so be it, he thought in startled amus.e.m.e.nt. "If that's settled, come along, then."

Still, she balked, studying him strangely.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Why do you even care what happens to me?"

"You've got spirit. I admire that. And I guess...I really could do with some company," he admitted, lowering his head. "Come on," he ordered after a moment. "You're going to catch your death out here and I'm starved."

"So am I." She started toward him, but Gabriel frowned when he saw her limping.

He strode over, closing the remaining distance between them. "Let me help you."

She eyed him warily, hanging back.

"I won't bite," he murmured. "Lean on me."

Her dark eyes flickered mysteriously as she held his gaze, then she glanced down at his offered hand. "Thanks." She laid her hand in his. "I won't forget this, Gabriel," she whispered as she let him guide her carefully over the rocky ground.

"Neither will I, believe me," he answered with a dry glance.