She felt a tremor of laughter run through him. “My kisses are above average,” he conceded, “but I wouldn’t say well above average. That might be overstating my abilities, and I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”
Pandora looked up at him suspiciously, wondering if he were teasing her again. His expression was perfectly bland. “I’m sure I won’t be,” she said, and steadied herself. “I’m ready,” she said bravely. “You can do it now.”
Perversely, Gabriel made no move to kiss her right away. “You’re interested in Charles Darwin, as I recall. Have you read his latest book?”
“No.” Why was he talking about books? She was shaky with nerves, and rather annoyed that he was drawing the whole thing out like this.
“The Expression of Emotion In Man and Animals,” Gabriel continued. “Darwin writes that the custom of kissing can’t be considered an innate human behavior, as it doesn’t extend to every culture. New Zealanders, for example, rub noses in lieu of kissing. He also references an account of tribal societies in which they greet each other by blowing air softly against the face.” He gave her an innocent glance. “We could start that way, if you like.”
Pandora had no idea how to respond. “Are you mocking me?” she demanded.
Laughter danced in his eyes. “Pandora,” he chided, “don’t you know when someone is flirting with you?”
“No. All I know is that you’re looking at me as if I’m excessively amusing, like a trained monkey playing a tambourine.”
With his hand still supporting her nape, Gabriel brought his lips to her forehead and smoothed out the furrow of her frown. “Flirting is like playing. It’s a promise you may or may not keep. It could be a provocative glance . . . a smile . . . the touch of a fingertip . . . or a whisper.” His face was right over hers, so close that she could see the gold tips on his feathery dark lashes. “Should we rub noses now?” he whispered.
Pandora shook her head. She had the sudden urge to tease him, catch him off guard. Pursing her lips, she blew a soft, cool stream of air against his chin.
To her satisfaction, Gabriel reacted with a quick double-blink of surprise. A flush of color made his eyes fever-bright, the irises spangled with glints of wondering amusement. “You win at flirting,” he told her, and his hand cradled her jaw, his thumb stroking a circle over her cheek.
Pandora tensed as his mouth came to hers, as light as a brush of silk or a zephyr breeze. He was almost tentative at first, making no demands, only feeling the contours of her mouth with his. Softly, softly . . . his lips moved over hers in sensuous touches that quieted the usual chaos of her brain. Mesmerized, she answered with hesitant pressure, and he shaped her response, played with her, until she began to dissolve in the slow, endless teasing. There was no interference of thought or time, no past or future. There was only this moment, the two of them standing together in a sun-drenched path of flowering vines and sweet dry grass.
He caught gently at her lower lip, and then the upper, the tender nibbling sending vibrant shocks down to the quick of her body. Pressing deeper, he coaxed her lips to part until an unfamiliar flavor whispered across her senses, something clean and soft and stirring. She felt the tip of his tongue, an intrusion of pure heat into the private space that had always belonged only to her. Bewildered, trembling in surprise, she opened to him.
His fingers spread over the back of her head, cupping the curve of her skull, and he broke the kiss to work his way down the side of her throat. She began to breathe in gasps at the feel of his lips moving slowly over the most deliriously sensitive places, the most delicate skin. The wet velvet friction caused gooseflesh to rise all over. She lost the feel of her bones, sinking against him while pleasure pooled at the pit of her stomach like melted sun.
Reaching the joint where her neck connected with her shoulder, Gabriel lingered there, touching it with his tongue. The edges of his teeth clamped down in a soft bite, and a helpless shiver wracked her. He worked his way back up with supple, searching kisses. By the time he reached her mouth again she couldn’t hold back a mortifying whimper of eagerness. Her lips felt swollen, and the firm, savoring pressure was an exquisite relief. Clutching her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down, urging him to kiss her harder, longer. She dared to explore his mouth the way he had hers, and that drew a low pleasured sound from his throat. He was so delicious and silky that she couldn’t stop herself from putting her hands on the sides of his face and claiming him aggressively. She kissed him harder, deeper, feasting on the luscious interior of his mouth with uncontrollable greed.
With a smothered laugh, Gabriel pulled his head back and gripped a hand in her hair. Like her, he was panting for breath. “Pandora, love,” he said, his eyes brilliant with mingled heat and amusement, “you kiss like a pirate.”
She didn’t care. She needed more of him. She was throbbing in every limb, feeling too much at once, shaking with a hunger she didn’t know how to satisfy. Clutching his shoulders, she sought his mouth again and arched against the hard masculine contours of his body. Not enough . . . she wanted him to crush her, take her to the ground, and hold her there with his full weight.
Gabriel kept the kiss light, trying to gentle her. “Easy, my wild girl,” he whispered. When she refused to calm down, still shaking, he relented and gave her what she wanted, fastening his mouth over hers, siphoning pleasure from her with sweet erotic pulls.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” A woman’s exasperated voice came from several yards away, startling Pandora as if someone had just tossed a bucket of cold water on them.
It was Phoebe, who had come back along the holloway to find them. She had discarded her robe and stood there in her bathing costume, hands braced on slender hips. “Are you coming to the beach,” she asked her brother irritably, “or are you going to seduce the poor girl in the middle of the holloway?”
Disoriented, Pandora became aware of a flurry of jubilant movement near her legs. Ajax had run back along the holloway to bounce and prance around them, and paw at the skirt of her robe.
Feeling the way she was trembling, Gabriel kept holding her, his palm resting on her back between her shoulder blades. His chest moved with the ragged rhythm of his breathing, but he sounded calm and collected as he replied. “Phoebe, the fact that I asked you to be a chaperone should have made it obvious that I didn’t want a chaperone at all.”
“I have no desire to be one,” Phoebe retorted. “However, the children are asking why you’re taking so long, and I can’t very well explain to them that you’re a libidinous goat.”
“No,” Gabriel replied, “because then you would sound like a parsimonious prig.”
Pandora was perplexed by the quick, fond grins the siblings exchanged after the sharp words.
Rolling her eyes, Phoebe turned and strode away. Ajax bolted after her—with Pandora’s hat clamped in his mouth.
“That dog will cost me a fortune in hats,” Gabriel said dryly. His hands stroked her back and neck, while the rough pounding of her heart eased slowly.
It took at least a half-minute before Pandora could speak. “Your sister—she saw us—”
“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word to anyone. She and I like to bait each other, that’s all. Come.” Nudging her chin upward, he stole a last swift kiss, and pulled her along the path with him.
Chapter 8
They emerged from the holloway into a landscape unlike anything Pandora had seen except in photographs or engravings . . . a wide belt of pale sand extending toward a white-frothed ocean, and more blue sky than she’d ever seen at one time. The foreshore was backed by dunes anchored in place with bushy grasses and spiky flowering plants. Toward the west, the sand graded to pebble and shingle before the ground ascended to chalk cliffs that bordered the promontory. The air was filled with the rhythmic collapse of waves and soft rushes of water flattening across the sand. A trio of herring gulls pecked over a bit of food, squabbling with thin, sharp cries.
It didn’t look like Hamps
hire or London. It didn’t seem like England at all.
Phoebe and the two boys stood farther along the shore, engaged in unwinding the string of a kite. Seraphina, who had been wading in ankle-deep water, noticed Pandora and Gabriel, and scampered toward them. She had removed her shoes and stockings, and the trousers of her bathing costume were sodden from the knees down. Her strawberry-blonde hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder.
“Do you like our cove?” Seraphina asked, with an expansive gesture at their surroundings.
Pandora nodded, her awed gaze traveling across the scenery.
“I’ll show you where to put your robe.” Seraphina led her to a bathing-machine that had been left near a dune. It was a small enclosed room set on high wheels, with a set of steps leading up to a door. A removable hook ladder had been affixed to one of the outside walls.
“I’ve seen one of these in pictures,” Pandora said regarding the contraption dubiously, “but I’ve never been inside one.”
“We never use it, unless we have a guest who insists. Then we have to hitch up a horse to pull it out to waist-deep water, and the lady steps into the ocean on the other side, so no one can see. It’s a lot of bother, and rather silly, since a bathing costume covers just as much as an ordinary dress.” Seraphina opened the door of the bathing-machine. “You can take off your things in there.”
Pandora went into the bathing-machine, which had been supplied with shelves and a row of hooks, and removed her robe, stockings, and canvas slippers. As she emerged into the sunshine dressed in the bathing costume with its short skirt and trousers, and her feet and ankles bare, she turned as red as if she were naked. To her relief, Gabriel had gone to help with the kite, and was standing at a distance with the two boys.
Seraphina smiled, brandishing a small tin pail. “Let’s go look for shells.”
As they headed toward the ocean, Pandora was amazed by the feeling of sun-warmed sand conforming to her soles and slipping up between her toes. Closer to the water, the sand became firm and moist. She stopped to glance back at the trail of footprints behind her. Experimentally she hopped forward on one foot for a few yards, and turned to view her tracks.
Soon Justin ran to them with something clasped in his cupped hands, while Ajax trotted at his heels. “Pandora, put out your hand!”
“What is it?”
“A hermit crab.”
Cautiously she extended her hand, and the boy deposited a round object into her palm, a shell no bigger than the tip of her thumb. Slowly a set of miniature claws emerged, followed by thread-like antennae and black pinhead eyes.
Pandora inspected the tiny creature closely before handing it back to Justin. “Are there many of them in the water?” she asked. Although one hermit crab by itself was rather adorable, she wouldn’t care to go wading with a consortium of them.
A shadow crossed over her, and a pair of bare masculine feet came into her vision. “No,” came Gabriel’s reassuring reply, “they live under rocks and shingle on the far side of the cove.”
“Mama says I have to put him back later,” Justin said. “But first I’m going to build a sandcastle for him.”
“I’ll help,” Seraphina exclaimed, kneeling to fill the tin pail with wet sand. “Go fetch the other pails and spades by the bathing-machine. Pandora, will you join us?”
“Yes, but . . .” Pandora glanced at the waves surging and breaking on the shore in tumbles of foam. “First I’d like to go exploring a little, if I may.”
“Of course.” Seraphina was using both hands to load sand into the pail. “You certainly don’t need to ask for my consent.”
Pandora was both amused and chagrined. “After a year of Lady Berwick’s instructions, I feel as if I should have permission from someone.” She glanced at Phoebe, who was at least a dozen yards away, looking out at the ocean. Obviously the woman couldn’t have cared less about what Pandora was doing.
Gabriel followed her gaze. “You have Phoebe’s permission,” he said dryly. “Let me walk with you.”
Still feeling shy from their earlier encounter, Pandora accompanied him across the cool, compacted sand. Her senses were overwhelmed by a deluge of sight, sound, and sensation. Every breath filled her lungs with vibrant, living air and left the taste of salt spindrift on her lips. Farther out, the ocean rolled in wind-harried billows, trimmed with ruffles of white foam. Pausing to stare out at the vast blue infinity, she tried to imagine what might be concealed in its mysterious depths, shipwrecks and whales and exotic creatures, and a pleasant shiver went through her. She bent to pick up a tiny cup-shaped shell that had been partially embedded in the sand, and rubbed her thumb across its rough gray-striped surface. “What is this?” she asked, showing it to Gabriel.
“A limpet.”
She found another shell, round and ridged. “And this? Is it a scallop?”
“A cockleshell. You can tell the difference by looking at the hinge-line. A scallop has a triangle on each side.”
As Pandora collected more shells—whelks, a winkle, mussels—she gave them to Gabriel, who carried them for her in one of his trouser pockets. She noticed he had rolled the hems of his trousers to the middle of his calves, which were lightly dusted with glinting tawny fleece.
“Do you have a bathing-suit?” she dared to ask shyly.
“Yes, but it’s not for mixed company.” At her questioning glance, Gabriel explained, “A man’s bathing-suit isn’t like the ones Ivo and Justin are wearing. It consists of flannel trunks that tie at the waist with a string. Once they’re wet, they leave so little to the imagination that a man may as well wear nothing at all. Most of us at the estate don’t bother with them when we go for a swim.”
“You swim naked?” Pandora asked, so flustered that a shell dropped from her lax fingers.
Gabriel bent to retrieve it. “Not with ladies present, of course.” He smiled at her pink face. “I usually go in the mornings.”
“The water must be like ice.”
“It is. But there are benefits to a cold ocean swim. Among other things, it stimulates the circulation.”
The idea of him swimming without a stitch on had certainly affected her circulation. She wandered to the water’s edge where the sand was glossy. It was too wet to leave a footprint: As soon as she took another step, silt flowed into the depression. A wave rolled in and thinned until it reached her toes. She started at the biting cold of it but took a few steps forward. The next surge flooded over her ankles and almost up to her knees in a rush of chilling, bubbling lightness. She gave a little squeal and a surprised laugh at the feel of it. The wave slackened, its forward momentum halting.
As the water retreated in a long pull, towing sand back with it, Pandora had the sensation of sliding backward even though she was standing still. At the same time, sand eroded from beneath her feet, as if someone were yanking away a rug she happened to be standing on.
The ground tilted sharply and she staggered, her equilibrium lost.
A pair of strong hands caught her from behind. Blinking, Pandora found herself pulled back against Gabriel’s hard, warm chest, with his thighs braced on either side of hers. She heard the baritone of his voice, but he spoke near her bad ear, and the sound of the surf muffled his words.
“Wh-what?” she asked, turning her head to the side.
“I said I have you,” Gabriel murmured at her other ear. The brush of his lips at the delicate outer rim sent an electric feeling through her. “I should have warned you. As the waves ebb, it can make you feel as if you’re moving even when you’re standing still.”
Another wave approached. Pandora tensed and backed up against him more tightly, and she was vaguely annoyed to feel him chuckle.
“I won’t let you fall.” His arms slid securely around her front. “Just relax.”
He steadied her as the wave broke and surged around her legs, its eddies raking up sand and shells. As the water retreated, Pandora considered fleeing to higher ground. But it felt so pleasant to lean back ag
ainst Gabriel’s sturdy form that she hesitated, and then another surge was coming. She gripped his arm hard, and it tightened reassuringly across her middle. Shoaling water rose and broke with the sounds of shattering crystal, followed by swooshes as if something were being mopped. Over and over, in hypnotic rhythm. Gradually her breathing turned deep and regular.
The experience began to feel rather dreamlike. The world had become nothing but coldness, heat, sun, sand, the scent of brine and minerals. Gabriel’s torso was a wall of muscle at her back, flexing subtly as he adjusted for balance, keeping her braced and supported and safe. Random thoughts drifted through her mind, the way they did in early morning, in the margin between sleep and wakefulness. A breeze carried the sounds of the children laughing, the dog barking, Phoebe’s and Seraphina’s voices, but they all seemed removed from what was happening to her.
Forgetting herself entirely, Pandora let her head loll back against Gabriel’s shoulder. “What kind of glue does Ivo use?” she asked languidly.
“Glue?” he echoed after a moment, his mouth close to her temple, grazing softly.
“For his kites.”
“Ah.” He paused while a wave retreated. “Joiner’s glue, I believe.”
“That’s not strong enough,” Pandora said, relaxed and pensive. “He should use chrome glue.”
“Where would he find that?” One of his hands caressed her side gently.
“A druggist can make it. One part acid chromate of lime to five parts gelatin.”
Amusement filtered through his voice. “Does your mind ever slow down, sweetheart?”
“Not even for sleeping,” she said.
Gabriel steadied her against another wave. “How do you know so much about glue?”
The agreeable trance began to fade as Pandora considered how to answer him.
After her long hesitation, Gabriel tilted his head and gave her a questioning sideways glance. “The subject of glue is complicated, I gather.”