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Evie paced back and forth from the window to the door of their room, thinking of a plan.Oh, blast it all, I shouldn’t have left!He could be dead by now, for all I know.
Resolute to get back, she flew to the door, opened it… and beheld her husband.
Gabriel stood with one hand on the door jamb, his head hung, and his shoulders slumped; he looked as if he was about to drop to the floor. His hair was mussed and smeared with blood. His face was bloody, too, including a bruised lip with a cut in the corner of his mouth. His shirt was torn and bloody, his waistcoat and jacket missing.
“What—” Evie began, but he made two steps and fairly collapsed into her arms. Evie caught him heavily, her knees bending from his weight. “What happened to you?” she finally asked.
“What do you mean?” He righted himself and stared at her as if she’d just asked the most ridiculous question.
“I mean, why are you wobbling on your feet? Were you shot? Did you lose a lot of blood? Where else are you hurt?” She started patting his upper body.
“I’m all right.” He made a few more steps and collapsed on the bed.
Evie stared at him, her eyes wide. He didn’t seem to be bleeding. There were no obvious wounds on him except for his face. She blinked, just to clear her mind and vision. When that didn’t help, she went over to the door and locked it. She went to the washbasin, wet the cloth, and came over to sit by Gabriel’s side.
He looked at her then, a stupid grin on his face. “I saved you,” he said and then flinched, touching a hand to his bruised lip. “I think I deserve a reward for my heroics.”
“I think you already rewarded yourself for your heroics.” She grimaced, smelling alcohol on his breath. “When did you have time to drink?” She raised her arm and pressed the cloth to the corner of his lips. He took her hand in his and guided it away from his face. There she was marching off to save him, worried sick, and he was drinking! How long had she been looking for a gun? Surely not enough for him to get foxed.
“The blacksmith. He said it would help heal the wounds.” He shrugged.
Evie brought her hand back over to his face and started cleaning him off. “Well,” she said wryly. “Looks like that didn’t work.”
“It did.” He flinched when she touched the cut at the corner of his lip. “Until you did that,” he added grimly.
“You need your wounds cleaned. You don’t want the dirt mixing with your blood and forever sticking to your face, do you?”
She slowly cleaned his face, then went to the washbasin to clean the cloth and returned again.
“My face is not the only part of my body that’s hurting.” He narrowed his eyes at her suggestively. “Will you clean me all over?”
Evie looked at him mockingly. “I might, but you will not like the method I use.” She continued to minister to him, moving the cloth down to his neck. He caught her arm again and tugged at her so unexpectedly that she fell against his chest with a yelp.
“Kiss me,” he whispered, looking into her eyes. One of his arms tightened around her, holding her close to his chest. With another hand, he brushed the wisps of her hair away from her face. The movement of his fingers was so deft and gentle that it made her shiver. “I saved you, didn’t I?” He shrugged good-naturedly. “I think I deserve a little kiss for my efforts.”
Surrounded by his heat, his husky voice penetrating her to her bones, she couldn’t protest even if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t want to protest. The truth was, ever since the country dance, she couldn’t stop fantasizing about their kiss at every free opportunity she got.
“Just one tiny kiss,” she said, trying to look resigned.
“Just one,” he whispered, staring at her lips.
Evie slowly lowered her mouth and moved her lips gently over his. The kiss was so light; it was barely a brush. Gabriel groaned.
His hand settled at the nape of her neck, and his mouth moved demandingly over hers, brushing over her lips, sipping on her mouth. She didn’t know what to do. She just froze with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted.
“Kiss me back,” he whispered as he brushed light kisses on top of her mouth, at the corners of her lips. She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling dazed. He smiled at her then, his smile predatory. “Just do as I do,” he whispered and caught her upper lip between his and gave a light tug. When she repeated his action, he did the same to her lower lip, lightly sucking on it. She reciprocated.
“Open your mouth,” he whispered against her lips, and then he caught both of her lips with his parted mouth and licked at the seam. She opened her mouth, and his tongue took advantage and entered her, taking a bold, proprietary sweep inside her. He licked at her, teased her, drawing circles and taunting her to do the same. She shyly let her tongue touch his.
The next moment, everything changed. The arm circling her gripped her tight, and suddenly she was under him. His weight was crushing her to the bed, his knee settled between her legs, and his free hand moved from her cheek to her neck, shoulder, and lower. In the meantime, his tongue continued his insistent invasion.
He started moving over her with a persistent rhythm of his hips, rubbing his pelvis against hers. With his every movement, she felt a hard, hot bulge insistently probing against her center. She felt hot all over. The strange ache originated somewhere low in her stomach and moved even lower.
She gripped at him, frustrated, wanting something… more. She heard her needy whimpers and moans while she copied his movement and started moving her hips rhythmically against him as his tongue plunged in and out of her mouth. She felt wetness accumulate in her most private place, and she felt embarrassed and confused. Suddenly, she struggled to catch her breath. His weight was crushing her, and the unknown feelings overwhelmed her. She tore her mouth away from his and shoved at his chest.
She braced herself for his anger. She’d acted like a complete wanton, and now she was pushing him away. An embarrassed blush covered her face and neck.
Gabriel rolled away from her and lay on his back. “I apologize,” he said hoarsely.
