The Defiant Mistress. Claire Thornton
did so.
‘No?’ He put one hand on the seat beside her and carefully repositioned himself over her. He pushed her long curls aside, his fingers lingering on the smooth skin of her shoulder, then she felt him lower his upper body until his weight lightly pressed against her. For a few tantalising seconds his breath heated her skin, then he kissed her shoulder.
He took his time, tasting her with his tongue, teasing her with his lips. She quivered, unexpected pleasure shimmering through her body. During their betrothal he had kissed her chastely upon her hand and occasionally on her cheek. Once or twice he had stolen a kiss from her lips—but never with such unfettered sensuality.
For a few moments she lost herself in the illicit delight he gave her. She forgot her undignified position face down in the gondola. She forgot Gabriel’s hostility towards her and her own sense of betrayal that he had seen but not protected her from Samuel. She was acutely aware of the contained strength in his hard body as he hovered just above her. The lace of his cravat trailed teasingly across her bare shoulder almost as tantalisingly as his lips.
His powerful thighs gripped her hips, holding her prisoner. She was completely at his mercy. And at the mercy of the desire he aroused in her. She whimpered softly.
She heard a low growl in his throat. His teeth closed on the curve between her shoulder and her neck. He didn’t bite hard enough to hurt her, but he growled again, the sound vibrating through her body. Through her arousal-dazed senses she became aware of the change in his mood from passion to anger.
‘Do you take pleasure where you can find it, like any bitch in heat?’ he said against her neck. ‘Little harlot.’
‘I am not a harlot!’ Her denial emerged as a sob of frustration and self-disgust. ‘Get off me!’
‘That’s not what you want.’ His words burned against her ear. ‘You want me to haul up your petticoats and—’
‘No!’ The velvet upholstery swallowed her gasping scream, but she began to struggle in earnest beneath him. Jabbing backwards and upwards with her elbows, she heard him grunt as one sharp elbow connected with his ribs.
He cursed and rolled off her. As soon as she was relieved of his weight she scrabbled around to face him, clutching her bodice against her breasts and drawing her knees up in an instinctive attempt to protect herself from further assaults.
The gondola rocked beneath their shifting weights, and she heard the canal water slap against the sides of the elegant craft. The lantern swung from side to side before once more coming to rest.
Gabriel stared at Athena in the shifting light. ‘That’s twice you’ve inflicted injury upon me,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘Your pimp did not treat you well.’
‘I never had a pimp! I had a husband. And, no, he didn’t treat me well!’ Athena panted with overwrought emotion.
‘Where is he?’
‘He’s dead.’
‘How convenient.’
‘He died a few months ago.’
‘And now you’re looking for a new patron. Did he pay for your silk and lace, or did you bewitch some other poor fool into giving it to you?’ Gabriel’s long fingers flicked scornfully at the broad lace collar around Athena’s neckline.
‘No one gave it to me!’ Athena spat. ‘I made it! I’m not looking for a man. I survived eight years without Samuel. Why should I put myself at any man’s mercy ever again? You only cause pain and misery.’
‘I caused you pain and misery? I think not, Frances—’
‘That’s not my name,’ she interrupted, without considering her words.
‘Not your name?’ He stared at her, then threw himself back on to the seat beside her with a crack of scornful laughter. ‘You tell a series of fairy tales, expect me to believe them—then tell me I don’t even know your name? Well, what could I expect from a born harlot? You never intended to marry me, so what did it matter what name you used?’
‘It is my name,’ Athena corrected, flushing angrily.
‘First it isn’t, then it is—’
‘I was christened Athena Frances. Before God I am both Athena and Frances. I was not marrying you under a false name because you knew me by my second Christian name, not my first. I would have made my vows before God in good faith, knowing that He knows who I am.’
‘God knows, but not your future husband.’ Gabriel stared at her. The hard light in his eyes softened by a few degrees as he studied her face, dwelling on each feature in turn. ‘Athena,’ he repeated under his breath. ‘Perhaps. But you will always be Frances to me.’
A sob rose unexpectedly in Athena’s throat. ‘Frances died when Samuel found me,’ she said.
‘Who the hell is Samuel? Why was he looking for you?’ Renewed suspicion appeared in Gabriel’s eyes.
‘Was. He’s dead,’ Athena reminded him. ‘He was my stepfather’s nephew.’
‘Your stepfather? You told me you went to live with your aunt in London after you were orphaned.’
‘My father died,’ said Athena. ‘My brother was only six. Several of our neighbours wanted to seize our house and estates. My brother was too young to defend his inheritance, so my mother remarried to protect us. My stepfather was—is—a good, upright man. But he favoured a match between me and his nephew. Samuel. When I could see no other way to avoid the marriage I ran away to London where I altered my name. I thought Samuel would never find me. He did. He found me the day before our wedding was meant to take place.’
For several long moments there was silence in the gondola.
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me that story before—when I asked you to marry me?’ Gabriel growled at last. ‘Did you plan to leave me forever in ignorance of your family?’
‘No. I was so happy. I didn’t want anything to spoil it…’
‘If what you claim is true, you were a stupid, heedless wench,’ Gabriel said brutally. ‘You deserved your fate.’
‘Never!’ Athena thought of all she’d endured to keep Gabriel safe from Cromwell’s executioner. ‘How dare you judge me so harshly. You know nothing. Nothing.’
‘If you’re telling the truth, I know more now than I did then. You lied to me in London. From beginning to end—you lied to me. You were even going to marry me without telling me your real name. How the devil did you expect me to protect you if I didn’t know you were in danger?’ he exploded.
‘Protect me? You watched and did nothing to stop Samuel—’
‘Before!’ Gabriel roared. ‘If I’d known before, do you think I’d have left you under the protection of one elderly widow woman? You could have had a place in Sir Thomas Parfitt’s household until the wedding. You didn’t think, Frances. You just danced through your days, expecting life to fall into your pretty lap.’
‘I didn’t dance,’ Athena whispered, hating the way he made her sound so heedless.
‘Yes, you did,’ he said flatly. ‘You danced and left the practical business of life to others.’
‘I don’t even know how to dance,’ she protested, remembering her awkwardness earlier that evening.
‘Your spirit danced.’ He stared up at the roof of the gondola, then laid his forearm across his eyes.
‘Oh.’ Tears trembled in Athena’s own eyes. ‘I was a foolish virgin,’ she whispered. They had gone on a picnic once, and she’d been so lost in thoughts of Gabriel she’d forgotten to pack the bread. He had teased her about the parable of the wise virgins who had filled their lamps with oil in preparation for the coming of the bridegroom, and the foolish virgins who hadn’t been so well