Pandora nodded absently. “I used to fantasize about being out in society. Having hundreds of friends, going everywhere, and seeing everything. But if you live in isolation long enough, it becomes part of you. And then when you try to change, it’s like looking into the sun. You can’t bear it for too long.”
“It’s only a matter of practice,” he said gently.
They continued the first hand of cards, which Pandora ended up winning, and played another, which she lost to Gabriel. After congratulating him good-naturedly, she asked, “Shall we stop now, and leave it a draw?”
His brows lifted. “With no victor?”
“I’m a better player than you,” she told him kindly. “I’m trying to spare you the inevitable defeat.”
Gabriel grinned. “Now I insist on a third hand.” He slid the deck of cards toward her. “Your turn to deal.” As Pandora shuffled the cards, he leaned back in his chair and regarded her speculatively. “Shall we make the game more interesting by having the loser pay a forfeit?”
“What kind of forfeit?”
“The winner decides.”
Pandora chewed her lower lip, mulling over possibilities. She sent him a mischievous grin. “Are you truly bad at singing, as you said before?”
“My singing is an insult to the very air.”
“Then if I win, your forfeit is to sing ‘God Save The Queen’ in the middle of the entrance hall.”
“Where it will echo unmercifully?” Gabriel sent her a glance of mock-alarm. “Good God. I had no idea you were so ruthless.”
“Pirate,” Pandora reminded him regretfully, and dealt.
Gabriel gathered up his cards. “I was going to suggest a fairly easy forfeit for you, but now I see I’ll have to come up with something more severe.”
“Do your worst,” Pandora said cheerfully. “I’m already accustomed to looking foolish. Nothing you propose will bother me.”
But as she should have expected, that turned out not to be true.
Gabriel’s gaze lifted slowly from his cards, eyes bright in a way that caused the back of her neck to prickle. “If I win,” he said, his voice low, “you’ll meet me back here at half past midnight. Alone.”
Unnerved, Pandora asked, “For what?”
“A midnight rendezvous.”
She looked at him without comprehension.
“I thought you might like to experience one for yourself,” he added.
Her stunned mind recalled the first night they’d met, when they’d argued over Dolly’s rendezvous with Mr. Hayhurst. Hot blood rose to her cheeks. He had been so nice—she’d been feeling so comfortable with him—and now he’d made a proposition that any decent woman would find insulting.
“You’re supposed to be a gentleman,” she whispered sharply.
Gabriel tried—and failed—to look apologetic. “I have lapses.”
“You can’t possibly think I would agree to that.”
To her annoyance, he regarded her as if she had all the worldly experience of a new-laid egg. “I understand.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You understand what?”
“You’re afraid.”
“I am not!” With as much dignity as she could summon, she added, “But I would like a different forfeit.”
“No.”
Pandora’s incredulous gaze flew to his, while the Ravenel temper blazed up like freshly stirred coals. “I’ve been trying very hard not to like you,” she said darkly. “Finally, it’s working.”
“You can call off the rest of the game, if you wish,” Gabriel said in a matter-of-fact tone. “But if you decide to play—and you lose—that’s the forfeit.” He sat back in his chair and watched as she struggled to recover her composure.
Why had he challenged her like this? And why was she hesitating?
Some lunatic impulse kept her from backing down. It made no sense. She didn’t understand herself. A confusion of recoil and attraction filled her. Glancing at Gabriel, she saw that although he appeared relaxed, his gaze was keen, taking in every detail of her reaction. Somehow he’d known that she would have trouble refusing him.
The room was filled with an ambient mix of conversation, piano music, laughter, the rattling of teacups and saucers, the clinking of crystal decanters and glasses, the riffling of cards from the nearby whist game, the tactful murmuring of servants, gentlemen coming in after having cigars on the balcony. She found it nearly impossible to believe that she and Gabriel were discussing something so outrageous in the midst of a respectable family gathering.
Yes. She was afraid. They were playing a very adult game, with real risks and consequences.
Looking through the screened window, Pandora saw that the balcony was empty and shadowy, with night closing around the nearby headland. “May we step outside for a moment?” she asked quietly.
Gabriel stood and helped her from her chair.
They went out on the covered balcony, which extended the entire length of the house’s main section, the sides framed with latticework and climbing roses. By tacit agreement, they went as far away as possible from the family parlor windows. A westering breeze carried the sounds of the surf and the cry of an errant seabird, and whisked away the last pungent wisps of tobacco smoke.
Leaning back against one of the white-painted support columns, Pandora folded her arms tightly across her chest.
Gabriel stood beside her, facing the opposite direction, his hands braced on the balcony railing as he looked out to sea. “A storm is coming,” he commented.
“How can you tell?”
“Clouds on the horizon, moving in on a crosswind. The heat will break tonight.”
Pandora looked at his profile, silhouetted against the red tarnish of sunset. He was a fantasy figure—the kind who existed in other girls’ dreams. Not hers. Before she came to Heron’s Point, she had known exactly what she wanted, and what she didn’t want, but now everything was muddled. She thought Gabriel might be trying to convince himself that he liked her well enough to marry her. However, she had come to understand enough about his commitment to his family and responsibilities to be certain that he would never voluntarily choose someone like her as his wife. Not unless it was a point of honor, to save her ruined reputation. Even if she didn’t want to be saved.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him fully. “Are you going to try to seduce me?”
Gabriel had the gall to smile at her bluntness. “I might try to tempt you. But the choice would be yours.” He paused. “Are you worried that you might not want me to stop?”
Pandora snorted. “After what my sister Helen told me about the conjugal embrace, I can’t fathom why any woman would willingly consent to it. But I suppose if any man could make it slightly less revolting than it sounds, it would be you.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said, sounding bemused. “I think.”
“But no matter how non-repulsive you might be able to make it,” Pandora continued, “I still have no desire to try it.”
“Even with a husband?” he asked softly.
Pandora hoped the shadows helped to conceal her reddening face. “If I were married, I would have no choice but to fulfill my legal spousal obligation. But I still wouldn’t want to.”
“Don’t be so sure. I have persuasive skills you don’t know about yet.” His lips twitched at her expression. “Shall we go inside and finish the game?”
“Not when you’ve demanded a forfeit that goes against every principle.”
“You’re not worried about principles.” Gabriel leaned closer, crowding her gently back against the column. His taunting whisper curled in her right ear like a wisp of smoke. “You’re worried that you might do something naughty with me and enjoy it.”
Pandora was silent, trembling with mortified surprise at the slow burn of excitement that had awakened in all the intimate places of her body.
“Let fate decide,” Gabriel said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Her reply was honest and a bit wobbly. “I could en
d up having no choices left.”
“I’ll leave you a virgin. Only a little less innocent.” His fingertips found the inside of her wrist, his fingertips stroking a tiny pulse. “Pandora, you’re not living up to your reputation as the misbehaving twin. Take a risk. Have a little adventure with me.”
Pandora had never imagined being vulnerable to this kind of temptation, never guessed at how difficult it would be to resist. Meeting him in secret, at night, would be the most genuinely disgraceful thing she’d ever done, and she wasn’t entirely certain that he would keep his promise. But conscience was putting up the flimsiest, most feeble possible defense against a desire that seemed shameful in its blind power. Weak with nerves and hunger and anger, she made her decision too quickly, the way she made most of her decisions.
“I’ll finish the game,” she said crisply. “And before the night ends, the entrance hall will be echoing with your stirring rendition of the national anthem. All six verses.”
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I only know the first verse, so you’ll have to settle for hearing that one six times.”
In retrospect, Pandora shouldn’t have been surprised that the last hand of whist proceeded in an entirely different manner than the first two hands. Gabriel’s playing style altered drastically, no longer cautious but aggressive and swift. He won trick after trick with miraculous ease.
It wasn’t a fleecing. It was a massacre.
“Are these cards marked?” Pandora asked irritably, trying to inspect the backs of them without revealing her hand.
Gabriel looked affronted. “No, it was a sealed deck. You saw me open it. Would you like me to fetch a new one?”
“Don’t bother.” Doggedly she played out the rest of the hand, knowing already how it would end.
There was no need to tally up the points. He’d won by such a large margin that it would have been a pointless exercise.
“Cousin Devon was right to warn me,” Pandora muttered in disgust. “I’ve been flamboozled. You’re not a mediocre player at all, are you?”
“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “I learned how to play cards from the best sharpers in London while I was still in short trousers.”
“Swear to me these cards weren’t marked,” she demanded, “and that you weren’t hiding any up your sleeve.”
He gave her a level glance. “I swear it.”
In a turmoil of anxiety, anger, and self-blame, Pandora pushed back from the table and stood before he could move to help her. “I’ve had enough of games for now. I’m going to sit with my sister and the other girls.”
“Don’t be cross,” Gabriel coaxed, rising to his feet. “You can back out if you wish.”
Although she knew the offer was meant to be conciliatory, Pandora was highly insulted nonetheless. “I take games seriously, my lord. Paying a debt is a matter of honor—or do you assume that because I’m a woman, my word means less than yours?”
“No,” he said hastily.
She gave him a cold glance. “I will meet you later.” Turning on her heel, she walked away, trying to keep her stride relaxed and her face expressionless. But her insides had frozen with abject fear as she thought of what she would soon face.
A rendezvous . . . alone with Gabriel . . . at night . . . in the dark.
Oh God, what have I done?
Chapter 11
Gripping a brass candleholder by its finger ring and thumb hold, Pandora made her way slowly along the upstairs hallway. Black shadows appeared to slide across the floor, and she ignored the illusion of movement, grimly determined to keep her balance.
One flickering candle flame was all that stood between her and disaster. The lights had been extinguished, including the hanging lamp in the central hall. Aside from the occasional flash of distant lightning, the only source of illumination was a faint glow coming from the threshold of the family room.
As Gabriel had predicted, a storm had rolled in from the ocean. Its first rise was rough and furious, as it wrestled with trees and flung stray twigs and branches in every direction. The house, built low and sturdy to accommodate coastal weather, endured the gale stoically, shrugging off sheets of rain from its oak-timbered roof. Still, the sound of thunder made Pandora shiver.
She was dressed in a muslin nightgown and a plain flannel wrap, its sides folded around the front and tied with a plaited belt. Although she’d wanted to wear a day dress, there had been no way to avoid the nightly ritual of bathing and taking her hair down without making Ida suspicious.
Her feet were tucked into the Berlin wool slippers Cassandra had made, which, owing to an accidental misreading of the pattern, had resulted in two different sizes. The slipper for the right foot was perfect, but the left one was loose and floppy. Cassandra had been so apologetic that Pandora had made a special point of wearing them, insisting they were the most comfortable slippers ever made.
She stayed close to the wall, occasionally reaching out to graze it with her fingertips. The darker her surroundings, the worse her equilibrium, the signals in her head refusing to match up with what her body told her. At certain moments, the floor, walls, and ceiling might all abruptly switch places for no reason, leaving her flailing. She had always relied on Cassandra to help her if they had to go somewhere at night, but she couldn’t very well ask her twin to escort her to an illicit meeting with a man.
Breathing with effort, Pandora stared fixedly at the hushed amber glow down the hallway. The carpeting stretched like a black ocean between her and the family parlor. Holding the wavering lit candle far out in front of her, she took one step after another, straining to see through the shadows. A window had been left open somewhere. Moist, rain-scented air kept whisking against her face and across her bare ankles, as if the house were breathing around her.
A midnight rendezvous was supposed to be romantic and daring, something done by girls who were not wallflowers. But this was an exercise in misery. She was exhausted and worried, fighting to keep her balance in the darkness. All she wanted was to be safe in bed.
As she stepped forward, the loose slipper on her left foot flopped just enough to make her trip and stumble, nearly falling to her knees. Somehow she managed to catch her balance, but the candleholder flew out of her hand. The wick was instantly extinguished as it hit the floor.
Gasping, disoriented, Pandora stood engulfed in darkness. She didn’t dare move, only kept her arms suspended in midair, fingers spread like cat’s whiskers. Shadow-currents flowed around her, gently pushing her off balance, and she stiffened against their intangible momentum.
“Oh, damn,” she whispered. Icy sweat broke out on her forehead as she worked to think past the first rush of panic.
The wall was on her left side. She had to reach it. She needed stability. But the first cautious step made the floor drop from beneath her feet, and the world lurched in a diagonal tilt. She staggered and landed on the floor with a heavy thud . . . or was it the wall? Was she leaning upright or lying down? Leaning, she decided. She was missing her left slipper, and her bare toes were flat against a hard surface. Yes, that was the floor. Pressing her damp cheek to the wall, she willed her surroundings to sort themselves out, while a high-pitched tone rang in her left ear.
There were too many heartbeats in her chest. She couldn’t breathe around them. Her pained intakes of air sounded like sobs. A large, dark form approached so swiftly that she shrank against the wall.
“Pandora.” A pair of hard arms closed around her. She quivered as she heard Gabriel’s low voice, and felt herself wrapped in the reassurance of his body. “What happened? My God, you’re shaking. Are you afraid of the dark? The storm?” He kissed her damp forehead and pressed soothing murmurs into her hair. “Easy. Softly, now. You’re safe in my arms. Nothing’s going to harm you, my sweet girl.” He had discarded his black formal coat, and the turndown collar of his shirt had been unfastened. She could smell the spice of shaving soap on his skin, the acrid tang of starched linen and the hint of cigar smoke absorbed by his
silk waistcoat. The fragrance was masculine and comforting, making her shiver in relief.
“I . . . I dropped my candle,” she wheezed.
“Don’t worry about that.” One of his hands curved around the back of her neck, fondling gently. “Everything’s all right now.”
Her heart began to measure out beats more evenly, no longer casting them out in careless handfuls. The waking-nightmare feeling began to dissipate. But as her alarm faded, a hideous tide of embarrassment overwhelmed her. Only she could have botched a midnight rendezvous so terribly.
“Feeling better?” he asked, one of his hands sliding down to enfold hers in a reassuring grasp. “Come with me to the family parlor.”
Pandora wanted to die. She didn’t move, only let out a defeated breath. “I can’t,” she blurted out.
“What is it?” came the gentle question.
“I can’t move at all. I lose my balance in the dark.”
His lips went to her forehead again, and he kept them there for a long moment. “Put your arms around my neck,” he eventually said. After she obeyed, he lifted her easily, clasping her high against his chest.
Pandora kept her eyes closed as he carried her along the hallway. He was strong and superbly coordinated, sure-footed as a cat, and she felt a pang of envy. She couldn’t remember what it was like to move so confidently through the night, fearing nothing.
The family parlor was lit only by a fire in the hearth. Gabriel went to a low, deeply upholstered empire sofa with a curved back and arms, and settled with her in his lap. Her pride objected feebly to the way he was holding her, as if she were a frightened child. But his hard chest was comforting, and his hands slowly chased the nervous tremors that ran through her limbs, and it was the nicest, warmest feeling she’d ever known. She needed this. Just for a few minutes.
Reaching over to a mahogany sofa table, Gabriel picked up an engraved dram glass half-filled with inky liquid. Without a word, he pressed the glass to her lips as if she couldn’t be trusted to hold it on her own without spilling it.
Pandora sipped cautiously. The drink was delicious, with rich flavors of toffee and plum leaving mellow heat on her tongue. She took another, deeper taste, her hands creeping up to take the glass from him. “What is this?”