Page 10 of Scoundrel for Sale
“I’m not so sure.” Abbie paused, searching for the right words. “Am I correct in my understanding that it is possible for the woman to enjoy it?”
Gabe bit off a string of curses, the least offensive of which were bloody and hell. He crossed the room in three strides and poured himself another brandy. Seeing her raised eyebrow, he bit out, “I’m sorry. I’ve been in the army for nine years. I’ve forgotten how to comport myself in the presence of a lady.”
She stepped forward, raising her hands to stroke his chest. “I’ll bet you haven’t forgotten everything about being with a—confound it, Gabe!” she cried when he again went scrambling backward.
She stalked across the room after him. He kept retreating until he was all the way in the corner.
“Why,” she asked, her voice rich with annoyance, “do you keep doing that?”
Chapter 4
Abbie studied Gabe. There was a wild-eyed quality to his expression, like an animal caught in a snare.
Which she supposed was apt. She had him cornered.
And she wasn’t about to let him go. Not until he’d explained what was going on.
“D-doing what?” he sputtered.
Oh, that was rich—pretending his behavior was perfectly normal! Abbie’s hands curled into fists. “Recoiling from me as if I have some sort of contagious rash!”
“I, uh…”
She couldn’t shout because goodness knows how many people would hear through the thin walls of the hotel, so she had to settle for hissing. “You entered yourself in a bachelor auction! You knew you would have to make love to the winner, whoever she was. That was what you agreed to.” To her mortification, her voice was shaking, and her vision was blurred by tears. “Am I really so hideous that you can’t bear the thought of going through with it?”
“No!” He stepped forward, hands held out placatingly. “You’re not hideous at all. You’re the opposite of hideous. Just look at you, Abbie—you’re gorgeous!”
“Then why are you so openly horrified at the prospect of making love with me?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m horrified, precisely.”
She glared at him. “Is this the legendary charm of the greatest lover in England?”
A blush crept over his cheeks, discernible despite his golden tan. “You’re not supposed to know about that.”
“I wasn’t supposed to know about your reputation when I was fourteen and you were twenty, but I did, because absolutely everybody was talking about it. But allow me to point out that I am no longer fourteen.” She made a sweeping gesture from her shoulders to her feet. “I am a woman of twenty-five, married and widowed, and there is no reason I might not read the scandal sheets like everyone else.” She studied him. The panic in his eyes was not feigned. “Is that the problem, Gabe? That you still think of me as a little girl instead of a woman?”
He laughed blackly. “Believe me, that’s not it.”
As he was now standing in profile to her, Abbie had an unimpeded view of his pantaloons, so tight they left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
She sucked in a breath as she studied the heavy bulge straining against his falls. Indeed, it appeared that a lack of physical attraction was not the problem.
“Well, what is it, then? Do you think it unseemly for me to want to make love to a man who can actually make it good for me?” She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. “Because I do want that. My husband, God rest his soul, was not a bad man, but he didn’t know a single thing about pleasing a woman. And my next husband looks just as unpromising.”
He rounded on her. “What do you mean, your next husband? Are you betrothed to another?”
“I am not. But I’ve received an offer of marriage, and I might be forced to accept it.”
He crossed his arms. “Explain.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not.”
Worry stole into Gabe’s eyes. “Are you destitute?”
“No.” Which was true, strictly speaking.
Although if Nigel Davies, the cousin who had inherited the barony from her deceased husband, had his way, she soon would be.
