A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

Not today. Today all he saw was a definite defensive-ness-a shield shutting her off from him. Protecting her from him.

He blinked, breaking the contact. With a curt nod, which she returned, he swung on his heel and strode off.

Slowing as he neared the edge of the lawn, he wondered what he would have done if she'd offered her hand. That unanswerable question led to the thought of when last he'd touched her in any way. He couldn't remember, but it was certainly not in the last decade.

He crossed the street, wriggling his shoulders as his peculiar tension drained; he called it relief at being out of her presence, but it wasn't that. It was the reaction-the one he'd never understood but which she evoked so strongly-subsiding again.

Until next they met.

Alathea watched him go; only when his boots struck the cobbles did she breathe freely again. Her nerves easing, she looked around. Beside her, Mary and Alice blithely chatted, serenely unaware. It always amazed her that their nearest and dearest never saw anything odd in their fraught encounters-other than themselves, only Lucifer saw, presumably because he'd grown up side by side with them and knew them both so well.

As her pulse slowed, elation bloomed within her.

He hadn't recognized her.

Indeed, after the total absence of his typical reaction to her when he'd met the countess last night, combined with the strong resurgence of it in the last hour, she doubted he'd ever make the connection.

This morning, she'd woken to the certain knowledge that it wasn't her physical self that he found so provoking. If he didn't know she was Alathea Morwellan, nothing happened. No suppressed irritation, no sparks, no clashes. Blissful nothing. Cloaked and veiled, she was just another woman.

She didn't want to dwell on why that made her feel so happy, as if a weight had suddenly lifted from her heart. It was clearly her identity that caused his problem-and it was, she now knew, his problem, something that arose first in him, to which she then reacted.

Knowing didn't make the outcome any easier to endure, but…

She focused on the wrought iron gates through which he had emerged. They were open to admit coaches to the courtyard of the Inn. She could see the Inn's archways and the glint of bronze plaques-it wasn't hard to guess the purpose of the plaques.

He'd seemed satisfied and confident when he'd strolled away from the gates.

Drawing in a determined, fully recovered breath, Alathea smiled at Mary and Alice. "Come, girls. Let's stroll about the Inn."

Evening came, and with it a strange restlessness.

Gabriel prowled the parlor of his house in Brook Street. He'd dined and was dressed to go out, to grace the ballroom of whichever tonnish hostess he chose to favor with his presence. There were four invitations from which to choose; none, however, enticed.

He wondered where the countess would spend her evening. He wondered where Alathea would spend hers.

The door opened; he paused in his pacing. His gentleman's gentleman, Chance, pale hair gleaming, immaculately turned out in regulation black, entered with the replenished brandy decanter and fresh glasses on a tray.

"Pour me one, will you?" Gabriel swung away as Chance, short and slight, headed for the sideboard. He felt peculiarly distracted; he hoped a stiff brandy would clear his mind.

He'd left Lincoln's Inn buoyed by his small success, focused on the countess and the sensual game unfolding between them. Then he'd met Alathea. Ten minutes in her company had left him feeling like the earth had shifted beneath his feet.

She'd been part of his life for as long as he could remember; never before had she shut him out of her thoughts. Never before had she been anything but utterly free with her opinions, even when he'd wished otherwise. When they'd met in January, she'd been her usual open, sharp-tongued self. This afternoon, she'd shut him out, kept him at a distance.

Something had changed. He couldn't believe his comments had made her defensive; it had to be something else. Had something happened to her that he hadn't heard about?

The prospect unsettled him. He wanted to focus on the countess, but his thoughts kept drifting to Alathea.

Reaching the room's end, he swung around-and nearly mowed Chance down.

Chance staggered back-Gabriel caught his arm, simultaneously rescuing the brimming tumbler from the wildly tipping salver.

"Hoo!" Chance waved the salver before his unprepossessing visage. "That was a close one."

Gabriel caught his eye, paused, then said, "That will be all."

"Aye, aye, sir!" With cheery insouciance, Chance headed for the door.

Gabriel sighed. "Not 'Aye, aye'-a simple 'Yes, sir' will do."