A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

"In the park," Mary added. "We strolled-it was such fun."

"There were some silly gentlemen about," Alice said. "They had monstrous cravats-nothing like yours or Lucifer's."

He responded easily, in truth without thought. Even though Serena, Mary, and Alice ranked high on his list of people to be kind to, with Alathea three feet away, his senses, as always, slewed to her.

And prickled, and itched.

Even though he'd barely glanced at her, he knew she was wearing a lavender walking dress and a chip bonnet that covered her haloed hair. Under the bonnet, he was certain, would lurk one of those scraps of lace he found so offensive. He couldn't comment, not even elliptically, not with Serena before him… on the other hand, if he caught Alathea's eye, she would know what he was thinking.

With that in mind, he glanced her way.

The carriage horse behind her reared, kicking over the traces-

He grabbed Alathea and hauled her to him, swinging around, instinctively shielding her. A hoof whizzed past their heads. The horse screamed, dragged the carriage, then tried to kick again-the rising knee caught him in the back.

He jerked, but stayed upright.

Pandemonium ensued. Everybody yelled. Men ran from all over to help. Others called instructions. One lady had hysterics-another swooned. In seconds, they were surrounded by a noisy crowd; the driver of the green horse was the center of attention.

Gabriel stood motionless on the curb, Alathea locked in his arms. His senses were reeling, his wits no less so. At the edge of his awareness, he heard Serena, Mary, and Alice shrilly scolding the driver-they were incensed but not hysterical. Everyone around them was watching the melee in the road, temporarily ignoring him and Alathea.

He tried to catch his breath, and couldn't. A host of emotions poured through him, relief that she was unhurt not the least. He hadn't been gentle-he'd slammed her against him, then held tight; she was plastered to him from shoulder to knee. She'd gasped, then gasped again as his body had jolted with the horse's kick.

Her gaze was fixed over his shoulder, but from her fractured breathing, he suspected she saw nothing. A light, flowery fragrance rose from her breasts, crushed to his chest; soft whorls of hair peeked from under her bonnet, mere inches from his face.

He felt her catch her breath; a slight shiver went through her. She gathered herself-he could feel steel infuse the fine muscles in her back-then she turned her head and looked into his face.

Their gazes met and held-hazel drowning in hazel. Hers were clouded, so many emotions chasing each other across her eyes that he couldn't identify any of them. Then, abruptly, the clouds cleared and one emotion shone through.

He recognized it instantly, even though it had been years since last he'd seen it. Concern poured from her eyes and warmed him-he'd forgotten how it always had.

"Are you all right?" Her hands, trapped between them, fisted in his coat. 'The horse kicked you."

When he didn't immediately reply she tried to shake him. Her body shifted against his. He caught his breath. "Yes, I'm all right." But he wasn't. "Only the knee connected-not the hoof."

She stilled in his arms, open concern for him filling her face. "It must hurt."

All of him hurt-he was so aroused he was in agony.

He knew the instant she realized. Flush against him, she couldn't help but know. Her gaze flickered, then her lashes lowered-her gaze fell to his lips, then to his cravat. An instant later, she sucked in a small breath and wriggled-just a little. It was a long ago sign between them; she wasn't attempting to break free-she knew she couldn't-she was asking to be let go.

Forcing his arms to unlock, then setting her back from him was the hardest physical labor he'd ever performed. She immediately fussed with her skirts and didn't look at him.

He felt flustered, awkward, embarrassed… he swung on his heel to view the disaster in the road, praying she hadn't noticed the color in his cheeks.

Alathea knew the instant his gaze left her. She couldn't breathe; her wits were reeling so crazily she felt disorientated as well as dizzy. Straightening, she pretended to watch as the fracas was resolved, grateful when it required Gabriel's intervention. Rigid, she waited on the pavement, stiffly inclining her head when the gentleman who'd been in charge of the young horse a

pproached with profuse apologies.

In her mind, she repeated a single refrain: Gabriel hadn't realized.

Not yet.

The question of whether he would suddenly see the light kept her stiff as a poker.

Then Serena bustled up, all matronly concern, both for her and her protector.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Uninhibited by age or elegance, Serena grabbed Gabriel's arm and made him swing around.