Her hands flew up to her chest. “Why? Do you think the intruder will return?”

Gabriel sighed. “No. It’s not the intruder I’m worried about.”

Chapter 7

The thin streams of light shooting through the gaps in the shutters pricked at Rebecca’s eyes, rousing her from a peaceful slumber. With a stretch and a yawn, she raised herself up on her elbows and surveyed the room. Everything looked the same as it always did.

Although it felt different — she felt different.

It had taken hours to drift off, her thoughts frolicking in the secret place before sleep and dreams. There, she had waltzed with Gabriel Stone, strolled through meadows and kissed him under the stars. She relived the moment his lips first met hers, the way his hot mouth robbed her of her breath, the way her mind and body melted into liquid fire when held in his arms.

In this private realm, she was free to indulge in lascivious thoughts. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of his aroused body pressed against her, desire coursing through her veins like a delicious form of agony.

She should have been ashamed of those feelings. But how could she, when they made her feel alive and free — when they made her forget she was all alone in the world?

Gabriel Stone drifted into her thoughts as she washed, as her fingers followed the outline of her lips. When she brushed her hair, she thought she could smell the woody aroma that clung to his skin. When she smoothed the creases from her brown dress, her stomach grew warm as she recalled the way his gaze had followed the outline of her breasts.

Rebecca sighed and shook her head, as though the action would wake the logical part of her brain, the part still sleepy and dormant.

When she was ready, she sauntered into the room expecting to see Mr. Stone up and dressed, too. But he was fast asleep; his large frame squashed on the narrow chaise. The blanket clung to his arms and had bunched up around his torso, leaving his bare feet poking out of the bottom.

She needed to wake him, but he looked so peaceful and content.

The soft rhythmical sound of his breathing was like food for the soul and her thoughts moved away from the initial tug of desire. Instead, she imagined crawling up between those muscular arms and sleeping, too.

Perhaps somewhere in his subconscious, he became aware of her standing there staring at him because he stretched his arms above his head and gave a satisfied hum.

In a panic, she scurried over to the table and tried to stop her heart from thumping against her ribs. She busied about clearing last nights plates, putting the decanter back on its tray in the hope the tinkering would alert him to her presence.

“Forgive me,” he suddenly said, his voice drifting across the room, the husky tones of sleep massaging her senses. “I do not usually sleep so late.”

When Rebecca turned to face him, she swallowed.

He was sitting up, his elbows resting on his knees as he brushed his hands through his hair in a bid to tame the unruly black locks. She noticed his waistcoat and cravat draped over the chair, the whole scene being one of relaxed intimacy.

An intimacy shared by lovers.

“It is only s-seven,” she stuttered, failing in her attempt to look anywhere in the room except at him.

He groaned as he drew the palm of his hand down his face.

“I will leave you to dress,” she added, desperate to get all her words out before she choked on them. “You may use my room to wash. There’s fresh water in the pitcher. I shall go downstairs and prepare something to eat. Do you drink coffee, Mr. Stone?”

“Gabriel,” he said with a mischievous grin, “and yes, Miss Linwood, I drink coffee.”

“Excellent,” she beamed as she collected a handful of plates, the sound of clattering china alerting him to her trembling fingers.

“Would you like some help?”

She swung around and a knife went skittering across the floor. “No, I will be perfectly fine.” But he ignored her comment and walked over to pick it up.

As he placed it back on top of the plates, her gaze betrayed her inner thoughts, as it refused to move from the dusting of dark hair peeking out from beneath the open collar of his shirt.

His mouth curved up into the beginnings of a smile. “I should get dressed.”

Rebecca spent twenty minutes preparing ham, eggs and toast, her mind torn between giving Mr. Stone time to wash and dress and rushing to finish before Mrs. James came back at eight.

She walked back into the room to find him admiring the painting of her mother, his clothing as impeccable as when he first arrived. Upon hearing the rattling tray, he rushed over, took it from her and carried it over to the table, and they began their meal in comfortable silence.

Tags: Adele Clee Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net