CHAPTER EIGHT THE SPY BEHIND THE SMILE #5
“What will you not give me?”
“My trust.”
The word hurt more than he expected. Perhaps because trust had become the thing he wanted most only after losing it.
“Eleanor—”
“No.”
She stepped away from the desk.
“You may enter the house when I decide it is necessary and under conditions I approve. Julian may position guards. Hargreaves may inspect the records after I remove them. You will not search my father’s study without me.”
“That places you in danger.”
“So did the Mercury Club.”
“I was with you.”
“And still withholding information.”
Gabriel accepted the blow.
“You are right.”
The answer stopped her. He continued before pride could interfere.
“You are right that I controlled what you knew while asking for complete honesty from you. You are right that useful work does not erase the damage caused by its methods. You are right that I used charm this morning because I was afraid of what last night meant.”
Eleanor’s expression became less certain. Gabriel felt hope and distrusted it.
“I cannot undo the omission,” he said. “I can answer what you ask now.”
“What did last night mean?”
The question arrived before either of them prepared for it.
Gabriel looked at her. Everything, his body said.
Danger, memory answered. A choice freely made, the investigator in him insisted.
The beginning of something he did not know how to survive, said the frightened part he had spent years silencing.
“It meant more than I intended,” he said.
Eleanor’s face tightened.
“That is not the same as saying what it meant.”
“No.”
“Then you are still deciding which truth I may have.”
“I am trying not to promise what I do not understand.”
“I asked for honesty, not promises.”
Gabriel moved closer.
“What if the honest answer changes tomorrow?”
“Then tomorrow you tell me it changed.”
“And if that harms you?”
“You do not get to prevent all possible pain by causing a particular one first.”
He stopped. The words from that morning returned. He had done precisely that. Eleanor looked tired now. Not physically, though the sleepless night had left faint shadows beneath her eyes. She looked tired of translating his defences. Gabriel wanted to remove the burden. He did not know how.
“Last night mattered,” he said. “Waking beside you mattered more. I turned it into a jest because I wanted the distance before you could create it.”
Eleanor’s breath trembled.
“I had not intended to.”
“I know.”
“You assumed.”
“Yes.”
“And punished me for your assumption.”
“Yes.”
A long silence followed. Gabriel did not attempt to fill it.
That, at least, he had learned. Eleanor looked toward the books, the rain-darkened windows and finally back at him.
He saw the decision before she moved. She crossed the distance between them.
Gabriel’s heart struck hard against his ribs.
Eleanor stopped directly before him. Her gaze lowered to his mouth.
The gesture belonged to the first lesson, but it no longer resembled practice.
She knew precisely what the glance did to him. Every part of Gabriel became alert.
“Eleanor.”
She touched his coat. One finger traced the lapel, then curled into the fabric. He remained still. Her other hand rose to his jaw. The contact was light. Tender enough to be cruel. Gabriel’s control frayed.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Returning a lesson.”
Then Eleanor kissed him. She used everything he had taught her and allowed the anticipation to gather first. Her mouth touched his softly, without urgency, as though she possessed all the time in the world and had already decided how much of him she intended to take.
Gabriel’s body answered instantly. He reached for her waist. Eleanor deepened the kiss before his hands arrived, opening her mouth beneath his and letting her tongue touch his with quiet confidence. Desire overwhelmed reason.
Gabriel pulled her closer. For one heartbeat, she came willingly.
Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her fingers slid into his hair, and the kiss became hot enough to erase the room around them.
Gabriel tasted anger, longing and the memory of everything they had done naked in the guest chamber.
He wanted her again. Despite the betrayal.
Because of the argument. Beyond every reasonable boundary.
Eleanor made a small sound against his mouth.
Gabriel’s hand moved toward the curve of her hip.
She withdrew. Not gradually. One moment she was warm and open against him, and the next cold air separated their bodies. Gabriel followed instinctively. Eleanor placed one palm against his chest. He stopped. Her lips were swollen. Her breathing was no steadier than his.
“That,” she said, “was performance.”
Then she stepped away, collected her gloves and left the library. The door closed behind her. Gabriel stood alone with her taste upon his mouth and the hard evidence of desire straining beneath his clothes. He knew performance and had built his life upon it. That kiss had not been one.