CHAPTER TWELVE A LESSON IN TRUST #3
Eleanor’s eyes closed briefly. When she opened them, tenderness filled her face.
“Trying honestly is worth more than charming certainty.”
The sentence entered him like absolution he had not earned and did not yet know how to receive. Hastings knocked.
“Tea, my lord.”
Gabriel did not look away from Eleanor.
“Leave it outside.”
A pause.
“Yes, my lord.”
Footsteps retreated. Eleanor reached for the pins beneath her academic cap. Gabriel watched as she removed one, then another. Dark hair began loosening around her shoulders.
“What do you need?” he asked.
Her fingers stopped.
“Comfort,” he said. “Pleasure. Both. Neither.”
She studied him. The question had no hidden answer.
“Both.”
Desire moved through him, deep and immediate. Gabriel crossed to her slowly.
“May I help?”
“With the disguise?”
“With anything.”
Eleanor turned her back. He removed the remaining pins. Each one released another section of hair until the dark weight spilled down her back. Gabriel combed his fingers through it gently, separating strands caught in the collar. The intimacy of the task made his chest ache. Eleanor held still.
“Frances used thirty-two pins,” she said.
“I have found twenty-seven.”
“One is near my left ear.”
Gabriel located it.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Another at the crown.”
He found that too.
“Twenty-nine.”
“The remaining three may have entered my skull.”
“That explains your decision to carry a knife into a scholarly lecture.”
“You found the knife encouraging.”
“I found the knife strapped to your thigh.”
Eleanor glanced over her shoulder.
“Did you find Mr. Fenwick attractive?”
Gabriel’s hands stopped in her hair.
“This conversation contains several hazards.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No performance?”
“No performance.”
He exhaled.
“Yes.”
Eleanor turned fully. Gabriel looked at the masculine shirt, dark trousers and loosened hair.
“I recognised you,” he said. “My body apparently considered the clothing irrelevant.”
“You appeared disturbed.”
“I remain disturbed.”
She laughed. The sound released something in him.
Gabriel laughed too, and for several moments the room held no conspiracy, betrayal or approaching public destruction.
Only the absurdity of a rake discovering that desire survived academic robes and a poorly fitted cravat. Eleanor lifted her hands to his coat.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
She removed it slowly. Then his waistcoat.
Gabriel allowed her to undress him without seizing control of the moment.
Her fingers opened his cravat and shirt, revealing skin she already knew.
Eleanor touched the scar beneath his ribs and pressed her mouth to it.
He closed his eyes. The kiss did not reward pain.
He understood that now. It chose him despite it.
Eleanor kissed the marks along his side.
Gabriel’s hand moved into her hair, resting rather than directing.
When she straightened, he touched the buttons of her masculine shirt.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
He opened them one by one. The garment fell apart over the binding used to flatten her breasts. Gabriel’s desire sharpened at the sight, but concern arrived with it.
“Is that painful?”
“Only when breathing.”
“Frances.”
“She wanted accuracy.”
“I shall explain anatomy to her with violence.”
Eleanor smiled. Gabriel untied the binding carefully. As the cloth loosened, her breasts emerged, pale and softly marked where pressure had compressed them. He lowered his mouth and kissed the reddened skin above one curve. Eleanor inhaled.
“Too tender?”
“No. Again.”
He obeyed. Gabriel kissed each mark, taking his time, allowing tenderness to remain tenderness.
Then his mouth closed over one nipple. Eleanor’s fingers tightened in his hair.
Pleasure entered her breath. Gabriel used his tongue slowly, circling until the peak hardened.
He moved to the other breast, cupping it while he tasted the first evidence of her arousal in the small sounds she made.
Eleanor opened his trousers. Her hand found him already hard. Gabriel groaned against her skin.
“You are impatient,” she murmured.
“I watched you dressed as a young man for an hour while imagining removing every part of the disguise.”
“That seems an advanced scholarly difficulty.”
“It has no respectable solution.”
She stroked him once. Gabriel lifted his head.
Eleanor’s confidence no longer came from imitation.
She touched him because she understood her own power and wanted to share it.
He removed the remainder of her disguise.
The trousers slid over her hips, revealing bare thighs above stockings and the narrow knife sheath.
Gabriel stared. Eleanor lifted one brow.
“Still disturbed?”
“More than ever.”
He unfastened the sheath and placed the knife upon the desk. His fingers traced the faint line the leather had left against her thigh. Eleanor shivered. Gabriel knelt. He kissed the mark. Then higher. Her legs opened slightly. He looked up.
“Pace?”
“Slow.”
“Pressure?”
“Begin gently.”
He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.
Eleanor gripped the edge of the desk as Gabriel moved between her thighs.
His mouth touched her through the remaining undergarment first, a warm kiss that made her hips shift.
He drew the fabric down. She stepped free.
Gabriel placed both hands upon her thighs and opened her to his gaze.
She was already wet. His body tightened painfully.
“May I taste you?”
“Yes.”
He touched his tongue to her. Eleanor exhaled. Gabriel followed the soft folds slowly, gathering her arousal and listening to each change in her breathing. When he reached the sensitive point above, he circled lightly.
“More pressure,” she whispered.
He gave it. Her hand moved into his hair.
“Slower.”
Gabriel slowed. Eleanor directed him without apology, adjusting the angle with her hips and telling him when the sensation became too sharp or too faint.
Gabriel followed every instruction, finding pleasure in obedience because it belonged to trust rather than submission.
He slid one finger inside her. Her body tightened.
“Stay there,” she said.
Gabriel held still while his tongue continued.
Eleanor rocked against his mouth. The movement was small at first, then increasingly confident.
She used him to build her own pleasure, setting the rhythm rather than receiving whatever he decided to give.
Gabriel nearly lost control from the sight alone.
He added another finger when she asked. Curved them when she said deeper. Eleanor’s breathing broke.
“Yes.”
Gabriel repeated the movement. Her thighs tightened around his head. The hand in his hair trembled. He felt the climax gathering in her body.
“Do not stop,” she said.
He did not. Eleanor came against his mouth with a low cry, her hips lifting while pleasure pulsed around his fingers.
Gabriel held her through every wave, easing the pressure only when her body softened.
He kissed the inside of her thigh. Then he rose.
Eleanor’s face was flushed, her hair falling loose and wild around her shoulders.
She looked nothing like Mr. Fenwick. She looked entirely like the woman Gabriel loved.
The thought no longer sent him toward a door.
Eleanor kissed him. She tasted herself upon his mouth and made a soft sound that hardened him further.
Her hands pushed his shirt from his shoulders.
Gabriel removed the rest of his clothing, while Eleanor walked him backward toward the bedchamber adjoining the study.
She sat him upon the mattress. Then knelt between his thighs.
Gabriel’s breath stopped. Eleanor wrapped one hand around him.
“You are very quiet.”
“I am considering prayer.”
“To which god?”
“Whichever one protects foolish men from educated women.”
She smiled and lowered her mouth. Gabriel’s head fell back.
Her lips closed around the tip, warm and wet, while her hand stroked the length she could not take.
She had learned him well. She used the pressure he liked, slowing when his hips tightened and drawing her tongue along the sensitive underside until his control began to fracture.
Gabriel placed one hand upon the bed. The other rested lightly in her hair.
Eleanor took him deeper. A groan tore from him. She lifted her mouth.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“Too close?”
“Yes.”
She stroked him again. Gabriel caught her wrist.
“Merciless woman.”
“You taught me temptation.”
“I did not anticipate competence becoming vindictive.”
Eleanor kissed the tip once. Gabriel’s fingers tightened around her wrist.
“Join me,” she said.
The words rescued and destroyed him simultaneously.
He reached for the drawer beside the bed and removed a sheath.
Eleanor watched him prepare, her gaze direct enough to make the act feel intimate rather than practical.
Then she lay upon the bed and turned onto her side, facing away from him. Gabriel paused.
“You want me behind you?”
“Yes.”
He moved close, fitting his body along hers.
The position placed her back against his chest, her hips cradled by his thighs.
Gabriel kissed her shoulder while one hand slid over her waist and stomach.
Eleanor reached behind and guided him. He pressed into her slowly.
Her body opened around him. Gabriel stopped after the first inch.
“More?”
“Yes.”