“Gabriel,” he supplied.
Gabriel. One of those seven archangels, a warrior of the heavenly armies. Strong, powerful. It perfectly suited him. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” She warmed at that belated, half-hearted protestation.
“No. It would not, Jane.” His thick, hooded, black lashes shielded all hint of emotion within his eyes. There was the faintest and yet, she’d venture, deliberate emphasis on that, her name. A statement from a man who, with his aura of power, could command a kingdom, that he’d noted her regard for propriety and gave not a jot.
She fisted her hands. But then, wasn’t that a luxury permitted one of his lofty station? Jane stiffened as he bent down and retrieved something.
He held up her fragile, wire-rimmed spectacles. “Your spectacles?”
Jane touched her naked face and anxiety pounded at her chest as she flew across the room and, in the most undignified manner, plucked them from his fingers. How could she have not recalled dropping them? The hideous and useless frames she’d donned after her first post as a companion to an aging countess “Thank you.” The woman’s devoted son, with his wandering hands, had taught Jane her first important lesson on those of the nobility who saw in her, and every other woman of her station, someone there for nothing more than their pleasures. She hurriedly opened them and jammed them on her face. Jane smoothed her palms over the front of her skirts. “I would apologize again for hitting you, my lord.”
“Gabriel.”
“Gabriel,” she amended. After all, when one was pleading for one’s post, it wouldn’t do to argue.
He took a step toward her. “And I’ve already said there is nothing to apologize for.”
“But there is.” Putting one’s hands upon a nobleman, a punishable offense that, at least, merited being turned out immediately. She held her palms up. “I’d ask that you not dismiss me outright, but allow me to remain on so that I might meet your sister.”
The ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. “And you still believe that my sister will agree to you as a companion?” There was a faint trace of humor there that gave her pause. He was so very confident that she should be turned out by his sister, and the experience Jane had working with Mrs. Belden’s students should have very well supported his opinion, and yet something gave her hope.
The long-case clock struck eleven and she started. A slow smile tipped her lips at the corner at that slight, but very obvious, sign. “I do believe you’ll not be rid of me as quickly as you wish, my—Gabriel,” she corrected at his pointed look.
“Is that what you believe?” He arched an eyebrow. “That I am eager to be rid of you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I’m merely trying to see my sister properly cared for.” The serious set to his face hinted at a sadness to him and gave her pause. She recognized that sadness because she carried that painful sentiment within her and she hated that she’d seen a like emotion from him. For it was far easier to challenge and loathe a man for his high-handedness. It was quite another to confront a gentleman who genuinely cared for his sister and wore a cloak of sadness about him. That made him real in ways that were dangerous to her well-ordered thoughts. “I have to leave.” She winced. Should leave. She should leave.
He inclined his head, but made no move to stop her. Instead, he stepped aside, opening the path to the doorway. Jane forced her legs to move.
Gabriel called out. “Jane?”
She stopped and cast a glance back at him.
“Have you forgotten something?” Her common sense, her logic and clear thoughts. He motioned to the lone book, startled from her hands a short while ago lying indignantly upon its spine.
Jane rushed over and claimed the forgotten volume and with the black leather book pulled protectively against her chest, she hurried from the room, desperate to put distance between herself and the suddenly very human marquess.
Gabriel.
Chapter 7
The following morning, Gabriel sipped coffee from his cup. His lips pulled at the familiar but still bitter bite of the black brew. Periodically, he glanced at the empty doorway. Jane, the feisty companion with a powerful right jab, had occupied his thoughts from the moment she’d fled the library. With her parting, he’d sought out his chambers. Alas, sleep had eluded him. Instead, alternating emotions—desire, a hungering to explore her mouth once more, and a nauseating guilt had gripped him. Gabriel didn’t go about kissing those in his employ.