A Winter Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page B

excitement. And when they moved closer in their movements and their hands reached out to touch, palm to palm, it left her breathless, her heart pounding.
    It was only the exertion of the dance, she told herself, that made her cheeks flush and her blood hammer in her veins. But, deep down, Thea was too honest to let herself believe such a lie. It was Gabriel Morecombe’s nearness that made her feel so strangely wobbly and fizzy, so hot and cold, all at once.
    The dance ended, and they made their polite curtsy and bow to one another. Gabriel offered her his arm, his eyes sweeping over her flushed face, and as they walked off the floor, he guided her through the open French doors onto the stone walkway beyond. Startled, Thea could think of nothing to do except go with him. She glanced around and saw that a number of other couples were strolling out onto the terrace to escape the heat of the ballroom, so she supposed that it could not be a scandalous thing to do. Again tingling with that sense of unease and excitement that Gabriel seemed to call forth in her, Thea strolled with him along the terrace. The garden below was illuminated with lanterns placed strategically along the paths between the flowers. A few bold couples even walked there, at least as far as to the fountain.
    “I—why are we out here?” Thea asked. It sounded graceless—again—but she could think of no other way to put it. Gabriel might have asked her to dance as a courtesy to his hostess, but she could see no reason why he would extend the experience by taking her for a stroll.
    He glanced at her, the same expression of mingled surprise and amusement in his eyes that she had seen there several times since Lady Fenstone had introduced them. “It was warm in the ballroom. I thought the fresh air might be nice.” He stopped, half turning to her. “Would you rather return?”
    Thea thought about going back to the chair beside her mother. “No.”
    He smiled faintly. “Good. Neither would I.”
    They continued past the steps down into the garden and stopped finally at the stone balustrade beyond. Thea looked out across the garden, very aware of Gabriel’s presence beside her. She played with her fan, not quite sure what to do with her hands. She was certain she should say something. Veronica would doubtless know what to say, but the only things that came to Thea’s mind were inane comments on the beauty of the garden or the refreshing quality of the evening breeze.
    After a moment, she glanced over at Gabriel. He was leaning back against the balustrade, watching her. The muted light from inside the house slanted across his lower face, leaving his eyes in shadow, unreadable, and illuminating his chin and mouth. Her eyes flickered to the shallow dent in his chin, so curiously appealing, then moved up to the firm lips, which were, she had to admit, even more appealing. She should not be having such thoughts, she knew. She was not the sort, like Veronica, to daydream about husbands or wax rhapsodic over the handsome face of this man or the broad shoulders of that one. Veronica was a feminine girl, all ribbons and lace and smiles, like their mother. But Thea had always been more like their father, studious and well-read, a person who valued thought above emotion. A person’s brain was what interested her most, not the curve of a man’s lip.
    She turned away, hoping the dim light hid the blush that she could feel flooding her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry? For what?” He straightened and moved a bit closer, sounding honestly puzzled.
    “I am not much of a conversationalist, I’m afraid. I am not used to”—she made a vague gesture toward the rest of the terrace and house—”to any of this. You must find this terribly …”
    “Terribly what?” he asked when she did not go on.
    “Boring.” She faced him squarely then, for she refused to shy away from difficulties.
    He let out a short bark of laughter. “Boring? My dear Miss Bainbridge,