CHAPTER 28

GAbrIEL WOKE UP WITH a start. How long had he slept? He had not meant to fall asleep at all. Every moment with her was precious, and he didn't want to waste them on sleep. But the bone deep contentment of the releases they had shared had pulled them under.

Careful of not waking the sleeping beauty in his arms, he got up from the bed and walked to the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten minutes past three in the morning. He had only slept for about two hours then. It would be at least another hour until he needed to take her home.

Home. The word caused a pang of sadness. He wished this was her home, here with him. That he didn't have to sneak her back into her own house under cover of darkness. Like thieves. Fruitless wishes. Things were the way they were, and nothing would change that.

He added more wood to the fire before he walked naked to the adjacent bathing chamber. With hot and cold plumbed water, it had been an extravagant luxury the old earl had indulged in. One of many that had helped ruin the estate. He couldn't complain about this particular folly, however, for he enjoyed the benefits. And today he would share them with her.

He maneuvered the taps, testing the temperature of the water, until he was satisfied with the results, and left the bath to fill up as he went back to the bedchamber to wake Hannah. She was sleeping on her side, her fist tucked in beneath her chin. She looked so peaceful that he was loath to disturb her, but time was running short, and he wanted her to have time to bathe. Then he would help her dress and they would depart for her home.

His baser instinct wondered if perhaps there would be time to make love once more, but he quelled the impulse. Bending over her sleeping form, he deposited a soft kiss on her lips.

"Hannah," he murmured. "It's time to wake up, love."

She cracked open her eyes, and the sweetness of her smile curled around his heart. She reached for him, and for a few crazy, magical moments, he allowed her to pull him into the warmth of her embrace. When she pulled at the edges of his robe, however, he knew it was time to stop. If they went down this path, they would never leave for her house on time.

Rising from the bed with her cradled in his arms, he turned and walked towards the bathing chamber.

"Hmm, where are you taking me?"

It pleased him that she was so relaxed, so trusting of him, that there was no apprehension in her query at being carried naked out of the room. Only curiosity.

"I've drawn a bath for you. The warm water will soothe any strained or overused muscles."

Her laugh was still husky from sleep. "A bath sounds divine."

He walked to the enormous tub, and he would have lowered her directly into the warm water, but she stayed him. "Wait. I need to pin my hair up so that it doesn't get wet."

He had not considered that. Frowning, he stood her on the soft rug next to the tub. "If I bring you the pins, can you do your own hair?"

"Of course. It won't be anything like the coiffures my maid does, but I can manage a bun."

Relieved, he went to collect the pins. He knew how to undo a lady's hair, but damned if he had any idea how to put it back up.

Her movements as she dealt with her long strands were efficient and assured. He took great pleasure in watching her perform this simple domestic task. If they were married, he could watch her do that every night.

Now, where did that thought come from?

Soon, she had securely pinned the thick mass of hair at the top of her head, and he offered her his hand to help her step over the rim of the tub. She sank into the warm water with a sigh of pleasure.

"Why don't you join me? There's room enough for both, and I'm sure..." She trailed off when he shook his head, smiling to take the sting off his rejection of the offer.

"If I get into the tub with you, we will get involved in activities we have no time to indulge in."

He grabbed the washcloth and, after lathering it up, he came to her, taking a seat at the wide edge of the tub. "I can wash your back if you want."

As an answer, she leaned forward, hugging her legs and resting her head on her arms. And he rubbed the soft cloth over the creamy expanse of her back in wide, slow circles.

He continued washing her in silence, with unhurried movements. One arm, the other, her chest, giving an extra rub to her nipples, which turned to hard pebbles. He forced himself to not linger, or his resolve would falter. She reclined back and lifted a leg as he ran the cloth along the length of it. All the way to her pink tiny toes.

"Even your feet are beautiful," he said as he closed his lips over her big toe and sucked.

She gasped, and her eyes widened. He saw surprise and reluctant arousal. Damn it, she was so responsive. He would bet she'd felt that tug all the way to her core. No . Stop it. With a kiss to her instep, he released her leg and stood, chagrined that his cock had decided to stand as well.

With a ruthless push, he suppressed it, walking towards the door on the far side of the bath.

"I'll go get dressed now," he tossed over his shoulder. "Finish washing and I'll help you with your gown. Then we can leave."

"WHAT TIME IS IT?" HANNAH whispered as they approached her house in a small, one-horse cabriolet.

He had explained it was better this way as he tucked a warm carriage blanket around her and pulled the hood up. No point in waking his coachman. Gabriel sat next to her, driving the carriage with expert ease through the still, dark, and cold streets. They found little traffic in the few streets to her residence. The hour being too late for most night revelers and too early for working folk.

He checked his watch. "Almost five in the morning."

"Good, then. My staff doesn't wake until six."

"Will there be a footman at the door?" he inquired.

"No. I told them not to wait for me. I have a key, and I'm perfectly able to let myself in."

"And your maid?"

"Also abed, I imagine."

"How will you disrobe?"

She looked at him sideways, remembering how adept his fingers had been at removing her clothes. "I can manage."

They had arrived at the imposing facade of the ducal mansion. Six stories tall, it occupied the corner lot and boasted gardens on three sides. With its ornate stonework, intricate cornices and long rows of tall windows, it proclaimed the grandeur of the ducal status.

He jumped from the carriage and helped Hannah descend, accompanying her up the set of wide marble steps to the grand porticoed entrance supported by stately columns. There, in the shadows of the portico, he gave her a quick kiss and waited until she had crossed the door and locked it from inside.

Only then did he return to the cab, taking one long look at the house as he turned the corner. A lone light shone from one of the upstairs windows. Hannah was safe at home. But this situation was less than ideal. He had to find another method for their meetings.