Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,34

mistress with his mother had been bad enough; he did not want to talk about his mother with one of his mistresses. “Why do you expect more from me, Giselle?”

“Because you are not English. You are a man of the world.”

“I have lived in North Africa and England; that is hardly the world.”

“Yes, but you were raised to expect an early marriage from a young age, were you not?”

He had been, although that changed in an instant when his father died and his betrothed had married his brother. He shrugged, not wishing to discuss the complicated subject of Fatima.

“In any case,” she said, reading his mood correctly and leaving the topic behind, “your experience is enough to know there is more than one way to”—she hesitated—“to skin a cat. I believe that is the English saying?”

“How the devil would I know—it certainly sounds dreadful enough to be an English saying.”

Her hand tightened. “We’ve wandered from the point.”

“What was your point, cherie?”

“You know you are not my first male lover.”

“Nor are you my first female lover, Giselle. Come,” he said, pulling her closer, her lush, responsive body melting against his like hot wax from a candle. “Out with it, my dear. What is it you are trying to say?”

Her expression became serious. “You are the only man Maria and I have met who has accepted what we feel for each other without either being threatened, treating us as unthinking vessels for nothing but pleasure, or acting as if we were depraved.”

Gabriel had nothing to say to that—he had no idea how other men thought about their lovers or what they did with them. It was a private matter that he’d never had any interest in discussing with another man—even with somebody as close as his friend Byer; although he knew his friend was intensely curious about his arrangement with Giselle and Maria.

“I see you are looking skeptical, but it is true. Most men only want a woman like me to open her mouth if I use it for something other than talking. You—” She traced a fine scar on his chin. “Well, you are different, and for the life of me, I cannot understand why. After all, you are the son of a man who kept women by the hundreds sequestered for his pleasure.”

“Well, not by the hundreds.”

“You know what I mean.” She reached up and brushed back his hair before lowering her cool hand to his jaw. “You were raised with the expectation that one day you would have that many women.Yet you have always been a friend to us, the only lover who has asked about us, where we are from, what dreams we have, what we want. I can only assume this is the work of your famous mother—a woman who has lived more in one lifetime than most have in ten.”

“Ha. Infamous is more like.” He flushed under her warm regard, and she chuckled, skimming his jaw with her knuckles, her smile turning impish.

“You are a wonderful lover and friend and we will miss you dearly.” She slid her arms around him, straddling his lap.

“What? Are you tossing me out already?” Gabriel wrapped his arms around her, flexing his hips beneath her spread thighs.

She chuckled at what she felt. “Mmm, I believe your mind is on other things, Gabriel.”

“Perhaps.” He lowered his mouth over hers, and her lips opened without hesitation. For a moment he lost himself and his problems inside her, stroking into her, reveling in her hot, sweet taste.

But then he recalled he’d not come here for this. He sighed and pulled back, smiling into her sky blue eyes. “I have a gift for you, my dear.”

Her brows arched. “Oh? I thought this was my gift?” She stroked his groin, and Gabriel groaned, laying a hand over hers. She was making this hard for him, in every sense of the word.

“Very well,” she said with a shrug, giving him a wicked smile.

“Witch,” he muttered, shifting and trying to adjust himself into a less painful position.

“If you’ve brought me something, I hope you brought something for Maria and Samir.”

“I am not a fool, Giselle. My coat pockets are stuffed like a sneak thief’s. You can give my gifts to the others.”

“You won’t wait for them?” Her eyes flicked upward—toward the bedchamber she shared with Maria, and which they both shared with Gabriel when he visited.

“I cannot indulge myself, as much as I might need and want to.” He shook his head, his regret unfeigned. “I probably