When Sophia began to stir, he thrust his ominous thoughts out of his head and focused his mind on his plans for the lady. It wouldn't take long to reach the Mediterranean, but he fully intended to spend the next two days attending to her every pleasure.

G.o.d knew, just watching her was quite the delight of his life. Her eyelashes fluttered with waking; Gabriel looked on in soft joy, waiting to say good morning.

Her dark eyes suddenly flicked open, not fully focused yet. "Oh, G.o.d, was I snoring?" she blurted out with a start.

He flashed a smile at the unexpected greeting and lied, "Like a drunken sailor."

"Oh-I'm so embarra.s.sed!"

"I'm teasing you," he chided, laughing as he grabbed her and rolled her playfully atop him. "Princesses don't snore, Highness. Everybody knows that."

"Well, I'm not a princess today. Good morning, my love." She rumpled his hair with a reproachful pout for his jest and then hugged him back; he wrapped his arms around her. The way she snuggled her head into the crook of his neck simply turned him inside out. "Oh, I was so afraid to wake up and find this had all been naught but a beautiful dream. Is it real?"

"It's whatever you want it to be," he whispered, caressing her naked waist. For a long moment, he shut his eyes and reveled in the feel of her slim, lovely body atop him.

He was still ready to protect her with every fiber of his being, yet he found himself-most unusually-wanting to shirk his duty and explore this love unlike any he had ever known. Escape their normal roles, as they had at the farmhouse, and spend time together simply as a man and a woman. It would probably be their last chance.

And with her soft, lithe loveliness on top of him, once again, Gabriel found himself getting hard.

d.a.m.n, but the sense of death breathing down his neck seemed to make him uncontrollably h.o.r.n.y. As if he must grab onto life at its very core while he still could.

Oh, give Sophia a break, he ordered his libido, doing his best mentally to hold himself in check, as he had done for so long with her. But he loved her so much.

Whatever she wanted...

With his elbow resting on the bedroll, he silently put his hand up; she mirrored it, touching his palm. Their fingers linked, then he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Hungry?" he asked, distracting himself from those warm, silken thighs around him.

"Starved. What supplies did you bring for us, Colonel? Hardtack?"

"Hardtack? Mademoiselle, you're in France. No hardtack for you. Let's go and find some proper food."

She lifted her head and frowned at him. "Are you so eager to leave our little cave already?"

"Well, it is a cave," he said. "They have hotels."

"I love our cave. It's very special to me."

"Yes, but la belle France awaits, cherie." He kissed her precious hand. "It is the one true country of all lovers, don't you know."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "My stern soldier, are you going to turn out to be a romantic after all this time?"

"You'll have to wait and see," he whispered sweetly.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," she said archly. "I have never approved of those wild-eyed poetic types."

He laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him and wouldn't let go. Nor would she let him get up. He could not pry her off him to get the day started. Not that he tried very hard.

"Gabriel?" she mumbled, her voice m.u.f.fled against his neck as she held him.

He furrowed his brow at the note of anxiety in her voice. "What's the matter, darling?"

"What if we get to Kavros and my people decide they don't like me? What if no one will listen to me? I'm only a girl. Honestly, would you tell me if you thought I had bitten off more than I could chew?"

"You'd be a fool if you weren't scared," he whispered tenderly. "But don't worry. They will fall in love with you, believe me."

She lifted her head and favored him a grateful smile. "You are so kind to me."

"I love you," he explained.

Her smile grew, beaming like the sun. "Enough of my gloom! I don't want to talk about anything serious today!"

"No, it is forbidden," he a.s.sented.

"Gabriel?" she called his name after a moment in a bewitching little singsong.

He arched a brow at the flirtatious sparkle in her eyes. "What is it, sweet?"

When she crooked her finger at him, he quivered.

The pretty smile she gave him said it all.

He let her pull him back down gently into their bed of furs with a randy laugh and made love to her until midmorning.

Her first time had been an experience of fierce and allconsuming pa.s.sion, but her second was playful, joyous, and exploratory. Gabriel, her patient teacher, made her giddy with the lesson. Her third time-and fourth-came later that afternoon after they had strolled into the livery hotel at the next quaint little medieval bastide town they came to.

Arriving mainly to change horses, they ended up getting a room for the night.

Gabriel looked at her wryly when she gave their names to the landlord as Mr. and Mrs. King.

The French country inn was a cozy haven full of charm and made them welcome. While servants filled the bathing tub in their room, Sophia ordered supper for them from the kitchens. She could hardly wait to see what delicacies of the Perigord might appear when their meal was ready. Gabriel, meanwhile, sent a message to Lord Griffith that she was safe, then spoke to the innkeeper's wife about the horses they'd need from the livery on the morrow, and also where they could procure some fresh clothes.

Sophia could understand him wanting to be rid of the bloodstained black clothes he had worn on the mountain. She, too, was eager to leave behind the reminders of her abduction.

The landlady sent her eldest daughter off to see what ready-made pieces could be had from the local shops. "My firstborn," she declared, "has an eye for the mode of fashion."

The young woman came back a long while later with an armful of smart French clothes for them both, new underthings and three muslin day gowns for Sophia to choose from. For Gabriel, she had found a gentlemanly ensemble, a linen shirt of creamy white, tan trousers, and a plum-colored morning coat of fine wool.

The fit was rather tight, large as he was, but he decided to take it. The French girl looked love-struck by the dashing Englishman and offered to alter it for him by morning. He told her to do as she pleased.

"Are you sending the bill to the Foreign Office?" Sophia murmured as Gabriel wrote out a draught for the items.

"No, I am sending it on to my brother," he informed her.

"To Derek? Why?"

"Didn't I tell you? I signed over my whole inheritance to him some time ago. I might have been very rich if I hadn't."

"You did?" she echoed, amazed. "Why?"

"I was feeling generous," he said dryly.

Laughing, she put her arms around him dotingly as they walked toward the stairs leading up to the upper floors where the guest rooms awaited. "You are so wonderfully strange," she teased, recalling how she had found him out in the middle of nowhere living like some wild, brooding hermit.

At any rate, the farm was long behind them now. Upstairs, they stepped into their room, a soft-toned and cheerful retreat with a view of the garden. Under a simple bra.s.s chandelier with all four candles shining, thick plaster walls glowed a golden cream hue, with muted red-and-white toile draping the windows and the fourpost bed. An oil painting hung above the waist-high chest of drawers, where gla.s.ses and a few bottles of the superb local libations had already been sent up. A cozy armchair was set against the wall. Beyond the bed, a folded wooden screen stood in the distant corner; behind it, the bathing tub awaited, filled and steaming, towels and soaps on hand. All of their needs had been antic.i.p.ated.

Sophia found the place enchanting. But with their new clothes paid for, they had no intention of putting them on. Instead, they shut the door to their room and undressed, bathing together, washing each other with the fine soap scented with homegrown lavender. They made a holiday of it, hands sliding over wet, sudsy skin as they scrubbed each other clean with a slip and splash, tickle and taste, each damp caress leading to some new delightful discovery, new territory to claim, arms, legs, back, belly.

They were completely entranced with each other. Gabriel nuzzled her bent knee while she trailed her finger down the center of his face, down his handsome nose, over his lips, and down his angular chin. He captured her foot under the water, cleaned it carefully, rinsed it thoroughly, then lifted it, dripping. He kissed it several times. She watched with her temperature rising.

She knew he was up to something when he made her turn around. At first, he soaped her back for her, but his true, wicked intentions soon became clear as his hands began roaming lower. Before long, he had pushed her up onto her knees and bent her slightly over the edge of the tub, kneeling behind her as he took her, water sloshing everywhere.

Sophia groaned with pleasure; he lost patience with the cramped quarters of the tub and ordered her over to the bed. Shaking, she obeyed. Both of them still damp and slippery, he stood between her legs at the side of the bed and had his lecherous way with her, cupping the cheeks of her backside in his hands. Sophia lay back in delirious pleasure, basking in his deep penetration.

When she dragged her eyes open and gazed at his towering physique, his hard face taut with pa.s.sion, she was sure there was no one like him in all the world.

He cupped her legs to his waist as he leaned down and kissed her like he would devour her. She hooked her heels behind his muscled b.u.t.tocks and let him carry them both away to a new floodtide of bliss.

As they lay panting afterward, temporarily spent, they laughed to find that he had moved the bed several feet across the floor with his exertions. Sophia could barely move, enervated by pure pleasure.

Fortunately, having ordered a feast from the kitchens, their late supper arrived and now, donning the robes the hotelier had given them, they ate to keep up their strength in between bouts of making love.

They had already opened a bottle of the famed Armagnac brandy for an aperitif to sip during their bath, but when the waiter arrived, wheeling in his little cart, Sophia poured the superb Bergerac wine that had been left to breathe in antic.i.p.ation of their meal. Gabriel accepted the hotel's bill of fare, tipped the waiter, and then locked their chamber door, turning to her with a devilish smile. "Now we'll eat."

Sophia oohed and ahhed over the hors d'oeuvre, a pate de foie gras on fresh white toast. The foie gras made both of them moan, it was so rich and b.u.t.tery-smooth, delicately flavored with the local black truffles. The entree was a warming rabbit stew with wild mushrooms, green beans, carrots, and pearl onions from the nearby market.

The sweet course brought a cinnamon apple and walnut tart with a touch of honey, the flaky crust crumbling and light. They opened a bottle of Monbazillac for the dessert wine and brought it with them back to bed. Gabriel opted for the brandy to accompany the final course, a few bites of smoked brie on a slice of the heavenly bread, along with a clutch of green grapes.

Sophia eyed him hungrily, not quite sated yet. If the last time had been his turn to do whatever he liked to her, this time, she seized the initiative and used him as she pleased. She pushed him down onto the mattress and straddled him, holding him down-not that he fought her.

He stared at her in l.u.s.t; the feeling was mutual. She caressed him possessively, relishing the feel of so much muscle and brawn and pure male power between her legs, under her control. She kissed him in flagrant seduction, letting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s caress his chest, teasing him with her body until he was breathless, his blue eyes begging for her. She gripped his mighty erection, all virginal shyness left behind, and angled it into her waiting pa.s.sage. Her most delicate flesh was admittedly tender from all of his rough exercise, but she didn't care. She wanted him again.

Needed him.

He watched her in unadulterated hunger as she rode him, seated upright while he lay on his back against the mound of pillows. When she released his hands, he placed them on her hips. His flexing arms guided her movements, until once more they both were panting and straining in the throes of pa.s.sion. She collapsed on him with a small, wild scream of release. He cupped her head to m.u.f.fle her cries in the pillow as ecstasy blazed through her. Before her climax had ceased, his arrived; she watched his face and held his gaze as he came to her.

By the candlelight, the flicker of sweet anguish in the depths of his eyes unlocked her heart completely. She kissed him, touching his face with trembling hands, telling him over and over that she loved him as he surrendered.

Later that night, however, she wasn't sure why-she cried. The tears came unbidden in the middle of the night when she could not sleep. Thoughts of Alexa and Demetrius, and the terror of those two days were still with her, as were all her fears about her royal destiny ahead...and a foreboding awareness that the danger was not over yet.

Gabriel heard her sniffles and awoke; he gathered her to him and held her as she wept. He tucked the sheets more snugly around her and dried her eyes with a dinner napkin for a handkerchief. She put her arms around him and shed her tears against his chest. His steady presence helped to calm her, though he barely said a word. He understood better than anyone the strain she had been under.

Eventually, her tears subsided, but still he held her. Around two in the morning, he kissed her forehead tenderly and whispered, "Go to sleep."

At last, she did.

By the next morning, she felt better. They dressed in their smart new French fashions and hired a post chaise with a driver and postillion so they could ride together in the carriage for the remainder of their journey to the Mediterranean coast.

Traveling under the pretense of being newlyweds, they set out early and admired the picturesque French countryside as it went on about its day. They spotted a little boy driving a flock of big gray geese that waddled across the lazy meandering road ahead. Some nuns were readying their convent garden for the winter. Now and then the road humped up gently over an ancient Roman bridge across a stream; the occasional flatboat pa.s.sed at a leisurely pace, taking its goods to Bordeaux or some other port town.

It was easy to while away the hours in this rural idyll, but her insatiable lover had his own ideas about how to pa.s.s the time. Gabriel drew her onto his lap with a wicked half smile that she was coming to know all too well.

There was a particular manly dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he was feeling roguish and about to misbehave.

"Oh, darling, we really shouldn't," she protested unconvincingly as he caressed her with obvious intent.

Blast, but she could not resist the man.

"Give me one good reason why," he whispered as he nibbled her shoulder and discreetly lifted her skirts. "I want you."

She closed her eyes, melting against him. Facing forward while sitting on his lap, she laid her head back on his shoulder. He reached inconspicuously under the billowy ma.s.s of her gown and petticoat, and freed his rigid manhood from his trousers. No one was the wiser as Sophia draped her knees apart; beneath her skirts, cloaking their true activities, she soon could feel her bare backside against his now exposed loins. Her heart raced as he slid his throbbing hardness into her already wet pa.s.sage.

He rocked her with slow, leisurely enjoyment as the carriage rolled along. His arms around her waist, his kisses at her neck, his member sheathed inside her, all filled her with the most exquisite sensations.

Unfortunately, neither of them realized they were coming up to another little country town right in the middle of market day. The weekly vendors thronged the main road through the town. There were no blinds on the carriage windows, though the gla.s.s panes were closed. Sophia panicked. People could see right into the windows! Her skirts concealed the fact that his hardness was thrust deep inside her, but-nevertheless!

"What should I do?" she whispered frantically.

"Just enjoy the ride," he drawled in a breathless tone. "I know I will."

"Gabriel Knight!"

"It's France. Who's going to care?"

"I am the Princess Royal of Kavros-"

"No, you're my pretty plaything at the moment."

She groaned, loving the sound of that.

"G.o.d, don't stop."

"Oh-there's a priest! I hope he doesn't see us."

"Just act natural."

"This is indecent."

"Relax," he whispered, laughing, but he would not let her up off his lap. He held her impaled upon his shaft.

Her pulse galloped while the carriage wound slowly through the town. The vendors came up to the window as they rolled by, trying to sell them their goods.

"N-no, thank you. Merci, non!" Sophia declined with an air of desperation. Her cheeks were bright red, filled with a hectic blush.

"You're doing great," he taunted.

"I'm going to strangle you for this."