Gabrielle de Beaucaire was a woman unlike any other. She could meet him and match him on every level-from hasty, lustful tumbling to exquisite love games; from angry challenge to witty retort; from analytic discourse to novel opinion. And on the back of a hunter, honesty obliged him to admit that Gabrielle probably had the edge.

His eye fell on the rumpled bed, the piled cushions on the floor where their game had led them at one point, the straight-backed chair where Gabrielle had-

Helen hadn't cared for hunting. The thought burst through his lascivious reverie. She'd been like Jake, timid on horseback. She'd not been playful either. A quietly smiling, grave woman of sweet disposition, she'd lent herself to him willingly, but he remembered now how once or twice he'd had the nagging suspicion that she'd found the sweaty antics of entwined naked bodies faintly ridiculous at best, distasteful at worst. He hadn't dwelt upon the suspicion, of course… had dismissed it as silly. Helen was too sweet and compliant to make such feelings overt, and what man wanted to see himself as ridiculous in the eyes of an adoring wife?

Gabrielle mocked him, challenged him, laughed at him, but nothing they did together, however outrageous, undignified, and sometimes downright silly, made him feel ridiculous. He did things with Gabrielle that he couldn't have imagined doing with Helen. Could never reveal to anyone else without being covered with embarrassment.

But they were alike, he and Gabrielle. They played in the same dark world… but on opposite sides. They understood risks and took them boldly. It was hardly surprising that they should be so well matched… in challenge as well as in treachery.

Chapter 13

Several days later, a day filled with the intimations of spring, when crocuses and daffodils pushed through the lawn under the ancient oak trees and the weak sun brought a sparkle to the wide gray river, Gabrielle came into the house with a nosegay of snowdrops she'd picked in the orchard. She was smiling unconsciously as she inhaled their delicate fragrance.

Jake suddenly raced past her. His head was down and he bumped against her as he ran for the open front door behind her. He didn't stop to greet her, or even apologize for knocking into her, but flew down the steps of the house.

"Jake!" Gabrielle dropped the snowdrops on the console table and ran to the door, calling the child. But Jake's pace didn't decrease as he headed down the driveway. He was hatless and coatless, a condition not ordinarily permitted by his oversolicitous nurse or the zealous Miss Primmer.

"Jake!" Nathaniel came out of the library, scowling ferociously. "Where the devil has he gone? He has absolutely no manners! What has that ineffectual governess been teaching him?"

"He ran outside," Gabrielle said, turning back to the hall. "He seemed distraught. What have you said to him?"

The accusatory note in her voice was clear for both of them to hear, and Nathaniel's scowl deepened. A man appeared in the doorway behind him, a thin man with a lorgnette and lank, greasy hair, wearing dusty topboots and a morning coat of olive drab that had clearly seen better days.

"He'll become accustomed to the idea, Lord Praed," the man said with an unctuous smile.

Gabrielle took an instant and limitless dislike to the stranger. She stared at him with undisguised hauteur and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel looked slightly and most unusually discomfited. "I beg your pardon, countess," he said stiffly. "Mr. Jeffrys is to be Jake's tutor. He comes most highly recommended."

"How comforting," Gabrielle said. "When did you arrive, Mr. Jefffys?"

"This morning, my lady." The tutor-to-be inclined his angular frame from the waist in an inelegant and unpracticed bow. "Lord Praed's request for a recommendation for a tutor reached Harrow on Monday, and I came immediately. I am always the master's first choice when such requests are made. I pride myself on being able to prepare the sons of the nobility for entrance into our hallowed portals." His obsequious smile revealed yellow teeth.

Like moldering tombstones, Gabrielle thought. "How gratifying for you, Mr. Jefffys," she said. "I trust you're well qualified to prepare mere babes for the rigors of such an establishment. They must perforce learn to withstand the severity and privations of such a life."

Mr. Jeffrys looked at her uneasily. What she'd said was nothing but the truth, of course. It was what he did best. But something about her tone and manner confused him. He tried another smile. "I pride myself on my successes, my lady… some of the noblest families in the land…" The smile hung in the air, as if it couldn't find a home.

"If you'll excuse us, countess. We have some further business to discuss," Nathaniel said frigidly. He turned back to the library. "Jefffys…"

"Oh, yes, my lord… the details… of course, my lord."

And where the hell did Primmy fit into all this? Gabrielle thought furiously. Nathaniel had said nothing about the progress of his plans for a tutor, not to Gabrielle and she presumed not to Primmy, who treated her as a confidante and would most certainly have told her. Indeed, the governess had been cherishing hopes that his lordship had changed his mind, since he'd never mentioned the matter again. And now this. Jake presented to his new mentor without preparation, and Miss Primmer out on her ear.

"Just one minute, my lord." She put out an imperative hand. "I'd like a private word. I'm sure Mr. Jefffys will excuse us." She turned toward the dining room without waiting for a response from Nathaniel, who hesitated for a second before waving the tutor curtly back to the library and following her.

He slammed the door behind him. "Well?"

Gabrielle was trembling with rage. What did the man have for empathy and insight? Cloth, presumably. As dark and impenetrable a material as could be found.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken," she said in tones of icy incredulity, "but did you just spring that-that… odious creepy creature on Jake? Of course you didn't! Of course you explained what was going to happen a long time ago, didn't you? It's just that he hasn't mentioned it to me. But children do have short memories and-"

"Hold your tongue!" Nathaniel ordered with low-voiced ferocity, a dull flush spreading to his forehead. "This is no concern of yours, as I've told you a dozen times. Jake is my sonand how I handle him is my business."

"So you just summon him one morning, inform him that that odious man is going to rule his life from now until he's sent away to school, and that Primmy is going. Oh, when is she to leave, by the way? Is she packing her bags now?"

"Don't talk to me in this fashion-"

"I'll talk to you any way I like, Lord Praed," she interrupted, her pale complexion now whiter than milk, her eyes dark pools of molten lava, the skin around her mouth blue-tinged with fury. "Of all the crass-"

"Stop this at once!" Beside himself, he seized her upper arms and in unthinking reaction Gabrielle swung her flat palm against his cheek. The ugly crack hung for the barest instant in the air before it was repeated and Gabrielle spun away from him, her hand pressed to her own flaming cheek.

There was a terrible silence. She gazed sightlessly out the window, tears as much of shock as pain filming her eyes.

Nathaniel drew a deep shuddering breath. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," she said, her voice shaking. "How ugly… I don't know how it happened."

"I think we have to learn to be very careful," Nathaniel said wearily.

"Yes," Gabrielle agreed. She still couldn't turn to look at him, and he made no move toward her.

The silence elongated, grew leaden, and then Nathaniel turned and left the dining room, closing the door quietly behind him.