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by some quick thinking. No doubt she had been trying to decide which items would bring the best profit at some London pawnshop.
    Lord, I was a fool to let this lawless hoyden into my house.
The worst part was, he knew exactly why he had done it. Her dark beauty had bewitched him—and God help him, he wasn’t immune to her even now. Lust pounded in his brain right along with his fury.
    It made him extra wary of her.
    Sophia glanced down, supremely unintimidated by his wrath, never mind that back in the regiment, he had been known to reduce grown men to quivering heaps of terror when he was displeased. “What happened to you?” she demanded, nodding at his scar.
    “None of your damned business, my love—and changing the subject won’t save your pretty hide. Now, are you going to turn out your pockets, or shall I do it for you?” He did not wait for an answer but yanked her to him, pulling her off balance.
    She gasped as the sudden tug brought her crashing against his chest. Hooking his arm around her waist, Gabriel held her to him. He stared down into her eyes, searingly attuned to her soft body crushed against him. His heart pounded. She gazed up at him in speechless shock as he thrust his right hand down into the pocket of her plain skirts. He felt around inside of it for contraband.
    The pocket was empty, but Gabriel lost his train of thought, his male senses suddenly distracted when his hand, cloaked in fabric, brushed against her shapely thigh.
    The outer edges of his control had already begun to fray; boldly, he molded his hand against her leg, giving in to the blinding urge to feel her.
    His rude advance infuriated her; he was glad.
    “Let go of me!” she ordered, struggling against him, but Gabriel held her fast, brushing his lips against her neck with a dark laugh.
    “You don’t like playing by the rules, do you, my Gypsy girl? But if you’re going to misbehave, you’re going to have to take the consequences.”
    “I haven’t done anything wrong!” She pushed against his chest and shoulders, trying to loosen his tight hold on her. “Unhand me now!” she roared, but the way she was squirming against his body roused a starved moan from the core of his being. Her thrashing motions had him feverishly rethinking his monkish decision not to take her.
    Ah, God, he needed it so badly.
    “Let me go, I say! I did not steal
anything
from you!”
    “Maybe I’ll steal something from you,” he ground out in a ragged whisper. “You call me a saint? You are so wrong.” He bent his head lower and nuzzled her throat. Unable to resist, he parted his lips and tasted the warm salt silk of her skin.
    She let out a soft groan; he could feel her melting against him in spite of herself. “Is that really necessary?” she asked through gritted teeth.
    “More than you know,” he panted as he captured her face and tilted her head back. The lure of her lips was more than he could bear.
    Holding her soft curves against him, he could feel her pulse pounding in time with his own; his whole body throbbed as he cupped her nape and captured her lips with his own. She stiffened and tried to turn away, but he followed hungrily, and when he sought her mouth again, this time, seeing, perhaps, that she could not escape, or perhaps giving way to the curiosity he knew they both felt, she gradually yielded.
    Playing reticent as a virgin, she forced him to coax her lips apart by the softest stroking with the tip of his tongue.
Coy for a harlot,
he thought. No doubt still rattled about being caught trying to steal from him, but no matter. She was not going to get away with anything with him, and at the moment, he rather liked her little game.
    His heart slammed behind his ribs as she finally obliged him, letting him in to taste her womanly heat.
    Gabriel groaned as he kissed her more deeply, his own reservations fading into oblivion. He felt her palms molding over his shoulders. She clung to him, all unsteady with their mutual passion