She couldn’t help grinning up at Gabriel triumphantly. He took his time finding the perfect stone. His large hand shielded its exact shape from her. “I have to skip it eleven times to win?”
She nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”
He smiled again. This time it was definitely the predator’s smile. Wicked. Sexy. Altogether too tempting. Francesca tilted her chin and forced her fascinated gaze away from his perfect body to the shining surface of the lake. Why did he have to look so utterly masculine? His body was well muscled, hard, and looked way too good. “I’m waiting,” she said, all too aware of how close he was standing to her. How he smelled. The taste of him. She wanted to groan but instead, she looked steadfastly out over the water, pretending she wasn’t in the least affected by his close proximity.
The rock spun out of his hand so fast, she heard it buzz through the air. It skimmed across the water, hop after hop like a leapfrog racing across the water. It went on and on until it had crossed the lake and had hopped onto the opposite shore. “Well,” he mused softly, a masculine taunt in his voice, “I would say that about wraps things up. Twenty-two skips all the way to the other side.” He sounded very complacent. “I believe you get to be my slave and brush my hair for me at each rising.”
Francesca shook her head. “What I believe is, you rigged this wager. You did something to win.”
“It is called practice. I have spent much time skipping rocks across the lake.”
Francesca laughed softly. “You are not telling the truth, Gabriel. I don’t believe you ever skipped a rock in your life until now. You tricked me.”
“You think?” He asked it innocently. Too innocently.
“You know you did. Just to win a silly bet. I can’t believe you.”
He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, making her heart leap wildly. “It was not just a silly bet, honey, it was a way to get you to brush my hair. No one has ever done such a thing for me and I think I crave attention.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose again and grinned at her almost boyishly. “I asked Lucian to do so once and he threatened to beat me to a bloody pulp.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Some things are just not worth it, you know.”
“You’re nuts,” Francesca decided, but she was laughing, unable to help herself. “Fine, I’ll brush your hair,” she conceded, her fingers itching to bury themselves in the silken strands. She was unaware that she was agreeing to far more than brushing his hair. He would be spending the days with her in the sleeping chamber. They would retire together.
Gabriel was very much aware of that fact. He was making progress. “What are we going to do with this young lady of ours, Francesca? Little Miss Skyler. We can insure that her mind heals, but we cannot remove all scars unless we empty her memories. It might be that lessening the impact of them is best. We can provide her with schooling, clothes, everything she needs, emotional support, but we cannot be there for her during certain hours of the day. Have you considered what we will need to do to cover those times?”
Francesca reached behind her for the railing, intending to pull herself up on it. Gabriel’s large hands spanned her waist and lifted her effortlessly, seating her on the structure. It was amazing to her that he knew what she wanted almost before she did. The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying. She had not shared her thoughts, her mind, herself in so long, she had forgotten what it was like. Temptation. It whispered over her, tugged at her heartstrings.
“I know, I know, it was rash of me to promise I would be there for her, but to be honest, I had been able to walk in the sun for some years and I didn’t remember that I could no longer do so. I can’t bear the idea of Skyler going to some place where they won’t give her love and affection. She needs that, the support she should have had. I shared her life.” She looked up at him in sudden wonder, in comprehension. “Both of us did. I know I can feel the love she needs. Can you?”