Free Yours Until Dawn by Teresa Medeiros Page B

heated air. Then his smoky voice dipped into low and dangerous territory. “If I had removed your clothing, Miss Wickersham, I can assure you it would have been worth waking up for.” Before Samantha could decide whether that silky boast was a promise or a threat, he continued. “All I did was remove your spectacles and cover you. I was simply trying to see to your comfort.”
    To her amazement, a guilty flush stained his cheekbones. She wouldn’t have thought him a man capable of blushing. Both lies and half-truths should have rolled right off a tongue as nimble as his.
    He settled back among the blankets, his expression more imperious than ever. “Now, if you’re done with my impromptu bath, you might be so kind as to fetch me a towel.”
    Samantha folded her arms over her chest. “Fetch it yourself.”
    Gabriel arched one golden brow, stretching his scar taut. “Pardon me?”
    “If you want a towel, then fetch it yourself. I’m weary of waiting on you hand and foot. You may be blind, but you still have two perfectly good arms and legs.”
    Proving her point, he threw back the blankets and sprang to his feet, towering over her. The bell thumped to the floor with a discordant jangle, rolling halfway across the room.
    Samantha had forgotten how imposing he could be when he wasn’t lolling among the sheets. Especially when shirtless and wearing only a faded pair of doeskin knee breeches. Although his nearness made her breath quicken and her skin tingle with warning, she refused to retreat so much as a single step.
    “Need I remind you, Miss Wickersham, that if you don’t care for the working conditions here, you have only to tender your resignation?”
    “Very well, my lord,” she said, an icy calm washing over her. “I believe I’ll do just that. I resign.”
    An expression of almost comical surprise crossed his face. “What do you mean, you resign?”
    “I mean that I intend to collect my wages and my things and vacate your home before nightfall. If you’d like, I’ll ask Beckwith to put another advertisement in the newspaper before I go. I would suggest he offer an even more extravagant wage this time, although no amount of money would be worth putting up with your ridiculous demands for more than an hour.” Turning on her heel, she started for the door.
    “Miss Wickersham, get back here this instant! That’s an order!”
    “I quit,” she tossed back over her shoulder, savage glee coursing through her veins. “I’m not obliged to take your orders anymore!” Ignoring his sputtering, Samantha marched out the door, slamming it behind her with grim satisfaction.
     
    Gabriel stood beside the bed, the slam of the door still echoing in his ears. Everything had happened so quickly that he was still struggling to absorb it. The men who had once served under his command would have never dared to question his orders, yet his stubborn slip of a nurse had brazenly defied him.
    He’d won, he reminded himself grimly. Again. She had given him exactly what he had wanted—her resignation. He should be crowing with triumph.
    “ Miss Wickersham! ” he bellowed, starting after her.
    The hours he’d spent languishing in the bed had wreaked havoc on both his hard-won balance and his sense of direction. He’d barely taken three steps before his ankle hooked the leg of the piertable. Both he and the table began to teeter. Something slid off of its polished surface, striking the floor in an explosion of shattering glass.
    It was too late to stop his forward momentum. Gabriel fell heavily, feeling a dull sting in the vicinity of his throat as he did. He lay there for a moment, fighting to catch his breath. But when he finally struggled to rise, a crippling wave of dizziness drove him back to the floor.
    His hand landed in a warm, wet puddle. For a minute, he thought it was water from the shattered pitcher and goblet. But when he rubbed his fingertips together, they came away sticky.
    “I’ll be damned,” he