Nolan had never been one for organized religion. He
had his own beliefs, his own devotions. As he led Gabby toward the abbey’s
ambulatory he touched the hilt of his sword at his hip. Demon hunting was a
religion of a kind, Nolan supposed, and he knew Gabby was far more interested
in his religion than in anything this relic of stained glass and stone had once
offered to its parishioners.
The stubborn lass had convinced Chelle to train her
while Nolan had been in Rome, and yes, he was angry. Nolan wanted Gabby with
him—at his side, not someone
else’s—when she learned how to fight demons. Now his damned father had tried to
dismiss her, but Gabriella Waverly would never walk away from something she
wanted. He admired her for that.
They reached the curve in the ambulatory, just
underneath the great rose window, and Nolan brought Gabby to a stop. She parted
her lips, ready to say something—argue about something, he suspected. He pulled
her behind one of the marble columns and covered her mouth with his.
Kissing her felt like breathing again for the first
time in a month, ever since he’d left for Rome. He’d hated leaving her in
Paris. He’d known she’d be at the abbey, on safe, consecrated ground,
recovering from the injuries to her face, but he’d still worried.
“You’re not angry?” she asked when he pulled away
to drag in a breath of air. It wasn’t nearly as sweet as her mouth.
“Furious,” he replied, then kissed her again. He
wound his arms around her hips and brought her closer. He realized he wanted
her as close to him as possible.
“You don’t seem furious.”
Nolan had kept his eyes partly open as he’d kissed
her, and now saw relief tugging at the corner of her mouth. With her eyes still
closed, she looked like a cat, sunbathing in a window. He laughed.
“All right. I’m jealous. I wanted to be the one to
train you.” Honesty was always easy with Gabby.
She opened her eyes, the grin fading. “But you
can’t. Your father won’t allow me to join the Alliance.”
Nolan leaned his forehead against hers. His father
was a bloody idiot. “My da’s decision is final, so no, lass, you can’t join the
Alliance. Not yet.” He brushed the tip of her pert little nose with his. “But
that doesn’t mean you can’t keep learning how to fight. If it’s done between
us, in private, there’s no reason anyone else has to know.”
She lifted her lips to his. Nolan took her answer
as a resounding yes. He captured her
bottom lip. More privacy would be nice. He searched the few alcove chapels
behind them, his eyes alighting on an old confessional booth. Its doors were
still intact. Perfect.
“Do you have anything you wish to confess?” he
whispered in her ear.
He felt her stiffen, then draw back. He kept his
eyes on the confessional and she quickly took his meaning. He guided her into
the alcove chapel.
“You’re wicked. May I remind you that we are in a
house of the Lord?”
Balderdash. He continued toward the confessional.
“And how hospitable of him. Look, he’s provided us a room of our very own.”
He enjoyed teasing her, hearing her little huffs of
pretend impatience. The confessional door swung open with one push. He was wicked but he didn’t care. He had
Gabby back beside him and he intended to use every moment wisely.
She rose onto her toes and kissed him again. “If
you’ll remain a gentleman?”
He brought her fully into the confessional, and as
he kissed the column of her neck, closed the door partway. He had her right
where he wanted her. “Define gentleman.”
