Written In Stone

another as the coach began to move forward.
    "How far is it to your parents' home?" Angie asked, all too aware of the awkward silence between them.
    "It's about a thirty minute ride. We live in Deveaux Valley."
    "The Deveaux Valley, my but that's… oh my goodness, you're that Gavin Stone?"
    Gavin chuckled at the expression on her face. "Actually, my father is that Gavin Stone. I live in one of the manor houses nearby," he explained.
    "I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me before. I should have recognized the name right away."
    "Don't apologize. It's nice to know you didn't know who my family was before agreeing to accompany me tonight. You have no idea how many… well, that is neither here nor there." He looked uncomfortably away.
    Angie smiled at him. "I'm sure you receive a lot of invitations for grand balls, parties, dinners, and other events because of who your family is. I'm quite sure the young women vie for your attentions wherever you go."
    "Yes," he agreed, "thank you for understanding."
    "Gavin," she leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. The heat shot through him so fast, he felt as if his collar suddenly tightened. "I'm not a young virgin socialite looking for a husband. I was married remember? These things are not new to me."
    Gavin smiled, though he felt like groaning at her touch, and took her hand from his knee, holding it securely in his own. Then he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm. Angie felt the electricity that time. It tingled in her hand and moved up her arm, making her shiver slightly.
    "Angela," he said softly, gazing into her eyes.
     
    Angie wanted to throw herself into the man's arms, right then and there. She wanted to be wanton and lustful, tell him in plain terms exactly what she wanted him to do to her body, exactly what she wanted to do to him. Instead, she drew a deep breath and exhaled, her tongue flicking over her lips. "Have you always lived here, Mr. Stone, or have you been able to live abroad as well? My brother and his wife live in America. Have you ever been there?"
    Gavin took a breath and gently laid her hand in her lap, resettling himself in the seat. "No, Mrs. Elliott," he answered, "I've not sailed to the New World as of yet, but I have traveled all over Europe. I summer in Italy quite often; my family owns a villa there. And of course, I've often visited France and Spain."
    "I've been to none of those places," Angela said. "I've wanted to go. Jonathan, my husband, and I planned on making a trip across Europe one day, but we never managed to do it before he," she cleared her throat, "he passed away."
    "Perhaps you will still be able to make such a trip one day."
    "Perhaps," Angie said noncommittally.
    The coach came to a stop, and Gavin opened the door, waiting while the coachman brought the wheelchair around. Gavin lifted Angela down to her chair and began pushing her toward the house.
    "Oh, it's lovely," Angela gasped. The house was ablaze with candles as guests were arriving. Once inside, Angela gasped again at the luxurious surroundings. Even the grand ballroom at the hotel wasn't this elegant, or as splendidly furnished. "It must have been wonderful to grow up in such a place."
    "I guess," he shrugged, "like all children, one doesn't think much about where one lives when you've grown up with it all your life."
    "I suppose," Angie conceded.
    Just then, a couple approached them, both of them grinning broadly. "Gavin, you've arrived at last." The woman beamed at him and he kissed both of her cheeks.
    "Mother, Father, may I present Mrs. Angela Elliott. Angela, my parents, Gavin and Matilda Stone."
    "I am so happy to meet you," Angela said with a smile.
    "We are happy to meet you as well," Gavin's mother said, leaning over and kissing both of Angie's cheeks. "And no one calls me Matilda, it's Mattie, please."
    "And no one calls me Angela." Angie looked at Gavin. "Please, call me Angie."
    "Angie." Gavin's father kissed her cheeks as well. "Everyone calls me Gav. That started after our son was born so we would know which one of us people were addressing. Two of us having the same name in the same house can get confusing, but my father was also a Gavin and somehow, it's become tradition."
    "You have a lovely home. Thank you for inviting me," Angie told them both.
    "You are more than welcome. Have a wonderful time this evening. You too, my boy," Mattie said, patting Gavin's cheek with one gloved hand.
    "Yes, mother." He gave her a crooked grin then