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Which shifted his expression to concern and made him wrap one arm around her shoulders to guide her away from the Spano. “Are you all right?”
Shit! His scent and the weight of his arm against her back sent a shiver of desire right down between her thighs.
She slid out from under his arm in what she hoped was a subtle way. “Just a klutz.”
He reached for the inn’s door, which swung open to reveal a blond woman dressed in a black sheath dress. “Monsieur le duc! Bienvenue! It is a pleasure to have you back.” She even dipped into a graceful curtsy.
“Amelie! You look as beautiful as always.” Gabriel leaned forward to do the double European air-kiss.
“Please, I have a table for you by the windows.” She turned to lead them into a dining room where light was admitted by an entire wall of windows facing the sea, while a sense of airiness came from the white walls and high beamed ceiling.
As they walked, the waiters—who were all male—gave Gabriel little bows and murmured, “Monsieur le duc.”
A couple of the diners nodded to him respectfully as well.
The hostess seated them at a table that commanded a spectacular view of the surf rolling onto the glittering silver beach. She gestured a busboy over to pour sparkling water in their glasses and asked Gabriel if he needed anything else before she departed with another curtsy. As a waiter sprang to attention and headed for their table, Quinn leaned forward and said, “I need to eat out with dukes more often. The service is amazing.”
One corner of Gabriel’s beautiful mouth twitched upward before the waiter swooped in with menus. Gabriel waved the leather folders away. “Quinn, if you are agreeable, I suggest that we let the chef decide what we should eat.”
“As long as nothing is still alive when I put it in my mouth, I’m good.” Although she hoped there wouldn’t be any tongues or brains or even livers. But she could choke them down if necessary.
Gabriel’s eyes glinted as he said to the waiter, “If you would pass my companion’s request along to the chef, I’d appreciate it.”
The waiter looked offended before he realized Gabriel was joking. “Ah, yes, of course, monsieur le duc.”
He actually bowed and backed away from the table.
“What do they do when the king shows up?” Quinn asked. “Crawl on their hands and knees?”
Gabriel grimaced. “My mother dines here when she’s home, so they are very aware of my, er, heritage.”
“I’ve never really seen you treated like a duke before.” Except for Emilia, of course, but Quinn had dismissed her behavior as starstruck.
“Considering you’ve only seen me twice and both times were in your office, that’s not surprising. Mikel has no respect for my title.” Gabriel grinned. “Sometimes quite the contrary, I think.”
“Mikel has a great deal of respect for you as a person,” she assured him. In fact, her boss was protective of Gabriel because of what he’d been through. “But not because you’re a duke.”
Gabriel gave a slight nod. “I appreciate that about Mikel and about you.”
Yet she’d seen the subtle change in Gabriel’s posture when the valet had greeted him by his title. His chin had lifted, his spine had snapped straighter, and he’d worn an air of command and dignity that he hadn’t projected in the car with her. In fact, even seated in the restaurant, he did not relax back in his chair but sat tall, his shoulders square and his chin high.
“Do you get tired of being a duke?”
He lifted his slashing eyebrows in a look of surprise. “Sometimes I tire of being treated like a duke. But I would have to be tired of myself to feel the way you suggest. Being a duke has been woven into the fabric of who I am since I was born. Who knows? Maybe even before.” He smiled that devastating smile of his. “When I need a break from being ducal, I find an American.”
“Oh, so that’s why I’m here. As an antidote.”
“More of a respite. Or perhaps a counterbalance to keep me from becoming too self-important.”
He joked, but she had seen the sacrifice his title had demanded of him. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like teasing him about it any further.
The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, which he displayed for Gabriel. “The chef recommends beginning with the Montrachet. Would that be agreeable to you, monsieur le duc?”
Gabriel looked at Quinn with a lifted eyebrow. She nodded, and the waiter departed.
“Don’t worry. I won’t drink more than two glasses,” Gabriel said. “Unless you’d like to be the designated driver?”
“I can’t believe you would trust me with that car.”
