And Lord in heaven, but the man was on his honeymoon.
Standing on the ridge, several feet from the entrance of the mine, Gabriel had had no authority to contradict the duke’s orders.
He ought to have done so anyway. He’d had the authority of right.
When he’d first heard the grumbling sound, he’d assumed it was more thunder. But there hadn’t been any lightning.
And the ground had shaken. All his fears, it seemed, would be realized.
He’d taken off running toward the mine. He and a few others who’d been on the outside had been able to enter but couldn’t go any farther than ten yards due to rubble blocking the passage.
Gabriel had sent one of the younger men into town for help and ordered the others to form a brigade.
As the day wore on and then turned to dark, torches of light had been set up all around the entrance and dozens of additional men presented themselves to volunteer in the lifesaving efforts. Hallowell had even deigned to make an appearance and lent authority to Gabriel’s orders. After they’d hauled out Crawford’s body, Gabriel suggested Hallowell go to Ashton Acres in order to inform the duchess of her husband’s death.
Gabriel would have carried out the unpleasant task himself, but as long as the possibility existed that any survivors could be located, he couldn’t tear himself away from the rescue.
All night, they’d been shoveling and removing buckets of earth and, as of yet, had only managed to reclaim three bodies.
Not one who’d been below the earth had yet to have been brought out alive.
Along the edge of the horizon, a lighter blue and purple glow signified morning was near. Nearly the exact color of Olivia’s eyes.
The thought of her reminded him that away from all this carnage, another world existed.
He closed his eyes, nearly overcome with weariness, only for the image of Olivia to be replaced with the blank stare of one of the dead men he’d uncovered a few hours before.
“You’re still here?” Mr. Compton’s voice jolted Gabriel out of his momentary stupor. “I managed a few hours’ sleep and can take over again now. Get some rest before you collapse. Change into dry clothes and have those cuts bandaged. You’ll be no good to anyone if they putrefy.”
Gabriel glanced down at his hands, surprised to notice them bloodied. His muscles protested as he rose to stand, but he welcomed the pain. “I’m fine enough.” And then he glanced around in search of his shovel. It had been here a moment ago, hadn’t it?
“It’s not a suggestion.” The man stared him down. “It’s an order.” Shaking his head, he added, “Besides, we need to evacuate and halt operations again to reinforce the opening. With all this rain, I’m unwilling to risk more men with little hope of finding any survivors.”
Gabriel scrubbed a hand down his face. He hated the thought of any delay when there was still the smallest chance of pulling even one man out alive. Nearly twenty hours had passed since the cave-in, and they’d been unable to elicit a single sign of life from below. It wouldn’t be prudent to put more men’s lives at risk.
“Very well,” he conceded wearily. He hated the thought of sleep though. Because sleeping would involve closing his eyes and replaying the events of the day in his mind over and over again.
He’d failed Stanton. He’d failed his workers. He didn’t deserve a warm bed and a full stomach. Over a dozen men would never know such comforts again. A duke, his friend’s father, had been killed.
And worse. Men who provided for their families on a day-to-day basis. One of them ought to have been him.
When he’d driven Olivia up a few days earlier, the road had been dry and presented only a few ruts he’d had to be careful to avoid. This morning, it was wet, slippery, uneven and in a few places, looked to nearly have been washed away altogether.
Gabriel used caution, only because he didn’t wish any injury to come to Brandy. He’d already caused enough death today without adding his trusty mount to the ever-growing list of casualties.
And so, he could not just amble along carelessly. He forced himself to navigate the animal away from the edge and around some of the deeper ruts. “Careful, girl.” He patted the mare’s neck lovingly. She ought to throw him. Either kick up and buck him off, or stop short, but either way, send Gabriel flying over the edge to a painful and certain death.
It was better than he deserved and yet his horse did neither. Of course, she didn’t. She was a gentle and loyal creature. Besides, that would be too easy. Stanton needed to be notified, as would the families.
That they’d lost a father, a husband, a brother, a son… a fiancé.
The sun crested just as he arrived at the main road, but more clouds were building in the west.
Gabriel didn’t stop Brandy when she turned left instead of right, nor when she followed the short drive to a small house on the edge of Hallowell’s property. He’d stopped thinking. Stopped feeling. If it were up to him, he’d stop breathing. When Brandy finally came to a halt, Gabriel dismounted and then walked her around to the small but clean stable block. He rubbed her down, gave her some grain and then water, and then, having seemingly used up the last of his strength, leaned against the stall with unfocused eyes. He had no idea how much time passed before a voice pierced his exhaustion.
“You are alive.”
Olivia stood in the open door, light streaming in behind her, lighting her blond hair like a halo and wearing only a night rail and dressing gown.
He’d have thought himself incapable of noticing the outline of her hourglass shape but was to be shamed by his libido. And if he’d had any humor left inside his person at all, he’d have laughed at the muddied boots she’d thrown on with the ensemble.
But he just stood there, staring at her. Drained of anything substantial that might be considered worthwhile, without honor, weak. Men had died because of him.
What did that leave him?
A man flawed.
“I might as well have killed them. I didn’t stop…” His voice broke and at the same time, she rushed into the stable. She placed both hands on his cheeks and lowered his face to hers.
“Hush,” she whispered against his lips. He didn’t deserve her absolution but took it anyway. Her kiss tasted of honey and warmth and woman. Her hands stroked the sides of his neck and her warmth pressed against him as though she could absorb the permanent chill of this day.
“I was so scared… that you…” She dropped her hands and ran them over his chest, his arms and then to his wrists. “You’re injured! Come. The sooner we get you inside, the sooner I can get you warm and dry.” She drew him outside and toward the house. His body ached and the cold rain soaked through him again immediately. He welcomed all the discomfort and pain and had no strength to resist her. If she chose to lead him to the edge of a cliff, he’d allow her to push him into the abyss.
They stepped into her small house and when she closed the door behind her, silence echoed around them. But that he could shut out the events of the previous twenty-four hours so easily.
Only he could not. They would forever be his legacy.
And yet, violet eyes drank him in hungrily. Olivia.
Sweet Olivia.
Her right eye danced but the left remained focused upon him in relief. Both shone with unshed tears.
He had to tell her. “Smith was one of them.”
She blinked and then turned her head away, staring unfocused at something nonexistent on the steps. And then she turned back with questioning eyes. “How many?”
“Twelve, I think. We cannot be certain yet.” And then in harsh irony, “Plus the duke.” He had difficulty speaking around the emotion caught in his throat.
“But not you! Gabriel.” Her hands were on his face again, rubbing his cheeks and jaw, touching him much as a blind person would to see. “I thought you…” She gulped. “I had thought you would be one of them.”
“I should have been, Olivia. I should have warned them. I knew it would fail. I kn
ew Crawford would override the engineers, and I didn’t tell them in time.”
She was leading him again, upstairs this time. And again, he didn’t protest. She drew him into a warmly decorated bedchamber and pushed him onto a soft chair. He sat as though in a trance, vaguely aware that she was removing his muddied boots. She disappeared a few times, bustling about, and then sat on a small ottoman before him. When she turned his hands over, she gasped.
“I’ve never seen so many blisters.” He welcomed the pain as she dabbed at and then scrubbed the crusted blood from his hands. “Oh, Gabriel. I’m so sorry,” she whispered when he could not prevent flinching.
“I need to go back up.” He tried to stand, but with one hand, she easily pushed him back into the chair.
“You need to rest first. You’ll do no one any good if you make yourself ill.”
But he was shaking his head. “Let them putrefy. It doesn’t matter, Olivia. I’m no good to anyone either way.”
Luke Smith was dead. In the blink of an eye, four motherless children had become orphans.
But Gabriel was here, and God save her soul, no small amount of relief swept through her at that knowledge.
He was bloodied and soaked through, and worst of all, riddled—no, more than that—drowning in guilt. But he’d not been buried beneath tons of rubble and dirt. He was here. He was alive.
I’m no good to anyone either way.
“Hush,” she scolded him, barely able to speak past the sadness in her throat. “You’re my friend, and I’ll not have anyone speak of my friend thusly.” She dabbed at his hands again. She’d seen what happened to a wound when it wasn’t cared for properly.
“I’ve never been your friend, Olivia. I’ve only wanted to bed you.” He spoke in a toneless voice, but she knew better. He’d cared. And right now, he needed her. The violent tremor that shook his body set her into motion again.
“You are my friend.” Her voice caught on a sob as she chastised him. After wrapping a strip of linen around his hands, she rose to remove his jacket. “You need to get out of these wet clothes before you catch your—“
“My death?”
He disparaged himself with cynical humor. Likely, if she left him here alone, he’d sit in his wet clothes, allow the cold to penetrate him completely, and do nothing to improve his comfort.
“Stand up.” He mindlessly obeyed her command and rose. Not allowing herself to hesitate, she unfastened his falls and then tugged the tails of his shirt free before lifting the garment over his head.
A few cuts and reddened flesh that would no doubt turn to bruises stood out starkly against his taut, pale skin. “Oh, Gabriel.” Again, she wiped at the cuts and rubbed some of Mary’s special liniment over them while he stood motionless before her. She’d seen his chest before, that lovely afternoon, in the sunlight no less.
When she glanced up, she could see that he watched her with an unfathomable hooded gaze. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“I’m glad you did. I’ve been so worried.” Where else would he go? He was not staying at Ashton Acres. He’d been residing alone in a gamekeeper’s cottage. Would he simply drop onto his bed if not for her to attend to his injuries?
When she went to draw his trousers down his legs, he shook his head. “Someone will learn that I’ve been here, and I can’t… Olivia. You must know I can never offer for you. You should run far away from me. Where is that maid of yours? You must leave for your parents’ house. Leave me to my wretchedness. I’m not your friend. I never was.”
But she ignored his protests and when she dropped to her knees to peel his sodden breeches off his legs, he lifted his feet one by one to step out of them. Glancing up, she did not miss that his eyes burned with the same need that had been lurking in them for weeks now.
He was alive. Naked and alive and sitting in her bedchamber.
“I know all of this. Do you think me a fool?” She met his gaze and then handed him a dry towel. She didn’t trust herself to assist him further.
Confused and distraught, she turned to toss a few pieces of coal into the fire where embers yet glowed. She’d kept it burning throughout the night, listening to the storm, almost as though keeping a vigil.
A flame burst to life and began licking at the coal. “Did you think I expected an offer? I’m not deluded as to my options. I may be a viscount’s daughter, but by blood only. He acknowledges me only as his curse.” And perhaps he’s right! She never should have gone to the mine! She couldn’t help but wonder if by consenting to Mr. Smith’s proposal, she had sealed his doom. She’d not believed in it before.
She had not.
But all day yesterday and all night, she’d been unable to dismiss her father’s accusations. Her eyes stung.
But then Gabriel was behind her, holding her. “The mine had nothing to do with you. Whatever you believe, believe that.” His breath stirred the hair by her face, his hands settled warmly on the soft flesh just below her breasts.
“I want to, but—”
He spun her around and she buried her face in his chest, winding her arms around his neck. His naked flesh felt cool against her face but gradually warmed to her touch. “Oh, Gabriel. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what she apologized for. That dratted curse! The rational part of her knew curses were nothing but the work of ignorance and evil, and yet…
She’d gone to the mine and it collapsed. She’d become engaged to Luke Smith and he was dead. This time, it was she who was shaking.
“Sweet Olivia,” he rasped.
In one swift motion, Gabriel’s arm was beneath her knees as he lifted her easily enough. He carried her to the bed where she’d lain, tormented, most of the night.
“You are not a curse, my love, you’re a blessing.” He settled her comfortably, but before he could draw away, Olivia dropped her hand from his shoulder, along his forearm, and then wound her fingers around his wrist.
“Gabriel.” Gabriel would leave soon. Luke Smith was dead.
She would never marry, after all.
“Please.” Miserable though she would be for what remained of her life, she wanted to experience love with this man. Only this man.
And afterward, for the remainder of her time on earth, she would be the perfect spinster.
With a groan, he climbed onto the bed, rested his elbows along both sides of her face, and then lowered his weight so that he covered her.
Chapter 17
Dawn’s Passion
From the moment Gabriel had come across Olivia in Crawford’s garden the night of the prewedding ball, he’d been unable to dismiss her from his thoughts. From the moment she’d allowed him to take her into his arms and dance beneath the moonlight, less innocent thoughts had invaded other parts of his anatomy.
And the problem had only grown.
Despite the battle he’d waged with himself, Miss Olivia Redfield, Lazy-eyed Livvy herself, had become the object of both his physical and emotional needs.
And by God, she needed him, too.
And being needed, at that moment, transcended everything else.
Pink, plump lips parted on a sigh and it was an invitation he could no longer resist. Lust flushed out the darkness of the night, obliterating any restraint he’d shown up until then. Lost to the consequences, he claimed her mouth in one long ravishing kiss.
He stroked her teeth, and then the flesh behind her lips, and then her tongue with his own. “Livvia, my Luvia,” he whispered.
Already heavy, hard, and bare, he pressed himself against her body, only the thin fabric of her night rail between them. She’d dropped her knees wide and arched her back, straining to meet him.
The warm glow of morning filtered into the room as sunlight broke over the horizon.
Gabriel dropped his hands to gather her gown, past her center, her belly, her plump, dusky-tipped breasts, and then over her head.
All the while, she watched him with what ought to have been a disturbing gaze.
Ah, but those eyes, ra
ther than repulse him in any way, had captivated him even all those years ago. Violet, mesmerizing, mysterious.
She lay naked and open beneath him, and all he could do at that moment was study the varying blues and violets surrounding her enlarged pupils.
“You never look away from me.” The words left her mouth in wonder.
“Because I’m enchanted by you.” He was surprised to realize that he meant it. In some way or another, as long as he’d known her, she’d enchanted him. It was the reason he’d been unable to stay away these last few weeks. She’d added light to everything around her. Knowing he might see Olivia Redfield had him anticipating his days rather than wishing them away. And on this morning, she’d blot out the horror of his failure.
Laying atop her, nestled between her thighs, knowing that sweet, slick heaven beckoned at the tip of his length, he would not wish this moment away for the world.
“Just love me,” she whispered and sighed as Gabriel trailed his lips along her jaw. Savoring her soft skin, he nipped at her and then dipped his tongue into the small indents where her neck curved into her shoulders.
She squirmed beneath him so that the warmth of her opening enveloped him partially.
“You are sure?” Her hands grasped the sides of his head, and he latched onto one tight, taut nipple.
In answer, she moved her hips so as to bring him into her.
She would be a virgin; he had no doubt of that. Already, he felt the barrier of her maidenhood blocking him from advancing any farther.
He’d always wondered how a man would know. Wondered if he would know, when it came time for him to take his bride.
The word hit him like a blow to the gut.
She wasn’t his bride and never could be.
But she was moving against him, welcoming him. Her breasts thrusting upward as though begging for more, and God help him, his hips continued thrusting, edging their way—
“Oh!” And then a short gasp from her. Upon breaking through, he froze.
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 13
