by Laura Landon
She wanted to rush into his arms and hold him. She wanted to press herself against him and touch him. She wanted to press her lips to his and never stop kissing him. Emotions she doubted she could control overpowered her and she took another trembling step toward him.
"I’ll bring hot water for your bath, friend," Jean-Paul said, stepping between them. "You’ll feel much better when you’re clean and you’ve had a good meal."
Gabriel broke their locked gazes. "That sounds wonderful. The fare I found in the alley left much to be desired."
Jean-Paul smiled, then the smile left his face. "Do you need a doctor?"
Gabriel shook his head. "Just that hot bath and some decent food. That’s all."
Jean-Paul made his way to the stairs. "It will be only a moment."
They were alone now. Stepping just one foot closer would put them in each other’s arms. Yet neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, Lydia drinking in every detail of the man she’d been afraid she’d never see again.
"Are you all right?" she finally asked.
He nodded.
"I was afraid they wouldn’t find you."
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "So was I."
"I’m glad you’re safe." She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
He smiled again and she was glad the heavy tromping of footsteps on the stairway kept her from saying more. She didn’t want him to see her tears, and he would have if she had to face him much longer. Instead, she looked to where Jean-Paul came up the stairs.
"Here you are, my friend." Jean-Paul and two other men carried an empty tub and buckets of warm water toward Gabriel’s room. Jean-Paul hesitated for a second when he saw her, but the spell that connected her to Gabriel was broken.
He stepped into his room with a nod of farewell, and the men followed with their buckets. The door closed behind them and she was left alone in the hallway.
She backed into her room and closed the door, then sank onto the nearest chair and said a prayer of thanks that Gabriel had come home alive.
A part of her was more certain than ever that she couldn’t have survived if they’d found him dead.
___
Once he’d bathed and eaten, Gabriel sat down in the chair beside the blazing fire and stretched his leg out in front of him. Bloody hell, but he hurt. He rubbed the muscles and put another warm, wet cloth on his thigh. Heat was all that seemed to help.
"It’s good to have you back, my friend," Jean-Paul said when they were finally alone. "You look much better than you did earlier. And the smell is much improved."
Gabriel smiled. "I can imagine. The barn I hid in didn’t have the most pleasing fragrance."
"Then it’s as well we found you when we did."
Gabriel took the glass of whiskey Jean-Paul handed him and drank. "I didn’t think I was going to make it out of this one. I was fortunate to find an abandoned stable."
"The French officer was the captain you were afraid would recognize you, am I right?"
Gabriel nodded.
Jean-Paul refilled his glass. "He must want you terribly bad, my friend. French soldiers are combing every area of Paris looking for you."
Gabriel threw a swallow of whiskey to the back of his throat. "We have to leave here. Soon."
"Captain Faraday will return in a few days. We will get you to Rouen before he arrives."
A wave of frustration stabbed at Gabriel. "I didn’t expect to see everyone here when I returned. I told Lydia to go to Captain Faraday if we weren’t back by sunrise of that first day."
"Ha! The lady nearly had anyone’s head who even suggested she leave without you. She’s barely eaten a bite, or slept more than a few hours since you left."
Gabriel couldn’t hide the frown from his face.
"There’s no need for you to worry," Jean-Paul said with a smile. "She’ll have a couple of days to rest before you have to leave. And my Jeanette will make sure she gets plenty to eat."
Gabriel felt a niggling of concern. "Will you be safe until we go?"
"Of course. The French don’t know my little inn even exists."
"Let’s hope it stays that way."
Jean-Paul got up from his chair. "I’ll leave you alone now to get some rest."
Gabriel stayed seated with his leg propped on the pillow. "Thank you, friend. For everything."
"My pleasure. You’re too good a friend to lose to the French."
Jean-Paul gave Gabriel a meaningful nod then left the room.
Gabriel finished the drink in his glass, then dropped his head against the wooden rungs of the chair. He’d had so many brushes with death he wasn’t sure if he was living on borrowed time or if God was sending him another warning in hopes that he’d take this one seriously. He thought of Lydia and of what could have been, what never would.
He was glad she was asleep behind a closed door.
It was best this way. Better if she wasn’t anywhere near him right now. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep from taking her in his arms. He’d given her up too many times already, faced death too many times. Once they were back in England their paths wouldn’t cross. He’d make sure of it. Being this close was too painful for either of them.
He clamped his fingers to his thigh and rubbed his aching muscles. His movements stopped at the knock at the door. He turned to see her standing in the open doorway.
He stared at her in silence while he waited for the rapid beating of his heart to slow.
"I came to make sure you were all right." She took a step into the room and closed the door behind her.
She was dressed in white, a white robe over a white nightgown, and her hair was tied back at her neck with a white ribbon. She was the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen.
"I’m fine. Go to bed."
She turned and opened the door several inches. "Very well. Is there anything you need before I leave?"
He hesitated. Yes, there were a million things he needed before she left and every one of them involved touching her, holding her, kissing her, loving her. Which is exactly why she should leave his room. Now.
If he were smart, he’d tell her that. Maybe it would scare the hell out of her and she’d run from his room.
Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "Why the hell are you still here? You promised you’d leave when I didn’t come back."
His words were sharp, his voice harsh. Anger was important right now. Any other emotion would be his undoing. From her reaction, irritation wasn’t the emotion she needed or expected from him.
The door closed with a solid thud and she turned to face him. The look in her eyes seared him with a fury that seemed to match his own.
"I’m here, Major Talbot, because for some reason I don’t understand, I was concerned for you. And, if you remember, I didn’t promise to leave when you didn’t return, I promised to leave when I was certain you wouldn’t return. I wasn’t certain of that fact that first morning." She marched toward him. "With obvious good reason, because here you are."
She swiped her hand through the air and faced him with her fists anchored on her hips. "Besides, only a fool would try to move Austin and the marquess. Neither was in any condition to travel."
She was right, but pride and some other emotion he couldn’t put a name to refused to allow him to admit that to her. What he started to say was lost to him the minute he opened his mouth.
An intense pain grabbed hold of the muscles in his leg and refused to let go. He clamped his hand around his thigh and kneaded the knotted muscles, but the white-hot pain increased until he feared he might become ill.
He growled out one agonizing moan after another while he rubbed at the gripping pain in his thigh. Nothing seemed to help. Of all the times his muscles had knotted on him, this was the worst.
Suddenly, he realized his hands weren’t the only ones kneading away the pain. Liddy’s were there, too, pressing down on his flesh, rubbing against the hard knots, touching him where he’d dr
eamed of having her touch him.
Together they worked until the pain lessened. Then, he realized his leg wasn’t the only area of his body that was affected.
"Is it easing?" she asked when he straightened.
"I need to walk." He pushed himself to his feet and took his first step. He stumbled and nearly went to the ground.
"Here," she said, and rushed to his side. She placed her arm around his waist and he had no choice but to drape his arm across her shoulders. They walked from one side of the room to the other.
"Is it better?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered, but his heavy, ragged breaths weren’t at all convincing.
"Keep walking," she said, and tightened her hold around his waist.
His fingers dangled dangerously close to her breast, and with each step he thought that if he’d move his hand just a fraction closer, her breast would fit in the palm of his hand. A drop of perspiration fell from his brow.
"We need to stop," he uttered with the little breath he had left.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
Liddy stopped, then stepped in front of him. She looked up at him with eyes that were open wide and filled with confusion. Her gaze locked with his as if she was as aware of the connection that had always bound them, then she moved her gaze to his lips as if she was suddenly aware of where his thoughts had taken him. He wanted her. He was desperate to have her. To hold her. To make her his.
For several days he’d doubted he’d survive this mission. And he knew that even if he did, when he returned to Jean-Paul’s, Liddy wouldn’t be there. She’d have gone back to England where she’d be safe.
But she hadn’t gone back. She was here, in his arms. The one person he knew he couldn’t survive without was here.
"Ah, Liddy," he whispered as he pulled her close. He knew he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but he couldn’t stop himself from making it. Then, when he held her so close she was a part of him, the heat from her body set him on fire. Every part of him ignited with a desire he couldn’t control.
He moved his hands over her body, touching her, feeling her, gathering her to him. For this moment in time, this was where she belonged. Where they belonged – together.
He cupped his hands to her cheeks and tilted her head. The expression in her eyes was that of longing, of submission, of...desire. He knew he should step away from her, but didn’t have the strength, didn’t have the will.
He looked into her eyes and waited for a sign of fear. There was none. Only an intense desire that matched his own. He waited one more second before he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her with all the passion he feared he’d never have a chance to share with her again.
Her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue skimming his lips, begging for entrance. Her fervor was more than he could take. More than he could battle against. He opened to take her in and let her find him.
Their mating was explosive. The seeking, searching, finding, exploring - all of it more powerful than anything he could have imagined. It must have been for her, too. She pressed harder against him and held on tight, all the while kissing him with an open-mouthed hunger neither of them could satisfy.
"Liddy," he whispered, gasping for breath. "Tell me to stop."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. "I can’t."
Her words stunned him, the impact of her admission stormed through him like a fire raging out of control. Her meaning was as dangerous and deadly as the feel of her hands on his flesh.
She loosened his shirt and pushed it from his shoulders, baring his chest to her. And she kissed him again.
He should stop her, but he couldn’t. He should fight the baser needs that ran rampant through him, that consumed him. But he could no more pull away from her than he could stop his hands from loosening her gown and letting it fall to the floor. With his mouth still pressed to hers, he slid his hands across her flesh, touching her soft skin and cupping her breasts. She gasped when he held her and he took her sound of surprise into his mouth.
"You’re beautiful," he whispered, kissing her cheek, then moving lower, down her neck to nuzzle against the tender spot just below her ear. "Oh, so beautiful."
Her earthy moans shot burning flames through him and he kissed the hollow of her neck.
Her chest heaved with passion, her breathing harsh and labored. He knew he should stop, but heaven help him, he couldn’t. He needed to touch more of her, to suckle her and feel her tremble in his arms.
He nearly lost his composure when she arched her back and cried out his name.
"I love you, Gabriel. Even though I know I shouldn’t – can’t – I love you."
He kissed her mouth again, his kisses hot and wet, her response frantic and desperate. "I know."
He kissed her again and she kissed him back. Again and again he took from her – and gave to her, until both of them were beyond stopping.
If Liddy realized the risk she took, she chose to ignore it.
If she realized how impossible it would be to live with what they were about to do, she chose to disregard it.
With a desperation he couldn’t restrain, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bed, praying that tomorrow they could both live with what they did tonight.
CHAPTER 16
Lydia wanted to blame Gabriel for what they were doing, but the fault wasn’t his. She played an equal role in what was happening. She’d known the risks when she entered his room. But she needed to see him. Needed to know he was unharmed.
When he kissed her, she told herself she would stop him. Told herself letting their passion go further was futile, even dangerous. Told herself she was in control of her emotions enough to stop him whenever she wanted. That she only wanted him to hold her once more before he was no longer a part of her life.
She was promised to the Marquess of Culbertson. She could never forget that. She only wanted Gabriel to hold her and keep her safe, then she would step away from him – untouched.
That was as far from the truth as the East was from the West. Being alone with him was a bigger threat than LeBrouche or the whole French army because...
Because she still loved him with all her heart. How could she give herself to him if she didn’t? And if he didn’t love her as much, well...
She clung to him as he carried her across the room, his lips joined to hers.
His kisses were wildly intoxicating, as demanding as before. She reveled in his touch, in his caresses, in his kisses, and ran her trembling hands over the sleek muscles of his shoulders.
He removed his clothes and came down over her. His weight pressed against her in the most wonderful way, his elbows anchored on either side of her. For several seconds he didn’t move, but stared at her. Then, he lowered his head and kissed her.
Again and again he kissed her, his kisses demanding yet tender.
She didn’t know how long she could endure his ministrations. She clung to him, desperate to have him closer. She writhed beneath him, unable to take more of his sweet torture. Then she moved against him, certain there was a mystery in their act she didn’t understand.
He lifted his head and locked his gaze with hers. His eyes were black with passion. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice ragged and hoarse.
She should say no, tell him to stop. She knew if she did, he would. He’d never force her. She knew that.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. "Yes," she said as she kissed him. "Yes, I’m sure."
"It will hurt this first time."
"I know."
She felt him against her, filling her, stretching her. He stopped when he came to the barrier that proved her innocence.
Perspiration formed on his forehead. He clenched his teeth as if in agony. And still he didn’t move. As if holding back for her. Perhaps to give her one last chance to change her mind. But it was too late. Too late for either of them.
She arch
ed her hips and took him into her.
The pain was minor compared to the myriad of emotions that soared through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth to hers. His kisses were deep, and after a little time he moved inside her.
She clasped her arms around his shoulders and rose with him to the stars.
Emotion built within her until she couldn’t contain it any longer. Time was immeasurable. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, her head dropped back into the pillow and she cried out while one tremor after another racked her body.
He thrust inside her once more, then once again, then stilled above her. He shuddered and fell against her, his seed inside her, his weight atop her. She’d never felt anything so wondrous in her life.
She skimmed her hands over his flesh, touching him, caressing him, loving him as tears of happiness fell from the corners of her eyes. Then she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
For a long time neither of them moved. Finally her breathing calmed to match his. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. She knew he wanted to speak, but words had no place between them. They would only destroy the perfection of what they’d shared.
She pressed her finger to his lips to trap any words from escaping. "Kiss me again," she whispered.
And he did.
___
Lydia opened her eyes and looked at the man sleeping beside her. His breathing was slow and even, and he seemed relaxed.
He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Even with the scars on his body and the limitations of his leg, he was perfect. She knew what she’d done had been foolish, but in her heart, she knew something no one else knew. Especially Major Gabriel Talbot.
She loved him.
Her body warmed when she thought of what they’d done, of what they’d shared, and her heart thundered in her breast. Loving him was so complicated.
And hopeless.
He would never be hers. She belonged to the Marquess of Culbertson. For some reason she couldn’t understand, he’d handed her over when the duke had come to see her father. Handed her over as if he hadn’t been given a choice.
