Gabriel shook his head and began to fold her wrap with his usual care. “You’re pregnant for heaven’s sake, have a care, Crecy.”
“Oh, pooh,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “That doesn’t mean I shall let you wrap me in cotton wool, so you may as well give up on the idea.” She watched with impatience as he put her wrap away and then did the same with his own, before turning towards the bed. “Come along,” she said, stripping the covers back further on his side and patting the space that was his.
Gabriel let out a long-suffering sigh. “Remember what I said,” he muttered, the warning behind the words unmistakable.
“Mmmmhmmm.”
He gave her a suspicious look, but got in beside her, pausing only to blow out the candle. Crecy wasted no time in wriggling beneath his arm and laying her head on his chest.
“Crecy,” he said, sounding irritated.
“Oh, come along, you can’t deny the mother of your child a cuddle, at least,” she said, a distinctly whiny quality to her voice that she was rather pleased with.
She could practically hear him grinding his teeth, but he said nothing more, and she counted that a victory. Content, for now, Crecy discovered she really was dreadfully tired and went to sleep happy.
***
Gabriel stared into the darkness and wondered how the hell he was going to get through the next six months. Could you die from desire, he wondered with a touch of desperation? He couldn’t help but hope so. It would make things a deal easier.
Crecy was warm and soft, cuddled as close to him as she could manage, her hair a silky curtain falling over his arm as the faint scent of lily of the valley drifted up to him. The delicate huff of her breathing fluttered over his chest, sending goosebumps chasing over his skin, which did not help matters in the least. He could tumble her onto her back now, this minute, and she would be only too pleased to welcome him. The idea was like a maggot in his brain, wriggling in his conscious mind until he knew he wouldn’t sleep a wink.
He was hard and aching, and the object of his desire was only too close and as far from unwilling as it was possible to get. He sighed, suppressing a groan and consigning himself to a night of utter torture.
***
Crecy woke, a sensation of peace and happiness stealing over her. She wriggled her toes in the warmth of the bed and realised that the heat source making her so cosy was Gabriel. Without opening her eyes, she registered the feel of him under her hand, the tangle of coarse hair on his chest and the surprisingly silky skin beneath. With a deceptively sleepy sigh that might fool him into believing that she was still asleep, she stirred a little, allowing her hand to drift lower. The already tense body beside her seemed to grow tauter still, and he sucked in a breath as her hand covered a rather impressive show of arousal.
“Crecy!” he growled, though his voice sounded more desperate than angry.
She looked up at him, blinking and giving him what she hoped was a beguiling look, as her hand firmed a little, caressing him through his nightshirt.
“Yes, Gabriel?” she replied, her tone one of innocent enquiry.
She moved her hand over him, eliciting a deep groan that made her own body spring to life in response. To her chagrin, Gabriel put a dent in her enthusiasm by grasping hold of her wrist.
“I told you no already,” he said, lifting his head to glare at her and sounding very much as though he was talking through gritted teeth.
Crecy pursed her lips and shook her head. “You told me that …” she hesitated, finding that even she baulked a little at being too expressive. “That the act was forbidden, but … and I know I have no experience of such things, Gabriel, but I suspect that does not cancel out every aspect of pleasure?”
Gabriel stared at her in outrage for a moment and then capitulated. His head hit the pillow with a thud and he released her hand. “Fine, fine … just … please …”
Crecy grinned, feeling rather smug. That had been easier than she’d anticipated. With every indication of enthusiasm, Crecy returned to her work, wasting no time in pulling the infuriating shirt out of the way. That would have to go. She pushed it up, revealing Gabriel in all his glory, and making her feel all the more smug and not a little possessive. He sat up, stripping the shirt off and throwing it to the floor with impatience. Crecy took a moment to admire that impressive chest and the scattering of dark hair that trailed below a hard stomach to regions she had every intention of becoming better acquainted with. She hesitated, though, eyeing the shirt on the floor and wondering if he’d insist on tidying it. But he was staring at her with a rather frantic look in his eyes, and didn’t seem the least bit concerned with the shirt.
Intrigued, Crecy returned to the even more interesting work of familiarising herself with Gabriel. He sucked in a breath as her hand returned to him, and she ran her fingers up and down the hard length, watching with interest as he shivered.
“Like this, remember?” he said, his voice hoarse as he took her hand and showed her how to go about the business of pleasuring him. Crecy repeated his instructions, watching closely as Gabriel shut his eyes.
Crecy knelt beside him, using her free hand to smooth over his skin, and noted with interest the moisture that gathered, allowing her hand to slide easier as his breathing became deeper and faster. She bent lower, quite unable to resist the urge to kiss his stomach, pleased by the hitch in his breath as her lips met his skin. She shifted around a little, moving between his legs and bending again, this time to nuzzle her face against his thigh. Her lips continued their exploration, mapping the rough hair of his thighs and the intriguingly soft skin at the apex. She wondered if the skin she held in her hand was even silkier, as it felt like it was, and she paused her attentions for a moment. Gabriel raised his head, looking a little indignant, just in time to see her duck down and press her lips to the head of his arousal.
“Oh, good Christ.” The words were said in a rush, and Crecy decided this was something that pleased him, and continued, discovering that trailing her tongue over his flesh drew quite a remarkable sound from him. With no real idea of what she was doing, but guided by the increasingly agonised sounds from the far end of the bed, Crecy alternated her attentions between mouth and lips and tongue until Gabriel was clutching at the bed covers.
“Stop, stop,” he said, and Crecy looked up as he took himself in hand and his body grew taut, every muscle straining with exertion as pleasure overcame him and he found his release. Crecy watched, fascinated and burning with desire for him. She wanted him to make love to her so badly that she thought she’d go mad if he didn’t, but she suspected her opportunity to persuade him this morning had been lost. Still, she knew it didn’t do to push Gabriel too hard. She would just have to be patient.
She sighed inwardly, never having felt less patient in her whole life. Still, he had already shown her there were other ways to bring her pleasure, too. Sitting up, she stripped off her nightgown and used it to clean him up.
“Crecy,” he said, still breathless and a little dazed, by the sounds of things. “For the love of God, you don’t need to do that.”
“But I don’t mind,” she said, giving him a curious look. “I want to.” Her lips quirked as she looked down at him, noticing the moment when he registered her nakedness. “Besides,” she added. “It’s my turn.”
***
Gabriel wasn’t sure his heart - or any other part of him, come to that - could stand much more.
He felt raw and exposed in more ways than simply being naked before her. She was digging so deeply into his heart, it was terrifying, and he didn’t know how to stop it happening. And now, there she was, demanding that it was her turn.
He didn’t know whether to thank God or curse the devil.
Before he could consider the options further, his body had decided it wasn’t worth the effort of further thought, and he’d tumbled her onto her back as he’d been dreaming of doing all night. Though he would never have admitted it to Crecy, he cursed the bloody doct
or who had advised him, and decided he would seek a second opinion - just to be on the safe side. For now, though, he was going to take his time and give a little retribution.
Gabriel moved over her, bracing his weight on his elbows and kissing her, quite unable to disguise his feelings on the matter. With Crecy’s arms wrapped over his shoulders, holding him tight, and her body as inviting and welcoming as ever, there was no greater happiness than this. He could not help but show it, kissing her slowly, tenderly, and with such reverence as he felt for her, this strange and wonderful woman who was mad enough to care for him.
But there were other inviting areas to attend to, and Gabriel made a thorough exploration of all of them, smiling as his lips closed over her breast and she gasped, clutching at his hair, and fighting back the absurd desire to laugh as his mouth trailed over her stomach and lower, and she squealed and gasped and arched beneath him.
When he finally reached his destination, the sounds he drew from her were even more pleasing. He decided that he was glad the walls were so damn thick, or the servants would not be able to look them in the eye in the morning, as Crecy did nothing by halves. Hearing his name cried out in such a desperate manner as she came, clutching at the bed covers and writhing beneath him, had him hard and nursing the violent desire to bury himself inside her. He was definitely going to consult Dr Marchand on the matter. The moment the fellow got here. Good Lord, surely a Frenchman would be sensible?
Gabriel knelt back, surveying the devastation he’d wrought with satisfaction. Crecy was gasping, her arms akimbo, hair a tangled mess against the bed covers, and her skin deeply flushed. She had never looked more beautiful, and Gabriel could no longer deny the feeling that seemed to push at his chest, needing more room than he had to give to physically contain it. It was too vast, too overpowering … too frightening, but it was real.
He loved her.
Chapter 28
“Wherein Crecy confronts the devil.”
The months that followed were idyllic, as far as Crecy was concerned.
Perhaps not quite perfect, as the stupid French doctor had confirmed his English counterpart’s ideas on lovemaking whilst pregnant. But discovering other options was a rather delightful way to pass the time. Gabriel was at his most wonderful in these moments. His ability to love and care for her was something which continued to astonish her. That a man who had received so little care in his life was capable of such tenderness towards her was something she felt humbled by, and extremely fortunate to experience.
Not that everything was easy. By no means. Gabriel’s obsessive behaviour had not diminished as much as she had hoped, and indeed, as her pregnancy progressed, she sensed it worsening. She had overheard him the day before, having a passionate argument with someone, only to discover that he was alone. That his father’s voice still plagued him was only too clear. From her eavesdropping, she had also realised that for Gabriel, this was only a happy interlude. His job was to destroy Edward’s good name, and delivering his wife’s sister home with his bastard child in tow had to fit into that category nicely.
To say that Crecy was devastated was perhaps to simplify her feelings. She didn’t blame Gabriel, though, she couldn’t. His father was to blame for this. For everything that Gabriel had become, that man was to blame, and she had never hated anyone more. For she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Gabriel loved her, that he wanted their child and feared for both of them … and that knowing he could not keep them was tearing him apart. That was why he became increasingly unsettled as the time passed all too quickly, because he did not want to let her go.
It was August now, and the days were almost too hot to bear. They stayed indoors most of their day, either locked in their bedroom and each other’s arms, or in the sanctuary of the library, which was clearly Gabriel’s favourite room. After dinner that evening, however, the temperature had been more moderate and Crecy desperate for some air, so she had persuaded Gabriel to take a walk with her.
The gardens here were exquisite and, of course, another thing that Gabriel had controlled with precision. The design was his own, after having studied a number of books on the subject, and Crecy was delighted and fascinated that such a natural and gently beautiful garden had come from his own hand. She might have expected mazes and tightly clipped box hedging, but not the profusion of colour and variety that was to be found here.
They settled themselves on a bench not too far from a small river that wound through the property towards the bottom of the gently sloping grounds. Close enough that they could hear the soft murmur of the water, but not so near that they’d get bitten to death by the wildlife. Crecy liked sitting and talking to Gabriel in the dark. Outside of their lovemaking, it was the one time that he let his guard down a little and would speak more freely. It was almost as though the darkness shielded him somehow.
“Why doesn’t it bother you?” Crecy began, voicing a question she had long wanted to pose.
Gabriel turned his head, the slight glint of his eyes visible in the moonlight.
“It probably does,” he replied, his tone dry. “But what precisely are you referring to?”
“When we make love,” she said, smiling as she knew he still wasn’t used to her directness. “It’s wonderful and joyous and … well, simply the best thing in the world,” she added, knowing it would amuse him even if he said nothing. “But it’s also messy and disordered and out of control and … well, all the things you can’t abide.”
He was quiet for a long while before he shook his head.
“No, it isn’t,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s perfect.”
Crecy was quite certain she could melt at his feet at that moment, but contented herself with raising his hand to her lips and kissing it.
“I love you,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t reply and feeling quite at ease with the fact. She knew how he felt. That was enough.
“You were right,” he said, his voice a little tense now.
“That sounds unlikely,” she laughed, squeezing his hand and snuggling closer against him despite the heat.
He let out a huff of laughter, but shook his head. “About the night Aubrey Russell was shot. I didn’t order it.”
Crecy smiled in the dim light. She’d been sure that had been the case, but she was simply happy that he felt like telling her the truth.
“I knew that, Gabriel,” she said, watching as he turned his head.
“Why do you have such faith in me?” he demanded, sounding angry all at once. “I don’t deserve it, you know. I may not have ordered Edward’s murder, but the man who did it knew I wanted rid of him, and he wanted to be free of his debt to me. He thought if he solved the problem of Edward returning and taking back the title that I would owe him instead.”
Crecy held his hand tighter, knowing that he would retreat from her if she let him.
“But you didn’t order his death, Gabriel. I know you’ve done some bad things and I can’t condone them, and I hope, in time, that you will find a happier way to live your life. But I do forgive you for them, and I understand why you did those things.”
“How?” he said, the word almost a snarl of anger. “How can you possibly understand? I killed a man in a duel, did you know that?”
Crecy took a breath, but nodded. He was trying to drive her away like he had many times before with his angry words. He would push and push, all the time waiting for the moment she would leave, as she knew he believed she would, whilst all the while praying that she wouldn’t. Surely, sooner or later, he would have to believe that he was stuck with her for good?
“Yes. I knew that, Gabriel. Though I don’t know why you killed him. Tell me, please?”
He fell quiet then, and she didn’t need to see his face to imagine the mutinous expression that was on it now.
“Well?” she pressed him. She knew for certain that Gabriel never did anything without a good reason, no matter how tangled that reasoning might be. But she felt in her heart that he would not have ta
ken a man’s life for nothing.
“It’s of no matter,” he snapped.
Crecy sat up, turning towards him. “Oh, but it is,” she said, her voice firm. “You want me to believe you the very devil, Gabriel, well, prove it, then. Tell me why you killed him, and don’t you dare lie to me, for I shall know it.”
“I didn’t like his face,” he retorted, sounding so much like a sulky boy that she had to bite back a smile.
“Liar,” she said, her voice tart as she let go of his hand and folded her arms.
“Did you know I own a whorehouse, too?” This one had been designed to make her jealous, but Crecy didn’t rise to it. She knew him too well to believe he would ever give anything of himself to a woman he had no feelings for. Whatever he had done before she had arrived would have been out of physical need, and perhaps simply a desire for some form of human contact, no matter how sordid. She pitied him for it and could only feel gratitude to the women there if they had brought him some comfort in the years before she’d come to him.
“I knew that, yes,” she said, her voice placid. “Are the ladies pretty?”
“For the love of God!” he exploded, getting to his feet, though to her relief, he did not walk away.
“Gabriel,” she said, getting up and walking to stand beside him. “You cannot shock me into not loving you and you cannot drive me away, so you may as well tell me all of your darkest secrets. I will keep them safe for you, and you will feel all the lighter for it.”
He let out a breath and stared up at the stars. His body was taut, and she knew he was fighting a war in his head. He wanted to tell her everything, but his father’s voice was determined to undermine them. If she could only make him see that it wasn’t his father he heard at all, just his own conscience because he didn’t believe he deserved to be happy. He sabotaged every opportunity he had for happiness because he didn’t dare take it.
To Tame a Savage Heart Page 24
