“Yes, Papa.” Freddy’s shoulders went back. “You can count on me.”
“Excellent.” He ruffled his son’s hair—and sensed another presence in the room. Turning his head, he saw Thea standing in the doorway with an armful of books. Their gazes locked, and the warmth in her eyes, her rosy blush, made him want to spirit her away somewhere. To have her all to himself.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling. “I brought Freddy some new reading.”
“We were just talking about you, Miss Thea.” Freddy’s chest puffed out. “I’m to look after you and the ladies when Papa is out hunting down the villain.”
Thea went to the other side of the bed. Setting the volumes down on the coverlet, she brushed a wayward lock off Freddy’s forehead. “In that case, I shall feel extremely safe.”
Freddy beamed.
Gabriel looked at Thea over his son’s head. His heart seemed to be pounding too quickly, the rhythm as erratic as that of a schoolboy with his first crush. The unpleasant comparison jolted him. Don’t make the same mistakes, he told himself sternly. Set realistic expectations.
Freddy gave a sudden yawn.
“I believe it is time for your nap,” Gabriel said.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Miss Kent,” he said, “I was wondering if you’d care to take a turn in the garden?”
“I’d love to,” she said.
Her smile made him lose his train of thought. Offering her his arm, he strove to clear his head. To stay focused. This time around, he’d be damned if he let love get in the way of happiness.
Chapter Nineteen
Thea got permission from Emma to go for a short stroll out back with Gabriel.
She loved the garden, a masterpiece of manicured rosebushes that would make a lovely scene for a landscape painting. As they strolled along the pebbled path surrounded by hedges, she stole looks at Gabriel beneath her lashes. He was the perfect gentleman in a smoke grey cutaway and blue brocade waistcoat, the sun picking out the bronze in his austerely styled hair. He’d be a worthy subject of any portrait.
What was he thinking? she wondered. His features were once again schooled, free of the emotion she’d glimpsed when he’d held his son. Her throat thickened as she recalled that tender scene. So much lay beneath Gabriel’s stoicism.
As if she needed proof of that after last night. A swoony feeling stole over her. Goodness, he was a passionate man.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he said.
She collected herself and smiled. “I was just thinking this would be a perfect setting for a painting. I would entitle it, An English Interlude.”
“It feels like an interlude, doesn’t it? Imagine us with a moment that doesn’t involve kidnapping, murder, or mayhem.”
“There has been an excess of excitement,” she agreed.
“Not the least of which included last night.”
Suddenly, she found herself backed against a hedge, leaves and twigs prickling over her back, and Gabriel leaning over her. His pupils darkened, and he didn’t look so much like a gentleman anymore. He didn’t kiss like one either, she thought dizzily before her thoughts dissolved in the hot, sensual onslaught.
Sometime later, he released her. Straightened his clothing and her own. Tucking her arm in his, he continued to lead her down the path.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you this morning,” he said in conversational tones.
She was still trying to regain her senses. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Look so proper when you’re…”
“Thinking improper thoughts?” His smile was wry. “I was a spy, remember? Concealing one’s desires is part of the job.”
That made sense. She wanted to know so much more about him, and for once they had the opportunity to talk. Knowing that his marriage was a sensitive topic, she decided to skip over that for now.
“Tell me about your family,” she said.
He slid her a glance. “What would you like to know?”
“Do you have siblings?”
“I had an older brother. He’s dead.”
She’d forgotten that he’d been the spare to the heir. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to imagine the grief she’d feel if she lost one of her own siblings. “That must have been difficult.”
“It wasn’t.”
She frowned. “But he was your brother—”
“Michael and I weren’t close. He was five years older than me.” A pause. “His favorite hobby was beating me.”
“At sports and games?” she said uncertainly.
“With his fists.”
The toneless response made her shiver. “Why didn’t your parents stop him?”
He paused. “This topic grows tedious.”
“Not for me.” When he said nothing, she persisted, “This isn’t espionage, Gabriel. This is a conversation. What two people have when they’re trying to get to know one another.”
After a moment, Gabriel said, “My father was the one who set the example. He beat Michael, and Michael beat me. Only fair, I suppose.” He shrugged. “My mama stayed out of things by locking herself in her bedchamber. She was a pious sort. Whenever she emerged, she’d announce that a propensity for violence and sin flowed in the veins of all men of the house. ’Twas the Tremont curse, she said. She prayed for us.”
His matter-of-fact description chilled Thea. His family was as different from her own loving clan as day and night. No wonder he’d learned to keep to himself; he’d had no one to turn to.
“At least your mama’s prayers worked,” she said softly.
His brows lifted, his expression sardonic.
“As a spy, any violence you conducted was for a purpose,” she said adamantly. “For the greater good. That is not the same as being a mindless brute.”
“Octavian told me once that he recruited me because he sensed what I have inside me.” Gabriel’s lips twisted. “The capacity to do what needed to be done—that was his euphemism for it. He groomed the darkness in me.”
“Were you close to him? You called him your mentor,” she said tentatively.
Dragonflies performed dizzy, iridescent loops in front of them as they walked on in silence.
“When I met Octavian, there was anger in me,” Gabriel said finally. “From the years of living under my brother’s tyranny, I suppose. Octavian taught me to control that, gave me skills to put it to a better use. For that, I owe him.”
Shadows flitted through his eyes. There was something else he wasn’t saying.
“But?” she said softly.
He gave her a wry glance. “But our parting was not amicable. He didn’t want me to leave the Quorum, and I refused to stay.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“As you said, we’ve the time.” She gave him an encouraging smile.
“There are better ways to pass time.”
He stopped on the path, picking up her hand. His lips grazed the inside of her wrist, and her knees wobbled. His smoky gaze promised sinful temptation, yet she wanted to get close to him in other ways as well.
“You’re dodging the question,” she said.
“And you’re more persistent than I realized.” His thumb brushed over her lower lip. “What happened to you surrendering your will to mine?”
Heat pulsed in her cheeks. And elsewhere.
“Our agreement was for the bedchamber,” she reminded him. “We’re not in one presently.”
His slow smile made her toes curl in her half-boots. “I could improvise.”
“Even you wouldn’t make love to me in the garden… in broad daylight…” The devilish glint in his eyes stole away her certainty. Worried and aroused, she said breathlessly, “Gabriel, anyone could see...”
He laughed. The low, husky sound was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard.
“You should see yourself, princess. Pink-cheeked and fretting.” He tipped her chin up, his
gaze dark and penetrating. “Tell me, are you afraid that I’m going to make love to you here or afraid,” he murmured, “that I’m not?”
His hold on her was mesmeric; she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t give him anything but the truth. “A little of both?” she managed.
His lips curved with satisfaction. Holding her hand, he led her forward along the path again. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
She hadn’t learned nearly enough about him. Seeing the impassive set of his features, however, she knew that she wasn’t likely to get more from him today. Getting close to Gabriel was like learning an intricate piece of music. Her struggles with Beethoven’s Hammerklavier sonata came to mind. She doubted she would ever master the mammoth composition, from the power of its first movement to the deeply emotional nuances of the second to the dizzying complexity of the last.
But she didn’t give up trying. One couldn’t force music to reveal its true heart. That took patience, practice, and the wisdom to let each piece unfold in its own time.
Sometimes capitulating was a better choice than pounding the keys in frustration.
“You’ve met most of my family, with the exception of my brother Harry,” she said. “He’s an aspiring scientist and making quite a splash at Cambridge.”
“Your family has unusual interests.”
“Our parents encouraged us to follow our hearts, even if that took us off the beaten path.”
“In your case, it’s taken you straight off a cliff,” he said wryly. “You don’t know what you’ve taken on with me, princess.”
“I think I got a pretty good idea last night. Wild pleasure, a man who desires me for who I am.” She canted her head. “I suppose I’ll have to suffer.”
“Far be it for me to argue if you think you got yourself a bargain,” he muttered. “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t married before this. Surely you’ve had offers.”
His confidence that she’d received proposals flattered her.
“I’m hardly a Diamond of the First Water, and despite the matches made by my siblings, I’m a middling class miss when it comes down to it,” she said earnestly. After a pause, she added, “Then there’s my condition. Gentlemen who have shown interest want to treat me like a porcelain doll. An ornament. That’s not who I am at all and not the sort of wife I want to be.”
He frowned. “You’re gorgeous, passionate, and sweet. Everything a man could want.”
As thrilled as she was by his praise, she couldn’t squelch a bubble of doubt. “You used to think I was too delicate for you.”
“The problem was with me, not you. I thought my desires were too much for any virgin.” Before she could argue, he amended, “Until you proved me wrong. I think some part of me recognized that you were my match from the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“You remember when we met?” she said breathlessly.
“Your sister’s engagement party. You were playing a sonata.” His lips curved. “I got aroused just listening to you.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
“I wanted to take you then and there,” he said ruefully. “To strip you bare and lay you on the piano, see your soft white skin against the dark wood. I wanted to take my time kissing and touching you… everywhere. And you would lie there and let me do anything I wanted.”
She was having trouble breathing. Her nipples tingled; her pussy dampened.
His eyes had a knowing gleam. “At the same time, you reminded me of the princess in the tower. Out of my reach.”
“And now?” she dared to ask.
He fingered a loose curl at her temple, his touch proprietary. “I have something to discuss with you, Thea. Something I ought to have said last night.”
Her heart began to drum. Was he about to officially propose?
“Yes?” she managed.
“It concerns marriage. To be honest, before you I’d never thought to marry again. I’m not a man suited for that sort of union—”
“I don’t agree,” she protested.
“Let me finish. I’m not an easy man, and my past—well, you know what it is. Then there are my proclivities in the bedchamber.” His gaze was steady on hers. “But you’ve seemed to take all of that in stride, so the future lays before us. There is a matter, however, that I feel we must address. It concerns love.”
This was more like it. Her pulse aflutter, she said, “Yes?”
“I don’t believe it has a place in marriage,” he said.
She had the sensation of plunging into an abyss. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Excessive emotion can handicap a marriage and lead to disappointment. I speak from experience,” he said quietly, “and it is a mistake I’ll not make again.”
“Are you referring to your first marriage?” she said uncertainly.
He gave a curt nod. “As I’ve said, I will not dishonor my deceased wife by discussing details. But love did not serve us well. I’m ill-suited for strong emotion. Perhaps that is due to my time as an agent—but that is neither here nor there. If I were to marry again, I would wish to set clear expectations.”
Thea’s head was spinning. “What sort of expectations?”
“That my wife and I share physical desire. That we are committed to the same goals: raising a family, making a home of the estate. And that we are honest with one another and develop trust over time.”
Slowly, some of Thea’s anxiety eased. With the exception of his caveat on love, his description sounded almost exactly like what she wanted. Perhaps this was merely an issue in semantics.
“What about fidelity?” she said cautiously.
“Let me be very clear: you would belong to me. And I would have no need of another.” The possessiveness in his eyes was unmistakable and filled her with relief.
Yet a question popped into her head. In truth, it had been tumbling about since he’d revealed last night that his marriage hadn’t been perfect, intimating that conjugal relations had been part of the problem.
“Were you faithful to your wife?” she said.
His eyes shuttered. “I told you my marriage isn’t open for discussion.”
“If I’m to make a decision about the future, then I need to be in possession of the facts.” She wasn’t about to back down, not about this.
Silence stretched between them.
His jaw taut, he said, “Sylvia told me to take a mistress, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t betray my vows.”
This affirmed what Thea believed about him, that he’d been a true and devoted husband. It also raised more questions about his marriage: what sort of a woman would knowingly send her husband off into another’s arms? Sensing the emotion churning beneath his controlled surface, she decided not to push about his past. At least, not at the moment.
Instead, she said, “I know extramarital affairs are fashionable amongst the ton, but I wouldn’t tolerate it. I wouldn’t want my husband sharing intimacies with anyone else.”
“Possessive, are you?” His eyes softened, as if the notion pleased him. “Don’t worry, princess, I won’t stray from your bed.”
They were approaching a topic, a sensitive and critical one. She hesitated, thinking of how hard it must have been for him to lose his wife in childbirth. Yet it was all the more reason she had to ask.
Steeling herself, she said, “How do you feel about children? Having them, I mean.”
Her decision about the future might hang upon his answer. Because she needed—nay, deserved—to be treated as a flesh and blood woman. To have a husband who wanted her as a wife and lover and mother of his children. Being called a princess was one thing; she didn’t intend to be shut away, protected in some stupid tower. She’d wasted enough of her life watching the world go by. She wanted to live.
With bated breath, she waited for his reply.
His brows came together, his expression intent but not closed off. “I won’t lie. The idea of you going through childbirth takes years off my life. There ar
e, er, methods to prevent conception, of course.” Before she could speak, he went on, “But I would not insist upon using them if your desire was to add to our family.”
“I want any children we might be blessed with,” she said tremulously.
After a moment, he gave a curt nod.
Their negotiations gave her hope. Desire, honesty, and commitment to building a family together would provide a strong foundation for their relationship. It was more than most marriages had. And everything he told her solidified her intuition that he wasn’t a man incapable of love; he shied from it because it had hurt him before. Over time, if she could win his trust, perhaps she could convince him to give love another chance.
Love couldn’t be forced. Luckily, her struggles with her health and her music had taught her patience.
“What do you think about affection?” she ventured.
“A bonus, definitely.” His thumb skated along her bottom lip. “One that I would welcome between us.”
This time, she heard a wistful edge to his reply and saw the fierce longing in his eyes. That, of everything, decided it for her. He might speak of love in a dismissive manner, yet he made her feel desired and wanted down to the marrow of her being. He was a man who guarded his emotions, yes, but he could learn to let down his barriers. Look how he’d been with Freddy. He was opening up to her, too—even if he didn’t realize it.
In her heart, she knew that they could make each other happy. A future with him was worth any risk. She took the leap of faith.
“At our first meeting, you heard my music—heard me. I knew then that you were the husband I wanted. Nothing has changed,” she said.
A breath released from him. The fact that he’d been holding it fueled her optimism.
I love you, Gabriel. One day, I hope you’ll love me back.
“Then the matter is settled. You honor me, my sweet.” He bent over her hand. The gesture was formal, yet primal satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Now I suggest we go in before I scandalize my future in-laws beyond repair.”
M Is for Marquess Page 15
