The Secret of Love (Rakes & Rebels: The Raveneau Family Book 3)

by Cynthia Wright

  Izzie started to reach for it now, but stopped herself. Closing the porcelain box, she quickly removed her gown, stays, and spectacles, and crawled into bed wearing only her thin chemise.

  No sooner had she lain back on the snowy pillow, than sleep carried her off like one of the waves surging relentlessly against Saint-Malo’s ramparts.

  * * *

  Gabriel was relieved when he came into the house and was informed by Baptiste that his mother had taken supper in her rooms and hadn’t been seen since. Equally encouraging was the news that Eustache had gone off to stroll the ramparts with Lowenna.

  “Lady Isabella has also retired,” Baptiste added with a knowing glance.

  Deftly evading the bait, Gabriel yawned. “I’m tired as well. Bon nuit.”

  On his way upstairs, he paused at the cellaret to pour himself a glass of Justin’s finest cognac and consider his options. A gentleman would withdraw to his own rooms, but he had no intention of doing that, at least not yet. The hunger he felt for her company was too strong.

  Instead, he dropped his coat and cravat on a bench carved in the Egyptian style. It wasn’t a bit proper to visit a lady wearing a waistcoat and an open shirt, but surely they were beyond propriety. Far beyond, if memory served.

  Gabriel paused outside Isabella’s door, imagining for a moment the expression on her face when she answered his knock. She would expect Baptiste or some other servant—but not Gabriel.

  What would she be wearing? This idle thought brought with it a surge of desire so powerful it shocked him. Perhaps she’d have on something filmy to relax and read in, a garment that would reveal the ripe swell of her breasts, the curve of her hip that fit perfectly against his hand. Isabella’s hair would fall about her shoulders, as it had when they’d lain together in the narrow bed at Morlaix. And she’d be rosy-cheeked, tasting of fruit or even wine.

  Imagining her kiss, Gabriel surprised himself by biting the inside of his lip. Good God, what was wrong with him? He hadn’t felt this way since his salacious but celibate youth, when he’d lusted after Jeanette, their family kitchen maid. Considering all the conquests that he’d enjoyed since then, he had long ago assumed that he would never again reach that level of arousal—especially alone, with his own thoughts.

  It made him feel innocent again.

  Glancing down at the bulge in his snug biscuit trousers, Gabriel sighed and wondered if he ought to rearrange himself…

  “Oh, no! No!” The female voice broke on a sob, and it was coming from inside Isabella’s rooms. “Dear God!”

  He didn’t even stop to think what he was doing. His dark hand went to the door latch. Entering, he found the sitting room dark except for the small oil lamp, burning near a table covered with the remnants of Isabella’s dinner.

  “Stop! Please, someone stop them!” Her voice had risen to a panicked cry.

  In an instant, he ascended the few steps leading to her bedroom. Inside, all was dark except for a sliver of moonlight parting the drapes and spilling over Isabella’s mahogany boat bed. She was a vision: long honeyed curls spilling around her as she came up on one elbow, her breasts straining against the confines of a thin muslin chemise.

  In that moment, however, Gabriel saw only her distress and fear. Her eyes were open, but it seemed that she was dreaming.

  “I’m here,” he said, kneeling beside her on the bed and lifting her into his arms. “Don’t worry, everything is fine. You’re safe.”

  “It’s George!” she sobbed, struggling. “The dogs have him!”

  Gabriel gave her a little shake. “Isabella! Wake up. You are dreaming. There are no dogs!”

  “Yes, yes! The giant mastiffs!” There were tears on the face she turned up to him. “They will tear him to pieces!”

  He sensed that she was waking up then, focusing on him in confusion. “There are no dogs,” he repeated. “You are safe here with me.”

  “Oh, it was the most horrible dream!” In that surreal place between dreams and reality, she was unguarded. “Those dogs, they keep them in the kennels under Hollande Bastion. They aren’t fed all day, then they are released after the curfew bell at ten o’clock, and woe be to the person who remains outside the city walls.”

  “Isabella, the watchdogs aren’t there any more. They’ve done away with them—”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. “I was on the ramparts, looking down at the beach, and I saw my brother George there, walking in the moonlight, thin and stooped. Such a sad sight! The bell had rung and I called to him, trying to warn him, but it was too late. Black dogs as big as ponies burst from the kennel in a big pack, and George was running toward the ramparts, to me, but it was hopeless.” She took a great gulping breath. “Just before they reached him, you came.”

  Gabriel held her closer, making soothing noises, stroking her silky hair. “Shh. Of course I came.” He couldn’t help smiling slightly. “Never doubt that I shall always come if you need me.”

  “Really?” She looked up at him, earnestly searching his face. “No matter what?”

  “That has a rather ominous ring to it!” He gave a soft laugh, but saw that she was deadly serious. “Of course, cherie. No matter what.”

  * * *

  Izzie was flooded with emotions she couldn’t identify, a mixture of yearning and fear and something new, completely pure and bright. “No matter what?” she whispered.

  “There is an echo in this bed,” he teased, but held her even more firmly in his strong arms. His fine linen shirt and the hard, warm contours of his chest against her face were bliss. He smelled better than anything she could imagine.

  Izzie wanted to keep asking, Truly, no matter what? Even if you find out that I’ve kept terrible secrets from you? Even if you feel betrayed by me? And remembering all the times her parents had chosen the ton over her, she foolishly longed to demand, Even if you are expected at important social engagements?

  “I missed you tonight,” he said softly against her ear, and she felt the longing in his voice. An answering warmth blossomed in the very core of her being.

  “Oh, Gabriel, I think I must still be dreaming.” She was afraid to give in to this, yet powerless to stop herself.

  “I’m going to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about it for hours.”

  The rough-tender tone of his voice made her breasts tingle and, between her legs, she felt a warm throb of desire. “Oh, yes, please.”

  Izzie gazed up at him, lips parted, and his hands framed her hips. They were still kneeling together on the bed, her arms now twined around his broad shoulders. When he drew her hips against him and she felt the outline of his manhood pressing between her legs through the layers of their clothing, Izzie burned.

  The moment he began to kiss her and his tongue found its way into her mouth, she sensed it was this she hungered for: Gabriel inside her body, thrusting, his male hardness filling her. Now, her smaller tongue met his, and she heard him groan. She was returning his kiss, and she could feel the throb of his heartbeat under his clothing, beating in time with hers, and she wanted only to get closer.

  Izzie thrilled when he rolled her back against the pillows and covered her body with his. It was all she could ever wish for, she decided, burying her fingers in his unruly curls.

  After several more minutes of steamy kissing, Gabriel lifted his head and muttered wryly, “I am wearing boots in your lavender-scented bed, my lady, and it’s just not right. Will you release me long enough to remove them?”

  Reluctantly, she did so, but no sooner had he yanked off one boot than a knock came at her sitting room door. Izzie gasped in surprise.

  “Lady Isabella?” trilled Cerise St. Briac. “May I come in?”

  “Sangdieu,” Gabriel cursed under his breath. “It is my mother—and I neglected to lock the door. You must hide me.”

  That was the last thing she wanted to do with him. “But, can’t we—”

  “It is your reputation that is at stake, my lady, not mine,” he said roughly, and scrambled
from the bed.

  “Here, behind the drapery,” Izzie said, pointing to the bronze silk bed curtain that spilled from a pelmet overhead. Louder, she called to Cerise, “I am coming, Madame! I beg you to wait while I make myself presentable.”

  She saw that half the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt and waistcoat had come unbuttoned and his cropped chestnut hair was thoroughly tousled by her fingers. Yet, in spite of the outrageous situation, his eyes sparkled with merriment as he touched his fingertips to her lips in passing. A sudden wave of emotion made her dizzy.

  As Gabriel crouched in the shadowed corner, behind the sweep of silk drapery, Izzie drew on a simple gown that she had left half-laced. Quickly, she pulled her hair back and tied a ribbon at the base of her neck. Almost as an afterthought, she donned her spectacles, then went to greet Cerise.

  “Oh, my, I am so sorry,” the older woman said as Izzie opened the door. “You were sleeping and I have disturbed you.”

  Before Izzie could reply, her guest entered. “I wasn’t really sleeping,” she averred politely.

  “Naturally not. It is far too early for that!” Cerise’s dark eyes looked Izzie up and down. “If I didn’t know better, I would think I disturbed you with a lover!” She laughed and reached out to straighten the spectacles on Izzie’s face.

  “I hope I don’t sound impolite, but I’m afraid I wasn’t really expecting guests just now…”

  “Of course you weren’t. It’s just that—I need to say something to you.” She seemed to speak with an effort. “I want to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” As Izzie realized that Gabriel’s mother would not be so easily gotten rid of, she began to light candles from the oil lamp burning by her favorite chair until the room was filled with a molten glow. “I can assure you that there is no reason for that.”

  “But there is. I behaved very badly today, my lady.” Cerise’s proud face crumpled. “I was rude to you. Perhaps even selfish.”

  “Nonsense!” Izzie guided her to the daybed that was carved to resemble a scallop. “Do sit down. I wish I could offer you some refreshment, but my maid is absent this evening.”

  “I don’t want to trouble you. In fact, I won’t stay. Just tell me that you forgive me for being so difficult today. I haven’t been myself.”

  Izzie sat down beside Cerise and took both her hands. “If you do indeed wish to speak openly about what is troubling you, I can assure you that I will listen and keep your confidence.”

  “I believe that my husband doesn’t want me any longer!” The words poured out in a rush and she began to weep.

  “But, I thought that it was you who left him,” Izzie said slowly. “And you have said that if he tried to follow you, you would reject him!”

  Cerise gasped. “Reject my darling Xavier? No, never!”

  “Perhaps I am confused.” She thought of Gabriel, crouched behind the bed in the next room, and tried not to sigh aloud. “You insisted he was a villain and you were well rid of him.”

  Cerise looked at Izzie as if she were behaving like a madwoman. “I may have said that, but of course I didn’t mean it! He has always come after me in the past. Sometimes he has been waiting at my destination before I even arrive myself! Can you imagine anything more thrillingly romantic?” Her tears flowed more freely and Izzie patted her hand. “This time, Xavier knew I intended to flee to the safety of my son’s home. He should have been here before I awoke this morning.”

  Izzie refrained from suggesting that the poor man might have desired a night’s sleep himself. “No doubt something has delayed him,” she assured her instead.

  “Do you mean, something practical?”

  “Yes! An issue with the carriage, or perhaps one of your servants fell ill.”

  Cerise seemed to consider this, looking momentarily hopeful, and then her tears commenced again. “Never has he let a practical matter interfere with his passionate love for me! For four decades, whenever I have left him, he has sped to my side to recapture me.”

  “You have fled after each argument?”

  Completely unaware of how this sounded, Cerise nodded proudly. “Perhaps not after every little tiff, but when we have had a painful row. At least twice a year. In my opinion, it is the secret for lasting love. I run away, Xavier follows, and by the time he forcefully retrieves me, the argument is forgotten!” She looked starry-eyed at the memory of these scenes. “So now you must see, if he still loved me, he would have come by now.”

  “How could you manage to do this after you had the responsibility of caring for children?”

  Cerise waved a hand dismissively. “Bien sûr, we might not have been wealthy like your parents, but we had means. A nurse, always, and servants to look after the boys.”

  “Oh. I see.” As she listened, it came to Izzie that Gabriel had his own share of parental drama to contend with while growing up. “Is it possible that your husband has grown weary of chasing you across France after each argument?”

  “Exactly so. As I have told you, he no longer loves me.”

  Izzie dared to put her arms around Cerise and offer a tentative embrace. “After nearly forty years of marriage, I doubt that is true. Have you considered the notion that there may be another reason? He is not a young man, after all.”

  “Mon Dieu!” The older woman broke away and jumped to her feet. “I had not thought of that, but perhaps my husband is gravely ill or injured!”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing so serious as that,” Izzie soothed. “Perhaps he was simply too fatigued to undertake such a rigorous journey.”

  “Xavier, fatigued?” Cerise looked skeptical.

  “In any event, I suggest that you return to your room and get a good night’s sleep. No doubt your sons will help you find a solution tomorrow.”

  “Oui.” Cerise looked resolute. “Merci, my lady. You are wise beyond your years.”

  They were walking together toward the door when Gabriel’s mother looked through the open door toward the bedchamber, where a candle still burned beside the bed.

  Following her gaze, Izzie knew a moment of panic. “Goodnight then.” She pretended to stifle a yawn. “We shall both sleep well tonight, I think.”

  Cerise arched a brow, smiling. “I will leave you so that you may restore my son’s boot to him.”

  Before Izzie could reply, the older woman kissed her on both cheeks and took her leave.

  Chapter 21

  Izzie ran barefoot into the bedchamber just as Gabriel emerged from behind the drapery. She tried not to notice how splendid he looked, his open shirt revealing a seductively masculine chest.

  “Your boot!” She picked it up and waved it in the air. “Your mother saw your boot, and she recognized it!”

  “Of course she did. Maman has always been much cleverer than she pretends to be,” he said with a wry smile.

  “But Gabriel, don’t you see, she knows that you were here in my bedchamber. What must she think?”

  “No doubt she thinks that I was trying to seduce you. It wouldn’t surprise her, I assure you, darling Isabella. We are French, you know.” Coming around the bed, he took the boot from her but did not put it on. On the contrary, he sat down and removed the other boot before drawing her down onto his lap. “Don’t worry. Surely you have noticed that Maman has much more important matters on her mind.” His tone was laced with irony. “Herself.”

  Izzie saw the dimple that flashed in his cheek, but she couldn’t help thinking that they had more in common than she had realized. Both of them had been raised in homes built on unstable foundations.

  “It couldn’t have been easy, growing up with a mother who ran away from home whenever she and your father argued…”

  “Argue is such a feeble word for the battles that erupted in our home. I grew up supposing every married couple behaved that way.”

  “Yet, it sounds as if they love each other,” Izzie ventured.

  “Love?” His fingertips had begun to trace the line of her neck, straying lower to the blossoming
curves of her breasts that peeked above her bodice. “If that is married love, who can blame Justin and me for wanting nothing to do with it?”

  Izzie wanted to ask him if he intended never to marry, never to open his heart to love, and yet it occurred to her that perhaps she ought to put that question to herself as well. Meanwhile, Gabriel’s lips were burning a trail down her neck, and an intoxicating ache was warming every female part of her body.

  “I understand,” she managed to whisper. “I too learned nothing of love from my parents. When I was young, I often wished they would fight, just to prove that they felt something for each other, even anger.”

  His lifted his head to look deep into her eyes. “Were they equally cold to their children?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She gave the sniff of casual dismissal that she’d been perfecting since childhood. “But it could have been far worse. We had everything money could buy.”

  “Brave girl.” The tone of his voice told her that he saw behind her mask.

  When his hand tenderly supported her face, Izzie felt herself begin to relax.

  “My mother, I think, would have done better if she’d been married to a different sort of man,” she revealed. “My father was a tyrant and Mother walked on eggshells to keep him from exploding. By the time I was born, so many years after George and Sebastian, my parents were barely speaking, and Mother was so unhappy that I think perhaps her heart had stiffened against any tender emotion.”

  “Even toward you?”

  His murmured question seemed to come from far away. Reflecting on his words, Izzie felt as if she were on the threshold of a dark room that she’d kept securely locked for many years. The thought of entering filled her with suffocating foreboding.

  “There were moments when Mother seemed to let her guard down, but it never lasted. That was almost worse, because I had a glimpse of what I was missing.” Her chin trembled. “Goodness, I seem to be on the verge of tears! How silly; I’m a grown woman. My parents have been gone for more than a decade!”