Beatrice firmly drew her hand from Gabriel’s fingers as she sent him a speaking glance.
“You need not concern yourself, Doctor. I shall ensure that he behaves in a sensible fashion.”
“See that you do.” The doctor closed his bag with a snap and collected his hat and gloves. “If I am forced to return, I will not only prescribe an elixir, I will have him bled until he is too weak to behave like a stubborn child. Good day.”
Having delivered his dire warning, the doctor grandly swept from the room.
Gabriel grimaced as he silently wished the man good riddance.
“Buffoon,” he muttered.
Beatrice clicked her tongue at his petulant tone. “Really, Gabriel, you are behaving like a child.”
He wondered how she would feel if she were the one being gouged. No doubt she would have boxed the doctor’s ears.
“I do not wish to be confined to my bed like an elderly invalid.”
“It is only for a few days. Surely you would not wish to do yourself further injury?”
He gave an impatient shake of his head, only to moan in pain.
Blast it all.
“I have too much to do to lie here.”
Obviously noting his unwitting wince, Beatrice’s expression hardened.
“There is nothing that the tenants and your steward cannot attend to.”
“But I wished to begin work on your new office,” he complained.
Her expression remained disobliging. “The work can wait a week or two.”
“And what of our guest?”
“I will see to Vicar Humbly’s comfort.”
Gads, did she have to be so devilishly practical, he unjustly stewed.
“And what of my comfort?” he grumbled. “Who will see to that?”
A reluctant smile suddenly twitched at her lips. “You are a remarkably petulant invalid, Gabriel.”
Realizing he was indeed behaving like a spoiled twit, Gabriel heaved a rueful sigh.
He had no right to take his ill humor out on Beatrice. She was only attempting to make him be sensible.
“Forgive me, my dear. It is only that I dislike feeling helpless.”
She gave a slow nod of her head, her eyes darkening. “I am deeply relieved that your injuries will heal. When I left you on the island, I was uncertain—”
“You left me on the island?” Gabriel felt an icy chill grip his body as he glared at his suddenly flustered wife. “Do not tell me that you took that boat out in the midst of a storm?”
“Yes, well, the storm had all but passed, and I could not allow you to remain trapped beneath that branch.”
Gabriel had not been so furious in his entire life. Not when he had discovered that his father had utterly ruined the estate. Not when the tenants had treated him as if he were some loathsome being who was about to snatch away the last of their meager belongings. Not even when Beatrice had turned from him in icy disgust.
To even consider the notion of Beatrice alone in that blasted boat when the smallest wave could have sent her tumbling to her death! God, it crushed his heart to even allow such a hideous thought enter his mind.
“I had expressly forbidden you to go,” he said between clenched teeth. “Good God, you could have been drowned.”
“I took great care, I assure you. Better care than you took in thrusting me aside and endangering yourself.”
He gripped the blanket tightly. It was that or reaching out to grasp the overly stubborn, nit-witted woman.
“If I were not feeling as weak as a bloody kitten, I should put you over my knee. How dare you do something so idiotic? I shall have nightmares for years thinking of you on that lake.”
She shook her head, sending a handful of silken curls tumbling about her face.
“As you can see, I am perfectly well.”
His gaze ran a heated path over her flushed countenance and the manner her fingers nervously plucked at the lace upon her gown. His anger abruptly faded as a wrenching tenderness flooded through him.
“Dash it all. Why?” he demanded with a searching gaze. “Why did you do such a thing?”
She awkwardly turned to pace toward the window, effectively hiding her expression from his piercing regard.
“Because I was terrified you were seriously injured. And just as important, I could not allow you to remain in those damp clothes. It might have been several hours before we were missed. Or they might not have thought to search for us upon the island. I had to do something.”
He gave a low growl deep in his throat. “But you risked your life.”
“It was no more than you did,” she said in low tones.
“Fah.”
She slowly turned to face him. “If you had not pushed me aside, I should have been hit by that branch.”
Gabriel grimaced, not at all willing to be named a hero. “If I had not induced you to go to that wretched island in the first place, neither of us would have been in danger.”
Without warning, a smile suddenly lightened her countenance. It was that smile that had first drawn him across the crowded London ballroom to seek an introduction, he abruptly recalled. It was filled with such genuine sweetness. Such purity of spirit. It had called out to his battered and cynical soul with the lure of a siren.
Now he felt his entire body respond to the warmth of that smile.
“Do you mean to say you cannot predict the future?” she teased with a lift of her brows. “A most shocking failure, my lord. Most shocking.”
He returned her smile, but there was a grim resolution that ran through him.
Never again would he allow Beatrice to be in such danger.
He would gladly lay down his life before he would allow her to be harmed.
“I promise to take much better care of you in the future, my dear,” he said fiercely.
Her fingers returned to pluck at her lace as their gazes entangled.
Gabriel abruptly recalled their heated embrace that had been so rudely interrupted. Just for a moment she had been as lost in passion as himself, he acknowledged. They had been so very close to utter paradise. Would she ever allow herself to lower her defenses again?
“You will not be doing anything for the next few days,” she at last forced herself to say.
Gabriel deliberately allowed the blanket to slip downward, revealing a portion of his bare chest. A tingling pleasure replaced his groggy pain as he heard her breath catch.
“Now, that brings up an interesting dilemma,” he said in husky tones.
She swallowed heavily. “What is that?”
He raised his arms to pillow them behind his head. “You faithfully promised that horrid doctor to keep me in bed. I should very much like to discover precisely how you intend to achieve such a feat.”
A delightful flush heated her face, but her chin tilted upward.
“Perhaps I shall have you tied to the posts.”
He gave a low, seductive chuckle. “I have a much better notion, my sweet Beatrice.”
“And what is that?”
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
Her eyes widened as his low laughter filled the room.
Ten
Beatrice was perfectly aware that Gabriel was teasing her. Even across the room she could see the devilish glint in the hazel eyes. But after the desperate panic of the day before, followed by the sheer relief of realizing Gabriel would soon recover, she discovered her icy composure decidedly absent.
Instead, she felt a flustered heat fill her cheeks.
“Really, Gabriel.”
He lifted his brows. Lying against the pillows with his hands tucked behind his head and an indecent amount of his bare chest exposed, he appeared utterly at ease. Quite unlike herself. She was stiff and wary as the prickly awareness became more pronounced.
“What, Beatrice?” he demanded in low tones.
She licked her lips, belatedly wishing she had pretended to misunderstand his words. She possessed no talent for this dangerous b
anter.
“You are injured.” She blurted out the first words that came to mind.
His low laugh seemed to reach out and stroke over her skin.
“The blow to my head did not damage my memories. I can still clearly recall the feel of you in my arms. And the fact that nothing has ever felt so wonderful before.”
She attempted to appear stern, although she feared that she more closely resembled an awkward schoolgirl.
“I am quite certain such thoughts cannot be good for you in your condition.”
“I will admit that my condition is a painful one,” he agreed, allowing his gaze to run a warm path over her curves. “But you are the cause of that, not some wayward branch.”
Her breath caught. He was not the only one with poignant memories of their embrace. She could vividly recall each kiss, each warm caress of his hands. She could also recall how she had seemed to melt with burning need. The faint ache still remained deep within her.
“You are attempting to embarrass me.”
“Not at all.” His eyes narrowed. “Why should you be embarrassed by a perfectly natural emotion? We are man and wife.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But you believe that I am merely plotting the means of producing my heirs without resorting to actual force?”
Beatrice shifted uneasily.
Saints above. Why had she ever confessed her inner doubts? It was obvious that he was overreacting to her distrust. She had never thought him a monster.
“Of course not.”
“It is what you accused me of only yesterday.”
She could hardly deny the words that had come from her own lips. Instead, she gave a restless shrug.
“I have had reason to distrust your motives in regard to me.”
He slowly lowered his arms and regarded her with a somber expression.
“Beatrice, I might have concealed my need for wealth, but I never pretended my true regard for you. It is as genuine as my desire to build Falcon Park into an estate you will be proud to call home. And I certainly never pretended when I promised to be a good husband to you. All I wish is to see you happy again.”
It was so tempting to accept his low words. In truth, Beatrice was weary of being angry. And since Vicar Humbly’s arrival, she had begun to wonder if she was indeed indulging in a fit of spiteful retaliation just as the older man had accused.
After all, Gabriel had done his best to be a good husband since they had arrived in Derbyshire. Unlike most gentlemen, he had been extraordinarily patient with her. Not only by not insisting upon his rights to her bed, but by giving her full control of restoring the household, and, of course, encouraging her interest in inventions. What other man would have been so generous?
Still, she discovered herself unable to wholly dismiss her lingering distrust.
Her heart was too tender to risk another blow. She simply could not bear it.
“I wish to be happy,” she grudgingly confessed.
His features abruptly softened. “Then allow me to be your husband, Beatrice.”
“You mean to welcome you to my bed?” she demanded warily.
He smiled in a rueful fashion. “I will not lie, my sweet, I certainly desire to be in your bed. But that is only a small portion of being a proper husband. I wish a share in your life.”
“A share in my life?”
“I wish to know about your inventions, your frustrations in restoring the house, your visits to the tenants. I wish to know what has made you laugh during the day and if something has made you sad. I want you to turn to me if there is something you need.”
His words touched a vulnerable place deep within her. A place that had always longed for such closeness with another. Instinctively she found herself retreating.
“I would bore you senseless,” she quipped lightly.
“Do not, Beatrice,” he said sternly. “This is too important to be dismissed.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He was right. This was too important. Their very future hung in the balance.
“I do not know if I am yet prepared, Gabriel.”
He smiled kindly and held out his hand. “Come here, my dear.”
She hesitated only a moment before crossing the room and placing her hand in his warm fingers.
“Yes?”
He gave her hand a small squeeze, but when she gasped suddenly, he turned her palm upward to regard the raw wounds she had nearly forgotten.
“Good God, what have you done to yourself?” he demanded in shock.
“I . . . nothing.”
He stabbed her with a frown. “This is not nothing.”
“I suppose it is from pulling the oars,” she reluctantly confessed.
“Of course.” He heaved a harsh sigh. “Do you have any further injuries that you have attempted to hide from me?”
“My shoulders are a trifle sore, but nothing else.”
“My poor Beatrice.” He tenderly lifted her hand to place a kiss upon her palm. The flare of warmth arced all the way to the pit of her stomach. “I had intended to sweep you off your feet and instead I nearly got you killed.”
“You are hardly responsible for the storm, nor the branch that crashed upon us. It was a simple matter of ill luck.”
“Forgive me,” he muttered, kissing her fingers, then stroking a path back down to the sensitive skin of her wrist.
Quite certain she was about to collapse onto the bed as heat flooded through her body, Beatrice struggled to focus her wayward thoughts.
“You are being absurd, Gabriel, there is nothing to forgive.”
“At the very least, I should be forgiven for making such a botch of our picnic.”
“There will be other picnics.”
“I do hope so.” Those tantalizing lips skillfully circled her wrist, sending a searing path of excitement up her arm. “There are some parts that I remember quite fondly.”
“Gabriel,” she breathed.
He lightly nibbled at her knuckles. “Yes, my dear?”
“You must take care.”
“I am attempting to take great care.” He lifted his head to reveal the wicked glint in his eye. “Do you approve?”
Oh, she approved, she inwardly acknowledged. How could she not? His soft caresses had set her entire body alight with shimmering pleasure.
But this was hardly the time for such intimate advances, she reluctantly lectured herself. Not only was Gabriel wounded, there was no predicting when a servant might suddenly enter the chambers.
She hardly wished to be caught being made love to by her husband in the middle of the morning. It was surely indecent.
With a determination she was far from feeling, Beatrice pulled her hand free.
“I must meet with the workmen.”
His gaze searched her guarded features. “It cannot wait?”
“No ... I . . . there is some question as to the exact layout of the rose garden.”
There was a moment’s pause before Gabriel settled back upon the pillows with a wry smile.
“Well, I should not wish our rose garden to be askew. Will you return and share lunch with me?”
Beatrice’s first instinct was to refuse. She had always avoided Gabriel’s presence, perhaps sensing she would never be proof against his potent charm.
Then, meeting the steady hazel gaze, she discovered herself giving a slow nod of her head.
It would hardly be proper to abandon him when he was wounded and confined to his bed, she swiftly reassured herself.
It was her duty to be at his side.
“If you wish.”
“I wish it very much.” His smile widened, a teasing glint returning to his eye. “Do not bully the workers too fiercely, my dear.”
She placed her hands upon her hips. “I never bully the workmen.”
He gave a sudden laugh. “You are an outrageous bully, but Falcon Park will be a spectacular success for your efforts. Our children will someday thank you.”
Our children.
A dangerous warmth threatened to fill her heart.
Gabriel’s children.
“I shall return later,” she muttered, and fled the room with considerably more haste than elegance.
* * *
Gabriel watched his wife’s awkward retreat with a combination of amusement and regret.
He did not believe he would ever tire of her flustered confusion whenever he touched her or whispered words of desire.
On the other hand, he was becoming desperately weary of longing for a woman who refused to belong fully to him.
His body ached with frustration. A frustration made only worse by the knowledge that he could stir Beatrice’s passions if she would but put the past behind them.
Before his marriage, he might have made a trip to the local village to discover a willing barmaid. Or even sought the company of the lovely Widow Alton, who had been more than forward in her attentions.
Now, however, the mere thought made him shudder.
He had made a commitment when he married Beatrice. He promised her fidelity when he placed his ring upon her finger. He would not deceive her yet again.
And in truth, he had no desire for a swift, meaningless coupling. He wanted his wife. The woman he could hold in his arms throughout the night. The woman who would someday bear his children.
He drew in a deep breath, willing his stiff body to relax.
It appeared he was in the damnable position of desiring the only woman he could not have.
Damnable, indeed.
Heaving a sigh, Gabriel reached up to lightly finger the plaster upon his forehead. And now to add to his ill luck, he was commanded to his bed by a demented doctor who was clearly determined to torture him beyond all bearing.
“Well, my lord, that was quite a scare you gave us.”
Gabriel turned toward the vicar, standing in the door. He smiled at the welcome interruption to his brooding thoughts.
“Ah, Humbly, come in.”
The man waddled happily forward, his hair sticking out in a dozen different directions.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like every sort of a fool,” Gabriel admitted with a grimace. “I did warn you that I was hopeless at such nonsense. Instead of winning my lady’s favor, I very nearly got us both killed.”
Love and Marriage Page 31
