He blinked, thinking he’d imagined it, and promptly shrugged the notion off. Hanging the damp towel on the rod connected to the washstand, he strode for his bed knowing sleep would again evade him.
There was nothing like being blasted with a blanket of icy rain to completely dispel any lingering effects of spirit indulgence.
Wetter and colder than she had ever been in her life, Madelyn dashed across the battlements, heading for the adjacent tower and the door she spied there.
“Please-be-open-please-be-open,” she chanted while descending the few, short steps hugging the tower. At the bottom she nearly shouted for joy when she saw a handle. She grabbed it with both hands and pulled the door open. A sigh of relief rushed past her trembling lips.
She peered into the room. It was lavishly decorated in shades of dark blue and beige—everything, the silk-covered walls, the plush rugs, and the paintings. To the left on a dais sat a large, rumpled bed, a tall canopy of blue velvet hanging overhead. On her right was an ornate wardrobe, washstand, and side table. The room radiated masculinity and gave the appearance of belonging to someone of great importance. But whoever it was, they appeared to be absent. At least for now.
At the far end were a pair of scarlet wing-back chairs sitting before a cheery fire, which beckoned her to enter and warm herself. But she would not take the risk, no matter how badly she wanted to. The occupant of the room could return at any moment. And that person could be Lord Tristan.
She dashed across the room, heading toward the door. First, she would see if it led to the hall. If it did, she would hide there, hoping to see who entered…and if they were alone.
A shiver skittered down her spine—not wholly unlike the ones she got around Gabriel—and she blamed it on her current state. She reached for the brass handle. The door opened a crack, then slammed back shut. Slowly, her gaze lifted to a spot on the door just above her head.
A man’s hand—Gabriel’s hand—splayed against the wood, keeping it shut…and her from leaving the room.
“Though I have never been one to be impressed by the new trend of wetting one’s chemise,” Gabriel drawled, his animal heat engulfing her, “I find I am rendered speechless by your interpretation. Although, I do believe you have outdone yourself.”
She spun around and quite forgot to breathe.
His ink-black hair was wet…and he was completely naked. And completely aroused. And smiling wickedly.
Madelyn blinked like a madwoman in order to keep herself from looking down. “You—You—” she stammered.
“Me—Me,” he mocked lightly, a smile in his voice.
She threw a hand over her eyes. “You’re naked,” she announced.
“Yes.”
“I mean, all over,” she said, making an up and down gesture with her free hand.
“That is what naked means,” he said.
She stole a peek between her fingers, her eyes alighting on the broad expanse of his muscled chest, his flat stomach, his belly button ringed with black hair trailing downward, pointing to…“Good Lord in heaven.”
“Madelyn,” he called softly. “What are you doing in my chamber?”
“Miss Haywood,” she corrected weakly, with her hand still covering her eyes. There was something glaringly intimate about a naked Gabriel using her given name. “I was looking for someone and became lost.”
“Oh?” came his husky reply. “Was it me?”
“Of course not!”
“You should be abed, Madelyn, or at the very least sitting in the drawing room with the others. Your ankle cannot have healed so quickly.”
She ignored his statement and the dull ache that yet throbbed from her fall. “Mr. Devine,” she started, totally out of sorts. “No, I mean Gabr—No, I mean, Your Grace, hasn’t—”
“Gabriel,” he supplied.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dreadfully improper to stand before a lady without your clothes on?”
She felt him lean toward her, his hand still pressed against the door at her back. He smelled faintly of wine and soap and warmth. And she was so very cold.
“Madelyn,” he said, using his other hand to try and pry her hand from her eyes, “hasn’t anyone ever told you how scandalous it is to visit a man’s bedroom, a man who so profusely has told you how very much he would like you in his bed?”
Though her lips were eager to form words, nothing came forth. She allowed him to remove her hand from her face, but she still kept her eyes closed.
“You need to take your clothes off,” he said. “You are soaking wet and trembling with cold. Come by the fire.”
As if to underscore his statement, a shiver quaked through her body. If she stayed—and some naughty part of her wanted to desperately—she knew what could happen.
“I should leave,” she said, but her voice didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. Lord, but she was cold.
He stepped away for a moment and her body betrayed her by leaning forward into empty space. Then he smoothed his warm hand over one of hers. “If you leave,” he drawled, “I would only follow you and bring you back. Come. Keep your eyes closed if you like.” And with that he guided her across the room.
She knew she stood before the fire when light danced behind her eyelids and heat washed over her in flickering waves.
“You should tell me what brought you here,” he said, removing her wet shawl.
“Perhaps…if you put something on I could open my eyes.”
“If it would make you more comfortable.”
She nodded, shakily.
There was a swishing sound, like that of fabric over bare skin. “You may open your eyes now, Madelyn.”
She did, then gasped. Oh, he put something on all right. Just his breeches. Shirtless and barefoot, he stood proudly before her like a beautiful, potent Adonis, his black locks tousled around his face, his piercing blue eyes undressing her soul.
“You are very casual about your attire,” she mentioned with a shrug. “Are you always this informal with females?”
In answer he gave his head a slow shake and offered her a lopsided smile.
His skin looked golden in the firelight, and her gaze, again, was drawn to the tantalizing trail of hair disappearing down the front of his breeches.
“Madelyn—”
“Miss Haywood,” she corrected again. He had the most beautiful mouth she’d ever seen on a man. When he smiled at her, she felt dizzy and muddled. Lord, she wanted him to kiss her.
“You’re dripping all over the rug,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, watching him cross the room to fetch a plump white towel from a table.
“You’ll catch cold. Allow me to at least offer you a towel.” He handed it to her, letting his fingers skim over her knuckles. “I see you’re no longer wearing your gloves,” he said, turning her hand over to inspect her palms. The pad of his thumb brushed her skin.
She shook her head, biting her lip at his excruciating gentleness. The towel fell to the floor from her loose grasp.
“Good. I see no sign of damage from your fall on the stepping-stones at Devine Mansion.” He brought her open palm to his lips and kissed it, then did the same to her other hand.
Despite her cold, sodden clothes, Madelyn suddenly felt overheated. In a few more days she’d leave Wolverest Castle and probably never see Gabriel again. She didn’t want her last memory of him to be of their encounter in the alcove. As beautiful as that was, the fool inside her wanted more.
Her gaze lingered on his strong, smooth, bare chest. “Gabriel, please. I need you to kiss me,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible.
His head snapped up at her words. Gone was his cool expression, his crooked grin. He stared down at her with such heat, she forgot to breathe for the second time since breaking into his room.
Slowly, he shook his head. “That, madam, I cannot do.” He released her hand and it fell to her side. “Ask me for money, for jewelry,
bloody hell, ask me for anything but a kiss. Let me indulge your every whim…but a single kiss at this point would be acute torture.”
“Then make love to me.” Her heavy words seemed to ring out in the room. They even surprised her. “I don’t expect anything in return. Just love me.”
Silence hung heavy between them. She had meant to say “make love to me” again, but it seemed her heart spoke louder than her mind.
Gabriel straightened and she became aware of a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Do you realize what you ask?”
“I do,” she said firmly.
She watched his throat work as he swallowed. “Do you realize the consequences? Do you realize what that means?”
She nodded, unwilling to think of how she’d feel about her decision in the morning. He took a step toward her, then looked deeply into her eyes. Thoughts, unspoken but understood, passed between them.
“I will not change my mind,” she said.
And still he hesitated. She had the impression he was giving her ample time to renege on her offer.
She lifted her chin as the pad of his thumb smoothed slowly over her bottom lip. “Your emotions, your very thoughts, are all here for me to see in your eyes,” he said. “I was a fool to think you had a hand in the Fairbournes’ game.”
He took a long, deep breath, then circled her, stopping once he was behind her. “I hate to admit this,” he said, unfastening the row of buttons down her back, “but I haven’t the strength to tell you no, and I imagine it will always be so.”
A delightful shiver coursed through her as he pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades. “This gown…is your stepmother’s, I presume.” His breath tickled the fine hairs on the back of her neck as he moved in closer.
Nodding, she cleared her throat to speak. “I like it, really. Only it doesn’t quite fit.” And then her thoughts were put on hold as he peeled the soaked green velvet down to her waist. Her cool skin was instantly warmed—from the heat of the fire and the anticipation of his touch.
“You look lovely, though I suppose I would find you utterly delectable had you worn a coarse sack.”
“Lovely? Well, I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” And he did. From the moment he spied her in his garden, Gabriel had imagined her in every stage of dress or undress. Wet or dry. Mud-dotted or fresh from a bath. Draped in the finest red silk or naked, glistening with perspiration from a rather wild bout of their lovemaking. Any and every way, he had envisioned it all.
“The faster we get you out of these clothes,” he said, slipping his fingers under the straps of her chemise, “the faster I can warm you.”
She covered her chest with her arms. Being ravished by Gabriel in a dark alcove was one thing, but baring herself in the full light of a roaring fire was quite another. As cold as she was, she grasped at her chilly, wet gown and pulled it back up, clutching it to her chest.
“Madelyn, do you want me to stop?”
“No, it’s just that…well, it’s so bright in here.”
With his hands on her shoulders he turned her to face him. Desire and tenderness in his eyes, he said softly, “I still can’t believe it, but it has occurred to me that you have absolutely no idea of just how beautiful you truly are.” And that facet of her personality only made her all the more exquisite. He waited for her to drop her gown. When she did, kicking her slippers off in the process, he took her hands in his, then placed them on his bare chest.
Sinewy muscle fairly rippled beneath her fingertips as she smoothed her hands over his sculpted shoulders, his arms, and the heated skin of his chest. When she reached the flat plane of his stomach, his skin tightened in response. She circled the oval of his navel with the tip of her finger.
His breath hitched and she looked up to see his face. His eyes were closed and he swallowed convulsively. Standing there in her damp chemise, some sort of switch flicked on inside of Madelyn. Suddenly she felt powerful—that she could evoke this sort of reaction from a man like him. And that power made her bold.
Dipping her fingertips into the waist of his breeches, she pulled him toward her. With a glimmer of desire in his hooded gaze, he immediately came to her. Molding one of his hands on the back of her head, he captured her mouth for a searing, open-mouthed kiss. It was not gentle. It was not sweet. It was all-consuming and masterful. Hot and fast-paced. Over and over his mouth slanted across hers, giving and taking, coaxing and devouring.
Holding her soft body tight against him, his free hand pressed to her lower back, then lower still, rounding over the curve of her bottom. When her lips parted on a whimper, he sunk his tongue into the warm depths of her mouth, stroking her silky sweetness. She responded with tender eagerness, making him shudder with pleasure.
Gabriel’s heart slammed inside his chest. Never in his life had he felt such complete lack of self-control. The strength of his ardor stunned the hell out of him.
Her light floral fragrance was intoxicating. She felt so right, so soft in his arms. Her fragile entreaty, to make love to her, to love her…hell, he wasn’t sure he deserved the precious gift she was offering him.
Madelyn moaned into his mouth, and he answered it with one of his own. Slipping his fingers into the front of her chemise, he meant only to push the thin silk garment down, but it ripped under his large hands so he finished it off, tossing it to the floor. Next, he rid himself of his breeches and nudged them aside to join the puddle of green velvet. Her hands smoothed over his back, urging him closer. His hot, hard arousal pressed into her soft belly.
An escalating surge of sensation pulsed through Madelyn. His strong hands were everywhere. Caressing her back, in her hair, knocking hairpins soundlessly to the rug. Her sodden burgundy locks fell around her shoulders, leaving damp trails along her back and shoulders, but she paid no attention to it. In fact, the feeling only intensified the glory of being naked in Gabriel’s arms.
Sighing softly, her head dropped back as he cupped one of her breasts, kissing and nipping the swell of her bosom.
With his lips still hot upon her, he murmured, “Mmm. You’re simply delicious.”
Closing her eyes, she could only nod jerkily, though his words thrilled her.
He pulled the hardened nipple into his mouth with a lazy swirl of his tongue. She gasped as a tumult of delight coursed from his point of contact down to the damp center between her thighs.
Wearing only her silk stockings and garters, he stroked one of her thighs, urging her leg to ride high on his hip. Then he slipped a hand between their bodies, rubbing between her feminine folds with gentle, long sweeps of his fingers. His movements coaxed an impatient whimper from Madelyn. “And I cannot wait to taste you here,” he whispered thickly.
He smiled at her gasp. He couldn’t help it. Never before had he felt such bliss. Having Madelyn in his arms was heaven. This beautiful, unpretentious, tender-hearted woman.
He eased her leg down and together they sank to the rug before the fire. On their knees before each other, Gabriel cupped her breasts, making circles around her nipples with his thumbs.
“Gabriel, please,” she breathed, as delicious shivers sparked through her.
Dipping his head, he nibbled on her earlobe, then the side of her neck, before moving downward to nuzzle her breasts. Only when she quivered with need did he take one pebbled nipple into his mouth. With a groan, Madelyn threaded her fingers through his silky hair, holding him there. He suckled at one breast while tugging on the nipple of the other. With a groan of his own, he relished every little sound of pleasure she made.
When her hips began to writhe with need, he eased her onto her back, spreading her hair like a halo around her. Grasping her hands in his, he lifted them above her head, pressing them into the soft plush of the beige and blue rug while he caught her mouth for more of his kiss. He kept his weight off her by settling half his body to the side of her.
Madelyn tried to lift her hands from under his, and he instantly released his hold.
�
�I want to touch you,” she said, reaching down with one hand to tentatively run her fingertips up his arousal.
His breath came in quick bursts.
She pulled away, a worried frown marring her brow. “What did I do wrong?”
Chuckling softly, he exhaled then scattered kisses along her jaw and the underside of her chin. “Too good,” he murmured, sinking lower to paint a trail of kisses down her neck.
She rubbed his broad back as he continued downward, nuzzling her breasts, his hot tongue alternately teasing, flicking each hard nipple. She moaned, and he answered with reassuring sounds of his own though they were muffled by her dewy flesh upon his lips.
His warm hands expertly molded, sculpted, and smoothed all of her, leaving every inch of her flesh branded by his touch. With one hand threaded through her hair, he reached down across the curve of her stomach and rubbed a long finger in between her moist folds in a slow, relentless rhythm, her hips moving eagerly along with him.
Gabriel knew he wouldn’t last much longer if he didn’t speed things up, but he wanted this to be perfect for her. He needed to be patient, to cherish each and every moment of this heavenly surrender. Hers and his.
“Gabriel.” She bit her lip on a moan. Instinctively, Madelyn spread her thighs a touch wider. “I feel…impatient. I need something.”
Repositioning himself, Gabriel took hold of his arousal, rubbing the tip against the opening of her sex. He smiled wickedly at her gasp of delight.
“Is this want you need?”
She nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”
He positioned himself and entered her a scant inch while he captured her moan with his mouth for an erotic, teasing kiss. His intent was to go slow, but impatient Madelyn instinctively hiked her legs up high around his waist and pressed his taut buttocks with her heels in a gesture of urgency.
Gabriel unraveled. He plunged into her with a deep thrust, then paused to allow her to adjust to his intrusion. He didn’t have to wait long. Trembling with the strain of holding himself still when all he wanted to do was slide within her liquid heat until they both crested and then crumbled with their climax, he released her mouth and stared into her eyes. She was panting, her face flushed with desire and…worry?
At the Bride Hunt Ball Page 21
