At the Bride Hunt Ball

by Olivia Parker

  “What is it?” Gabriel whispered, panting himself. “What’s wrong?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip, which was swollen and rosy from his kiss. “Was that it? Are we done?”

  The muscles in his face instantly softened. He smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said, making small circles on her temples with the pads of his thumbs.

  She relaxed beneath him. “Oh, good.”

  He kissed her lips. “Did I hurt you?”

  “A little,” she answered, “but I think it’s gone. Move a bit, let’s see.”

  He complied, his jaw rigid with intense restraint.

  The burn slowly faded and Madelyn moaned as a pleasurable sensation took hold. One that yearned for Gabriel to move again. The feel of his weight atop her was bliss. She looked into his blue gaze, eyes that shimmered with light and desire, and rejoiced in the pleasure of having Gabriel buried deep inside her. What a delightfully decadent picture they presented, this beautiful, dark-haired, lean-muscled man covering her much softer body with his own. Her legs wrapped about his waist in tender submission, their skin glowing in the firelight.

  He traced a path across her lips with his tongue, then nipped playfully at her neck until Madelyn started to squirm underneath him. Slowly, he withdrew and held back, only to plunge deep inside her again. She gasped his name, digging her fingers into his hips.

  And he repeated this decadent torment, over and over, withdrawing almost all of his length, then rocking into her once again. She found his pace maddening, the pleasure frighteningly wonderful.

  “…so good, so perfect,” he murmured on a groan. He sought her mouth and slanted his across her lips, dipping his tongue in deep sweeps. She moaned sweetly into his mouth, and he couldn’t take it any longer.

  Again and again he drove into her, their bodies working together in an unrelenting, ancient rhythm, her thighs holding him tightly to her.

  Pleasure overwhelmed Madelyn until she was moaning in ecstasy. And then a startling wave of unimaginable bliss crashed over her again and again, and she cried out his name. Perspiring with muscles straining, Gabriel worked over her, stretching out the extent of her climax into a dizzying length.

  Gabriel whispered her name and finished with one deep thrust, spilling his seed in her with a low groan. And there they stayed, bodies trembling with exertion as they both fought to catch their breath.

  A long moment later he slid away from her, urging her to her side. He then cuddled behind her so she could take full advantage of the warmth from the hearth.

  “You want me to believe you’re being kind by allowing me full access to the heat of the fire,” she said, delighting in the shivers running through her as Gabriel dropped kisses on the back of her neck. “But the truth is,” she giggled, “you’re just as overheated as I. Your kind gesture is steeped in cruelty, sir.”

  He chuckled softly, nuzzling her ear.

  “That was wonderful, Gabriel,” she whispered.

  “Better than waltzing?”

  She laughed. “Much better. Why?”

  “Because I sensed a hesitation in your statement.”

  “Well, it’s just that…I feel I didn’t participate very much. You gave me so much pleasure, but I don’t know how to do the same for you.”

  “Believe me,” he said dropping a kiss on her shoulder, “had you pleasured me any more, I would have surely died.”

  “Oh,” she said softly. “Really?”

  “Quite.” Gently, he rubbed his bristled jaw between her shoulder blades, and she sighed. “You left right after dinner,” he murmured. “Why?”

  “Oh sweet Lord! Charlotte! I’d forgotten.” Madelyn went to jump to her feet, but Gabriel clamped a hand on her hip to halt her.

  “What have you forgotten?”

  “Lord Rothbury told me your brother was making plans with my friend to meet in secret.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you were talking to that partridge.”

  “Partridge?” She shook her head. “Gabriel, I must go. I must stop them.”

  “Do you mean to say you never found his private library?” When she flipped to her back in an effort to wriggle from his hold, he threw one long, muscled leg over hers.

  “No. ’Twas how I managed to get locked out on the battle—” Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know they were to meet in his library?”

  “Because that’s where I found them. I watched them leave, followed them, then…influenced Tristan to reconsider his objective.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded, brushing his lips on her shoulder, and she shivered. She turned back over to face the fire, a smile playing on her lips. And she believed him.

  “Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled, holding her close. “Right now, I imagine a very bored Miss Greene sits alongside her dozing mother.”

  And wondering where in the world I went off to, Madelyn mused with a mixture of regret and panic. Somehow, she managed to push the feeling away. Right now she wanted to revel in the afterglow of the glorious moment she had shared with Gabriel, for she knew that tomorrow it would seem less like a wonderful merging of souls and more like one big fat mistake.

  Steady rain pelted the windowpanes overlooking the gardens. Sighing with a forced contentment, she closed her eyes. Lulled by the coziness of the fire, the softness of the rug beneath her and the hard-muscled male behind her with his arm draped protectively over her waist, Madelyn fell into a deep sleep.

  She dreamed of being enveloped within a sea of warmth where masculine fingers traced tantalizing trails along her spine and over the curve of her hip. She dreamed of being draped with heavy blankets and lifted against a wall of strength, muscular arms tenderly keeping her close and safe. Finally, she dreamed of being placed upon a bed of ivory, and shivered at the abrupt absence of the heated presence she had clung to moments ago. A frown knitted her brow and she yearned for its return, even while she slipped further into the depths of slumber.

  Bending low, Gabriel kissed away the wrinkle on Madelyn’s forehead.

  “Definitely a deep sleeper,” he whispered as he pulled her covers up to her chin.

  Returning to his chamber after a discreet inspection of his guests whereabouts, he didn’t hesitate getting Madelyn back to her room. Luckily, Lady Haywood was deep into a game of whist, too distracted to notice how long Madelyn had been gone. Only Charlotte looked a bit out of sorts at her friend’s continued absence. And so Gabriel had pulled one of his linen shirts over Madelyn’s head, wrapped her with a heavy silk blanket, and carried her to her room using less traveled corridors.

  The rain had stopped and the moon shone brightly in the night sky. A soft light fell upon Madelyn’s features, and Gabriel found himself fighting the urge to join her in bed. In her presence he felt a sense of comfort, of completion, and only his cold, lonely bed awaited him.

  With a sigh, she rolled to her side, facing him, and he couldn’t help but smile. Oh, how he wanted to be in this room when she awoke. To hold her, to love her again. He certainly hoped she had the good sense to shield her attire from the maid and whoever else happened to see her before she dressed in the morning.

  Sitting on the edge of her bed, he bent over her slumbering form and kissed the bridge of her nose, the apples of both her cheeks, and finally the corner of her lip where a lone freckle dotted her skin. What the hell had he been thinking? He loved freckles.

  Rising, Gabriel shrugged as the burden of worry pricked at his thoughts. So much could go wrong before he could set the situation right. Someone could have spotted him with Madelyn in his arms, or now as he left her room. And how in the world would Madelyn explain the condition of her gown and torn chemise? Hell, he’d throw the latter in the fire as soon as he returned to his room, and as for the gown…He’d have a talk with the maid and see what could be done.

  With reluctant steps he headed out of her chamber. It didn’t matter if a sea of gossip flooded the castle walls at sunrise. So be it. A
surge of possessiveness thrummed through him. Madelyn was his. And he would make her so in every way imaginable.

  For on the morrow he would ask the imperfect Madelyn to be his perfect bride.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, there came a knock on Madelyn’s bedchamber door. Frowning, she rose from the satinwood dressing table and crossed the room.

  Dressed in a pale pink calico walking dress with a white overskirt embroidered with tiny pink flowers, she looked the part of a lighthearted, virtuous young lady. A contradiction, for sure. In the light of day, she felt consumed by her shameful abandon of the night before.

  Passing a tall cheval mirror, she frowned at herself. “You are a wanton woman,” she muttered in distaste.

  What had she been thinking? Her conscience screamed that it was all painfully clear. Quite simply, her practical mind had succumbed to the desires of her heart. And now—she swallowed against the ache in her throat—now she was an empty shell of woman hopelessly in love with a man who would never return her affections, never make her his bride.

  But he could make her his mistress. If fact, she had every expectation he would make her an offer. And, of course, she would refuse.

  She sighed, grabbing the cool brass of the door handle. There was no sense regretting the past. She had made her decision and would have to find comfort in the memory of their one night of passion. She would never allow him to touch her again.

  She pulled the door open and only had enough time for a second of recognition and a small gasp before Gabriel seized her. He crushed her to him, cradling the back of her head with his free hand. The smell of soap and warm male enveloped her as his lips slanted over hers in a tender onslaught. At her lower back, his other hand pressed her to his tall, muscular form, all her misgivings of the night before disintegrating in the ferociousness of his enthusiasm.

  She lifted her heavy arms, wrapping them around his lean waist. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth with lazy swirls and dips, a familiar languorous heat rushed through her limbs, pooling between her legs. His strong hand at her back slid down, cupping her backside and pressing her into his arousal. A profound craving, half pain and half pleasure, ached within her traitorous body.

  And then he ended the kiss, leaving her feeling empty. She smothered an unladylike whine of frustration.

  He pressed his nose to hers and smiled. “Good morning, my angel.”

  “Good—Good morning,” she stammered.

  He kissed her nose and took a step back to look at her. “My,” he said, his gaze feasting on her. “Wearing one of your own frocks? You look absolutely breathtaking. However, I find I quite prefer you naked.”

  “Shh!” She swatted at his broad chest. “Someone will hear you.” Peeking around his shoulder, she glanced up and down the hall. “Or see you.”

  “And so what if they do? Let them.”

  “Are you insane?”

  His azure gaze narrowed on her as she blinked up at him in astonishment. “Something tells me that you regret what happened last night.”

  Her face flamed with a blush. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding like he’d made up his mind. “You do regret it.”

  That wasn’t necessarily true; it was more complex. But she wasn’t about to discuss this with him in her bedchamber where anyone could come down the hall and see them together at any moment. Depending who that was and just what it was they witnessed, Gabriel could be forced to do the honorable thing and make an offer for her hand in holy matrimony. And a marriage based on obligation alone was something she could not handle.

  Madelyn pushed against the wall of his chest, urging Gabriel out into the hall. Mercifully, he relented to her puny shoves, for if he truly didn’t care to move, she knew there was no way she’d ever manage to scoot him even an inch.

  Careful not to make a sound, she closed her chamber door behind her. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such things,” she said, hating the fact her words sounded as stern as the mewl of a kitten.

  “Tell me,” he whispered, curling a lock of hair around his finger that had escaped her coiffure, “did anyone see you in my shirt?” He kissed the curl.

  Shivers scattered across her skin. Then he bent his head down to her collarbone to drop three kisses there. “No,” she breathed when his teeth tugged on the lace trim of her bodice.

  It was partially true. She had managed to stuff it in the back of her armoire before Jenny came to help her with her bath. Jenny subsequently found it while gathering the soiled shawls for cleaning. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, but she kept her silence and finished helping Madelyn dress. Only once did Jenny dare ask a question. She wanted to know where the green velvet gown had gone. Madelyn had no answer, and the maid didn’t press.

  “Come,” Gabriel whispered against her throat. “I want to show you something.”

  “I think I’ve already seen it.” And oh, how she secretly wanted to see it again.

  She felt his smile against her skin. “It’s not what you think.”

  Good Lord, if he only knew what she thought. His warmth and the scent of him, the play of his lips upon her skin, the way his teeth were now nipping at her earlobe…all she could think about was how much she wanted to be naked and writhing in ecstasy beneath him once again.

  “Whatever it is you desire to show me will have to wait,” she replied, slipping her fingers into his silky black hair.

  “Why?” he growled.

  “Because we are all to meet at the parterre in a half hour for a stroll and then tea. My stepmother and the Greenes will be coming to collect me.”

  He pulled away from her, heat and desire apparent in his heavy-lidded gaze. “I’ll have you back before they come looking.”

  With that, he linked her arm with his, guiding her down the corridor.

  And like a weak-willed ninny, she went along without a fight.

  When they passed the servant staircase, Madelyn turned to look at him. Her tone wary and careful, she asked, “Are we not to use those? For discretion?”

  He shook his head once and a thick lock tumbled down, covering one eye like a patch. His jaw was lightly covered with bristles today, making her itch for the feel of his scratchy cheeks on her bare skin. Tall and lean-muscled, he looked the elegant gentleman this morning in his fine clothes. And, oh, how she wanted him to be rid of them, to see him again in all his naked glory. With secret appreciation, her eyes flicked over the cut of his black frock coat, which was tailored to fit him to perfection, displaying the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders. She smothered a wistful sigh.

  Sooner than she thought, they were standing before a wide mahogany-paneled door. Madelyn exhaled, the muscles in her shoulders relaxing. Surprisingly, they had encountered nary another guest, only an upstairs maid who kept her eyes downcast. However, Madelyn wasn’t hopeful. Considering how fast news of her wasp sting had traveled, she expected all of Yorkshire to know she had been spotted alone with the duke by the end of the day.

  Gabriel inserted a long key into the lock and the door clicked open. He pushed it wide, gesturing with his other hand for her to proceed inside the long, shadowed room. She stepped past him, a shock of awareness running through her as his body heat pervaded through her frock.

  The harsh afternoon sunlight was blocked by heavy brocade drapes hanging on the tall, mullioned windows on the right. Still, a faint, weak light filtered into the room, allowing Madelyn to examine the wall of portraits to the left. Gabriel had taken her to see the private art gallery.

  She turned to smile at him. He returned her grin with one of his own, though his held a decidedly sensual promise. “My butler found his key,” he drawled.

  “I see,” she said turning to peruse a portrait of a young girl in a frilly white dress sitting at a pianoforte. Her hands were placed delicately upon the keys, her short black locks curling around her shoulders.

  “My mother at age five,” he said.
r />   “She’s absolutely beautiful. You all look just like her,” Madelyn said softly.

  “Do you look like your mother?”

  She gave an unsure gesture that was half nod, half shrug. “I suppose. I lost her so young and now my memory is fading. Someday I fear I will not be able to recall her likeness at all.”

  “Have you no portraits?”

  “I have a pencil sketch I did when I was seven and another I did from memory when I was twelve. Needless to say, I wasn’t an artistic prodigy. I’m much better at silhouettes.”

  “Have you no miniatures? Nothing?”

  She smiled sadly at him. “Not with me, unfortunately. They’re all at Willowbrooke Cottage, I’m afraid. Or, they all were at Willowbrooke.” From behind her eyes Madelyn felt the familiar sting of tears that always came when she thought of her mother and how much she longed to see her face, her warm eyes always shining with tenderness and love.

  “You must miss her terribly,” he said, effectively reading her thoughts. Or rather, she imagined it was all there to be seen on her face.

  “Yes. Yes I do,” she said, swallowing the ache in her throat. “A mother’s love is irreplaceable.”

  Madelyn moved to observe a painting of a giggling little baby, his blue eyes and broad, toothless smile portrayed with such clarity, she thought she just might hear a laugh come from the portrait. She squinted to read the gold label at the base of the frame. Expectedly, it read: BABY GABRIEL.

  “Will not the baroness allow you to return and retrieve your mother’s things?” Gabriel asked, his deep voice vibrating through the room, through her.

  “No,” she answered flatly. “The cottage was sold to her family before my father’s death. And they are not the sort of people who would see beyond their needs and wants to acknowledge that I might long to return there and recover her possessions, my things even, portraits and so on.”

  “So you haven’t returned since your father had you all moved to London when you were eight?”