by North, Evie
His voice was closer, a soft deep purr, teasing and yet, when her glance jerked up to his eyes again, there was something in them that made her think he expected her to turn and run for her life. He appeared almost pained at the thought.
His need to make her comfortable stopped her from running. And it was true, she also had a burning desire to touch the man in front of her. She knew she had a tendency to misbehave. Perhaps she was immoral, perhaps she wasn’t the respectable girl she’d always believed of herself, but those dark fears couldn’t seem to stop her. Her senses were on fire, and her breath hitched as she reached out.
She brushed her fingers over his shoulder, admiring the curve of muscle and bone. His skin was warm and firm, although much softer than she’d expected. Apart from the rough texture of the hair that grew on his chest, and ran down in a line to his belly button, only to reappear again and disappear beneath his breeches.
She wanted to follow that trail, but before she could begin, she became distracted by his nipples. Flat and brown, they were so different from hers. Her fingertips lingered and his nipples tightened. So did hers. She felt light headed and although she knew she should stop, that stopping was necessary, she couldn’t seem to do so.
She heard his breath hitch and met his eyes. They were heavy, the lids lowered, and although he was standing still, allowing her to touch him, his hands were clenched at his sides as if it was an effort to do so.
“I’m sorry.” She took a clumsy step back, suddenly ashamed. “I’m hurting you.”
He shook his head. “You’re not hurting me. Don’t stop, Gabriella.” Then, with a question in his blue eyes, “Unless you want to?”
She shook her head and her fingers trembled as she reached for him again. “I don’t want to,” she admitted. “Does that make me…? Perhaps Lord Rattray was right and—” The words threatened to spill from her.
“No, he wasn’t right,” he said, cutting through her fears and anxieties. “I think…” He met her eyes and for a moment she wondered if it was possible to drown in that pale colour. “I think you are a sensual woman, Gabriella. Such a thing, in the world you live in, is frowned upon. But you should know that I do not frown upon it and whatever you want to do here, now, I will allow.”
He was giving her permission. Her small hand rested upon the concave of his belly, and she was aware of his stillness. He wasn’t comfortable and yet he didn’t want her to stop. She didn’t want to stop either.
Gabriella took a step closer, and his breath hissed.
11
MADDOX
When he’d made the suggestion, Maddox had been thinking of her overcoming her fear of him. He had not realised how erotic such a moment would be. Honestly, when he met her in the narrow corridor he’d expected her to turn and run as fast as she could, especially when she seemed so uneasy around him before. Instead, Gabriella was doing exactly what he’d asked of her. Touching his bare skin.
Maddox had made love with many women, and yet the simple touch of this one was driving him wild. Couldn’t she see the bulge in his breeches? Yes, he’d noticed her gaze lingering there before she looked again to his naked chest. His heart was pounding. He’d guessed she was sensual, her physical needs only just awakening, but he hadn’t realised she was ashamed of her feelings. Most of the women he knew were far from ashamed when it came to being bedded by him. Gabriella Jones seemed to be the perfect combination of ingénue and temptress, and that was extremely attractive to a man like him.
Take her now. Press her up against the wall and take what you want.
The voice in his head was demanding he act, that he put an end to this torture, and he knew he could do just that. Take her now. Haul up her skirts and push his cock deep inside her. She’d be just another female, just another notch in his belt, and wasn’t that what he did?
But no. The very fact that she was a virgin meant he must resist, even though he knew she might be hurt in the process. She wouldn’t understand he wasn’t rejecting her. She wouldn’t comprehend that Maddox couldn’t take her innocence without slipping back into his old ways, returning to the man he had been before the duel. And Maddox had already decided he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to be better.
She was breathing quickly. He was aware of her breasts rising and falling, and her nipples were hard little buds under the thin cloth of her gown. He hadn’t forgotten what she had felt like in his hands, beneath his mouth, and now he wanted so badly to undo every one of her buttons and once more look upon her. He wanted to kiss her, suck on her skin, and lick her until she was limp and willing in his arms.
Denying himself that was almost impossible, but it also gave him enormous pride, because it meant that he could.
Her hand glided down to rest on his hip, her thumb stroking his skin. He sensed she was trying to find the courage to do more and despite his discomfort and the suspicion that he was insane, he said in a deep, hoarse voice, “Go ahead. I won’t stop you.”
Her eyes jerked back up to his but whatever she saw in them seemed to reassure her. She slid her fingertip along the top of his breeches, hesitating as she came to the arrow of dark hair that vanished beneath. They both took a breath.
Maddox was used to being the seducer, and although he remained still, not reaching for her, he suspected he still was. He might not be moving upon her, but he was tempting her into doing what he wanted, what she wanted, but that he was denying himself satisfaction surely made a difference. Didn’t it?
Gabriella’s dark hair was loose and windblown, tangled about her shoulders, and there were freckles across her cheeks and on her nose. It was as if life aboard the yacht suited her. He wanted to reach for her and kiss her. He wanted to lift her so that her legs wrapped around his waist, and press her against the wall to push inside her, all the way, until he couldn’t tell where he started and she ended.
But he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t. He would be the sort of man he now knew he could be, and he had to hold firm.
He tensed and bit back a groan as her fingers slid under the waistband of his trousers. His cock felt so hard he wondered if he’d ever be the same again. Watching her intent, focussed expression was not helping, so he closed his eyes and thought of cold, cold water and snow and anything that might help him maintain control. All the same, he knew his endurance was finite.
“You are very different from Terrence Laurel,” she said softly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She stroked her fingertips over the hard ridge beneath his breeches, enclosing him in her warm hand. He pushed against her before he could stop himself. “Gabriella,” he managed to get the words out, “if you keep doing that I will come.”
“Oh?” She looked up, surprised and a little anxious. “What do you mean ‘come’? Come where?”
“Everywhere if you’re not careful. Come is what happens when I am so aroused that I no longer have control of myself. It can happen to you, too, if I use my tongue on you, or my fingers. Or my cock.”
She was wide eyed. “Do you mean… when my body clenches and throbs and then the world just disappears and it feels so very good?”
He laughed roughly. “Something like that. It feels a little differently for me, but yes, the world does disappear.”
“Do you want to come?”
He groaned and then laughed. “God, yes. But probably not here and not now.”
She took away her hand and stepped back, and although he was able to breathe now he immediately missed her touch. “Terrence wanted me to touch him there. I thought it was what men liked.”
She was adorable. An adorable virgin and he didn’t know how the hell he was going to resist her for long.
He smiled, though he wondered what it looked like to her. “No harm done,” he assured her. “I do like you touching me. I want you to touch me. It’s just that… I want you too much.”
This was new to her. He could see she was surprised by his admission. She looked down at the shape of h
im again, and he could also tell she wanted to explore further. But not today. He wouldn’t be able to bear any more. This time it was Maddox who took a step back.
It was time for a change of subject.
“Have you thought about what I said?”
“What you said?” She blinked as if she’d been asleep and was just waking up. “What do you mean?”
“Gabriella, I asked you what you wanted to do after we are safely in Italy. What you want to be. The world is your oyster, you know that.”
Those dark eyes met his and he could see her trying to puzzle him out. “I’ve thought about it,” she said hesitantly, “but I’m not sure what I can do.”
“You can do anything you want to,” he assured her. “A woman like you, intelligent, beautiful, clever…”
She gave a rather provocative smile, which looked artificial on her beautiful face. “You are very flattering, Mr Hawley. I wonder sometimes whether I should believe you. Your crew tell me you have a reputation where the ladies are concerned.”
“I am a changed man,” he said. He wanted to tell her he was trying to improve himself but he sensed she would not believe him. Actions, he thought, spoke louder than words, so he must show her.
She laughed. That hurt. It was ridiculous to feel hurt when he considered his past, and yet he was.
“No doubt I will see you later,” he said, and heard the stiffness in his voice. Which seemed appropriate when he was aware of his discomfort elsewhere.
He turned and walked away.
12
GABRIELLA
They were nearing the coast of Italy. Gabriella lingered on deck to stare out at the azure sea and the strip of land that was so different from London or even the towering white cliffs they had turned their backs on at Dover. She found her body humming with an excitement she had never felt before.
Who would have thought that the girl who had never really belonged anywhere could be looking toward this exciting new life? And yet beneath the excitement was an undercurrent of anxiety that would not go away. It was all very well for Maddox to tell her she could do anything she wanted to, but the truth was that brilliant future was reliant on him. She was reliant on him.
Just then Maddox joined her at the railing. Since their meeting below deck she had tried to avoid him. She still wondered if that moment together had really happened, but the heat in her blood and the urge to touch him again convinced her. That had been no dream. She had run her hands over Maddox’s body and touched him in the most intimate of ways. And he had let her.
He’d called her sensual. He’d said she had nothing to fear and he wouldn’t touch her back. The problem was she wanted him to, just like he did that night in his cabin. She longed for it in a way that made her squirm and ache. Why had he allowed her to get so close and then pushed her away?
She looked up as he leaned out over the salty waves and stared at the coast. He must have felt her gaze on him because he turned to meet her eyes. He was beautiful and dangerous, and she could tell that he was remembering too.
This need that was burning between them frightened her and tempted her at the same time.
“Are you still afraid of me?” he asked.
“No.” She had never been afraid of him, only herself.
He seemed to relax. “Then it was worth it,” he murmured, as if to himself.
Before she could ask him what he meant he turned back to the railing, pointing at the line of green and red at the edge of the horizon.
“See there?” he asked.
She followed his finger, forcing her doubts away.
“My father took me and my brothers to that ruined fort when I was a child. We came to Italy several times, to the village we are going to now. Sometimes I brought my friend, Lawrence. My mother had relatives living there, long dead now, and my father wanted us to know them.”
He began to tell her a story about the ruin on the cliff top that she could barely see, and a long ago war. The story itself meant nothing to her, but the way he told it made her want to listen. Even so, her thoughts drifted away from Italian states and popes and bloodshed, to the man who was speaking.
For all his reckless ways, Maddox was clearly well educated and well read. Why had he fought a duel and placed himself in this precarious position when he had everything he could possibly want? During her time aboard the yacht, the crew had been very forthcoming about the Earl of Mortmain’s sons. They’d shaken their heads in disapproval, and yet smirked in admiration at their wild behaviour. Evidently one of Maddox’s brothers had also fought a duel, and been blinded by it. The other had involved himself in highway robbery and been sentenced to be hanged.
It seemed to Gabriella that setting sail for a foreign country while being pursued by the authorities was nothing out of the ordinary for the Mortmain brothers. Maddox was merely following in the family tradition.
And while she frowned and agreed with the crew that such behaviour was very irresponsible, she also understood their admiring smirks. Maddox’s freedom to do as he wished was to be envied by ordinary folk such as them. It was all very well for him to tell her to follow her dreams, but Gabriella knew she would always need to earn her living, or else find a husband to keep her.
Gabriella and Maddox came from different worlds, and although in his world anything was possible, in hers very few dreams ever came true.
* * *
The sleek lines of the Mortmain yacht was causing great interest. Gabriella watched from the top deck as the craft docked against the wooden poles beside the stone wharf, the crew working efficiently while people shouted and make a great deal of noise in a language she did not understand. Children came running, their eyes full of excitement, and when they stared at her she waved her hand, only to see them doubling over in fits of giggles.
Now the crew were busy taking on supplies. Maddox paused, one hand on the railing, and looked back at her. “Stay here,” he said gruffly, and jumped from the deck onto the wharf, as if he hadn’t just been gravely ill, and bowed to the prettiest girl he could find. A moment later he set off into the maze of narrow, cobbled streets that stretched back from the quay. The houses looked old and comfortable, as if they had seen a great deal over the centuries, and nothing new impressed them very much.
Maddox looked as if he knew exactly where he was going, and perhaps he did. She remembered him telling her he had often come here. Gabriella felt a pang that he’d ordered her to stay behind this morning instead of asking her to accompany him, but she told herself it didn’t matter. There was a simple joy in watching the people go about their business. It was all so new to her, and so different from anything she had ever seen before, and she couldn’t help but smile.
People came and went through an ancient stone arch, and from the smells that were making her nose twitch, Gabrielle guessed there was a fish market situated in there. She glanced about her, wondering if she should ask permission to leave the yacht, but everyone was busy. Maddox didn’t require her—obviously. He might have told her to wait for him on board, but surely it wouldn’t do too much harm to explore? As long as she didn’t stray too far? After a moment she stepped cautiously along the gangplank that spanned the gap between the yacht and the quay and set out.
The fish market wasn’t the only thing to see, although she did spend quite some time staring at the strange sea creatures gleaming in the sun, waiting to be taken home for someone’s pot. Further into the market she found tubs of vegetables and fruit, some of them completely foreign to her. There were also flowers, bunches and bunches of them, so brightly coloured that she lingered with a sigh. The thought of buying some was quickly set aside as she remembered she had no money apart from a few coins. And nowhere to put them even if she did.
She was homeless and destitute, and that was a sobering thought.
Maddox had said she was free to do as she wished—her life lay before her like an unopened map—but how could she do as she wished if she had no funds? It hadn’t worried her so much wh
ile they were at sea, but now she wondered if he was going to pay her at all. He had not mentioned a wage when he asked her to be his secretary. Such practical considerations were not something that Maddox had likely thought about at all—those who had never had to worry about spending money, she had found, rarely considered where their next penny was to come from. It was always just there whenever they needed it.
She was still pondering this basic truth when a pleasant male voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Senorita?”
A man was standing behind her, his manner relaxed, his fair hair disarranged as if he had just moments before risen from his bed, and his white shirt crumpled and gaping open at the top, as if he couldn’t be bothered to lace it up. He was good looking, and his slow smile was warm and appreciative.
Until this moment Gabrielle had completely forgotten her own dishevelled state. She’d caught her wild dark hair back with a ribbon she had secretly filched from Maddox’s cabin. Now, looking down at her gown, all she could see were wrinkles and salt stains. The way he was looking at her made her think he found her intriguing. Because she did not know him nor him her, she decided that just for now she would allow herself to forget about the future and enjoy his admiration.
The stranger spoke again, in Italian, his words slow and a little uncertain, although his smile didn’t dim. Not a native Italian speaker then, she thought with a smile of her own. The smile seemed to encourage him and he struggled on a little longer, until at last he gave up with a shrug. Then he tried again in a precise English accent.
“You are very pretty, Senorita. I wish I could tell you so in a way you understood, but never mind. Words are not the only manner in which we can communicate. There are other ways of getting to know each other, hmm?”
She opened her mouth to tell him she had no intention of getting to know him but stopped herself in time. Why not continue to play along, at least for a little while? Gabriella shrugged, smiling into his blue eyes.
