Gabrielle

by Theresa Conway

  She shivered, wondering just how angry he would be in the morning. Well, what had he expected? For her to welcome him with open arms, her eyes soft with desire? He’d best look to his silver-haired Miss Lawrence, she thought in a sudden huff.

  She was just beginning to think herself very clever, when, suddenly, without warning, she heard a key turn, a knob click, and the door come open, letting in a soft stream of candlelight that silhouetted his tall, well-proportioned body in the doorway. She stifled a small gasp and watched helplessly as he turned to close the door once more, laying the key on top of the armoire.

  “I hated to knock. I wasn’t sure if perhaps you were indisposed for a moment,” he said insolently, coming towards her like a stalking leopard.

  She noticed in dismay that he had removed his boots and all of his garments except for his trousers, which did little to hide his expectant manhood. In the dim light, she could make out his bare chest, blurred by the curling hair that covered a portion of it. He stopped next to the bed and lit the candles in a wall sconce, which threw soft, golden light around the bed.

  Gabrielle stood up and moved instinctively behind the chair she had been sitting in, like a cornered animal seeking a way out, her eyes darting swiftly around the room, hoping for an avenue of escape.

  “Why so apprehensive?” he asked her mockingly. “Surely this is nothing new to you—a man coming to share your bed?”

  “Leave me alone,” she whispered. “I told you—”

  His eyebrows drew upwards in scornful disbelief. “You didn’t really expect me to believe that, did you, kitten?” he asked rudely. “A woman with your looks and spirit? I cannot believe that you haven’t known dozens of men, all wanting to break down those coy little defenses you are so magnificent at acting out. I’m sure you are aware that they only serve to whet the appetite?” He was standing close to the bed, his eyes watching her like a cat’s, speculative and masterful.

  “I don’t care what you choose to believe,” she declared hotly. “I suppose you think any woman should count herself lucky to find herself next to you in the same bed?” she sneered with false bravado. “Well, you can think otherwise tonight, for I’d sooner bed down with a stable-hand than—”

  “Have you forgotten so soon that you owe me this night—and several more?” he interrupted ruthlessly.

  Her face fell, and he could see the desperation in her eyes. For a moment he wavered, wondering if perhaps he should not judge her too quickly.

  “You assured me earlier that you were a gentleman!” she countered suddenly. “Surely a gentleman would not hesitate at releasing a lady from such an odious bargain.”

  “Even when the lady, herself, agreed to it?” he asked. “Would you have been so obliging had I been the one to lose? Certainly you would have demanded your payment immediately.” He grinned devilishly. “At least I have offered you a share in the prize.” He let his eyes roam carelessly over the gleaming golden hair, the trembling mouth, the breasts that rose and fell rapidly in their silken nest. “Whether you like it or not, I want you, kitten,” he said lazily, “and I mean to have you. Whether you oblige me by stretching yourself on the bed or insist that we turn this into a wrestling match makes little difference.”

  “I have no intention of obliging you!” she blazed, jumping out from behind the chair.

  But there was no place to run—the door was locked, and it was a long jump from the long French windows that led onto the balcony. She waited in raging frustration as he closed the gap between them, reaching out to catch her arm, pulling her towards him. Tears of fury splashed from her eyes as he pressed her against him and bent his head to kiss her. Stubbornly, she refused to warm to his mouth, pressing her lips tightly together, holding herself apart from his as best she could. In an instant, his free hand had moved to her buttocks, and he sharply pinched her, causing her to jump at such an unexpected tactic.

  “Kiss me, darling, or I will have those pretty globes black and blue before too long,” he murmured.

  “Oh-h—you’re not fair,” she cried out petulantly, making him pinch her harder than before, so that she gasped.

  He placed his mouth on hers once more, and, grudgingly, she opened her lips, feeling his tongue plunder her mouth with consummate arrogance. He kissed her possessively, expertly, so that little by little her lips moved beneath his of their own accord.

  He must stop, she thought in sudden panic, he must stop! I can’t breathe, I can’t think! She felt a rising tide of pleasure somewhere deep within her, a sudden weakening that took her off guard so that she hardly realized what he was doing to her. His hands tugged at the sleeves of her gown, pulling them off her shoulders. A ripping noise confirmed that he was growing more impatient, and before she quite knew what had happened, the gown was falling around her ankles, accompanied very quickly by her chemise, both of which he kicked aside as he lifted her in his arms in order to deposit her on the bed.

  He straightened to look down at her, and she became aware of her nakedness. Why must he stand there and appraise her as though checking to see if the goods were soiled? She had nearly forgotten the anger she had felt when she was standing pressed so close against him. It was as though three years had disappeared into some long distant past, as though she had hardly been away from him since that night when he had introduced her to something of which she had had no comprehension.

  If he hadn’t gone away—left France? She wondered what would have happened to the two of them together. But he had left her, she reminded herself brusquely, and callously left with no regard whatsoever for her tender feelings. He had used her then—and again after rescuing her from the fire at Renée’s—and as he was using her now, to assuage his own need.

  She watched him now, tensed to spring, as he removed his breeches and came to join her. She steeled herself to feel nothing as his hands fondled her breasts, his lips caressed her cheek and moved softly to her mouth. She invited him deliberately with her tongue, teasing his mouth, opening her lips to draw him on—and then, with a sudden fierce intensity, she clamped her teeth on his tongue.

  With a terrible oath he withdrew and sat up to glare furiously at her, and she was satisfied to see a thin trickle of blood drip from Ms tongue as he examined it gingerly with his fingers.

  “Now!” she gloated fiercely. “You see how obliging I can be, Mr. St. Claire! Should I presume you would like to see some more of my little tricks?” she flung at him.

  With a movement too quick for her to escape, his hand shot out and slapped her across the face. “You little bitch!” he said in a deathly quiet voice. “So—you want to play animal, do you?” His green eyes seemed to gleam evilly in the half-light, and Gabrielle, holding a hand to her throbbing cheek, shrank back away from him with a sudden, startled panic.

  She would have jumped from the bed, but his hand clamped down on her arm like a vise. She struggled to release herself, but with hardly any effort, he pulled her into the middle of the bed and brought his other hand down to hold her free arm captive. His legs straddled hers, and he effectively prevented her from turning away from the mocking gaze that seemed to cut through her.

  “The kitten has claws, does she?” he laughed insultingly, as though enjoying her struggles to get free. “And she bites. You’ve been bad, little girl, and now you must pay the price.”

  He moved so that his knees could bear down on her wrists and leave his hands free.

  “No, no!” Gabrielle cried, turning her head into the pillow while she strained to keep away from those encroaching lips.

  His hands caught her hair and held her head steady, forcing her to face him.

  “Now, you will try no more of those tricks on me, my darling, or you will be very sorry by morning. Come now, kiss me,” he commanded and brought her head up to meet his so that his mouth could take possession of hers.

  He kissed her long and deeply, forcing a response that she wanted to deny. But she could no longer find the will power to do so. His hands moved dow
n her neck, lowering her head back onto the pillow. He moved with her, keeping his mouth on hers despite the feeble protesting noises that came from her throat. He slid his knees from her arms, and she felt a small ache as the blood rushed back into her hands.

  She felt utterly helpless as he took his mouth away, leaving her lips bruised and throbbing. Deliberately, his hands moved down her shoulders to her breasts, massaging them roughly, without regard for her pleasure, then further down to her flat belly, stopping at the place where her legs formed a V with her body.

  “I can take you now, kitten,” he spoke disdainfully, “and leave you to your own thoughts, but I’m afraid I’ve decided not to let you off so easily.”

  She closed her eyes to blot out his brutal expression.

  “No, my dear. In a little while, you’ll be begging me to satisfy you, mewing like a cat in heat!” He laughed contemptuously. “It’s no more than you deserve, my beautiful little witch!”

  He bent down once again and kissed her with stimulating passion, while his hands played with her breasts until he had achieved the effect he desired. Her nipples stood out, taut and expectant, so that he could feel them like small, stiff, stabbing points against his own skin. Reluctantly he quitted her mouth, leaving her gasping for breath, and placed soft kisses on her neck and shoulders, moving downward to her breasts, which he had already readied so expertly. His arm moved underneath her back, bending her in his grasp so that she seemed to offer herself to him.

  Gabrielle felt her breath coming in quick snatches, her heart pounding with violent speed, and her head whirling in a not-unpleasant sensation of excitement. She mustn’t give in, she told herself, she mustn’t—but she could feel her legs turning to water and her arms creeping around his neck.

  She was a woman!—a woman whose desires and needs drove her to find satisfaction with a man. And, dear Lord, it had been a long time since she had felt a man caressing her like this.

  She saw his dark head against the pale blur of her skin, felt his mouth pleasuring her breasts to fine peaks of frustration. She gasped as his teeth bit into the soft flesh, then kissed it, as though in retribution. Without further preamble, he slid his body down on hers so that his hands were free now to work their miracles on her responsive flesh.

  Shyly, she closed her thighs tight, tensing her pelvic muscles as his fingers introduced themselves.

  “Let me in, kitten,” he murmured, his tongue warm on her flesh, demanding her total obedience.

  Gabrielle struggled to remain firm against him, but his tongue was a devilish instrument that flicked at her thighs and sought out her most secret places. With a low moan, she parted her thighs and surrendered herself to him. Her back arched in a spasm of delight, her knees bent against the pleasure she was experiencing.

  “I didn’t know,” she gasped, pressing her nails into the flesh of her breasts to keep herself from crying out in sheer madness. She heard herself panting as though she had run for miles, tiny rockets exploded in her, causing delicious shivers of pleasure to run through her body. “Stop, stop,” she pleaded, clutching at his hair with her fingers. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, for he would not stop but kept on, alternately torturing her and pleasuring her until she exploded in a long moan that left her all but exhausted.

  Through misty eyes she saw him straighten up and smile enigmatically, then move so that he lay stretched out on top of her. Her mouth was open a little, her body felt drenched in perspiration so that their bodies slipped on each other in sensual intimacy. She didn’t care that he was achieving his ends, that he was making her want him as he said she would. All she wanted was a release from the exquisite torture.

  She felt him poised above her for a long moment, teasing her greedily so that she wrapped her arms around his neck, willing him to satisfy this terrifying need within her.

  “Rafe,” she half-sobbed in mingled shame and desire.

  “Ah, you have become greedy now,” he whispered insolently. “I’m sorry I had to do this to you, kitten, but you were denying your own needs, your own body’s signals. I'm afraid it was the only way to bring you to the realization that you are a full-grown woman now and should not be ashamed of your feelings.”

  “But—but I hated you,” she said, like a child who doesn’t believe that a sweet can erase the spanking received an hour earlier.

  “A woman’s hate is one of the most volatile emotions,” he said softly. “I have an idea you don’t know what to feel, but follow me now and I will show you how good girls are rewarded.”

  “Hurry,” she whispered eagerly, seeking to bring him down to her by the sheer strength of her arms around his neck.

  “A gentleman always obliges a lady,” he murmured, driving downward so suddenly and so deeply that she winced at the pain.

  He moved slowly then, aware of her sudden discomfort, not wanting to lose her now when he was ready to satisfy the craving of that sweet flesh. Patiently, he brought her back again to urgent expectancy, and she lost the pain of terrible wanting that had filled her. She rolled her head from side to side, and he caught his hands in her hair again to still her.

  “Soon, kitten,” he said, kissing her with soft, warm kisses along the jawline.

  Her movements matched his now as she deliberately started to strive for culmination. It seemed that he could not get enough of her, and his thrusts were strong and hard so that she arched in a frenzy of delight, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. She wanted to scream or cry out with the intensity of her pleasure, but she bit her lip to still the sounds that rose in her throat. A delicious wave of anticipation swept over her, centering in her abdomen and spreading out to her legs and breasts. She raised her eyes to his and saw him gazing down at her, a small smile of victory on his mouth.

  He kissed her again, and his movements became more rapid, preceding the moment of release. She met his thrusts fiercely, and together they experienced a soaring sexual bliss that neither had ever known before.

  Finally he was still, his face pressed into her hair, listening to her trembling cries of astonished pleasure, wondering with a sudden, uneasy pang just who had been the victor in their bout of love.

  When her breathing had become more normal, Gabrielle turned her head and kissed him softly, hesitatingly, not wishing to break the incredible spell that had descended over her. Their bodies were drenched with sweat, and the sheets were soaked. His green eyes seemed to blaze down at her when he lifted his head, and the smile he gave her was truly inscrutable.

  “Christ, kitten, you’ve done me in!” he said, laughing to himself. “I wonder if I’ve awakened a sleeping tigress.”

  She smiled impudently. To think that she had fought him like a wild woman just an hour before, had told herself she hated him! Why were women so foolish? she wondered. Why must they always hide their feelings at the expense of their own happiness?

  She gazed fearfully into the handsome, satiric face above her and thought how meaningless those three years had been for her. Did he care for her, too? she wondered.

  “Why so quiet?” he said in her ear, punctuating the words with a questing tongue.

  She shivered. “Just thinking.”

  She hated the amused laughter, the mask of insolent indifference that had descended on him once more. “I hope you’re thinking of keeping your door open from now on. It would make things so much easier if you would wait quietly and properly in bed for your lover to come to you instead of screeching abuse at me and stirring yourself into a lather. You could learn a few things from your friends at Renée’s, although I must admit your education has been improved since that night so long ago in Paris.”

  “I suppose I could learn some things at Renée’s,” she said, striving to match his composure, “but I really don’t think I want to fight you anymore, Rafe.”

  He frowned a little. “This sudden capitulation has me worried, kitten. I hope,” he hesitated, trying to read the expression on her carefully closed face, “—I hope you’re not letting you
rself feel anything foolish toward me. You know I would hate to be tied down to one woman when a constant selection is so much more palatable.”

  Gabrielle steeled herself to react as indifferently as he. “Of course not. What—what kind of fool do you take me for?”

  He laughed. “There’s only one kind of fool, little girl.” He got up and stretched, then walked over casually to look out the window. He threw open the French doors, and she could see his profile, gazing out towards the river. He stood there for so long she thought he had forgotten about her and sat up to retrieve the wild tangles of her hair and twist them into a more demure knot at her neck. She padded lightly to where her chemise still lay on the floor, suddenly feeling the need to cover herself in order to bolster her courage.

  “I suppose I shall find you a house in town,” he said quietly, as though speaking to himself. “Yes, I think a neat little town house close to Toulouse Street would be the best place to settle you.”

  Bewildered, Gabrielle walked over to him. “You’re going to give me a house—of my own?” she asked.

  He looked at her strangely, then shrugged. “Of course. All men keep their mistresses in their own establishments. It makes it so much easier than renting a hotel room every night.”

  He turned back into the room, retrieved his trousers, and pulled them on briskly, as though preparing to leave the room.

  “W-where are you going?” Gabrielle inquired as bravely as she could. “Aren’t you—aren’t you going to stay the night with me?” she went on.

  He looked surprised. “Under the circumstances, I thought you would want me out as soon as—our little business was finished. It would never do to set the servants talking,” he grinned sarcastically. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “Damn, kitten, I’m going to have to find a way to get you out of here before tomorrow at ten o’clock. Melissa’s due to come over, and I wouldn’t want her to spoil that pretty face of yours with her jealous claws.”