Gabriella bit her lip. “What happened?”
“Jessabelle grew bored with the long hours I spent away from her. She accused me of abandoning her, of infidelity, though I never broke my vows.”
He saw Gabriella’s teeth sink deeper, worrying her bottom lip, and knew that his sweet, sensitive wife had noted the parallel between her behavior and Jessabelle’s. It was a deliberate, ruthless move on his part to gain her empathy. In truth, there was no comparing the two situations. Jessabelle had been spoiled and demanding, using tantrums to manipulate him and get her way. Gabby gave everything of herself and only asked for what was rightfully hers in return.
Even as that new, raw part of him balked at using her tender-hearted nature against her, he steeled himself. It was necessary. There was more to share, the ugly part of his life that he’d never wanted Gabby to know. Yet she had to know it in order for her to understand and accept his actions. Thus, as he ventured forth onto the explosive-laden battlefield of his past, he needed the upper hand.
“We fought constantly,” he said, keeping his tone matter-of-fact, “and we made up just as often, just as...intensely.”
He saw the stain rising up his wife’s cheeks and wished he could protect her from the hurt he was inflicting. If he’d had to listen to her talk about another man touching her, he’d put his fist through a goddamned wall. But this was required history, and the best thing he could do was get it over with as quickly as he could.
“Jessabelle enjoyed carnal games. Coming from the stews, she was exposed to the variety of ways that pleasure could be found, and she was adventurous by nature.” He exhaled before continuing. “In particular, she was aroused by displaying herself in front of other men. Letting them see and lust after her while we fornicated.”
Gabriella’s jaw slackened. “You allowed that?”
He understood her shock. Because he’d kill any man who so much as looked at her askance, and he was gratified that she knew that. That she knew he’d never allow anyone to share her pleasure. That she was his and his alone.
“I was a young man, and she was my first lover. I wanted to please her. And it was titillating at first,” he admitted. “Her sister worked at a club that specialized in bacchanals, and Jessabelle and I would go there sometimes and…join in. But the novelty soon wore off for me, and I realized that I’d never really wanted what she craved. I put my foot down, told her we wouldn’t be going back. I wanted us to settle down and start a family.”
“Did she agree?” Gabriella asked quietly.
“She paid lip service to the idea. But her discontent was there, festering, and I chose to ignore it. It’s no excuse, but I was dealing with a territorial war at work. Helmsley’s growing success was encroaching on that of O’Leary, a competitor, and the clashes became deadly and personal. Several of my colleagues were killed; I was part of the team that retaliated, taking down our enemy’s son. With that move, I sealed Jessabelle’s fate.”
Even now, the embers of guilt flared. I should have protected her. She was my responsibility, and I failed her. I had no business marrying her when I cared about my vengeance more.
A powerful man couldn’t let sentiment get in the way. De Villier had been right. Adam’s love for Jessabelle had weakened him, prompted him to make the wrong choice. If he hadn’t married her, she might still be alive today.
“What happened?” Gabby’s voice guided him back, mooring him in the here and now.
“We had one of our usual fights. I told her to stay put in the house because my enemies were everywhere. Then I left. I left knowing that she was angry, that in that state she was capable of anything.” He raked a hand through his hair. “There was a masquerade that night at the club where her sister worked, and Jessabelle went in disguise. She participated in the bacchanal until Jeannette recognized her, told her to go home to her husband. She never made it that far. I found her in a nearby alleyway.
“O’Leary and his men had raped her before they stabbed her. Before they left her to die in a pool of her own blood.” He met his wife’s eyes steadily as the old, helpless rage swirled inside him. “Even when I avenged her, when I slaughtered the men who’d done this to her one by one, I knew they weren’t responsible for Jessabelle’s death. I was.”
32
Seeing the haunted look in Adam’s eyes, Gabby couldn’t help herself any longer. She crossed over to her husband, reaching up and taking his face in her palms.
“You didn’t kill Jessabelle,” she said firmly. “Those evil men did.”
“I shouldn’t have left her. Shouldn’t have married her.” Pain and guilt creased his features. “At that time in my life, I wanted power more than anything…even her. I let my infatuation fool me into thinking that I could have both, and she died because of it.”
“You don’t bear all the blame. She knew who you were. She made the choice to marry you, to go out that night despite the dangers,” Gabby whispered.
His hands covered hers, gripping them and bringing them to his chest. She felt the fierce pounding of his heart, knew what it had cost him to tell her all this. Even as she grappled with the knowledge of how much Adam had kept from her, she couldn’t stem her flooding relief. In spite of his many omissions, he hadn’t lied to her.
He’d been faithful. Since their marriage, he’d wanted only her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your past?” she asked softly.
“I didn’t want to taint our marriage. You were a new beginning for me, Gabriella. Everything I wanted.” His burning gaze told her this was the truth. “You were so innocent and trusting, so willing to give me everything I needed. Your love is, and has always been, the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. I didn’t want my past failures to change the way you saw me.”
Comprehending his unspoken fear, she said, “I could never stop loving you.”
Even as she saw the lines around his mouth ease, she had an uneasy flash of intuition. She pulled herself from his grip, and he let her go with obvious reluctance.
She took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Is what happened with Jessabelle why you kept a distance from me all those years? Why things were so different before and after the amnesia?”
“Yes.” His admission was gruff, but his eyes never left her face. “As stupid as this sounds now, I was afraid of allowing our marriage to go down the same path. I blamed myself for not curbing Jessabelle’s recklessness. I told myself that if I’d done my duty as a husband, if I’d kept her and her excesses in check, she’d still be alive. I convinced myself that the only way to protect you was to always be in control. To keep my head clear and not let you get too deep under my skin.”
The breath that Gabby drew in felt jagged, like splintered glass.
“The reason you only came to me once a week, that you kept your distance, that you never told me you loved me…was because you thought I would betray you like Jessabelle did?”
Did he think her so faithless?
“No.” In a heartbeat, he reached for her. Hauled her against him and held her there despite her struggling. “Listen to me, Gabriella. Not for one moment did I think you were anything like Jessabelle. It wasn’t you I didn’t trust but myself. Because love had always led to pain in my past, I was afraid to love you. Or, more accurately, afraid to admit that you captured my heart since the first moment we met.”
She stilled. “You don’t have to say that. You didn’t love me when you proposed.”
“Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight,” he allowed, “but it was certainly lust. The moment I laid eyes on you, I remembered a painting my mama took me to see as a child. Titian’s portrait of Venus. The goddess of love was so pure and sensual that she stole my breath, even as a boy. Every time I look at you, Gabriella, I see that beauty.”
He thought of her as a goddess?
“Truly?” she asked, her breath hitching.
“Truly. From our first meeting, I knew that I wanted you all for myself. That I’d stop at nothing to
make you mine.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion. “You are still, aren’t you? Tell me that despite everything you now know, you are mine. My wife, my true partner, the only woman who has ever held all of my heart.”
How could she deny him when his every word spoke to her own heart?
Yet there was something she still had to know.
“A few months ago, there was that fire at The Gilded Pearl.” As she spoke, she felt his arms bulge, hardening around her, but she forged on. “Someone important to you died that night. If it wasn’t Jessabelle, who was it?”
When he said nothing, she began to push away.
He held her fast.
“It was a woman by the name of Drusilla Wiley,” he said in flat tones. “Before I met Garrity, she and her husband Roger, a sweep, kept me and other children as ‘apprentices,’ although ‘slaves’ would be a more apt term for how they abused us. We were forced to clean chimneys and commit countless crimes for them. We were beaten within an inch of our lives for any infractions…or merely for the Wileys’ sadistic pleasure. I swore to myself that when I had the opportunity, I would see justice done. Roger died in a knife fight, robbing me of my revenge. But there was still Drusilla.”
Even as his cold detachment sent a shiver down Gabby’s spine, the knowledge that her husband had suffered further atrocities tore at her heart.
“What did you do to her?” She wasn’t certain that she wanted to know.
“She did it to herself. She got into debt with me—not knowing who I was, of course. When she couldn’t pay me back, I had her work off her debt. At The Gilded Pearl.”
“Doing…what?”
“Whatever was asked of her,” he said coolly. “Given that she was a toothless old trull, I’m sure most of it involved scrubbing chamber pots and the like. When she died in the fire, she still owed me five years. She got off too easily.”
Her husband’s mercilessness ought to have shocked her. But it didn’t. She’d gone into the marriage with her eyes wide open when it came to his origins and profession, the nature of the man she’d married.
An eye for an eye—that was who Adam Garrity was.
He was as fierce in his loyalty to his friends as he was in his hostility to his enemies. Did she agree with his ruthless methods? No. Was she going to waste time feeling pity for Drusilla Wiley, a woman who’d enslaved and abused helpless children? Also, no.
In the end, Gabby understood that the world that had birthed her husband was a place where street-level justice and survival went hand in hand, and she accepted it…because she loved him.
In truth, there was only one thing she couldn’t accept.
“Have I finally succeeded in shocking you?” he inquired.
Despite his indifferent tone, she heard the underlying tension. Felt it in his body. His arms were steel bands around her, as if he feared she might try to leave him.
Tipping her head back, she looked into his dark, fathomless eyes.
“I know who you are,” she said quietly. “Nothing you’ve said changes my love for you.”
A shudder ran through him, his nostrils flaring. “My sweet wife—”
“You will always have my love. And my loyalty.” She returned his fierce gaze with one of her own. “As long as you don’t lie to me. I won’t tolerate you keeping any more secrets.”
His eyes smoldered with emotions she couldn’t name. But she felt their intensity in the way he was staring at her, as if he wanted to snatch her up and carry her away to his own private den and keep her there forever. Her own emotions pulsed dangerously close to the surface. Her skin tingled, as if it couldn’t hold in all that she was feeling. Energy swelled between them, around them, morphing with startling swiftness into physical need.
Her pussy clenched, already wet, already wanting.
“You’re my wife, Gabriella, the love of my life,” he said with a cool emphasis that made her fires burn hotter. “I will never let you go.”
Before she could catch her breath, he swept her up in his arms.
There’s more to tell her. Another secret she doesn’t know.
Adam shut out the voice as he carried his wife into the adjoining room. He knew he wasn’t fully in control of himself: between the sudden return of his memories and the baring of his past, he felt a volcano of emotion roiling within him. He wasn’t ready to tell Gabby about his plans for vengeance. Hell, he didn’t even know if they were still in play.
What he did know was that De Villier was onto him. That explained why De Villier was suddenly paying off some of the loans, loosening the noose that it’d taken Adam years to place around the other’s neck. The meeting at the ball hadn’t been a coincidence, either. Likely the bastard had been sizing him up, trying to discern what he wanted and why. Had De Villier figured out that Adam was the son he’d tried to murder all those years ago?
Christ, Adam wasn’t ready to face the possibility that a lifetime of working, planning, and strategizing had been laid to waste. During his amnesia, had he somehow tipped De Villier off? He’d been so bloody close to achieving his goal…
Maybe he could salvage his plan yet. He needed time to regroup. To evaluate the situation rationally, from all angles. After he ascertained where matters stood with his enemy, he would tell Gabriella what she needed to know. Right now, he, himself, didn’t know the state of affairs; he could hardly explain it to his wife.
Tomorrow, he’d assess the damage. In this moment, he had a different kind of fire to put out.
He found that it wasn’t difficult to push all thoughts of De Villier aside. To allow his burning need for Gabriella to eclipse all else. He’d bared himself to her in a way he’d never done with any one. He felt exposed—and he’d be damned if he was the only one who would feel that way.
He set his precious burden down by the peacock-blue mattress, untying and discarding her cloak. Her hands caught his.
“Here?” she whispered.
“You’re mine. Without limits, remember?” Deliberately, he added, “Perhaps I am in need of reassurance that this still holds true.”
He was taking advantage of her sweet nature, and he didn’t care. In acknowledging his love for her, he’d accepted the depth of his need for her. He could hear her say the words a million times, and it would never be enough. He’d always be greedy for what she gave him, what he’d never received from anyone else.
“I’m yours,” she whispered. “Always, Adam.”
Her devotion soothed the darkness in him. She was nothing like Jessabelle. She was incapable of betrayal and playing games; loving her wouldn’t end in pain. Not that he could stop loving her even if he tried. He’d been a fool to let his past come between them, to waste years of their marriage. He wouldn’t waste a single minute more.
“Then you’ll obey your sultan’s wishes and let him do with you as he pleases,” he said.
He saw her eyes widen at his stern tone, her lips parting on a sensual breath. By some stroke of luck, Jeannette had put them in the seraglio, the heart of his wife’s sexual fantasies…and his own. For he yearned for her surrender as much as she yearned for his claim.
Especially now. When his world was in chaos, he had to know that he could be certain in this. The need to establish his control, to feel her submission, burned in him.
To his everlasting satisfaction, her hands fell obediently to her sides.
He took off her clothes, layer by layer, stripping her bare. Doing to her what she did to him. When she was as naked as he felt, all thoughts save pleasure fled his mind. He looked at his treasure with covetous eyes and knew he was the wealthiest man alive.
He ran his hands over her silken curves, her sensual shiver pumping blood into his already stiff cock. So responsive, his queen. When he touched her pussy, his satisfaction grew.
“My slave is already drenched with dew,” he said silkily. “Do you want to come, Gabriella? Ask me nicely, and I might help you.”
Charmingly flustered, she
asked, “Please, would you make me come?”
She gasped as he spun her around, pulled her generous backside against his hard, clothed form. With one hand, he swept aside her hair, his lips skimming the graceful curve of her neck. He’d discovered how much she liked to be stimulated there, his kisses, licks, and nips eliciting throaty moans. With his other hand, he rubbed her cunny, alternating feather-light caresses with sinuous circles upon her sensitive nub. She was so close he knew she wouldn’t last long.
Sure enough, her thighs began to quiver. He drove two fingers into her tight passage. Her quim sucked at him, fierce hungry pulls that caused his prick to jerk in envy. He stirred his fingers inside her, setting his teeth on the tender juncture of her neck and shoulder, holding her captive as she came to a trembling climax.
He wound her fiery hair around his fist and said in her ear, “Now that I’ve seen to your pleasure, you will see to mine. With your mouth, I think. That warm, wet hole that takes my cock so nicely.”
Her shudder of excitement matched his own. Since that first time in the sparring room, Gabriella had performed fellatio upon him regularly, showing a wanton enthusiasm for sucking his cock. A good thing since he was an equally enthusiastic recipient. She turned to face him, sinking slowly to her knees upon the blue mattress, her eyes never leaving his as he disrobed.
When he was naked, he fisted his rearing shaft. He frigged himself slowly, pre-seed dribbling from his flaring crown as he looked upon his wife’s uplifted face. She glowed with love and passion, his adoring goddess and eager queen.
Regarding the Duke Page 26