“It’s time to truly make you mine,” he whispered against her temple. “I won’t use a sheath but I’ll pull out of you before I come.”
Still breathless and too overwhelmed to speak, Arabella simply nodded and let him turn her onto her back. Gabriel rose over her, graceful yet fearsome. She might not be wearing her glasses, but she could feel the searing intensity of his gaze. The purpose in each and every one of his movements.
He fondled her, spreading the moisture that had welled between her folds up and over the swollen bud of her clitoris, mercilessly arousing her all over again. If she wasn’t so spent, she might have been embarrassed by how wet she was. Or how much she already craved Gabriel’s wicked touch. She couldn’t help but press herself into his hand.
“I’m going to put myself inside you now,” he whispered huskily, settling over her. “Good Lord, you are so sweet. So lovely. I can’t get enough of your kisses.” He raked his mouth across her cheek before tasting her lips. Taking his weight on one arm, he grasped his shaft, then pressed his hips forward, the hot, smooth head of his penis seeking her drenched entrance.
Arabella sucked in a startled breath as he pushed again and the burning sting of his invasion intensified. Clutching at his biceps, she stiffened and tried not to cry out as he thrust even deeper. Surely she would split in two. Filled to bursting point, pinned to the bed beneath Gabriel’s substantial weight, there was nothing she could do but try to breathe through the pain.
Gabriel thrust one last time and then he held very still. Her heart thudding in her ears, Arabella blinked away tears. It didn’t seem at all fair that their joining should be so painful. Especially when he’d taken so much care with her beforehand.
“I’m sorry for hurting you, my brave darling. And I hope the worst is over for you.” He feathered kisses over her forehead and down her nose. “I’ll be ever so gentle as I take my pleasure. I’ll try very hard to help you find yours again too.”
Arabella gripped the back of his strong neck, steeling herself for what would happen next. “Don’t mind me. Do what you must.”
Gabriel dipped his head and kissed her with such tenderness, Arabella’s throat tightened. In that moment, she almost believed that he cared for her.
Leaning on one arm, he caressed her breast with his free hand as he began to carefully work himself in and out of her body. His sliding thrusts were long and slow, deliberate yet gentle, and it wasn’t long before sweat sheened his back. He bent his head to kiss her and Arabella welcomed him, opening her mouth and tangling her tongue with his. The pain of his incursion was receding, and desire flickered to life deep in her womb.
If Gabriel could increase his pace just a little . . . Arabella lifted her hips to meet his and then Gabriel’s whole body spasmed. “Christ.” His chest heaved as he dragged in a ragged breath. “You feel so damned good. Too good. I can’t . . . Fuck.” All of a sudden, he wrenched his body away. Gripping his manhood, he shuddered and groaned as he spent his hot seed all over her belly and the inside of her thighs.
Oh. Arabella blinked at the curious sight, then frowned in dismay when she realized what a mess they’d both made on the blue silk counterpane.
Gabriel collapsed onto the bed beside her. Lying on his back with his eyes closed, one arm was flung over his forehead while the other hand reached for her. His fingers threaded through hers, and then he brought her hand to his lips. “Good Lord, Arabella. That was a narrow escape we just had,” he rasped. “I almost didn’t pull out in time.”
Arabella didn’t know what to say. If he had spent inside her, surely that wouldn’t be so bad. Despite the threat to his title, they were married after all. Aloud she said, “I’m glad you achieved satisfaction. And that the deed is done, so to speak.” She felt strange and unsettled—oddly hollow and yearning.
“Yes. On both counts.” Gabriel rolled over and propped himself on one elbow. He crooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “But what about you? I’m quite certain you didn’t come a second time. I’m sorry I lost control and ended things too quickly.”
“No, I didn’t. But that’s all right. Once was enough.” She fell silent, suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of what they’d just done. She was Gabriel’s wife in truth and no longer a virgin. And surely she should be pleased her husband was a considerate lover. No, he was more than that: he was an accomplished lover.
An amazing lover.
Gabriel kissed her gently on the forehead. “I swear I’ll make it up to you a little later on when we are both rested. But for now . . .” He slid from the bed and, apparently comfortable in his own skin, padded stark-naked toward her dressing room. “Let me clean you up, my sweet.”
Arabella pushed herself up higher on the pillows, wincing as her body protested at the change in position—as was to be expected, her nether region was quite sensitive and sore.
A minute later, Gabriel returned with a towel, a basin of water, and a soft washcloth. Another towel was slung low around his lean hips. “I’m sorry this isn’t warm,” he said as he squeezed the excess water from the cloth. He began to ever so carefully wash away the stickiness from between her thighs.
“That’s all right.” Arabella blushed hotly as she noticed pinkish streaks of blood on the cloth. Even though Gabriel had already seen and touched her most intimate places, she still felt terribly self-conscious and had to resist the urge to cover herself with the counterpane yet again.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Gabriel said softly, “I’ll order a hip bath for you if you’d like.”
Arabella offered him a grateful smile. “Yes, please. That would be lovely.” Part of her really wished he wasn’t being so sweet. He confused her. How could he be so kind and thoughtful on the one hand, yet claim he was a heartless rake on the other?
A little while later, as Arabella lay soaking in a large tub of lavender-scented water in her dressing room, she realized that the feeling of discontent that sat heavily inside her breast was disappointment. And apprehension.
Her husband didn’t love her, and he never would. Nor would he ever be faithful. He’d told her that at the outset. But after experiencing Gabriel’s lovemaking—although Arabella knew love had naught to do with it—she was forever changed.
Even though she’d told herself over and over again that she was not made to be loved—that she was practical and sensible and unromantic—it seemed her foolish heart had other ideas. Why else would it beat double time when Gabriel smiled at her? Why else did she wish he meant it whenever he told her she was beautiful?
Why else did she despair that their physical union had been little more than “sport” to him and that’s all it would ever be? Yet what they’d done had meant so much more to her. Although her body thrummed with excitement when she thought of having sexual congress with Gabriel again, her head told her it would be most unwise for her to do so—well, at least until it was absolutely necessary.
She would keep to her end of the bargain and share his bed when the time came to beget his heir. But until then, it would all be for the best if she kept her distance from him. It would hurt too much to pine for something she could never have.
Charlie had once said that in order to catch a rakehell, you needed to make him fall in love with you. However, Arabella realized she’d done things all back to front—she’d snared herself an earl, albeit accidentally, but she now feared the second thing was an impossible feat. She had no clue how to begin or if it were even possible for Gabriel to fall in love with her.
One thing was certain: she certainly couldn’t afford to fall in love with her wickedly handsome but fickle-hearted husband, because doing so would surely destroy her.
* * *
* * *
When Gabriel emerged from his dressing room after luxuriating in his own bath, it was to discover his lovely young wife was sitting on the balcony, brushing her glorious blond locks. The cu
rls shone like liquid gold in the afternoon sunshine, and Gabriel itched to run his fingers through them. Per his instructions, the servants had cleared away the remains of their wedding breakfast, leaving nothing but a fine lace tablecloth, a decanter of claret, and two crystal glasses.
Throwing on an emerald green silk banyan over a pair of loose linen trousers, he scrubbed at his dripping hair with a fresh towel as he wandered out to join Arabella.
Then something blue caught his eye. Something that didn’t belong on the balcony.
What the hell?
Arabella’s counterpane was draped over the railing, one ruffled edge flapping lightly in the gentle breeze. It looked as though a section of it was damp.
“You don’t have to do your own laundry, you know,” Gabriel said as he approached his wife. He tossed his towel over the back of a chair. “I have . . . I mean we have more than enough staff here.”
“I know . . .” Arabella put down her silver-backed brush. Her cheeks were bright red as she met his gaze. “It’s just there was such a mess after we . . .” She lifted her chin. “I was embarrassed about it. Aside from that, I’m used to being self-sufficient.”
“Oh, Arabella.” Gabriel raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to worry so much about what everyone thinks. Not anymore. The maids won’t care what state we leave the bed linen in. To begin with, it’s none of their business and we are married.”
“Yes . . .” Arabella began to brush her hair again. Her expression had turned serious. No, it was more than that; she was withdrawn. Her gaze was now trained on the flagstones at his feet, and a slight frown creased her brow.
Gabriel frowned, too, unsure of what was wrong. He didn’t think he’d used a stern tone when he’d gently rebuked her. Wanting to dispel the awkwardness between them, he took the brush from Arabella’s hand. “Here, let me do that, sweetheart.”
To his surprise, she stiffened a little as their fingers touched, but she didn’t naysay him.
“I hope you are feeling refreshed,” he said as he began to gently tug the brush through her still-damp hair. He rested his hand on her slender shoulder and skimmed his thumb across the satiny skin at her nape, just above the white muslin neckline of her gown. “Although it’s a pity Villa Belle Rive hasn’t anything larger than a hip bath. I rather think I’d enjoy sharing a tub with you.”
Arabella made a soft sound at the back of her throat, which he took to mean she agreed. With her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she reminded him of a contented cat, sunning itself. At least her frown had gone.
As he only just resisted the urge to kiss her, his gaze fell to the table where her glasses lay on a slim, leather-bound volume.
“What are you reading?” he asked as he encountered a particularly stubborn snarl.
“It’s a travel diary by Mary Shelley,” she replied. “She documents her tour of the Continent, including her stay here in Switzerland. Aside from Lord Byron’s “Prisoner of Chillon,” I’ve also been reading “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage.” I picked it up at Hatchards before I left.”
“I must borrow it from you sometime.” The brush snagged on another knot. “I didn’t pack many books before I left London. Have you read Rousseau’s Julie, or the New Heloise? I believe he penned it while he was residing at Vevey.”
Arabella replied she had and that she had a copy in her trunk if he cared to borrow that too.
They lapsed into uncomfortable silence again, and Gabriel wondered what she would like to talk about. He wanted to get to know his wife better. After bedding her, he’d learned small, intimate details no one else knew. That her nipples were a dusky rose pink. The little sounds she made in the throes of passion. His cock stirred and he steered his thoughts in another direction. It probably didn’t help that he’d been living the life of a monk since he left London.
As much as he desired Arabella, he shouldn’t be thinking about rushing her off to bed again straightaway given that he’d just taken her maidenhead. Although intercourse was out of the question right now, there were plenty of other things they could do that he was certain she would find pleasurable. Perhaps later this evening . . .
He cast his mind back to what they’d chatted about when he’d drawn her earlier: their mutual friends, Nate, Charlie, and Sophie. Her travels so far. As much as he wanted to learn more about her past—what it had been like in the orphanage—and her passion for medicine and philanthropy courtesy of her grandfather, those topics seemed too serious to explore today. He certainly didn’t want to dredge up any painful memories for Arabella.
Lord knew there were episodes in his past that he avoided revisiting like the plague.
Arabella shifted in her seat, and because he was standing so close, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. He still had no idea why she was so insecure about her appearance. Perhaps someone close to her had undermined her self-confidence—her shrew of an aunt for instance. He could well imagine the woman would harp on about her niece’s “flaws” just to keep her under her thumb. The thought that someone would do such a thing made him unaccountably angry.
Arabella jumped. “Ow.”
“Sorry,” he said. He’d been gripping the brush too tightly and not paying enough attention to what he was doing. “I think that’s the last of the tangles gone.” He handed the brush back and reached for the claret.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he took a seat and poured himself a sizable glass. “If red wine isn’t to your taste, there’s still a crateful of champagne left.”
Arabella slipped her glasses onto her nose and picked up her book. “A cup of tea would be lovely,” she said in such a subdued tone that the alarm bells that had been quietly ringing in his head began to clang louder. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Gabriel’s brows plunged into a deep frown. What? They were sitting in the summer sun on a balcony overlooking heaven, yet his new wife wanted to read her book and drink tea like an elderly maiden aunt? Of course this wasn’t a love match—they both knew that—but this was their wedding day for God’s sake. The beginning of their honeymoon.
A time for both of them to get to know each other in every conceivable way. To have fun.
He wanted her and she’d admitted she desired him, too, but something was definitely wrong. Gabriel’s visions of getting pleasantly soused with Arabella and then discovering all the ways he could bring her pleasure with his hands and mouth alone were dissolving faster than a sugar lump in a blasted cup of tea.
He put down his claret. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. “Are you having misgivings about our marriage already?”
Arabella removed a pretty scrap of embroidered linen that marked the place in her book. “No.” She looked up and gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m just a wee bit tired, that’s all.”
Little liar. Gabriel’s uneasiness intensified. He knew he’d caused her great pain when he first entered her, but she seemed to enjoy everything they’d done before that. But what if he was wrong? “Bella, be honest with me. Are you upset about what happened in the marriage bed? Was I too rough or did I frighten you?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. You were wonderful and as gentle and considerate as could be.”
“Did you . . .” Gabriel swallowed and forced himself to untether his tongue and ask her a difficult question—for him at least. “Did you achieve an orgasm at all? I thought you did, but perhaps I was mistaken. I’ve always striven to be a generous lover, so I don’t want you to lie to me about something so fundamentally important.”
Arabella blushed. “You know that I did. It was . . . it was marvelous. Quite a revelation. I had no idea that such a pleasurable rush could be had by a woman too. And I thank you for it.”
Thank God. His male pride appeased a little, Gabriel lowered his voice to a seductive purr. “You know
you can have as many orgasms as you like. Whenever you like.”
But Arabella pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I . . . I don’t want any more.”
Confused, Gabriel frowned. “But you just said you enjoyed the first one. I know you must be quite tender at the moment, but that will pass. And there are other things we can do . . .”
“No.” She shook her head again. “We’ve consummated our union. When we became engaged, that’s all we agreed to do. Until you are ready to begin a family of course. Then I will come to your bed so that you might get me with child.”
Gabriel raked a hand down his face. No, no, no. This was not what he had in mind. At all. “But why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves?” he demanded, his tone gruffer than he intended. “We are wed. It is allowed. And as your husband, it is my right . . .” He took a deep breath and attempted to temper his tone. He didn’t want to sound like a bombastic oaf. “And I want you so very much, Bella. You know this to be true.”
Arabella’s expression hardened. “Don’t. Please stop calling me that. It doesn’t suit me. And you don’t need to keep pretending I’m attractive when I’m clearly not. You’ve had me, so your pretty words are just a waste of breath from now on.”
“I’m not pretending,” Gabriel snapped. “You are beautiful, god damn it. Why won’t you believe me? You’re my wife and I want you. It couldn’t be simpler.”
Arabella’s lower lip quivered and she looked away from him. “I wish I could make you understand. And it’s far from simple.”
Damn, his flash of temper had made her cry. Gabriel’s heart twisted in the most peculiar way—a strange occurrence to be sure because the sight of a woman weeping usually made him want to run a mile. Pushing aside his own pique, he gentled his voice. “Then tell me.” He leaned forward and grasped her hands, but to his great dismay, she tugged them away.
“What we just did”—she gestured toward her bedroom—“was more than ‘sport’ to me. But it will only ever be sport to you. I know this isn’t a love match, but I’ve realized I can’t share a bed with you unless it does mean more. I want my husband to make love to me, and not just in a figurative sense. I fear . . .” She swallowed. “You’re difficult to resist, Gabriel. You have a way of effortlessly weaving a spell over a woman, and I fear that despite my best efforts, I will fall in love with you. And I don’t want to because in the end, you’ll only break my heart. As I’m sure you’ve broken other women’s hearts. I won’t . . .” She lifted her chin. Behind her glasses, her eyes glimmered with tears. “My mother was destroyed by a man who didn’t love her, and I won’t suffer the same fate.”
How to Catch an Errant Earl Page 14