“Well, then, you must try and rest now,” he said, his voice firm and authoritative. “Dr Marchand will attend you during the next week to make sure everything is all right. From what I can gather, he’s the best doctor in France. I have sent someone to fetch him and bring him to you. He will stay close by until after the birth.”
Crecy opened her mouth in astonishment that he had gone to such lengths. “But …” she began, astonished that he’d even arranged that in the short period they’d been apart. “But you can’t possibly have had a reply from him yet,” she said, realising that Gabriel in his usual way had simply demanded the doctor attend her and expected his orders to be carried out. “What if he doesn’t want to? What if he has other patients?”
Gabriel gave her a curious look that suggested the idea had never crossed his mind. “He will come,” he said, looking mutinous, and folded his arms. Crecy held back a curse, as she didn’t want some fancy French doctor, in any case, but couldn’t help but hope that this Marchand fellow would do as Gabriel wanted, for the doctor’s own sake.
She sighed and decided she didn’t have the energy to argue about it, and in truth she was deeply touched by his care of her and the lengths he had gone to in order to ensure her comfort, and more importantly, she suspected, her health. Crecy smothered a yawn, feeling sleepy all at once.
“You should try and rest,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft.
Crecy nodded and untied her bonnet, casting it to the other side of the carriage whilst she curled her feet up on the seat beside her. Gabriel was watching her with a curious expression until she tugged at his arm, indicating he should lift it up. This, he did, scowling a little, and Crecy laid down, suspecting he was utterly scandalised as she laid her head on the surprisingly hard surface of his large thigh. She shifted a little, until her head was more comfortably positioned on his lap and dared a glance up to see Gabriel staring resolutely out of the window. Biting back a smile, she pulled his arms back around her, gave a sigh of content, and went to sleep.
***
By the time the carriage had drawn up in front of the Manoir du Lierre, it was late in the afternoon. They had stopped briefly for a lunch, which had put Gabriel in a shocking mood and had also informed her of the fact that he spoke perfect French. At least, it sounded so to her untrained ear, and he certainly had the staff jumping to do his bidding with alacrity. The meal had not met with his approval, however. Crecy had once again eaten like a starved pig, and then returned to her comfortable position on Gabriel’s lap and had an untroubled, deep sleep, while he seethed and muttered about the irritations of foreign travel.
Crecy awoke to the sound of the wheels rolling over gravel, and looked up, blinking sleepily at Gabriel, who was still looking a little tense.
“We’re here,” he said as the carriage swayed to a halt, and Crecy sat up all in a rush, putting on her bonnet as quickly as she could and smoothing out her wrinkled clothes before having to face the staff. She wondered if they would disapprove of her and be unfriendly, not that she’d understand a word of anything if they were rude, as she didn’t speak any French at all past bonjour and merci.
Gabriel got down before turning and giving her his hand. Crecy put her hand in his and her foot on the step, and then stopped as she caught her first glimpse of the property.
“Welcome to the Manoir du Lierre,” Gabriel said, looking rather nervous.
“Oh, Gabriel,” Crecy breathed as her heart lifted. “It’s beautiful.”
Glancing back at him as she stepped down from the carriage, she knew she had said the right thing as he seemed to relax, pleased by her comment. It had been important to him that she like the place, and she felt relieved that there was no need to pretend. It was charming.
Built of granite with a grey slate roof, it was at once stern and imposing, but age had softened its edges, and a profusion of ivy that scrambled up the front wall gave it a rather fairy tale feel. It was far smaller than Damerel, but still grand, with a tower to one side of the main building, which looked like it had started life as a medieval hall.
“It was built in the early sixteenth century, though parts of it are older,” Gabriel said, and she smiled as she heard something that sounded like enthusiasm colouring his voice. He also hadn’t let go of her hand, she noted with a little surge of pleasure. “I inherited it about a decade ago. It belonged to some ancient great uncle I didn’t even know of, but I never saw it until a couple of years ago,” he said, looking at the house with an almost fond expression. “I thought perhaps Napoleon would have destroyed it beyond repair, but the damage wasn’t too extensive.”
Crecy watched him with interest as he put her hand on his arm and led her toward the front door.
“I had the roof repaired and one of the chimneys, but really, it was just the interior. That was in a shocking state,” he said with a grimace of such distaste that she could well imagine how he’d hated seeing it so run down and disordered. “It took a lot of work to get it back into a habitable state. Especially as I don’t get here as often as I’d like to.”
She paused and he looked down at her, a question in his eyes. “This is your house, isn’t it, Gabriel?” she said, knowing it was true as a slightly guarded look came into his eyes. This was why he protected it so carefully, keeping the address a secret and any chance of anyone finding him here to an absolute minimum. No one knew him here. No one knew about the scandalous and dreadful reputation of Viscount DeMorte, and as he would not socialise, no one likely would. He would be free. “Damerel is the place you were born and it belongs to you like the London house, but this … this is your home.”
Gabriel didn’t answer, but moved her on again.
“Come along,” he said, not looking at her. “I’ll show you around.”
***
By dinner time, it was clear that the staff here were as used to Gabriel’s rather precise ways, as everything in the house ran like clockwork and the meal was identical to that which was usually provided, with one notable exception: Crecy’s meal was different.
She looked up at Gabriel in surprise, but he was concentrating on rearranging the table with even more determination that usual, and was ignoring her.
“Gabriel?” she said, laying her hand over his to stop him fussing any further. “Thank you.”
He didn’t look at her, staring at the water jug which had been next on his rotor to adjust for at least the fifth time. Crecy wondered how long it would take him to relax here, but determined that she should begin to help him as best she could.
He didn’t answer, but frowned a little, still staring at the jug and looking increasingly agitated.
“For allowing me a different meal,” she added, to be sure he understood the reason for her gratitude. She didn’t doubt it disturbed his need for symmetry, so she was doubly grateful.
He frowned a little harder. “The doctor said you needed a … a lowering diet in your condition.”
Crecy opened and closed her mouth in surprise. “Which doctor?”
Gabriel looked increasingly uneasy, his hand clenched beneath hers. “I consulted a doctor in London before returning to Damerel,” he snapped, sounding really impatient now.
Crecy blinked in astonishment. The idea of Gabriel seeking advice from a doctor for her pregnancy … Providing a good doctor was one thing, but she could think of no other man in the world who would have lowered himself to do something as outrageous as becoming informed on the subject. Pregnancy was for women and doctors alone, and men stayed well clear of knowing anything about it. But not Gabriel. She released his hand and he moved immediately to straightened the jug again.
“That’s enough, Gabriel,” she said, her voice firm, wanting to speak to him further on the subject, but not feeling able to until she refocused his attention.
Naturally, he ignored her.
“I said, that is enough,” she repeated, not unkindly but with enough force that he turned and glared at her.
“Of course it’s
enough,” he snarled, his eyes glittering with fury and embarrassment. “Do you think me an imbecile? I know it’s enough, dammit.”
Crecy sighed and got to her feet, she put her arms around his neck and leaned down, kissing his cheek. “I think … you are quite the most caring and wonderful man, and as far from being an imbecile as it is possible to be. But I also think you need my help to stop you behaving in this manner because it makes you very unhappy.” She paused, pressing her cheek against his as he sat rigid under her touch. “Now, please pick up your knife and fork and eat your dinner. The table is perfect, as you well know.” Crecy took a breath, not liking to blackmail him, but not finding any other solution. “If you do not, I will go straight to bed without eating a morsel.”
“You can’t do that,” he snapped, sounding really furious as he turned to glare at her. “It’s bad for the baby.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her tone placid. “But I shall do so nevertheless, Gabriel, because this behaviour is bad for you, it makes you unhappy, and that makes me unhappy, and that is far worse for the baby.”
Crecy straightened and returned to her seat, and watched with interest as he scowled in fury at his plate, and then snatched up his knife and fork and began his meal. With a quietly smug smile of satisfaction, Crecy ate her own with pleasure.
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. It was apparently Gabriel’s usual routine to sit in the library and read after dinner, and Crecy was more than happy to do the same. The library here was a wonderful room. It was a very masculine space with mahogany bookshelves lining every available wall space. As it was, Gabriel’s books had naturally been arranged with precision, and Crecy was only disappointed that so many of the titles were in French. The fire was blazing and the deep green brocade curtains closed against the chill of the evening. With the lamps lit and casting a soft warm glow about the room, it was cosy and welcoming in a way that none of the rooms in Damerel were.
“You’ve done a wonderful job with this place, Gabriel,” she said, an hour or so later as she put her book aside. In truth, she’d barely read a word, as eager as she was to read her new book, as her thoughts were too consumed by the man opposite her and the coming night. “Why have you never made Damerel your own in the same way?”
He didn’t look up from his book, but she could tell he was considering the question. After a while, he looked up her. “It has never felt like mine, like …” He stopped and Crecy waited for him to find the words he wanted. “I’ve never felt able to,” he admitted.
Crecy nodded and got up, going to sit down on the floor at his feet.
“Perhaps when we go back there next, I could help you?” she suggested, seeing a look of interest spark in his eyes before he turned away.
“Perhaps,” he muttered, sounding non-committal, though Crecy had been sure he’d liked the idea. He got to his feet and reached down a hand, helping her up. “It’s late and you’ve had a long day, I’ll show you to your room.”
Crecy stared at him in horror. “My room?” she repeated, eyes wide.
Gabriel looked uneasy, but nodded. “Your room,” he said, his voice firm.
Folding her arms, Crecy knew that this was one fight she had to win. If she had any chance at all of gaining any emotional intimacy with this stubborn man, she had to share his bed.
“Gabriel, you’ve been everything that has been kindness and consideration,” she said, her words careful as she tried to keep a lid on her frustration. “And for dressing and preparations of that nature, a room of my own is a good idea as I won’t risk disturbing your things. However,” she added, her voice becoming a little strident despite her best efforts. “If you think I’m not sharing your bed at night … well, you’ve got another thing coming!”
Gabriel huffed out a breath, looking irritated. “The doctor also said that … that the intimacy of … the act was not good for the child.”
Crecy stared at him in utter horror. “The man’s an imbecile!” she exploded, feeling horrified at the idea of not being able to touch this infuriating, gorgeous man before her for another six months. Oh, no. That was not going to happen.
“The man is a respected physician,” Gabriel shot back at her, looking like he wanted this conversation to be over right now.
Crecy muttered a rude comment under her breath, but refrained from saying any more. “Very well,” she said, thinking that if she could just get into his bed, she could deal with this foolish idea in her own time. “But that is no reason that we cannot share a bed together.”
A tinge of colour crept into Gabriel’s cheeks as he shook his head, and Crecy was relieved to discover that he felt there was an extremely good reason.
“Crecy, I … If you’re in my bed …” he began, trailing off and looking as though he’d rather die than admit how much he wanted her.
Walking closer, she took his hand, looking up at him and smiling.
“Can’t keep your hands off me, hmmm?” she said, teasing him a little.
Gabriel snorted, giving her a dark, glittering look that made something deep inside her clench with anticipation. “That’s how we got into this damned mess in the first place,” he growled with frustration. “I never usually …” Gabriel clamped his mouth shut, but Crecy could guess the rest.
“You never usually leave your seed behind?” she asked without so much as a blush.
Gabriel tutted. “Good God, woman, is there nothing you won’t say?” he said with a huff, looking appalled by her outspokenness.
Crecy chuckled and shook her head. “Probably not, my love, so you’d best get used to the idea.”
He made a noise which might have been amusement … or frustration, or possibly both, she wasn’t sure.
“Can we go to bed now, please?”
Gabriel sighed as she tugged at his hand and he rolled his eyes in defeat. “Come along, then,” he grumbled and led her up the stairs.
Chapter 27
“Wherein Crecy is stubborn and takes Gabriel in hand.”
Gabriel showed her to her room so she could get ready for bed, and she entered with start of surprise at how pretty the room was. It was all done in a rather deep blue, which reminded her strongly of Gabriel’s eyes and so naturally found favour with her. The rest was white with a few touches of a rather bright yellow here and there in the furnishings, which gave the room a rather joyful, sunny feel, even on a chilly spring night. That Gabriel was responsible for it was yet another revelation about the man she was coming to know.
Beth was waiting for her in the adjoining dressing room, unpacking a huge trunk that Crecy had never seen before.
“Goodness, what on earth is in there, the lost city of Atlantis?” Crecy said with a laugh as Beth returned a puzzled look.
“No, miss,” she said with all seriousness. “But there’s more dresses and the like than I ever saw in all my born days, and that’s the God’s honest truth.” She gestured to the walls of the room, which revealed dozens and dozens of dresses of every type and colour imaginable. Crecy gaped in astonishment. Moving to a large wardrobe, she opened it to find rows of shoes and boots, gloves, stockings … so much it made her head spin.
“That ain’t all, miss,” Beth said with a grin. She tugged at Crecy’s hand, pulling her to the far side of the room where Crecy’s breath snagged in her throat and tears pricked at her eyes. It was a crib. Beautifully done, it was made of walnut and designed to swing. Crecy touched it, watching as it rocked gently, and felt her chest tighten. A smaller chest beside the cradle was opened but not yet unpacked, and Crecy bent to run her hands over the tiny items. The bonnet was delicate and ridiculously small, tiny with lace trim, and she had to swallow hard to stop herself from sobbing.
“Did his lordship order all of this?” Beth asked, looking at the carefully packed chest of miniature items with as much reverence as Crecy was.
Crecy nodded, quite unable to say a word.
Beth gave a wistful sigh, smiling at her. “He must love you very much, miss.
If you don’t mind me remarkin’ it?”
Wiping an errant tear from her cheek that had escaped despite her best efforts, Crecy gave a choked laugh. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “He really must.”
Once Beth had left her, Crecy took one last look at her image in the looking glass and pronounced herself satisfied. The nightgown was so fine it was almost sheer, and it was trimmed about the neck and cuffs with a beautiful lace, which gave her a deceptively virginal appearance. Her hair had been brushed and fell in heavy golden waves about her shoulders, and after a good meal and a quiet evening, the colour had returned to her cheeks. Indeed, she thought she had never looked better, a healthy, wholesome look to her skin that she had not seen for some months. She bit back a smile as she wondered how hard Gabriel would try to resist, her and then paused as she remembered her promise to let him come to her. Damnation. Well, there was nothing to say she couldn’t tempt him a bit, at least.
Crecy made her way to the adjoining door, which Gabriel had indicated led to his room, and knocked. She heard the muffled sound of Gabriel dismissing his valet, and a moment later, the door opened.
Gabriel filled the doorway. Large and masculine and virile, Crecy had to force herself not to launch herself at him.
“Hello,” she said instead, quite unable to keep the silly grin from her face.
Gabriel stared back at her, his expression unreadable as he looked her over, but that was telling enough. The harder it was to read him, the stronger he was trying to hide his emotions. Crecy decided that was good enough and moved past him without waiting for an invitation.
She looked about the room with interest. It was indeed a more masculine room than her own, done in a much darker blue and with heavy wooden panelling around much of the walls where hers had been painted white. The space was dominated by a massive bed, hung with luxurious brocade curtains of the same deep blue, shot through with gold thread, and with gold tassels along the edges. It was surprisingly opulent and indulgent. Crecy cast Gabriel a mischievous look, undid her wrap - throwing it at him as she went - and then ran to the bed, jumping on it with all the glee of a naughty seven-year-old.
To Tame a Savage Heart Page 23