M Is for Marquess

by Grace Callaway

  “I’m going to talk to him,” she said, “and I’m going to get answers once and for all.”

  “Spoken like a true Kent,” Emma said with approval.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At midnight, Gabriel arrived.

  Thea watched as he closed the door of the conservatory soundlessly behind him. Anticipation lived in the scent of ripening citrus, the hushed secrecy of dark foliage. Moonlight streamed in through the glass that made up three of the room’s walls, plating his hair in silver, giving his eyes a predatory light. He prowled toward her, large and sleek. He’d thrown a black brocade dressing gown over his shirtsleeves, and his casual sensuality spun her senses.

  She pulled her flannel wrapper tighter around her body. If you can slip a note under a man’s door, you can carry on a rational conversation. Don’t lose nerve now.

  Straightening her shoulders, she said, “I’m glad you got my note. I was afraid you were asleep.”

  “I was up.” His expression unreadable, he gestured to a wooden bench surrounded by potted orange trees. “Would you care to sit?”

  “I’m fine standing.” She took a breath. “We need to talk, Gabriel.”

  His gaze was dark, unfathomable. “Yes.”

  ’Tis now or never. “I must know where we stand. I told you once before you needed to make up your mind about our relationship,” she said, proud of how calm she sounded, “and I meant it. I don’t deserve to be toyed with.”

  “No, you don’t. You deserve better.” His chest surged. “Much better than what I have to offer you.”

  Exactly what she’d feared he’d say. Her nerves tremored like the freshly hammered strings of a piano, but she bolstered her resolve. Don’t fall apart now. Get your answers.

  “Because of the Spectre?” she managed.

  He gave a grim nod. “I thought I could put the past behind me, but I was wrong. What I was, what I did—it will never leave me. And I won’t have you getting hurt because of it.”

  “What you did, you did for your country. In my eyes, that makes you a hero.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes; it was gone the next second. “You have no idea of the sins I committed. Espionage is an ugly business. The things I did—it would disgust you. Make you want to run from me as fast as you could.”

  She didn’t back down. “What did you do?”

  “I killed,” he said. “Dozens of men.”

  She saw the banked fire in his eyes and knew he was testing her.

  Quietly, she said, “Were they innocent?”

  His mouth twisted. “Depends which side you were fighting on. But the men I killed—they had family and lovers to mourn them—the same as any British agent or soldier. And I took their lives as easily as a butcher does livestock.”

  “Not as easily, I think,” she said softly, “for the butcher doesn’t think of the beast he slaughtered over ten years ago. He doesn’t hate himself for doing his job.”

  Gabriel’s lips pressed together. Had she hit a nerve?

  “Regardless, I cannot put you in danger.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “The Spectre is out for my blood, and no one near me is safe.”

  “With the help of Kent and Associates, you will capture the villain. I know you will.” Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Once the Spectre is caught, would you want to be with me then?”

  “Thea, it’s not that simple—”

  “It is precisely that simple. You’ve been ambivalent about me from the start—even last Season, before the affair with the Spectre reared its ugly head,” she pointed out. “What aren’t you telling me, Gabriel? Is it me? Because of my weak lungs, my health—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. Not one bloody thing.” His hands closed around her upper arms, his eyes glittering. “You are perfect, princess.”

  “Then is it because…”—her throat cinched, yet she forced the words out—“because of your wife? Because you love her still?”

  He looked briefly startled. “No. That is, I hold her memory in high esteem. I always will. But romantic love… it has long faded.”

  Relief washed over Thea. She heard the truth in his voice, saw it in his face. Her worst fear was conquered. Placing her hands on his chest, feeling the hard-paved muscles flex at her touch, she whispered, “Why then, Gabriel? Why won’t you let us be together?”

  Silence hung like ripe and ready fruit.

  He released her, took a step back.

  “Because,” he said in a guttural voice, “I want you too damned much.”

  She blinked. Of all the things she expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. “I don’t understand.”

  “There are things about me you don’t know.”

  She grasped the lapels of his robe, gave a desperate tug. “For goodness’ sake, tell me.”

  With gentle yet firm authority, he removed her hands and placed them back at her sides. “If we were to marry, I’d want certain things. In the bedchamber,” he said bluntly.

  Warmth swirled beneath her skin. She still didn’t see where the problem was.

  “I think… I’d want those things too,” she said bashfully.

  “Would you?” The corner of his mouth curled and not in amusement. “I’m not talking about the kind of marital relations that exist between most couples. What I want is… more. More even than what would legally be mine, what words on paper could convey. I’d want to possess you, Thea. To have you surrender to my every desire and submit your will to mine.”

  Heat fluttered between her thighs. Her lungs constricted.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  “Could you, um, be more specific?” she managed.

  “I’d want your body when I want, how I want. You wouldn’t refuse me—unless you were ill or hurt. Even then, you would trust me to take care of you,” he said bluntly. “Sometimes I would make love to you tenderly, other times I’d want to rut you hard and fast. I would accept no limits to our sensual life. Restrain you, have you in different positions, anything I can think of. And I would expect you not only to obey my command but wish to.”

  She felt dizzy. His words swamped her with a wave of arousal—and she wasn’t even sure she fully comprehended what he was saying. She moistened her lips. “I… see.”

  “No, you don’t. This isn’t something I’d expect a virgin to understand.” His pupils were dilated, black edging out grey. “But this is what I want, and I cannot change who I am.”

  She became aware of two oddly opposite feelings. One was heady, vibrant desire. What would it be like to belong to Gabriel in the way that he described? To finally be wanted as a woman and with such unbridled intensity? His masterful possession in the carriage washed over her, and recalling the supple leather between her palms, the way his command had restrained her, she felt a deep, lush tug of yearning.

  At the same time, annoyance pricked her. Why did he have to assume that she wasn’t able or willing to be what he wanted? After all, she trusted him. In spite of the violence in his past, she knew he would never hurt her—would defend her to his dying breath. Why didn’t he return her trust, show confidence in her strength? Why did he say the word virgin as if her condition were a disease?

  Lifting her chin, she said boldly, “And if I say this would not be a problem?”

  “Then I’d say you don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes hooded, a muscle leaping in his jaw. “You’re dainty and innocent, Thea. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “For heaven’s sake, I am tired of you treating me as if I’m a ninny incapable of making up my own mind.” He was teaching her that she did indeed have a temper and that it was fully operational. “And I’m even more tired of being treated as too weak and delicate for your manly desires. You were happily married before. If this wasn’t a problem then, I fail to see why you think it will be a problem with me.”

  Lines slashed around his mouth, his features hard as if carved from granite. His throat worked, as if he wanted to say something and could not. Sud
denly, she understood. What he was too much of a gentleman to say.

  His marriage… it hadn’t been perfect.

  That was the reason for his present reservations. Guilt filled her that she’d brought up the topic so carelessly—and even more so that she felt a tiny, terrible spark of relief that whatever she was being measured against, it was not perfection.

  “I will not dishonor the past,” he said in low tones, “but I have learned from it. I will not place myself in a situation where my needs are incompatible with my wife’s. To do so results in misery for both parties.”

  She swallowed. “And if both parties want the same thing? If I’m willing to try to be the kind of wife you want?”

  In the moonlight, his mask of equanimity was ripped away. He was laid bare to her, his expression ravaged. “There’s no trying, Thea,” he said with sizzling scorn. “Marriage is permanent. If we are not suited, you’ll be tied to a husband who disgusts you.”

  “You could never disgust me,” she said with conviction.

  “You don’t know that,” he scoffed.

  Insight flashed. He’s afraid, she thought in wonder. Back in the country, one of their neighbors had owned a stallion that had been trapped in a barn struck by lightning. Subsequently, any sign of a storm had caused the animal to react with agitation, to slice the air with its great hooves.

  Whatever had happened in Gabriel’s marriage had spooked him completely. Was making him lash out and try to scare her away.

  Tenderness and a strange calm flowed through her. Seeing this powerful male quivering with his need for her—fighting against it—opened an inner dam of courage. Strength. He’s yours for the taking, a voice whispered. If you’re not afraid to reach for what you want.

  Oh, how she wanted him. A daring plan unfolded in her head. It was brazen, wanton—something a frail spinster would never dream of doing. And something a woman in love had to do.

  She said softly, “The first time we met, I knew I wanted to be with you. You heard the passion in me, and you answered it. That was real, the true music between us. Anything else is just noise.”

  “In bed, I’m no sonata. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be hearing a funeral march,” he predicted grimly.

  She shook off the frisson of anxiety elicited by his dire words. “I have a proposal for you, Gabriel. Let me decide for myself if I want what you have to offer. Treat me as the woman that I am,” she said steadily, “and let me make the choice of whether I want to marry you.”

  “What you’re asking…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to take your virginity without giving you my name.”

  “Surely there are less irrevocable ways to test our compatibility? In the carriage, you didn’t…” Her cheeks pulsed with heat.

  “I wanted to. I wanted to take you then and there, hard and fast.” His tone was gritty. “Which is why I didn’t unleash my desires. Why I had you hold onto the strap—so your touch couldn’t tempt me to further madness.”

  She had the sensation of standing on a precipice. Fear and exhilaration made her breathless. All her life she’d been waiting for this moment: to spread her wings and fly.

  Taking a breath, she said, “What if we did it that way again?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Blood plummeted from his brain and rushed hotly into his groin.

  “I beg your pardon?” he said.

  His throat went dry when she untied the belt of her flannel wrapper and pulled it free of the loops. The robe hung open, revealing the voluminous folds of her night rail. With care, she folded the wide strip of cloth in lengths and held it out to him.

  “Bind me again—make love to me in whatever way you wish. I trust you.” Her sweet, reckless faith blasted heat through his veins. “Don’t you want to see if this is possible between us? Don’t you want me enough to try?”

  He said nothing. Didn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

  “If I don’t like what happens, I promise I’ll stop you. But if I like what you do,”—even in the moonlight, he could see her blush—“you will promise to give our relationship a chance.”

  God help him, her words had an unravelling effect. By now, she ought to have fainted, screamed, or run off. Instead, she’d plucked his deepest desires from his chest and presented them to him, tied up in ribbons of courage and innocence.

  Innocence is the operative word. She has no idea what she’s in store for.

  “You’ll get no promise from me,” he bit out. “It’s over between us, Thea. It should have never started. Now do you want to leave first or shall I?”

  Her bottom lip quivered. He thought she would turn and flee then, but she remained rooted there, her blasted belt held out like an offering to the Gods. He felt like the veriest bastard—but he’d only be more of a bastard if he stayed. He turned to leave.

  “Coward.” The accusation echoed like a slap.

  He pivoted to face her. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.” Her face was flushed, her bosom heaving.

  Anger roiled with lust, the tempest battering at his wall of control.

  “I’ve killed men for less than that,” he said evenly.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Though her voice trembled, there was no mistaking the disdain. “There’s only one weakling in this room, and that’s you.”

  “I’m no bloody weakling,” he growled.

  “You’re not protecting me; you’re protecting yourself. You’re terrified of taking a risk.” She crossed her arms. “Of seeing where this relationship could go.”

  He knew where it was going: straight to hell. But it didn’t matter. His vision was already darkening, the beast rearing inside. She wanted proof of what he was? Of how disgusting and degenerate he could be? By God, she was going to get it.

  He snatched the length of flannel from her. Hefting the soft weight in his palm, he saw her lips tremble, yet her small chin was set, her expression determined.

  “You’re certain this is what you want?” he said with lethal softness.

  “Yes.” The fire in her eyes made him hotter than Hades. “It’s the only way for us to see if we’re meant to be together.”

  We’re not, he wanted to snarl. Why do you keep rubbing my sodding nose in what can’t be?

  But there was no fighting this; she’d pushed him too far. There was only one way out, and that was to show her what he was. To force her to recognize the truth: she was too innocent, too good for the likes of him. He circled her slowly, the crackling awareness between them feeding his dark hunger. When he faced her once again, he took her chin between finger and thumb.

  “Remove your robe. Let it fall to the ground,” he said.

  Her wide-eyed gaze shimmered into his. A moment later, she shrugged off the flannel, the soft folds crumpling at her feet. The beribboned white nightgown she wore beneath was even more prim than the layer she’d shed. His pulse raced as he imagined what lay beneath the shapeless, billowing fabric.

  But he didn’t have to imagine.

  “Take that off too,” he said.

  Her eyelashes flickered, her eyes swirling with a myriad of emotions. Disgust? Fear and regret that she’d started this?

  Leave me, he thought in an agony of desire. While you still can.

  Her fingers fumbled with the tiny pearl buttons on the front placket. In a swift, decisive motion, she pulled the garment over her head and let it, too, fall to the ground.

  Devil and damn. His breath lodged in his throat. She was so lovely that it hurt to look at her. Alabaster skin, curves subtle and sweet. Delicate down to her very bones. He reached out and took a tress of her hair, caressing the silk against her right nipple. He heard her soft intake of breath, watched with dark satisfaction as the coral peak stiffened into a tight point.

  He moved behind her. Stretching the belt she’d given him between his hands, he placed the wide fabric over her eyes.

  “Gabriel, what are you…?”

  “Not
a word—unless it’s ‘no.’” He wound it twice and then secured the blindfold with a knot. “Say no, and I’ll stop. Say no, and we’ll put this madness behind us.”

  She pinned her lips together. Stubborn wench.

  “You wanted this, you’re going to get it.” He pulled her back against him, against the throbbing column of his erection. Nothing polite about that. Nothing cowardly. Against the vulnerable curve of her ear, he rasped, “Say no, princess. Tell me to stop.”

  She said… nothing.

  He grazed her earlobe with his teeth. Feeling her tremors, he did it again, this time suckling, using his tongue and teeth on the plump flesh as his hands coursed over her front. He cupped her breasts, pinching the stiff tips, and she wriggled against him, her soft pants fueling the inferno inside him.

  Taking her hand, he drew her over to the bench. He sat and pulled her, standing, between his thighs. He couldn’t help but feast upon the sight of her, trembling and willing. Beauty beyond compare. Primal need heated his blood; he felt like a medieval crusader who’d stormed the castle and claimed his prize.

  She’s not yours. Teach her a lesson. Show her she’s no match for the beast that you are.

  He couldn’t stop his hands from framing her soft hips, pulling her closer. He kissed the curve of one breast, inhaling her sweet scent. She shivered, her hands clutching his shoulders. He licked her smooth white skin, kissing around the pretty pink nipples that stood so impudently, demanding his attention.

  “Gabriel, please,” she sighed.

  “Please what?” he said.

  “Kiss me.”

  “Where?” He challenged. “Where do you want my mouth?”

  “On my breasts,” she said shyly.

  Disbelief and satisfaction mingled as he gave into her wanton request. He laved one pouting peak with his tongue, took his time sucking the sweet bud as her head fell back. He repeated the action on its twin. She whimpered his name, her fingers curling in his hair, drawing him closer.

  Grasping her by the hips, he pulled her back. Stay in control. Prove your point.