Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Just as for you it would be easier to continue hating me than to risk forgiving me and being hurt again.”

  A measure of surprise rippled over her pale features. “I have never hated you.”

  He arched a brow. “No?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Oh, I think you did. If only just a little.”

  “Really, Gabriel,” she protested.

  With a low laugh he reached out to collect one of her tightly clenched fists.

  “I do dare to hope, however, that such a rousing dislike has faded over time.”

  “I never hated or even disliked you, Gabriel,” she insisted, unconsciously leaning forward. “I simply lost my faith in you.”

  Although prepared for honesty, Gabriel discovered his breath catching at the knife-edged pain that plunged into his heart.

  “Beatrice, I cannot promise never to disappoint you again. No one can make such a promise,” he said in husky tones. “But I do swear upon all that is holy that I will never purposely deceive you. I have learned a very bitter lesson.”

  She was silent for a long while before giving a tilt of her chin.

  “And I will try to be a better wife.”

  “No.” He gave her fingers a warning squeeze. “I want you to be happy. That is what I want in my wife.”

  “I will try.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at her obedient tone. “You sound like a child trying to please an adult.”

  An enchanting color touched her cheeks. “All I mean is that it will take time.”

  “I am a very patient man,” he soothed, conveniently forgetting his increasing bursts of impatience that had plagued him for the past fortnight.

  “Yes, I have noticed that about you,” she agreed.

  His smile twisted. “Although I will admit that my patience is being sorely tested at the moment. To have my wife in my bed is a pleasure that I have longed for far too long.”

  He felt the fingers wrapped in his own tremble at his low words.

  “Oh.”

  “Does it bother you for me to speak of my desire for you?” he demanded.

  Her gaze lowered with a charming hint of confusion. “It does seem strange to discuss such things.”

  “There are more pleasurable means of revealing my desires,” he softly prompted, his hand trailing up her arm in a provocative caress. “This bed is quite wide enough for both of us and far more comfortable than that chair.”

  Her head jerked upward at his determined proposition. “But you are injured.”

  “A trifling scratch. I assure you that it does not bother me a wit.”

  “The doctor said that you should not excite yourself.”

  Gabriel wryly acknowledged that it was far too late for such a warning. If having his heart racing with anticipation and his body stirring with need was going to cause his sudden demise, then they should be digging his grave.

  “That doctor is a fussy old fool,” he said firmly, gazing deep into her eyes. “Beatrice, may I hold you?”

  She was silent for so long that Gabriel was already preparing himself for yet another rejection. Gads, he should be accustomed to being treated as if he carried the plague, he grimly told himself. Beatrice had made it painfully clear that she did not yet trust him. He had been a nodcock to press her.

  Then his breath was wrenched from his body as she gave a slow nod of her head.

  “Very well.”

  With endearingly awkward motions she rose from the chair and climbed onto the bed. Gabriel barely dared to move as she battled her skirts and settled beside him. He did not wish to do anything that might frighten her into sudden flight. But when she nearly knocked them both senseless by ramming her head into his chin, he decided it was time to take charge of the astonishing situation.

  With a low laugh he gently pushed her down against the mattress and rolled onto his side so he could openly regard her nervous countenance.

  “Relax, Beatrice,” he coaxed, his hand lifting of its own accord to lightly trace a path over the tempting silk of her cheek. “I promise I will not do anything that does not please you.” He patiently waited for the tension to drain from her body, his fingers continuing to stroke her face. “Your skin fascinates me. It is so soft, so perfectly smooth.” He shifted to swiftly remove the pins from her hair, spreading the curls across the white pillow. “And this hair. The color of honey.”

  Her lips slightly parted. “Does it please you?”

  A shudder raced through his body.

  Please him?

  Lucifer’s teeth.

  If he were any more pleased, he could not possibly bear the exquisite agony.

  “Everything about you pleases me. Those magnificent eyes, the curve of your lips, the very delightful—”

  “Gabriel.” She gave a choked laugh as his gaze moved down to her disheveled neckline.

  “Yes, my dearest?” he murmured.

  The amber eyes slowly darkened. “Kiss me.”

  His heart stumbled to a halt.

  Then slowly, almost nervously, he lowered his head.

  “Whatever my lady desires,” he promised softly.

  * * *

  Gabriel leaned upon his elbow as he studied his sleeping wife.

  Wife.

  He slowly smiled.

  She was indeed his wife. In every sense of the word.

  How lovely she had been last evening.

  As sweet and giving as he had always sensed she would be. And while her responses had been shyly innocent, she had provided him with a pleasure that he could only marvel upon.

  He gently reached out to stroke a honey curl from her cheek. Yes, she had certainly given him pleasure, he acknowledged with a flare of tenderness, but what they had shared went far beyond mere physical release.

  Each touch, each kiss, had only deepened the unexplainable bond that had been forged between them.

  This was his woman, he had realized in the most secret center of his heart. His true mate that completed him in a manner that filled him with awe.

  The knowledge made him long to climb atop the roof and shout for joy. Surely no one had ever been as happy and content as he felt at this moment?

  Perhaps sensing his intense regard, Beatrice slowly stirred. Then the thick lashes lifted and he was staring into the bemused amber eyes.

  For a moment Gabriel tensed, terrified that she might regret their night of passion. Gads, he couldn’t bear to think of her bringing shame to such a glorious experience. But even as he held his breath in dread, a tentative smile touched her lips.

  “Good morning,” she said in husky tones.

  His breath rushed out in profound relief. Her cheeks were flushed, but a lingering pleasure darkened those eyes.

  “Good morning, my dear.” His fingers moved to trace the line of her jaw. “How do you feel?”

  “Quite well, thank you.”

  He smiled as her blush deepened. “I am feeling glorious this morning. It is very nice to sleep with my wife in bed beside me.”

  Her lashes fluttered downward. “It is rather different to share a bed, is it not?”

  “It certainly is.” He deliberately shifted until his body was pressed intimately next to her own. His heart quickened as he felt her tremble in anticipation. “The warmth of another body quite made up for the snoring and kicking. I did not even mind that you stole all the covers.”

  Her gaze flew upward in mock outrage. “Snoring? I do not snore, and I certainly do not kick. And you, sir, are the one who steals covers.”

  Pleased that his teasing had melted her lingering embarrassment, Gabriel trailed his fingers down the curve of her neck. He discovered awakening with his wife in his arms was a delicious treat. A treat he intended to take full advantage of.

  “A despicable lie,” he retorted. “A gentleman never steals the covers.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Well, a lady does not snore.”

  “Perhaps I was mistaken,” he admitted, becoming increa
singly distracted as his fingers explored her satin skin.

  She shivered. “Yes.”

  “Mmm . . .” He watched in fascination as the amber eyes dilated with a rising passion. “I do not suppose I could convince you to remain here for a while?”

  “How long a while?”

  His caresses became even more determined as his body stirred with a growing need.

  “Oh ... a month?”

  She gave a choked laugh. “Really, Gabriel.”

  “A week, then?” he graciously compromised.

  She shook her head even as her body arched beneath his demanding touch.

  “Certainly not.”

  He lowered his head to place a kiss upon her brow. “You are a harsh woman.”

  “No, merely a busy one,” she breathed, giving a choked moan as his arm encircled her waist and tugged her firmly against his hard body. “Just think of all the workmen awaiting my orders, and the merchants who seek my patronage and the tenants and servants ... oh.”

  He skillfully teased the corner of her mouth. “You do not mean to imply that the choosing of fabrics or viewing of inventions holds more appeal than remaining here, do you?”

  Her own hands tentatively rose to explore the muscles of his chest. Gabriel shuddered in delicious response.

  “Well, there is nothing quite so exciting as a well-made machine,” she informed him.

  Gabriel growled deep in his throat. “You desire excitement, do you, wench? Well, I can give you all the excitement you desire.”

  Her eyes widened as he rolled atop her.

  “Gabriel.”

  He gave a low chuckle, feeling as if his entire body were on fire. Dear heavens, it could not be natural for a man to desire his wife with such a force. If it were, no husband on earth would ever have a mistress.

  “I do like this sharing of a bed,” he murmured, his fingers threading into the honey curls.

  She offered him a mysterious smile of contentment.

  “Even if I snore?”

  “You have a delightful snore, my dear,” he assured her, his lips moving to worship her pale features. “And a delightful brow, and nose and chin . . .”

  “Gabriel,” she whispered huskily.

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “Kiss me.”

  His blood rushed with molten heat. “Anything you desire.”

  With exquisite care Gabriel covered her lips with his own, tasting deeply of her sweetness. His kiss became more demanding as her arms reached up to tangle in his hair. At that moment he was quite certain a month in bed with his wife was not nearly long enough.

  Intent on coaxing Beatrice’s ready desire, Gabriel did not note the knock upon the door. It was not until the unwelcome voice of his valet floated through the thick wood that he realized the world outside was about to intrude.

  “Pardon me, my lord.”

  Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Gabriel lifted his head. “Go away, Saunders.”

  “But, my lord, the workers insist upon speaking with Lady Faulconer,” the servant retorted.

  Gabriel briefly considered sacking the whole lot of them. How the devil would he ever have Beatrice to himself when a hundred servants, artists, architects, and workmen were constantly demanding her attention? Then sanity reluctantly returned. He supposed it was rather unrealistic to achieve complete solitude, no matter how tempting the notion might be. Even with the entire staff gone he would still have Aunt Sarah and Vicar Humbly rattling through the house.

  “Lady Faulconer will meet with the workers this afternoon,” he grudgingly conceded.

  “I fear, sir, that they are very insistent,” Saunders persisted in apologetic tones. “They seem to have discovered a hidden door.”

  Gabriel bit back a descriptive curse. Lucifer’s teeth. What did he care if they found a dozen hidden doors? All he wanted was a bit of privacy to make love to his wife.

  “Do they presume this door is on the point of vanishing?” he demanded in exasperation.

  “I cannot say, my lord.”

  Beneath him, Beatrice suddenly stirred, and he glanced down to discover a sudden glint in her eye.

  “We should see what they have discovered,” she said softly.

  Gabriel briefly closed his eyes, his body shuddering in protest.

  “Why did I know you would say that?” he groaned.

  Her fingers skimmed over his bare chest. “Are you not intrigued?”

  “I am very intrigued,” he assured her, his smoldering gaze revealing that hidden doors and workmen were the last thing upon his mind. “Unfortunately, it seems I shall once again have to be patient.”

  “You are shameless,” she chided, although she could not entirely hide her pleased smile.

  “I do try,” he murmured, then he turned his head back toward the closed door. “Tell them that we will be down in an hour, Saunders.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  With a rueful sigh Gabriel rolled onto his side. He would have an entire lifetime to share with this woman, he attempted to console his aching body. Endless nights to reveal the depths of his passion, and endless days to share the pleasure of her company. If she desired to see the blasted door, then that was precisely what they would do.

  “Well, let us prepare to see this mysterious door,” he said in resigned tones.

  She sent him an encouraging smile. “Perhaps we shall find a hidden treasure.”

  Gabriel stilled before he abruptly leaned forward and claimed her lips in a swift, consuming kiss.

  “I have already found my treasure,” he whispered fiercely against her trembling lips.

  Thirteen

  Feeling as if she were in a dream, Beatrice allowed herself to be bathed and dressed in a pale buttercup gown. She heard none of her maid’s chattering comments of the beauty of the day or the excitement of the workmen awaiting her arrival.

  Instead, she meekly allowed herself to be dressed and her hair arranged as she basked in a glow of deep contentment.

  Saints above. She had never expected to feel so . . . satisfied.

  It was not just the pleasure that Gabriel had given to her. Although that had been wonderful, indeed. It was more the sheer intimacy between them. All of the barriers they had built between them had been suddenly shattered. They had been two vulnerable souls who had sought completion and found it beyond all expectation.

  She had never felt so close to another, she acknowledged with an unwitting smile. There had been occasions during the night when it had been impossible to determine where she ended and Gabriel began. She had felt as if they were truly one. Two halves becoming a whole.

  Did all women feel such a connection to their lovers? she wondered. Did they always experience such a thrilling sense of wonder and utter satisfaction?

  She firmly suppressed an urge to laugh giddily.

  It was hardly a subject she could discuss with others. Well, perhaps Addy or Victoria, she conceded. It would be interesting to discover their views of marriage and the marital bed.

  A hint of revealing color touched her cheeks.

  But not yet.

  Her intimate emotions were too new, too vulnerable, to be discussed with anyone.

  Anyone except Gabriel, she swiftly corrected. She now realized she could discuss anything with her husband. He was the one person who truly understood her. Who never made her feel foolish or awkward. Instead, he was patient and kind and so very tender.

  Abruptly realizing she was staring into empty space as her maid regarded her with lifted brows, Beatrice gave herself a mental shake.

  Good heavens, the servants would begin to fear she was daft if she continued to moon about in such a fashion.

  Or worse, realize she was still in shock after a night spent in the arms of her husband.

  That thought brought her abruptly to her feet. The last thing she desired was the servants gossiping about how she spent her nights.

  Hoping that her cheeks were not as flushed as they felt, Beatrice swept calmly
from the room and made her way down the hall to her husband’s chambers. Not bothering to knock, she stepped inside to discover Gabriel standing before a mirror as he calmly tied his cravat.

  Assuring herself Gabriel’s valet had already been dismissed, she strolled to stand at his side. In the mirror their gazes met and Beatrice lifted a teasing brow.

  “Good heavens, Gabriel, how long could it possibly take to tie a simple cravat?”

  His lips twitched at her sudden ease in his company, but he made his expression stern.

  “I shall have you know, my impatient wench, that a gentleman can devote several hours to achieving the perfect knot.”

  “Fustian.” She wrinkled her nose at such foolishness. Thankfully Gabriel had never been one of those ridiculous dandies who wasted his days upon his attire. She had no patience with such coxcombs. “We are merely going downstairs, not having dinner with the Prince. What do the workmen care for your knot?”

  “I am not trying to impress the workmen.” He turned, reaching out to grasp her shoulders and pull her to face him. “I am attempting to impress my wife.”

  Familiar flutters raced through her as he gazed warmly down at her upturned countenance.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you think she will approve?”

  Beatrice slowly smiled, delighting in the manner he regarded her. Never had she considered herself beautiful. She had been a wallflower for too long not to fear she was displeasing to gentlemen. But last night Gabriel had taught her that she was indeed desirable.

  “I believe she would approve no matter how your cravat was tied,” she said huskily.

  The hazel eyes glinted with pleasure. “Ah, but I especially wish to dazzle her.”

  “Indeed? And why is that?”

  His hands gently traced the line of her shoulders. “Because she has made me an extraordinarily happy gentleman.”

  She shivered, breathing deeply of the warm scent that surrounded her. Already her knees were feeling decidedly weak.

  “And how did she accomplish such a feat?”

  “She has given me a gift beyond price.”

  “What gift?” she demanded in soft tones.

  “Her trust.”

  Beatrice’s heart halted before it staggered back to life with a jerky motion.