“No.” He pressed a finger to her lips, then kissed her forehead. “You are sweet and kind and protective and interesting and spontaneous.” He kissed her nose. “You are beautiful and humble and sensitive and the keeper of my heart. I know it will take some time, growing up with a beast of a guardian as you did, but there will come a day when you no longer criticize yourself, no longer believe less of yourself, and you will come to love yourself just as much as I love you. Well, almost as much, I imagine.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” Madelyn said softly. “I do love you too.”
He smiled, pulling her to his chest for a bone-melting embrace. She felt as if she sank into him.
“You give the most glorious of hugs, you know,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.
He chuckled softly, then added in a whisper, “And do you know a woman who is missing a ring?”
“A ring?” She pulled away from his chest just enough to look into his eyes. “Are you…”
“Yes. Yes, I am,” he said silkily, his love and affection for her shining in his eyes.
He reached inside a small pocket sewn into the waist of his pants and made sure to tickle her in the process. He then dropped to his knees before her, and she was reminded once again of that night in his garden. This time, however, she lovingly threaded her fingers through the locks atop his head, disturbing the specks of dust.
Holding the ring in a shaft of light, he presented it to her. “Marry me, my precious, perfect bride?”
Tears in her eyes, she could only nod quickly. Smiling broadly, Gabriel peeled off the straw-colored glove of her left hand, tugging on the tips of each finger first. Her hand bared to him, he placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles, then slipped the ring on her finger.
Standing, he pulled her to him and leaned down to cover her mouth with his. Inside, Madelyn felt something loosen and was then set free. Filled with giddy enthusiasm, she returned his passionate kiss with tender eagerness.
Gabriel’s hands roamed over her back and waist, promising her future delights. Cupping her bottom, he tugged her closer to him and their mouths broke on a shared gasp.
“Wait,” she murmured when his fingers started unfastening her gown.
“Hmm?” He nuzzled her neck.
“What are you doing here?” She swallowed, looking up at him expectantly.
“Looking. I was hoping to find some of your belongings. I did find an old trunk in the attic. Trouble is, I fell through the ceiling before I could get to it.”
“Are you all right?”
“Well enough, I suppose,” he said, chuckling at himself.
Her brow furrowed. “But are you not concerned about the new owners? Certainly, you must have contacted them and asked for their permission before coming here?”
“Madelyn, I am the new owner. Well, you are, that is. There’s still some paperwork to be shifted around, and it’s definitely going to need some work, but I bought it for you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You did?” she squeaked out.
He nodded slowly, a wolfish grin spreading across his handsome face.
“Oh, you sweet, sweet man,” she exclaimed, raining kisses all over his face.
“But you know, you cannot live here,” he said cautiously in between her kisses. “You’re going to live with me, whether that be in the country or in London. And you’ll sleep nowhere but in my arms. Ever.”
She nodded happily. “Yes, of course. I cannot think of a more perfect place to be.”
And then his mouth pressed onto hers for a thought-shattering kiss. Madelyn shivered in response and weaved her fingers in his silky hair. He broke their kiss to nibble her earlobe.
Blown away by the events like a leaf in the breeze, she still had more questions. “Gabriel,” she said, only it came out like a moan.
“Hmm?”
“Did you know what your sister was up to?”
He nodded and pulled back to look into her eyes.
“When did you find out?” she asked.
“The day you wandered into my office, you mentioned it. I had my suspicions, and after I danced with you, I questioned her and she admitted her guilt.”
“Were you angry with her?”
“Not at all,” he said, giving her a quick kiss. “Although I appreciate her efforts—she did bring you to the cottage, as I ordered her to—I would have been ensnared by you without her endeavors. There was no stopping it. You enchant me.”
Her eyes level with his throat, she kissed the base of his neck, right where his pulse throbbed.
He swallowed convulsively. “Where the devil did you learn that?”
“You did that to me, in your bedchamber,” she whispered, then nipped at his chest.
“In our bedchamber,” he groaned. “Oh Lord, the things I’ve yet to do to you. I should warn you…if you ever happen to wander into my private office again, you’ll be well and truly ravished right there upon my desk..”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Choose which ever inspires you to misbehave.”
She smiled wickedly at his words, which were spoken to her in almost the same fashion as they had been during her interview when she first arrived.
“Oh, and Madelyn?”
“Hmm?”
“If you’re ever angry with me, will you promise me one thing?”
She nodded, her brow rising with interest.
“Please stay away from the orangery,” he replied, rubbing his forehead.
She threw her arms around his neck and agreed with a blissful laugh.
Epilogue
“All hands! All hands on deck, I say,” Lady Eugenia Devine called out in the cheery yellow and white morning room. Armfuls of crisp sheets, broomsticks of varying heights, lengths of rope, and an astounding array of strategically placed furniture had turned the new Duchess of Wolverest’s favorite room into a formidable warship worthy of the Royal Navy.
“Get yerself aboard, ye landlubber,” she continued, but was poked on the behind for her comment by a very short, fleet-footed sailor. “Oh!”
A paper captain’s hat sitting askew atop his sooty locks, he giggled as he rounded past his doting great aunt. His bright eyes flashing, he looked over his shoulder, squealing with delight as he dove underneath a low canopy draped between two shield-back chairs—just before her outstretched hand would have closed around his ankle.
“The nerve! Why I ought to make you scrub the deck,” she exclaimed in mock offense, “or at the very least put you in leg irons!”
“Do tell, what has the lad done now?” Gabriel asked from his position just inside the doorway.
“Dear me,” his aunt proclaimed with a laugh, “don’t scowl so. We’re playing.”
“Papa!” In a flurry of movement, the little sailor scrambled from his hiding place and ran to his father, arms outstretched.
Hoisting the boy up, Gabriel gave him a hearty squeeze and a kiss on the forehead.
“Eww,” he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
“Now who taught you that? Couldn’t have been me,” Gabriel grumbled.
“Of course not,” his aunt said, hoisting herself up from her knees with the help of an overstuffed ottoman. “With the way you and your lady go on about, you’d think you were just married instead of four years ago.”
Gabriel smiled. What a remarkable change had occurred in his aunt Eugenia during the past few years. She and Madelyn had come to an agreement of sorts: to keep the hell away from one another. But with the birth of their son two years ago, his aunt found it difficult to stay away for long stretches of time. She never had any children of her own, and what better joy was there than to spoil her favorite nephew’s son with love and attention.
It only took a matter of months for his wife’s infectious laughter and light spirit to engage his aunt’s heart. She had told him, privately of course, that she was wrong about Madelyn, that he had chosen well, that she was a good wife and a wonderful mother. A
nd then one day she had told a surprised Madelyn those very things herself.
“Gabriel?” Madelyn called out from the hall. “Gabriel?”
Handing his son over to his aunt, he pressed his finger to his lips, asking for silence, then slipped under the same canopy of sheets his son had emerged from earlier.
“My, my,” Madelyn said with a laugh, stepping into the morning room. If not for the portrait of her mother hanging above the hearth—the very portrait they’d found in Willowbrooke’s attic four years ago—she’d have thought she stepped into the wrong room.
“Did Michael make you do all this?” Madelyn asked.
“Dear me,” Eugenia said. “The lad’s only two years of age and barely says a handful of words. However could he have coerced me to do such a thing? You may place the blame entirely on his aunt. It’s all my doing, it is.”
Madelyn raised a skeptical brow. She knew blooming well how those bright blue eyes could melt hearts and persuade one to do his will. Her son was very much like his father in that respect.
Michael yawned, spurring Lady Eugenia into motion. She shuffled to the door, dipped him forward so his mother could place a kiss on his plump cheek, then announced she would take him to the nursery for his nap.
“But have you seen Gabriel?” Madelyn asked, and received no answer, as the woman left cooing over Michael, paying her no heed.
Hands on hips, Madelyn surveyed the mess. “Well, I certainly hope they had a lot of fun.”
She had scooted back a small rosewood writing table to its former position under the window when she heard a shuffling sound coming from under a secluded draping of linens. Her curiosity—not to mention a sense of dread—piqued by the sound, she tiptoed over, praying Michael hadn’t adopted another woodland creature and brought it into the castle.
On hands and knees she lifted the edge of the sheet…and was promptly hauled inside by Gabriel’s strong hands clamped on her hips. Quite suddenly, she found herself flat on her back, her husband’s familiar weight atop her, his warm mouth searching, exploring, and plundering her own.
After a deliciously long moment, she managed to reluctantly break free. “As tempting as staying under here with you might be…”
“Might be?”
“…the fact of the matter is, I must get up and straighten this mess. Charlotte’s coming for tea in an hour.”
He scowled down at her—truthfully, she would have called it a pout if not for the fact that he was a grown man—and she smiled up at him.
“No,” he said, looking about their linen cocoon. “The captain of this sailing vessel has requested a private audience with you in his quarters. It seems you’ve a treasure map hidden on your person, and I mean to explore every inch of you until it is discovered.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, giggling. He sounded so serious.
“Really.” He nodded, his blue eyes turning dark with desire.
“My, you’re playful,” she crooned as he nuzzled her neck.
“I learned from a master,” he replied, his breath hot on her skin. “But first, you must tell me what you wanted.”
“What I…” He took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly.
“You were calling for me,” he drawled, brushing his lips across her earlobe.
For a moment Madelyn didn’t know what he was talking about. Desire thrummed through her in sensual waves. “Oh, yes,” she said, feeling silly for forgetting. “There is something I must tell you.”
He paused at the serious tone in her voice. “What is it?”
“Well, my dear, sweet man…we are going to have another baby.”
Gabriel blinked, instant tears rimming his beautiful eyes. “Y-You are?”
She nodded happily, her own eyes growing teary.
Shifting his weight, he slid down her body and placed a kiss on her abdomen. “I love you,” he whispered, returning to her.
“And I love you.”
“But you’re still not getting out of here just yet,” he said with a roguish grin.
“Captain’s orders?”
“Indeed,” he muttered, sinking his mouth onto hers.
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt gratitude goes to the Jaguar, the Panther, the Rabbit, and most especially, our Annie Bee.
About the Author
At eight years old, OLIVIA PARKER wrote her first romance with a fat red marker. It made one’s eyes hurt to read it, but it did have a tortured hero. Since then, she’s dedicated her efforts to improving her craft (now using pencils) and divides her time among her love of writing, reading, and relaxing with her family. She currently resides in northern Ohio with her husband, three children, a border collie, and a cockatiel, who eats a worrisome amount of popcorn. Olivia would love to hear from readers. Readers may contact her through her website at www.oliviaparker.net.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AT THE BRIDE HUNT BALL. Copyright © 2008 by Tracy Ann Parker. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition April 2008 ISBN 9780061732607
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