Gabe's Revenge

by Doris O'Connor

  “There, now you’re ready.” Red faced from her exertion, Mavis straightened and smiled at Lissandra. “You are ready, right? Because it’s a bit of a drive, and that boy will lose his shit if we’re too late.”

  Lissandra laughed at the unexpected cuss word coming from Mavis, and the older woman winked. “Oh, I know, but sometimes bad language is warranted.” She held out her arm, grasped Lissandra’s stunning bouquet of wildflowers, and led her out of the bedroom.

  Stone’s low whistle of appreciation made Lissandra’s cheeks heat, and the big guy winked at her.

  “Well, Miss Lissa, told you the boss got good taste. With that, I’ll be off to let him know you’re on your way. Luca here will ride with you in the limo.”

  Another one of Gabe’s security stepped up and nodded at her. He was even taller than Stone, if less wide with not as much muscle mass, but the grim determination around his blue eyes left Lissandra in no doubt that he was just as deadly. All of Gabe’s men had that quiet air of danger which surrounded them like an invisible cloak. Strangely enough, Lissandra didn’t find that strange anymore. Far from making her uneasy, it made her feel protected, cared for, and if that wasn’t a sure sign that she’d lost the plot once and for all then she didn’t know what was.

  “You ready?” Luca asked, and Lissandra took a deep breath in and nodded.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Chapter Six

  Gabe tapped his earpiece.

  “Perimeter still clear, boys?”

  The reassuring “ayes” filtered through, and he rolled his tense shoulders, ignoring the disapproving look of the balding vicar. He paid the man enough for the use of this church. Nestled away in the Hampshire countryside between Winchester and Southampton, it had proven the perfect place for what he’d had in mind: Small, ancient, and above all cash-strapped. A heavy influx of his money had ensured this wedding would take place and a few rules had been bent in the process. Namely the reading of the banns under an alias.

  The last thing Gabe wanted or needed was to alert Andrini and/or Ollivanti to his plans to marry Lissandra. As far as everyone else was concerned the girl had disappeared off the radar, and that’s the way he wanted to keep it.

  “I don’t mean to rush you, but will the bride be arriving soon?”

  Gabe adjusted his cufflinks and looked down his nose at the smaller man. Reverend Albert shifted from foot to foot under Gabe’s silent scrutiny. Small eyes set too close together under his bushy eyebrows darted about nervously, and dots of perspiration broke out on his upper lip. He’d nicked himself shaving that morning, the red mark prominent just under his lips, and Gabe barely suppressed a smirk.

  “She can take as long as she likes. It’s her day.”

  The man exhaled sharply and nodded so enthusiastically his combover moved and fell into his eyes.

  “Of course, it’s just that—”

  “Just what?” Gabe interrupted him with a snarl that made the portly man take several steps back. “I’ve paid you handsomely for the exclusive use of this church, so if we’re still standing here in six hours, then so be it.”

  The vicar gulped, nodded, and dropped his head.

  “As you say, but if I might be permitted to say, sir, if she hasn’t turned up by then, I dare say she’ll have changed her mind.”

  Gabe growled his annoyance at the mere suggestion, and Albert’s bottom lip quivered in fear. Gabe could smell it on the man. Fear and greed. He might be a so-called man of the cloth, but he’d dropped all pretenses of needing to do things by the book, when Gabe had started talking money. It sure made the world go ‘round and folks lost all of their so-called principles for the right prize. Gabe hadn’t even needed to put the proverbial screws on the guy. It seemed his reputation preceded him.

  “She won’t change her mind.” While his voice rang out with clear authority, echoed around the old stone walls, he wasn’t all that sure she wouldn’t. Sure, she’d signed the papers, and sure, his men would ensure she got to the church, but no one could force her to say, “I do”. Somehow, holding a gun to her head to get her agreement would give the wrong impression, and old Albert, here, might just faint on the spot.

  Gabe turned his back on the man and tapped his ear again.

  “Any sign of them yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet, boss, but Stone rang through they’ve left the motorway. Won’t be long now, I reckon.”

  Gabe relaxed his tense shoulders and expelled a long breath. That was something. Feeling this discombobulated was not a sensation he relished. Perhaps he should have stayed close to her. At least then he would have a clearer reading of her state of mind. However, it would also have been sheer torture for him, and it would have been nigh on impossible to keep his hands off her luscious ass. He’d had to make do with reports from his men, and the odd phone call to hear her voice.

  Gabe swore under his breath, earning himself a sigh from Albert, and scrubbed his hand over his face. Where the fuck were they?

  “Incoming, boss.” The warning in his ear preceded the sound of several cars pulling up outside and he breathed easier.

  “Hope you’re ready, vicar. They’re here.”

  The other man smiled, nodded, and puffed out his chest in a vain effort to make himself appear either taller or more important. Gabe didn’t care too much about either motif because Stone appeared at the open door, smirked at him, and made his way up the aisle to stand next to him.

  Gabe nodded at him.

  “Got the rings?’

  Stone pretended to mull this over for a few frantic beats of Gabe’s heart, and then clearly interpreting Gabe’s furious expression, laughed and patted his jacket pocket.

  “Relax, boss, of course I have them. You’re in for a treat, by the way. Your future missus is stunning.”

  Gabe grunted at him, and Stone laughed out loud, before he muttered something under his breath that Gabe didn’t get, because the movement by the door caught his attention.

  A flash of white lace, some whispering, and then Mavis appeared. The old dear was grinning from ear to ear, as she, too, walked up the aisle to stand on the bride’s side. It was farcical really, when you thought about it.

  His best man was his second in command, and the bride’s person was his housekeeper. There had been no time to alert anyone else, and even if there had been, Lissandra hadn’t wanted anyone there.

  “I highly doubt you’d let my father give me away, and my best friend is backpacking ‘round the world and I can’t reach her, so just forget it. As you keep telling me, there’s no need to pretend this is a love match, right?”

  It had been just as well he hadn’t been in the room because she’d have earned herself a trip over his knee for sure. The minx didn’t know it yet, but one of the first things he would do as her husband would be to turn her ass red for all the sass she’d been giving his men and Mavis.

  He forced a smile on his face for Mavis’s benefit, as she drew up next to him, and then any conscious thought fled his brain at the vision that slowly walked up the aisle. Lissandra clutched her bouquet to her chest in a white knuckled grip that spoke of her nervousness, but the steps she took were slow and deliberate. Head held high, her glorious mass of dark hair was pinned up at the sides and left to fall down her back. A gossamer veil sat on top, and the delicate lace of the gown he’d chosen for her hugged her curves in all the right places.

  He scowled at the warpaint on her face. She didn’t need any of that crap to look beautiful. He’d dock that make up person’s fee for sure. The only place not covered in much were her lips. Traces of lipliner remained, but it was damn obvious that she’d worried the rest of the stuff off the plump flesh. As her gaze connected with his, she missed a step, but caught herself before he had to intervene, while her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. Gabe swallowed a groan.

  Soon, he’d have the right to claim those lips, to mark every inch of her skin in his possession, and he hardened to the point of pain. Thank God fo
r waistcoats and jackets, with this hard-on. Good old Albert might just die of a heart attack before he had a chance to pronounce them man and wife, and that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

  The light scent of her perfume—peony, magnolia, lotus, and others he couldn’t quite place—tickled his nostrils, as she stepped closer.

  “You look stunning, little one.” He bent his head to whisper those words into her ear, and Lissa froze. “Breathe, and smile. You don’t want the good vicar here to think you’re not doing this of your own free will, now, do you?”

  Lissandra nudged her chin up, threw him a glance from under her eyelashes, and dutifully curved her lips into the semblance of a smile, and handed her bouquet to Mavis.

  “Ready?” Albert asked, his eyes darting from Gabe to Lissa and back again. When Gabe raised an eyebrow he hastily dropped his gaze to the order of service in his hands and cleared his throat.

  “Right, then, in the presence of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of…”

  The familiar words of the ceremony washed over Gabe, and he bit his tongue to not interrupt Albert, as he launched into his spiel. One that meant little to Gabe, but Lissandra clung to every word the vicar said, murmuring her affirmations to the prayer, and for her sake Gabe followed suit.

  When it finally came to the part for her to say, “I will”, she hesitated. Gabe’s gut churned, and that damn vicar’s eyebrows drew together in a frown, as he leaned forward to talk to her.

  “Is everything okay, my dear? If you don’t want this now is the time to say so.”

  Lissandra shook her head, and Gabe swore under his breath, while Stone reached for his gun. Albert went a lovely shade of white and green, and grasped his dog collar with one hand as though it was strangling him. Gabe knew how the man felt. His own cravat seemed like a noose tightening around his neck. It took mere seconds, which felt like hours, until Lissandra whispered her reply.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean … that is. I will. I will marry Gabe.” She blinked rapidly as though to hold in tears, and Gabe’s guts twisted for entirely different reasons. Giving into the real need to touch her, he grasped her chin and turned her head so that he could read her expression. Sure enough, moisture shimmered in her expressive eyes, but she also looked determined as she offered him a wobbly smile. Her breathing sped up under his silent scrutiny, and he murmured his approval at her actions.

  “Good girl, I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

  Albert cleared his throat, Stone gave a short laugh, and Mavis giggled as though she was a schoolgirl. Gabe registered their reactions but took no real notice. He was too enthralled by the slight blush which warmed Lissandra’s cheeks and the way her eyes softened, took on a dreamy, hopeful quality, as she held his gaze.

  “Right then,” Albert continued. “Let’s pray.”

  Neither Gabe nor Lissandra bowed their heads during the short prayer designed for them both. Their attention fixed on each other, they both said “Amen,” where required.

  Mavis’s clear voice reading a passage from the Bible broke the spell, and Gabe reluctantly released his hold on Lissandra’s chin.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jackson for this. Now, I would normally have a few things to say…” Albert blanched at Gabe’s warning growl and took up his Bible. “Right yes, let’s carry on then.” He looked toward Stone. “Have you got the ring?”

  “Rings, you mean?” His right-hand man, and the closest person Gabe had to a friend, pulled the box out of his jacket and handed the matching platinum bands to the Vicar.

  “Please take each other’s’ hands and repeat after me. ‘I, Gabriel Henshaw, take you Lissandra Raphaella Andrini…’”

  ****

  Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

  Those three words continued to bounce around in Lissandra’s brain on a loop, even as her subconscious registered the solemn vows which bound her to Gabe until “death us do part”.

  His deep, gravelly voice pledged himself to her, and she blinked back tears when he slid the wedding ring onto her finger. Mavis then handed him the engagement ring which she’d pulled off her finger only moments before they’d entered the church, and Gabe slid that next to the plain band.

  “There, all mine now.” The murmured words for her ears only made breathing difficult. Somehow, she made it through her vows, and managed not to cry when she gave him his ring. It was utterly ridiculous to be this emotional about a simple ring, but she hadn’t expected him to wear one. Judging by the astonished expression on the vicar’s face, that had come as surprise to him, too. Lissandra knew she was reading far too much into this, but she couldn’t help herself. From the minute his heated gaze had swept over her when she’d started to walk down the aisle to her doom—as she’d been referring to her upcoming nuptials in her head—this had felt too much like the real thing. Sure, whenever she’d pictured her wedding in her mind she’d always imagined being on the arm of her Papa, the church filled to the rafters with her family and friends, but then again, in her dreams Mama had also still been alive and crying softly into her hankie, overcome with emotion at her only daughter getting married. A far cry from the stark reality of this tiny, if beautiful, church in the middle of seeming nowhere, with just Gabe, Stone, Mavis, and the vicar in attendance. If you forgot about Gabe’s security detail, which surrounded the church.

  Lord knows what her now husband must have thought could happen, but he clearly wasn’t taking any chances on this marriage not happening.

  “…I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife.”

  A shudder went through Lissandra as that proclamation broke through her befuddled state, and she grasped hold of Gabe’s hand, grateful for his strength, which kept her upright as the vicar prayed over them both.

  “Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder. You may now kiss the bride.”

  “Finally.” That one grumbled word gave her a moment’s notice, before Gabe pulled her flush against his body. One arm went around her waist, the other hand into her hair as he tipped her head up and his mouth descended upon hers.

  She’d been prepared for a rough meeting of lips, but not this. No, this was…

  Lissandra gave up trying to analyze anything, as Gabe’s warm, full lips brushed over hers in the lightest of touches. His stubble tickled while he increased the pressure of his mouth against her and ran his tongue along the seam of her lips in a quietly insistent invitation for her to yield to him.

  She wanted to resist, keep her mouth shut and go stiff and unresponsive, but her traitorous hormones had other ideas. Surrounded, owned by his big body, his sheer presence and strength pulled her into his will. Every sharp inhale of air through her nose brought more of his intoxicating scent into her lungs. The hands fisted in his jacket loosened, and as though they had a will of their own, crept up and around his neck. Gabe grunted his approval against her lips and increased the gentle nibbles and licks of her mouth.

  “Let me in, wife.” Those murmured words spoken into her ear, after he left her mouth and kissed his way up her jaw to nibble on her earlobe, made her gasp. Gabe wasted no time in pressing his advantage. His mouth slanted back over hers, and his tongue invaded, claimed, cherished in bold strokes as he explored her mouth with breathtaking intensity.

  Gabe kissed her as though he owned her, and in those few scintillating moments he did. Nothing else mattered but the slide of his tongue against hers, his groan when she kissed him back, and the way his hands slid to her ass, and lifted her up against him to deepen the kiss.

  Eventually, loud throat-clearing broke through the haze of lust and desire. Gabe released her lips, grazing his teeth along her bottom lip, and the fire in his eyes threatened to burn her alive.

  “What?” His furious snarl aimed at the vicar should have made her jump, certainly made the man of the cloth pale and put his hands up. Stone hooted in laughter, and Mavis found the study of her shoes most interesting. Her shoulders shook
in silent merriment, as though she, too, found this whole thing ridiculous. One proper look at Gabe, and Lissandra, too, had to smile. He looked like a little boy deprived of his favorite lollipop.

  That would be you.

  Her inner hussy reminded her, and Lissandra’s sense of humor won out. She giggled. Once she started she couldn’t stop, and soon the three of them were laughing.

  “Really, I must say… This is…” The vicar’s protestations were too much, and Gabe, too, eventually smirked.

  “Heaven forbid one has fun in church, right?” He sobered, pulled Lissandra into his side and swatted her bottom just once. “You best not be laughing at me, wife.”

  While the words were stern the twinkle in his eyes belied that tone, and Lissandra did her best to get her merriment under control.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, husband.”

  Another much harder swat connected with her backside, and Lissandra gasped. By rights she ought to be outraged at this blatant display of ownership, but, after that mind-blowing kiss, every feminine cell in her body simply sighed in submission.

  “Quit staring, vicar, and let’s sign the register. I’ve got a honeymoon to get to.”

  “Right, of course, if you’ll follow me over here to the register…”

  The portly vicar made a sharp turn and strode off as though a pack of demons were after him, his ceremonial robes billowing behind him. Lissandra swallowed another completely inappropriate giggle at that thought. The reverend wasn’t far from the truth, considering the reputation of the man she’d just married. A man who propelled her along next to him with a bruising grip on her elbow. Mavis and Stone followed close behind. A huge wooden door to the side of the church opened and shut behind them all, and Lissandra shivered in the much cooler air of the almost windowless room. A tiny stained-glass window high up under the rafters seemed the only natural light source. This place brought to mind old fashioned dungeons with its gloominess, until it was illuminated by a strip of harsh fluorescent light hanging off the domed ceiling. Rows of old leather-bound books stood next to each other in the tall book case to the right of the antique desk—its wood dark and scarred—further testament to the ancient origins of this church. The vicar sat on the leather chair, which groaned as though in mortal agony, and opened the current volume of the registry.