The Unexpected Marriage of Gabriel Stone (Lords of Disgrace)

by Louise Allen

  His hands came to rest lightly either side of her waist, warm even through the flannel, then, when she stayed where she was, he tugged the ends of the sash so the robe fell open to reveal her equally chaste white cotton nightgown.

  ‘As for my virginity, the second time, yes, I was nervous. The first time I was so excited that I wasn’t thinking about anything. Not coherently. My father took me to a high-class brothel to be initiated into lovemaking, just as he selected the right tutors for us, bought us the right horses to learn on, sent us to the right teachers for fencing and shooting. Everything had to be perfect for his sons.’ She thought his voice took on a bitter edge. Then it was gone. ‘After he died I did the same for my brothers.’ He slid his hands under the robe to caress the curve of her hips through the cotton. ‘You are a very lovely shape. Classical.’

  Caroline sorted her breathing out. ‘I am appalled at your father. How old were you?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ Gabriel pulled her a little closer, leant in to kiss the slight swell of her stomach.

  ‘That’s younger than Anthony! And you took your own brothers.’

  ‘We will worry about your baby brother’s education later.’ Gabriel was on his feet and her wrapper, somehow, was on the floor and so was his robe.

  Under it he was naked.

  There was silence, broken only by the sound of her breathing, which was not even, and his, which was not either. That was comforting. Slightly. They were standing so close that she could feel her nightgown brushing against his legs, the warmth of his bare flesh. And so close that it was surely safe to drop her gaze.

  Or not. Bare chest, dark curling hair that did not conceal his nipples and that arrowed down over a flat, muscled stomach to his navel and...

  Caroline had no idea what to do. But talking, especially when one was nervous, was easy. ‘I know about the mechanics of the act, of course. No young lady with access to a library, some knowledge of basic Latin, an enquiring mind and eyes to see men in tight evening breeches need be ignorant, exactly. And there was the night in the hermitage, of course. Only I was not quite prepared for...that.’

  She made a wildly sweeping gesture and found her hand resting on Gabriel’s chest, her fingers in that intriguing hair. ‘Oh, it is soft. I wondered.’

  ‘Feel free,’ he said. ‘Explore. And don’t worry about that. We’ll get to him later. We have time now.’ He was amused, but not laughing at her, more inviting her to share a joke. Could lovemaking be fun then? He seemed so relaxed with her, as though he truly liked her, not just her body.

  ‘Him?’ She teased her fingertips into the curls, trailed a pattern into them, brushed his right nipple accidentally and stopped, fascinated as it hardened and puckered. She rolled it gently between her fingertips. ‘Yours do that, too?’

  ‘As you see.’

  ‘And him?’

  ‘It is definitely male. It has a mind of its own and is inclined to be unruly at the most awkward moments.’ Again she was aware that Gabriel’s breathing was not quite under control. ‘You may carry on exploring, you know.’

  Above the waist was safe. That unruly male object could definitely be left for later. Much later. ‘You are very warm. And I did not expect your skin to be smooth.’ She tried to circle her fingers around his upper arm and realised just how muscled he was. ‘So hard underneath. And I can see the muscles. I’ve got some, I think that is from riding, but mine are smooth.’ She traced a finger down the arrow of hair and Gabriel sucked in his breath as she dipped her finger into his navel. ‘Am I talking too much?’

  ‘There are absolutely no rules, although you are wearing altogether too much clothing.’

  ‘I am shy. I told you that, too.’

  Gabriel pulled her gently forward until her forehead rested on his chest. ‘You are beautiful and you are even more beautiful naked in my arms. How long is your hair, Lady Godiva? I have never seen it out of its plait and it will veil your blushes.’ His fingers were busy in it as he spoke, then he combed it out over her shoulders until it hung around her. ‘We may safely undo some of these buttons now.’

  ‘You are very good at undressing,’ Caroline said after a moment as the fiddly buttons yielded, one after another.

  ‘I am handy with corset strings, too. There, almost unveiled.’ Her nightgown slipped down, clinging precariously to her hips. Gabriel smoothed her hair down, the palms of his hands brushed her nipples, then stilled as she made a faint, involuntary sound. He bent his head and blew gently on the strands, parting them so he could seek her left nipple with his mouth. His hands held her steady by the waist as she stiffened, then softened into his embrace.

  It was bliss, and frightening, and delicious all at once. She could feel every movement of his lips, the tiny nip of his teeth, the soothing stroke of his tongue, not only at her breast but deep in her belly and between her thighs. Before had been wonderful, but so fast she had hardly been aware of anything but the urgency of their desire, the shock of that violent pleasure building. Him leaving her at that crucial moment.

  Gabriel moved to the other breast, his hands sliding up to cup her, then down to give the nightgown the one last touch it needed to send it pooling around her feet.

  Caroline caught at his shoulders, off balance with desire, confusion, the need to touch him. She found herself swept off her feet and deposited on the bed, wrapped in Gabriel’s arms, his leg thrown over her hips, her whole body gathered in against his heat and hardness, all at once both safe and overwhelmed, swept up in the sheer masculine power of him.

  Her body remembered, responded with enthusiasm as she burrowed against him, her hands running over the powerful shoulders, down to the narrow waist, the hard swell of his buttocks. She should be ashamed of her eagerness, her upbringing warned her, but she did not care. Everything throbbed and ached and wanted more. ‘Tell me what to do,’ she managed when he lifted his mouth from hers.

  ‘Whatever you want, or just leave it to me.’ His hand slid between her thighs as he spoke and she parted her legs instinctively, then almost arched off the bed with the pleasure of it and the embarrassing discovery that she was wet and aching there and that his fingers were sliding inside and she liked it.

  They were more than sliding. They were stroking into the folds of flesh that seemed swollen and more sensitive than she could ever have imagined, then he focused his attention on one spot, teasing and caressing and everything, the entire universe, her whole needy, pleasure-filled body, was focused on that single point and the sensation became unbearable and then impossible and suddenly everything fell apart into something that was more than just pleasure.

  She was vaguely conscious of being on her back, of a weight over her, of Gabriel’s lips on hers again and then... ‘Ow!’ Indignant at the discomfort that shattered her bliss, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. She had forgotten it might be painful, and he was very large and she was very new to this.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was husky. Caroline opened her eyes to find herself almost nose to nose with him, the points of her nipples fretted by the hair on his chest, his hips tight against hers, and realised his body was deep within hers. ‘It will get better in a moment, I promise. Trust me.’

  She was not so sure, not when the pleasure and the tingling and the heat were ebbing in the face of this male intrusion. Why couldn’t he be fast, so she didn’t need to think? She could push him away, resist it, or she could trust him, she realised as he began to move again, rocking slowly into her, edging deeper. She closed her eyes, unable to cope with sight as well as touch and sound and the scent of their passion, musky and heady. Gabriel had never let her down yet, she realised as her body began to soften, embrace his hardness, open to him like a flower worshipping to the sun. And the pleasure flooded back, different from before, better than before.

  ‘Come for me, Caroline,’ he said and she opened her eyes to meet hi
s, dark and deep and utterly focused on her. She did not understand what he meant, but he slid his hand between them, touched her in that magic place, and she spun out of control, out of herself again. She was conscious of Gabriel surging deeper, of his hoarse cry, of heat deep in her core and then she was lost in the strange bliss their two bodies had created.

  Caroline came to herself with her head on Gabriel’s chest, knowing exactly where she was, who she was with. I love him. She knew that as a certainty, too, and she knew not to say the words. Not yet. I will show him if he will only give me the chance.

  She raised her head and discovered that Gabriel was asleep. Infinitely slowly she wriggled and slid until she could prop herself up on the pillow next to him and study him. The clever, cynical face was relaxed and off guard. Vulnerable. He looked younger with the dark lashes on his cheeks, the wayward hair tousled over his brow, the mocking mouth softened and curved into a half-smile. She could imagine him as a wild, eager youth and wondered at the process that had turned him into the self-sufficient man behind the gambler’s mask.

  She reached down to pull the sheet up over their bodies, left the candles to burn themselves out, then snuggled back against him. I will be sleeping with this man for the rest of my life now. If I can keep him. If we can make this work. Her lids drooped and she fell asleep to the beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

  * * *

  Gabriel woke to dawn light and a feeling of bodily well-being. Except for cold feet. There was a definite warm draught stirring the hairs on his chest. He turned his head on the pillow and found Caroline curled up against him, her nose buried just under his collarbone, her hair veiling her face.

  He had taken her virginity before marriage, yet he could feel no guilt. We’ve done it, there’s no way back from this, she cannot change her mind now.

  Her honesty about her physical desires had taken his breath away. Caroline, it seemed, was not good at prevaricating, not with herself and not, apparently, with him. That could be refreshing, it could be perilous. The little white lies and hypocrisies of everyday life kept the wheels of society moving smoothly and they probably kept marriages running smoothly as well, at least on the surface.

  The nights, it seemed, would be pleasurable if Caroline’s sensual enthusiasm was anything to judge by. Which should mean she would be with child soon and that, surely, would content her. He supposed he would have to modify his life a trifle. Now he was about to take a wife he could hardly act the rackety bachelor every night. He wanted her to be happy, to enjoy being a countess. She deserved that. Dinner parties, he thought vaguely. She’ll want escorting around to balls and so forth when the Season starts. Almack’s, even. He grimaced. Alex and Cris would be taking their wives, Caroline could join their parties.

  But that aside, his life wouldn’t change that much. He’d give her a good allowance, let her loose on the London house to start with. When a child was on the way she could move down to Edenvale and amuse herself with making that over as she wanted. The more she changed it, the happier he would be. There was no need to worry about emotions, about breaking her heart. This had been a marriage of necessity and he had been frank from the start. She was an intelligent woman who could have few illusions about him.

  He found he cared that she was happy, an uncomfortable, unwelcome burden. Keep her at a distance, his head warned him even as he felt that warm, contented, sensation in his chest. You’ll only let her down sooner or later if she comes to believe this is more than it is.

  Caroline stirred, stretched, and her hand began to move slowly across his stomach. Yes, this was going to work.

  ‘Good morning.’ He slid up against the pillows with the result that her hand slipped southwards in a most delightful manner.

  ‘Oh!’ To his regret Caroline let go of his enthusiastically awakening wedding tackle and sat up in a swirl of sheets. Her eyes were sultry with sleep, her mouth was swollen with kisses and her cheeks were pink. ‘Gabriel.’

  ‘Which is who you were expecting, I trust. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘So well.’ She stretched with her arms above her head, presenting him with a ravishing picture of perfect small breasts, the movement of skin and muscle over her rib cage and stomach and a glimpse of her secret triangle of dark-blonde hair.

  There was no artifice in the gesture, no calculation. Caroline was waking up, she needed to stretch and she was comfortable enough with him to do so without hesitation or self-consciousness. He was not used to that and it was, ‘Delicious,’ Gabriel murmured and pounced, rolling her on to her back and leaning on one elbow to look down at her. ‘Are you sore?’

  That did make her blush. She wriggled experimentally, causing his heart rate to kick up several beats. ‘A little.’

  He tossed the sheet on to the floor, slid down the bed and worked his way between her legs, pushing her thighs apart with his shoulders.

  ‘Gabriel?’

  ‘Shh. Relax. Go back to sleep if you like.’ As though I would let you.

  ‘Gabriel!’ His name broke in the middle and Caroline gave a faint shriek as he lowered his mouth to her.

  He put his hands firmly on either side of her hips to hold her still and licked into the core of her, exploring her secrets, relentlessly gentle and persistent until her gasps of protest turned into sighs and she began to lift her hips to meet his questing lips and tongue. He took her over once, then again, then came up her body to slide into the soft wet heat that was so ready for him. She came for him again, crying his name as she convulsed around him, sending him over the edge, all technique and restraint forgotten.

  ‘Are you still reconciled?’ she asked a little later, her eyelashes tickling as she leaned over to kiss his throat.

  ‘Oh, yes, I think so, although I believe we will have to repeat the exercise frequently to make certain.’

  She laughed softly as he pulled her tight against his side and Gabriel relaxed. Caroline was a darling. This marriage business would be no trouble at all, provided he kept it at the level of sex and friendship.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Lord Edenbridge. Good morning, my lord.’ The Avenmore butler regarded Gabriel with a more kindly eye than he deserved, given that they had arrived on the doorstep of the St James’s Square house at the outrageous hour of nine o’clock. ‘My lord and lady are at breakfast, but if you would care to wait in the drawing room, I will apprise them of your arrival.’

  ‘We’ll join them, Benson. Just send in two more place settings.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ The butler did not quite roll his eyes, but Gabriel suspected it was a close-run thing. ‘Should I announce you? The lady—’

  ‘No need.’ He took Caroline’s arm and ushered her through to the dining room. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘What have you done now?’ Cris enquired, folding The Times and setting it beside hisplate as he got to his feet. ‘Good morning, Lady Caroline.’

  ‘Cris!’ Tamsyn scolded, getting to her feet, too, and hurrying around the table to hug Caroline. She released her, regarded Gabriel with her head on one side for a moment, grinned and hugged him, too. ‘You are going to get married, aren’t you? Sit down and have some breakfast and tell us all about it. I’ll just ring for— Oh, thank you, Benson.’

  Gabriel waited until he had served both himself and Caroline from the buffet. ‘Yes. I am almost afraid to ask how you know. Some form of Devon witchcraft, I assume.’

  Tamsyn shook her head at him. ‘A woman’s instinct. I only had to look at the pair of you.’

  ‘What happened?’ Cris, with his usual uncanny nose for trouble, knew this was more than a sudden attack of romance.

  ‘My father found me,’ Caroline said. She was wary of Cris, he knew, but he could only admire the calm way she gave him back blue-eyed stare for stare. ‘And Gabriel was there.’

  ‘So Caroline gallantly saved my
honour, and what remains of my good name, by consenting to marry me.’ He saw her fingers tighten on the knife and fork as he spoke. You must get used to it, my dear. Life with me is no romantic bed of roses.

  ‘You are a fortunate man,’ Cris said. ‘I felicitate you. Caroline, tell me what we can do to help you. We are entirely at your disposal.’

  ‘I hardly like to ask it, but Gabriel suggested that you might allow us to marry here.’ She was perfectly calm, perfectly composed. For a moment Gabriel was lulled into thinking that everything was all right, that Caroline was placidly accepting things as they were, as they had to be. Then he realised that she had learned this calm acceptance as a defence against her father’s tempers, his moods, his blows. And now she was using it as a defence against him.

  ‘Gabriel?’

  He looked up at the whisper to see Tamsyn’s concerned expression, then down to where the fragile coffee cup had cracked in his hand. Unthinking violence. Hell, what is happening to me?

  ‘Lord, I’m a clumsy oaf,’ he said lightly. ‘I’m sorry, Tamsyn. I’ll replace it.’ He glanced around and found Cris was still talking to Caroline.

  ‘Please, don’t worry about it. I bought them in Mr Wedgwood’s showroom across the Square only a few days ago. It is no trouble to find another.’ She passed him another cup and murmured, ‘Gabriel, is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course it is. Unpleasant for Caroline, of course, her father ranting and raving and then finding herself landed with me as a husband. But for myself, I couldn’t be happier.’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ Her expression was a trifle quizzical. ‘As the daughter of an earl she must be considered most eligible, which we know is of paramount importance to you.’

  ‘Are you ever going to forgive me for opposing your match with Cris?’ he asked.