“They do look very young,” Gabriel said.
Tears sprang into her eyes. “I used to scramble onto the bed with my father and stare up at this painting. I spent many hours asking him about my mother. She died giving birth to me.”
Gabriel came up behind her and circled his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him. His spicy scent eased the smell of dust and decline.
“She was beautiful,” he said.
“She was. Father used to say she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He knew the day he spotted her at a fair that he would marry her. Within six weeks they were wed and Albert came a year after.”
They stood for a quiet moment. “You look much alike,” he said. “She lives in you.”
Sarah took a long look at her mother. They had the same hair, chin, and nose. This renewed the ache over never having known her. “I never noticed the resemblance. I do favor her. What other likenesses would we have discovered together about each other had she lived?”
“Probably many things. You were a little girl the last time you saw the painting, love,” he reminded her. “I’m certain you’ve grown and changed a bit since then and the resemblance has sharpened with age.”
Standing in her parents’ former bedroom, staring at their painting, and seeing the affection between them—captured brilliantly by the artist—Sarah’s spirits lifted. She wanted to be in this house. She wanted to make new memories under this roof.
“I think we should live here,” she said. Without turning from the painting, she continued, “I want to live here. I want to have a family in this house.”
There was a short pause while she waited for Gabriel’s refusal. Instead, he said, “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
Her head snapped around. “Are you jesting?”
He shrugged. “Why would I jest? We cannot live with my parents forever. This house is large enough for the two dozen children we’ll have. The address is in Mayfair, so we will be close to the rest of the Harringtons.” He scanned the room. “Besides, this a very nice house. Once it’s cleaned, you can decorate to your liking and it will be our home.”
Sarah let out a whoop and launched herself at him. He caught her up in his arms. “Thank you! Thank you! I will feel close to my family here.”
She kissed his cheek, his chin, his mouth. Gabriel deepened the kiss and Sarah eagerly kissed him back. The joy of the moment made her forget everything but him.
Shivers tingled through her body with his expert kissing and she moaned deep in her throat. Without dropping her or breaking the kiss, Gabriel spun around and lowered her onto the bed. Dust puffed up around them, but Sarah hardly noticed. His hand moved down her body, not quite salacious but not entirely innocent either. He skimmed her waist, the side of her breast, and upward to cup her face. It was voices from below that broke the moment.
When he lifted his head, Sarah released a small sound of disappointment. “The maids have arrived,” he said.
“I despise maids.”
He looked up. “Had it not been them, the painting would have eventually cooled my ardor. I cannot properly love my wife with her parents staring down at me.”
Sarah followed the path of his eyes. It was as if they were being watched. She kissed the underside of his chin. “We shall move it to the drawing room first thing in the morning.”
* * *
Sarah offered instructions for the maids while Gabriel wandered the house with a critical eye. There was more to his agreement to move into the town house than just the desire to make Sarah happy. He suspected that whatever her father had been hiding might be secreted within these walls. The disturbances in the dust confirmed his suspicions that he was not the only person to believe this.
Boot prints in the grime of several rooms were not his. He suspected that whoever had searched and burned the cottage had also come here. Since there was no sign of anything more than footprints wandering the rooms, they probably did not find what they sought. There was a good chance they’d be back. He wanted to be in residence when it happened. He’d do whatever it took to solve the death of Henry Palmer.
“What do you think of pink?” Sarah said. She looked up at the rows of books on the library shelves. “I was thinking we could decorate the entire house in pink.”
He grimaced. “You may do what you wish, but I’ll be staying with my parents. I cannot stomach pink.”
She laughed and he realized she’d been teasing him. “Well, then. We shall make it comfortable for both of us. I will not be pleased with the speculation about why my husband refuses to live with me.” She joined him by the desk. “If I have to give up pink, you will have to give up the notion of twenty-four children, unless you plan to take a second wife.”
His brows went up. Fire flashed in her chest. “Do not consider it, Gabriel Harrington. I’ll not share you with any woman.” She crossed her arms and turned away.
“You are enough trouble without me adding a second wife to my life.” He walked past her and swatted her backside.
“Oh!”
“Let us go.” He grinned. “I have business with my father before lunch.”
Sarah grumbled behind him and they left the house to the maids. As he helped her into the carriage, he took one last look up at the brick façade.
The question most foremost in his thoughts was not two dozen children or pink drapes; it was whether this town house hid a critical clue to the identity of a killer.
Chapter Fourteen
With her investigation stalled, Sarah sent around a note to Mister Brown asking him to visit at his convenience and hoping he’d have some news to share. Investigating a crime was more difficult than she’d imagined, and her growing frustration left her with headaches and restless sleep.
“Dearest, the investigation is ten years old without any new information,” Noelle said. “You cannot expect to solve the matter in a few days.”
“And why not?” Sarah shoved aside her notes and leaned her elbows on the desk. She rubbed her temples. “I thought that I might learn something the Runners missed. So far, there is nothing. What information Mister Brown provided has gotten me no further. The killer is a ghost.”
“You should talk to Gabriel.”
“I cannot,” Sarah said. “He’ll think I am putting myself in danger and forbid me to continue.”
“Forbid? And that would stop you?”
Sarah leaned back in the chair. “Absolutely not. That is the issue. Gabriel and I are growing closer. I do not want to risk our newfound affection by fighting over my obsession.”
“You deserve to have answers,” Noelle said.
“And I will. The case continues whether I am directly involved or not. I will just keep my investigation quiet. For now.”
As a day passed, and then two, without word from Mister Brown, Sarah—requiring a distraction from the case—fell into the task of readying the town house for the future residence of Mister and Mrs. Gabriel Harrington. She left early each morning, usually with Noelle in tow, and spent the day choosing fabrics and carpets and whatnot to turn the empty house into a home.
“I think it should go a bit to the left.” She waited as a pair of footmen adjusted her parents’ painting as instructed. The canvas slid across the space. “Not too much. Back the other way just a touch. Perfect.”
Over the drawing room fireplace was the perfect spot for the painting. She smiled as the footmen marked the spot, lowered the item onto the mantel, and reached for a hammer and nail.
Noelle tilted her head. “I can understand how Gabriel would find them peering down at him while he’s bedding their daughter . . . unsettling,” she said softly.
Sarah sighed. “He still has not come to my bed,” she whispered back. “I have not had time to make use of my lessons.”
The banging of the hammer caused Noelle to scowl. She pulled Sarah across
the room to a quieter corner. “If you do not do something to hook Gabe’s interest soon, you’ll become dried up like an old, dead rat.”
“Thank you for that unfortunate image,” Sarah scolded. “We have been busy. I have a house to ready and he is working with your husband on some new venture. By the time we get within a few feet of each other, we are both too weary to stand, much less attempt anything more vigorous.”
“No man is that tired.”
Her friend was right. It wasn’t Gabriel with the hesitation. It was she. Her concern came not from the actual bedding, but rather of finding out that she was indeed frigid and would never find lovemaking pleasurable. The thought of disappointing her husband made her stomach ache.
“I see something in your eyes, Sarah. Tell me.”
Sarah hesitated. She waited until the footman finished banging and reached for the painting before confessing her true fear. “I worry that I will disappoint Gabriel. He is used to women of experience.”
Noelle’s expression softened. “You will be naked. Gabe will not be disappointed.”
Warmth crept over Sarah’s face. “What if I am frigid?”
“You are not frigid,” Noelle said. “You enjoy his kisses? Did you not tell me your body hummed from his caresses?” Sarah nodded. “You should not see Gabe’s experience with women as a detriment. He is exactly the sort of man who can teach you pleasure in lovemaking.”
“I know you are correct.” She placed her hands on her cheeks. “The first step is difficult to take when you are walking in the darkness.”
Noelle touched her arm. “The fact that we are having this conversation at all, without you perishing from embarrassment, is a huge leap forward from the shy girl you were. If you give your husband even a modicum of encouragement, he will do the rest.”
* * *
Noelle’s advice rang in her ears later that evening when she excused herself after dinner and a game of chess with Gabriel and called for a bath. He always came to her room before retiring to say good night. If any time was perfect to present herself as open for his seduction, it was now.
Flora pinned up her hair and she stepped into the bath. The hot water soothed her frayed nerves. Well, as much as her nerves could be soothed when she thought of Gabriel naked.
“Would you like me to wash your back, miss?” Flora reached for the washing cloth.
“No, thank you, Flora. I believe I would like to be alone.”
The maid nodded and left. Sarah lay back in the tub and closed her eyes. The scent of lavender whirled around her.
Gabriel. She smiled. While they’d played chess, he’d loosened his cravat and removed his coat, baring a small measure of his chest for her viewing. She’d thoroughly enjoyed watching him as he moved the pieces, hungry not to win but for his touches.
“Ah, what a muddle,” she said softly to herself. “I want him. I don’t want him. What to do?”
Her thoughts drifted to their kiss on her parents’ bed, when his hand skimmed up the side of her body, to her breast, causing curious sensations inside her. Even now, she could feel an ache begin between her legs with the recollection.
Her body heated beneath the water and a realization came to her in that moment. Noelle was correct. If she longed for his hands on her and his kisses, she was not frigid.
With this new information, she wanted him to come to her. It was time to banish her fears and succumb to her curiosity.
Every part of her anticipated the night ahead. Gabriel was all a woman could desire. And he was hers. It was time to close her eyes and leap.
She quickly washed then leaned back again to wait for his arrival.
Nearly a half hour passed and she began to worry he wouldn’t come. She almost abandoned the cooling tub when his knock finally sounded on her door.
Excitement danced in her stomach. “Enter.”
Gabriel came in. As if anticipating her usual position on the stool at the dressing table, it took him a moment to find her as he scanned the room. His bland expression changed to interest when he saw her reclining in her bath.
“I did not expect to find you bathing, Wife.”
His voice dipped low. She hid a satisfied smile. Naked was the only requirement to entice her husband. How easy men were to entice when it came to such things!
“I spent a better part of the day chasing cobwebs and dust motes with the maids and thought a bath appropriate before bed.” She shifted slightly until the curves of her breasts bobbed to the surface. “If this makes you uncomfortable, you may return later when I’m dressed.”
His eye took on a wicked glint. “I am certainly not uncomfortable.” He walked over and let his eyes drift over her. The soapy water hid just enough to leave most of her body to his imagination. “I could use a bath myself.”
With a few jerks, he removed his cravat and tossed it aside. The cloth fluttered to the floor.
Panic lurched in her chest. “You wouldn’t dare.” Yes, he would. A lingering bit of alarm filled her. She fought past the feeling. This was what she wanted, was it not? She forced herself to remain calm.
The white shirt followed and joined the cravat on the floor. Sarah shoved her hands to her sides to keep them from shaking. His boots came off in an awkward dance-hop as he worked to remain upright during their removal.
When he was down to his trousers, he reached for the waistband and paused. “Ready?”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. Slowly, and with a grin on his handsome face, he slid the trousers down his legs and kicked them aside.
Sarah gasped, convinced she was about to die of embarrassment. There he was, naked and fully aroused as he stepped over the rim of the tub. She pulled her legs to her chest and slid as far back in the tub as manageable to avoid any contact with his large man part.
The space was entirely too small. “Perfect,” he said. “I finally have you trapped where I want you.” He reached for her feet and pulled her legs to his chest. The crisp hair tickled her toes. He then slid his own legs along the sides of her. She was trapped, fully and completely trapped!
“There is not enough room,” she protested. Water spilled over the rim and onto the floor. “You must get out.”
“The space fits us perfectly.” He examined her feet. “Relax and enjoy the moment.” He ran his fingers over her toes. “You have excellent toes.”
Both exasperated and intrigued as well, she slumped back. “How can I relax when you have taken up most of the tub?”
Grinning, he leaned and nipped her left biggest toe. “Oh!” She tried to pull free. He held tight. “You are the devil.” He sucked the same toe into his mouth. A tingle ran up her leg.
Her lips parted. He kneaded the foot, pressing his thumbs into the arch and moving up and down. She moaned and closed her eyes.
“Have you never had your feet rubbed?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Do not stop.”
Gabriel chuckled. He gave her foot his complete attention until she nearly forgot that they were both naked in the bath. Then he moved to the other foot and worked that one over with his expert hands.
“Women would pay you to do this,” she said, sighing. “You have a talent with feet.”
“So I’ve been told. And with other things, too.”
One eye popped open. “Such arrogance,” she grumbled. She did not want to hear about his former lovers. She was too entranced with his attention.
“Alas, arrogance is the Harrington curse.” He let go of the second foot and rubbed her ankles. Her eye closed again. “We Harrington men have always held a mysterious power over women. They cannot resist us.”
Sarah shook her head on the rim. He did hold a power over her. But she’d die before admitting the truth. His confidence was already beyond measure. “I do not care if you are the most arrogant beast ever born. Just keep with what you are doing and I wi
ll forgive your lapse in humility.”
The chuckle sounded again. “Yes, My Lady.” He kneaded from her ankles to her calves to the backs of her knees. Sarah moaned, the feeling of intense sensuality washing through her bones, over her skin. He moved up to her thighs and she knew he could do anything to her now and she’d not fight him. Her body had melted in his hands.
“If you enjoy this, I have something more pleasurable to show you.” He slid his fingertips between her legs. She tensed slightly but he gave her no time to give in to her fears. His thumb brushed the bud of her femininity and she gasped and nearly came out of the tub.
“Do not fight me,” he said and began to move his thumb. Her legs dropped against the sides of the tub. He teased her while she moaned, reaching for an escape from the torment. Just when she thought she was on the edge of something wondrous, he pulled back, stood, and stepped out of the bath.
Before she could find the words to demand an explanation, he slid fully wet into his trousers and vanished out the bedroom door.
Sarah gaped. Stunned by the turn, she could find no reason for his departure. Had she done something wrong? She was certain she had not. The only idea that made sense was that he intended to torture her and leave her wanting. But why?
Outrage like she’d never felt before grew hot in her breast. She stood and reached for the towel. Drawing it around her body, she walked to the door, jerked it open, scanned the hallway, then stomped to his door and entered without the courtesy of knocking.
Gabriel stood near the bed, dripping wet, his sodden trousers opened at the waist. “How dare you leave me so callously when it was you who came into my bath?”
A wicked grin etched his mouth. “I knew the only way to assuage your virginal fears was for you to come to my bed. This had to be your choice.” He walked over and jerked the towel off her body. “Let us finish what we started, shall we?”
He gently pushed her down on the mattress and spread her thighs. Sarah gasped again as he lowered his mouth to the still-lingering pulse between her legs. He lathed the bud until she could no longer breathe. The pleasure was intense. When she finally cried out and slumped back on the bed, she was spent.
The Wife He Always Wanted Page 16