Historical Trio 2012-01

by Carole Mortimer

  No, Diana had no regrets about her decision; it was only that seeing the betrothal in print also made Gabriel Faulkner so very real to her too. Not that there could really have been any doubts in her mind about that, either, after being held in his arms and kissed so passionately by him yesterday.

  Just thinking about that kiss had kept her awake last night long after she had retired to her bedchamber…

  Nothing in Aunt Humphries’s talk all those years ago, concerning what took place in the marriage bed, had prepared Diana for the heady sensations that had assailed her body as Gabriel had kissed and held her. The heat. The clamouring excitement. The yearning ache for something more, something she wasn’t sure of, but believed that marriage to a man of his experience and sophistication would undoubtedly reveal to her…

  Gabriel watched beneath hooded lids as the colour first left Diana’s creamy cheeks before coming back again, deeper than ever. That rosy flush was practically the same colour as the gown she wore this morning, accompanied by an almost feverish glitter in those sky-blue eyes as she raised heavily lashed lids to look across the breakfast table at him. ‘You are concerned by the word “shortly” in the announcement, perhaps?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ she dismissed readily. ‘I would like to find my sisters first, of course, but can see no reason why the wedding should not take place immediately after that.’

  ‘No?’ Gabriel looked at her wickedly. ‘I had imagined that perhaps you might wish to give your young man—I trust he is a young man?—the appropriate time in which to rush to your side and admit to having made a mistake as he proclaims his everlasting love for you?’

  Irritated colour now darkened Diana’s cheeks at Gabriel’s teasing tone. ‘He is a young man, yes…as well as a very stupid one. And even if he were to do that, I would not believe or trust such a claim.’ Her mouth—that deliciously full and tempting mouth—had firmed with resolve.

  Gabriel leant back in his chair to look across at her speculatively. That Diana was beautiful could not be denied. That she had a firmness of will could also be in no doubt. That her nature was unforgiving where this young man was concerned he found surprising. Especially considering she had accepted Gabriel’s own claim of innocence the previous day without his having produced so much as a shred of evidence to back up that claim. Except his word…

  He set his jaw. ‘Perhaps I should know the name of this young man? So that I might send him about his business if he should decide to come calling,’ he added as Diana gave him a sharp glance.

  ‘I trust I am perfectly capable of dealing with such a situation myself if it should ever arise,’ she retorted snippily.

  Gabriel was well aware of the strength of Diana’s character—how could he not be when he knew she had acted as both mistress of her father’s house and mother to her two sisters since the age of eleven?

  No, his reason for wishing to know who the young fool was who had turned away from Diana when her fortunes had changed was a purely selfish one; having secured her agreement to marry him, he had no intention of now allowing her to be persuaded into changing her mind. Firstly, because they would both be made to look incredibly foolish if the betrothal ended almost before it began. And secondly, because kissing her yesterday had shown him that marriage to her would not be the hardship he had always envisaged matrimony to be…

  Beneath the coolness, and that air of practicality and efficiency she had displayed so ably by preparing Westbourne House for habitation, Gabriel had discovered a warm and passionate young woman that he would very much enjoy introducing to physical pleasure. He certainly had no intention of allowing some fortune-hunting young idiot to reappear in her life and steal her away from under his very nose. Or any other part of his anatomy!

  Gabriel’s mouth compressed. ‘Nevertheless, you will refer any such situation to me.’

  Diana looked irritated. ‘I feel I should warn you, my lord, that I have become accustomed to dealing with my own affairs as I see fit.’

  He gave an acknowledging inclination of his dark head. ‘An occurrence that I believe our own betrothal now renders unnecessary.’

  It was Diana’s first indication of how life was to change for her now that she had agreed to become Gabriel’s wife. A change she was not sure she particularly cared for. Ten years of being answerable only to herself had instilled an independence in her that she might find hard to relinquish. Even to a husband. ‘I am unused to allowing anyone to make my decisions for me,’ she reiterated.

  Gabriel did not doubt it; it was because Diana was no simpering miss, no starry-eyed young debutante looking to fall in love and have that man fall equally as in love with her, that he could view their future marriage with any degree of equanimity. ‘I am sure that, given time, we will learn to deal suitably with each other.’

  Diana gave a knowing smile. ‘I think by that you mean, with time, I will learn to accede to your male superiority!’

  Gabriel found himself returning that smile. ‘You do not agree?’

  She shook her head. ‘I do not believe you to be in the least superior to me just because you are a man. Nor is my nature such that it will allow for subservient and unquestioning obedience.’

  Since meeting Diana, Gabriel had come to realise that the last thing that he desired in a wife was subservience or obedience. When he had told Osbourne and Blackstone a week or so ago of his plans to marry, Gabriel had assured them both that his marriage was a matter of obligation and expediency. Firstly, because he needed a wife, and, secondly, because of a sense of obligation to the Copeland sisters, because they had all been left without provision for their future when their father had died so unexpectedly. As such, subservience and obedience in his future wife had seemed the least that Gabriel could expect.

  Having glimpsed the fire hidden beneath Diana’s cool exterior yesterday, Gabriel knew that in their marriage bed, at least, he required neither of those things!

  ‘My lord…?’ Diana gave him a searching glance as the silence between them lengthened uncomfortably.

  Had she said too much? Been too frank about her character? But surely it was better for him to know the worst of her before they embarked on a marriage together, rather than learn of it after the event?

  She had certainly believed so. But perhaps she had been a little too honest? ‘I could perhaps attempt to…quell, some of my more independent inclinations.’

  ‘There is no need to do so on my account, I assure you,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye before turning to dismiss the attentive Soames, waiting until the butler had left the room before continuing. ‘Diana, I had expected to be bored, at the very least, in any marriage I undertook; it is something of a relief to know that will not, after all, be the case.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You do not think it preferable to wait and perhaps marry a woman whom you love?’

  ‘Love?’ He managed to convey a wealth of loathing in that single word.

  ‘You do not believe in the emotion?’ she asked cautiously.

  His top lip curled back disdainfully. ‘My dear Diana, I have discovered that love comes in many guises—and all of them false.’

  She could perhaps understand Gabriel’s cynicism towards the emotion when he had been so completely ostracised after being falsely accused of taking advantage of an innocent young lady. Had he loved the young lady before she had played him false?

  Yes, Diana could sympathise with him—possibly even shared his cynicism towards love. Malcolm Castle had certainly made nonsense of that emotion when he’d professed to still love Diana, but had every intention of marrying another woman!

  She sighed. ‘Perhaps you are right and a marriage such as ours, based on nothing so tenuous and fickle as love, but on common sense and honesty instead, is for the best.’

  Gabriel frowned as he heard the heaviness in Diana’s tone. One and twenty was very young for such a beautiful young lady to have formed such a pragmatic view on love and marriage. But perhaps, with the experience of her
parents’ marriage, and her young man’s recent abandonment of her, she was perfectly justified in forming that opinion. After all, Gabriel had been but twenty years old himself when he learnt that hard lesson.

  ‘Which is not to say…’ he stood up slowly to move around the table to take Diana’s hand in his before pulling her effortlessly to her feet ‘…there will not be other…compensations in our marriage to make up for that lack of love.’

  She blinked up at him as she obviously realised it was his intention to kiss her once again. ‘I—my lord, it is only nine o’clock in the morning!’

  Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. ‘I trust, my dear, you are not about to put time limitations on when and where I may make love to you?’

  Not at all. Indeed, she would dare anyone to put limitations on a man such as Gabriel Faulkner. It was only that his behaviour now deviated drastically from her Aunt Humphries’s description of what marriage would be like.

  Her aunt had led her to believe that it was usual for a husband and wife to go about their daily lives separately—for the husband that involved dealing with business and correspondence in the morning and visiting his club in the afternoon, for the wife it meant dealing with the household responsibilities, such as menus of the day, answering letters, receiving visitors and returning those visits in turn, along with needlework and reading. Evenings would possibly be spent together, either at home or attending social functions, followed by returning home and retiring to their separate bedchambers.

  On one, possibly two nights a week, the husband might briefly join the wife in her bedchamber, during which time it was the wife’s duty to do whatever her husband required of her. Aunt Humphries had been a little sketchy as to what that ‘whatever’ might entail, with the added advice that a husband had ‘needs’ a wife must satisfy, ‘silently and without complaint’…

  Luckily, Diana had some idea as to what those ‘needs’ might entail; her father had bred deer on the estate in Hampshire—no doubt what took place between a husband and wife in their marriage bed was not so very different from that process. Such an undignified business that it was not surprising her aunt had chosen not to discuss it!

  But at no time had Diana’s aunt mentioned that a husband—or, in this particular case, a betrothed—was in the habit of stealing kisses throughout the day. Most especially the type of kisses that yesterday had made Diana’s toes curl in her satin slippers!

  She straightened. ‘As I assured you yesterday, I believe I know my duty towards my future husband, my lord.’

  Gabriel’s brow lowered. Damn it, he did not wish Diana to allow him to kiss her out of a sense of duty; he wanted her to now give freely what he had taken so demandingly yesterday. ‘Gabriel,’ he encouraged huskily.

  That pulse was once again beating intriguingly in the slender column of her throat. ‘It would be improper of me to be so familiar until after we are wed, my lord,’ she said, her eyes lowered demurely.

  His jaw clenched. ‘I believe you know me well enough by now to realise that I have no care for what is considered “proper”.’

  She gave a nervous smile. ‘I am not sure—’ Her words were cut off abruptly as Gabriel lowered his head and took possession of her lips.

  Full and sensuous lips that had tempted him unbearably this past hour as Diana had first sipped her tea and then bit into a slice of buttered toast smothered in honey. He’d found himself imagining heatedly what other uses those deliciously plump lips might be put to…

  She tasted of that honey she had spread so liberally over her toast earlier, deliciously sweet, with an underlying heat that encouraged him to kiss her more deeply. His tongue appreciated the honey upon her lips before moving past that plumpness and into the hot, moist cavern of her mouth.

  There had been no shortage of women in Gabriel’s life during his years spent on the Continent: blondes, redheads, dusky-haired and dusky-skinned Italian women, young and slightly older, all experienced, and all initially intrigued by his scandalous past, but choosing to linger after once sharing his bed in the hopes of being invited to share it again.

  He had become an expert lover during those years, able to give satisfaction to even the most demanding and experienced of women. That he had never personally enjoyed anything more than the immediate satisfaction of the flesh was not the fault of any of those women; Gabriel had only allowed his physical emotions to become engaged in those trysts.

  Holding Diana in his arms, moulding the soft curves of her body against his, tasting, feeding from her lips and experiencing the sweetness of her instinctive response, brought out a gentleness in Gabriel, a need to protect that he had long thought forgotten, if not completely dead—emotions that he knew from experience could be called incautious at best and dangerous at worst. Slowly introducing Diana to the pleasures of their marriage bed, melting that cool exterior, was one thing, feeling anything more than that physical pleasure himself was something Gabriel did not intend to allow to happen. No matter how tempting the honeypot!

  Not liking the trend of his own thoughts one little bit, he swiftly removed his mouth from hers and raised his head before putting her firmly away from him. ‘I think we should stop there, don’t you, Diana?’

  Diana felt too dazed at first to wonder why he’d ended their kiss so abruptly, but as his words penetrated that daze she instantly felt the embarrassed flush that heated her cheeks. Had her enthusiasm in responding to his love-making perhaps been inappropriate in his future countess, after all?

  She stepped back, her expression becoming cool despite feeling her legs tremble slightly from the effects of that passionate kiss. ‘I believe you were the one who initiated that kiss, sir.’

  He looked down his arrogant nose at her. ‘Are you questioning my right to do so?’

  Diana suddenly realised that once she was Gabriel’s wife, she would have no right to question him about anything he might choose to demand of her. Could she bear that? Could she stand being nothing more than this man’s possession, his to do with whatever he wished?

  If it succeeded in salving her wounded pride following Malcolm’s betrayal of the love they had professed to feel for each other, then yes, she could, she thought defiantly. ‘I apologise if you feel I lacked…decorum just now,’ she said stiffly. ‘I—I am overset, I believe, and far too emotional, both from Caroline and Elizabeth’s disappearance and seeing the announcement of our betrothal this morning.’

  Gabriel felt a moment’s regret, guilt even, for what Diana evidently believed. But only for a moment—the tender emotions he had briefly felt towards her whilst kissing her were not for someone as disillusioned as he. Far better to keep some distance between them. For as much as he believed he would enjoy introducing her to all the pleasures of the flesh once they were wed, he had no wish to do so if there was any danger she might give in to romantic flights of fancy. It would only result in her knowing a worse disillusionment than she had already suffered at the hands of her fickle young man.

  Gabriel stepped away and placed his hands firmly behind his back to withstand the temptation to touch her again. ‘No doubt we will receive an avalanche of visiting cards and invitations this morning following the announcement of our betrothal.’ His mouth twisted derisively. ‘The socially polite and the simply curious, all anxious to claim they were the first to receive Lord Gabriel Faulkner upon his return to London after an eight-year absence. Needless to say, I do not expect you to accept any invitations without first consulting me,’ he added.

  Diana bristled with obvious indignation. ‘I may have lived all my life in the country, but even so I trust I know the correct way to behave. As such, of course I will not receive visitors, or accept any invitations, without first discussing them with you.’

  He gave a hard smile. ‘My request has little to do with behaving correctly and more to do with the fact that I do not care for most of society.’

  Diana was well aware of the reason for Gabriel’s dictate— ‘request’ was not at all a fitt
ing description! She also empathised with it; as the daughter of a notorious countess, Diana would no doubt come in for her own share of curiosity where society was concerned following the announcement of their betrothal. As such, she was more than happy to leave the choice of deciding which invitations they would accept or decline to Gabriel’s superior knowledge on the subject; left to her own devices, she might make a social gaffe.

  She stifled a sigh. ‘I believe I will go upstairs and check upon my aunt.’

  ‘Perhaps whilst there you might suggest it would be a good idea if she were to join us for dinner this evening?’

  Diana was aware that this was no more a ‘suggestion’ than Gabriel’s earlier dictate had been a ‘request’. ‘I will certainly enquire if she is feeling well enough to join us this evening,’ she answered coolly. She might as well start as she meant to go on; she had no intention of allowing Gabriel to simply dominate every aspect of her life, however arrogant he was.

  He frowned slightly. ‘And I suppose that is the best I can hope for?’

  ‘It is.’ Diana met his dark gaze unblinkingly.

  Gabriel gave her an appreciative smile. One thing he could say for Diana—she did not back down from any of his challenges. ‘It is my intention this morning to make discreet enquiries concerning your two sisters. I will obviously need detailed descriptions of them both…’ He listened attentively as Diana eagerly supplied him with those details. ‘Is there anything else you need to tell me before I go?’

  She looked confused. ‘Such as?’

  His mouth quirked ruefully. ‘Such as could either of your sisters have run off to be with a young man?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Diana’s denial was immediate.

  Gabriel held up his hands defensively. ‘I had to ask.’

  There were high wings of indignant colour in her creamy cheeks now. ‘My sisters may have behaved rashly by running away, but I do not believe they would have been so rash as to have totally ruined their reputations, my lord.’