A Curse of the Heart

by Adele Clee

  With Gabriel, there was always an inner struggle. And she could sense those opposed feelings now: relief because they had changed the subject and an impatience to know the answer that had plagued him for so long.

  “Perhaps it could wait until tomorrow,” he said, his impatience winning the battle.

  “It cannot wait,” she said, moving to the table to pull the crystal top from the decanter before refilling both glasses. With her glass in hand, she walked over to the door. “Give me a moment and I shall be right back.”

  Rebecca returned to her chamber, leaving Gabriel to sit alone with his thoughts. Sorrow had kept the excitement at bay and the shock of knowing he had struggled all these years on his own.

  Her mind conjured an image of a room filled with glass jars, of organs bobbing about in a strange brown liquid. She wondered what sad thoughts drifted through his mind when he looked at them.

  Organs!

  In all her wild imaginings, she would never have guessed that. The fear and apprehension in his eyes made her heart ache. Perhaps he expected her to find the notion weird, to find him abhorrent. But his declaration had made her want to scurry across the table and jump into his arms, to kiss him, declare undying love and ease his torment.

  Even now, she hoped she was strong enough to bring her plan to fruition. Gabriel needed her tonight, and she would not disappoint.

  Lifting the lid from the box, she stared at the emerald-green gown; put her hand up through the diaphanous material, which without the modesty of a chemise and petticoat was completely transparent.

  Her mother had worn it respectably. Thanks to Madame Coulter, the hole was unnoticeable, and Rebecca would wear it on its own. Sinfully. Her naked body visible, and draped in an emerald shimmer.

  In a quick flurry of activity, she undressed. Her hands trembled as she let the material glide down over her bare skin. Despite drinking more claret than usual, she swallowed what remained in the glass, let the warmth infuse her body as she pulled the remaining pins from her hair.

  Nerves held her at the chamber door.

  What was she thinking; she was a novice, unskilled in seduction? How would she know what to do? Then she thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be too difficult, not if she followed her heart, not if she let desire work its magic.

  With that in mind, she crept along the corridor and lingered in the doorway. Gabriel was still sitting in the chair, cradling his glass, his head bent low as he examined the blood-red liquid, swishing it around and waiting for it to settle.

  Sucking in a breath, she tiptoed into the room. “In my excitement, I couldn’t help but try it on.”

  She had to purse her lips when he glanced up, as his eyes grew wide and raced over every inch of her body. She noticed him swallow and watched his mouth open and close as he struggled to speak.

  “I … I see you saved the best until last,” he finally said, moistening his lips.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, her tone husky as his gaze fell to her breasts, to the perky nipples that were so pleased he approved.

  “To say I like it would be something of an understatement. This is by far the best surprise of the day.”

  “Come,” she said, taking him by the hands and pulling him to his feet.

  He drew her into an embrace, his fingers skimming the curve of her hip, causing the sheer material to tickle and tease her sensitive body.

  “No,” she whispered as he lowered his head to claim her mouth, “not yet. Tonight we will do things a little differently.”

  He raised a mischievous brow, intrigue flashing in his eyes, banishing the pain and sorrow. “That sounds interesting.”

  A pang of doubt flared, and she tried her best to ignore it. “I can promise you it will be,” she said taking his hand and leading him down the dimly lit corridor, aware that the view from behind was utterly scandalous.

  She led him into her chamber, stopping to lock the door before pulling him closer to the bed.

  “So, now I’m your prisoner, what do you intend to do with me?” The tone of his voice suggested he was as eager as she to play these games, and Rebecca wanted nothing more than to please him.

  “Don’t worry,” she laughed, “nothing torturous, but I am going to decide what happens. I am going to seduce you, and you are going to stand there and let me.” Her voice sounded confident now, like the voice of a seasoned courtesan.

  Gabriel’s ravenous gaze fell to her breasts. “Madam, consider me seduced,” he said and giving a low bow, added, “but I am forever your humble servant. You may do with me what you will.”

  Desire burst forth in giant waves, crashing through her body, almost sweeping her off her feet. She had managed to bring him this far, all she needed to do was focus. Think. No, not think, feel. What did she want to do to him? What would he like her to do?

  Feeling wickedly sinful, she ran her hands down the front of the thin material, a gentle caress that fluttered over her hips, over the soft curve of her stomach. “I suppose I should wear a chemise under this,” she said as her hand crept higher, “and stays to give me some lift just here.”

  Gabriel sucked in a breath. “I find I like it just the way it is.”

  “You do? Then perhaps I could wear it to my next ball.”

  “You’ll only ever wear it in my bed,” he said devouring her with his heated gaze.

  Rebecca loved seeing him like this, so devilishly handsome, so carefree, so aroused. “I’m going to touch you, Gabriel, but you must promise not to touch me until I allow it. Can you make such a promise?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “Oh, I promise. I promise to do whatever I’m told.”

  “Good,” she said with some authority, “take off your boots.”

  He obliged, and she came to stand in front of him. Her fingers crept up the front of his waistcoat, and she undid the buttons. Pushing it back off his shoulders, she moved to work on his cravat while he simply stood and watched her.

  She yanked his shirt from his breeches, ran her hands up over the hard planes, the heat from his skin scorching her palms. Standing on her tiptoes, she lifted his shirt up over his head and pressed her body into his; rubbing gently against his bare chest as ripples of pleasure pulsed through her.

  Gabriel was true to his word and didn’t touch her, but she heard the growl in the back of his throat, watched him lower his head and inhale the scent of her hair.

  The sight of him stole her breath: his broad, muscular shoulders, the dusting of dark hair on his chest, the perfectly formed muscles in his abdomen. It took every effort not to jump on him, ravage him, sate her desire and consummate her love. Instead, she circled him slowly, placing kisses on his upper arm and across his back, as her fingers trailed a seductive line in hot pursuit.

  “Gabriel,” she whispered, coming round to kiss the small dark nipple, flicking her tongue over the peak when he sucked in a breath. “You have the body of a Greek god,” she hummed moving to the other side, gathering the courage to bite, nip and lick the bronzed skin that tasted so divine.

  The passion burning inside drove her forward. And so she stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his, her fingers following the trail of dark hair down to the band of his breeches. His breathing grew ragged, her head dizzy from the wine, from the feeling of euphoria and she let her hand wander lower down to the fall of his breeches, rubbing against the evidence of his arousal.

  “Holy hell,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Tell me I can touch you.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Not yet,” she said softly, and she ran her tongue over his lips, penetrating the moist line until she was inside his mouth. As her hand stroked him, she continued to explore, her tongue tempting, teasing, eliciting a response only to pull away.

  “When I said you would be the death of me, I was damn well right. How much longer?”

  Rebecca liked this game; she liked having him at her mercy. She liked seeing the pleasure on his handsome face. “Remove your breeches,” she demanded, “I wa
nt you naked.”

  He cursed as he stripped off every stitch and then stood before her, hard and glorious.

  Her mind raced back to the erotic images stored in the crate, to the ancient Egyptian papyrus she’d found rather enlightening. And with that in mind, she pushed him back until he fell onto the bed.

  Gathering up the diaphanous material, she pulled it up over her head. Her body was ready for him, aroused beyond anything she had felt before, and she climbed over him to straddle his beautiful body.

  His eyes widened as she took him in hand, as she directed him to the place that throbbed and ached for his touch. “Not yet,” she whispered determined she would do the claiming, and his hands fell obediently, balling the counterpane into his fists as she lowered herself down slowly.

  “Oh, God,” he panted as his head fell back, his eyes flying open when she took the whole length of him with a low pleasurable hum.

  She could have stayed like that forever, feeling full, feeling happy, but the desire in her belly compelled her to move, even though she wasn’t sure how.

  Guessing that the principle was the same regardless of the position, she lifted herself up and then sank back down. She knew she had done something right as he muttered a sweet curse and whispered, “Do it again.”

  As she found a rhythm, he folded his arms behind his head and watched each delicious slide. It was shocking, sinful, so wonderful that she quickened the pace. Feeling the coil inside tighten, her movements grew wild and frantic. “Now,” she breathed, already halfway to Heaven.

  With a growl, he sat up, grabbed her round the waist and held her tightly against him as he flipped her onto her back. His movements were just as frantic, thrusting hard and deep as she wrapped her legs around him and clawed at his shoulders. She threw her hands behind her head and let him take her; let him ride her until she felt as though she was flying. His hands grasped hers, and he held them there, palm to palm, their fingers woven together, the bed banging against the wall as they found their glorious release together.

  Chapter 21

  Rebecca woke to the sound of Gabriel’s deep, rhythmical breathing and cuddled into the warm hard body beside her, desperate to keep last night’s dream alive.

  The night had been spectacular.

  He was magnificent.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly love him more, he did something or said something to make her heart swell. She longed to tell him, and almost blurted it out during the throes of passion, when her mind and body shook with a need only he could sate. When she knew there would never be another, only him.

  Feeling desire spark again and remembering how glorious it felt to join with him, she glanced up at his closed lids before peering under the sheet to study the masculine form she found so intriguing.

  He felt like marble encased in soft silk. His body had a potent scent, an addictive essence that made her want to rain kisses along his torso, taste the skin stretched taut across his abdomen, to delve lower as she wondered what it would be like to take him in her mouth, to have the power to —

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  His languid voice startled her, and she felt her cheeks flame.

  “Yes. I mean no. It’s the spider,” she said lifting her head and finding the courage to look at him. “I thought I felt it crawling up my leg and panicked, thinking it had found a way in.”

  “The spider,” he repeated, his eyes alight with amusement. “Then let me offer my assistance.”

  Without further comment, he dived under the sheet until his head was at her toes. “Did it do this?” he asked, and she felt a light tickling starting at her ankle and running up to the top of her thigh. “Or was it this?”

  “Gabriel,” Rebecca squealed from the shock, from the excitement, from the pleasure of having him touch her again.

  He settled between her legs as his head popped out from under the sheet. “I can’t find the spider,” he said, rubbing against her in such an intimate way she almost swooned. “But I think I know of a way to distract your mind.”

  Without another word, he claimed her mouth; moments later he claimed her body and let her relive last night’s erotic dream.

  An hour later, she sat on the stool in front of the mirror trying to style her hair. But the sight of Gabriel’s firm buttocks, as he climbed out of bed, was too much of a distraction.

  “What are your plans for today?” she asked believing the conversation would occupy his mind enough to make his movements slow, less hurried.

  “I shall return to Hanover Square,” he said dragging up his breeches and she felt a pang of disappointment. “I need to wash, dress and collect a few things if I’m to stay with you again tonight.”

  The word tonight held a wealth of promise, and she had to curb her excitement. “I have a few things to do, but I shall be perfectly safe during the day. Perhaps if you came back sometime after six,” she said not wanting to rouse his suspicion and knowing it would give her enough time to accomplish her task.

  He turned and regarded her with a solemn expression that was so unlike the man who had ravished her in her bed. “On the subject of safety, have you considered the possibility it was not one of the Wellfords who destroyed your mother’s portrait?”

  “It is not destroyed, Gabriel, just a little damaged, that’s all,” she said with a weak smile. “Besides, I’ve not had a chance to think of anything as my mind has been somewhat distracted.”

  He did not look the least bit guilty and instead raised an arrogant brow. “I’d get used to it, as I’m sure you’ll be suffering from a similar predicament later this evening.”

  Good, she thought, as desire unfurled in her belly. She wanted him to push the past from his mind. She wanted him to focus on the future.

  “If we stand any chance of moving beyond the door of this chamber today, I suggest we change the subject. In answer to your earlier question, I am confident George did not damage the painting. As for the other two, I have no idea what they are capable of.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head and a tiny groan escaped from her lips.

  “Well, it was not Alexander, either,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  Gabriel paused. “I believe he’s away in Italy, probably painting angels and cherubs and frittering away his inheritance.”

  Rebecca raised her chin. “Oh, I see. That only leaves Freddie. Now I think about it, the men in the museum had been drinking. And I do remember Freddie being rather inebriated at the Chelton’s Ball. Perhaps it was simply a drunken prank. Perhaps his accomplice didn’t know the sentimental value of the portrait.”

  Judging by the look on Gabriel’s face, he did not believe that any more than she did, which reminded her she really should try loading the pistol.

  “What about the gentlemen at the ball, the ones you refused to dance with? Did you get the sense they felt slighted in any way?”

  She shook her head, dismissing the shiver running up her spine as she remembered the lecherous looks. “No, not at all.”

  She caught his troubled gaze in the mirror, saw the cogs turning and wondered what he was thinking.

  “You’re probably right,” he said, “I’ll wager Freddie had something to do with it. No doubt guilt will plague him until he feels forced to confess.”

  “I’m certain of it,” she lied. The look of panic in his eyes was unmistakable. She would do more than try to load her pistol; she would carry it with her wherever she went.

  Gabriel strode over to her and placed a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’ll see you later, around six. Will you have any more surprises for me?”

  Only one, she thought, knowing he was not going to like it. “You mean you’re hoping I will seduce you again.”

  Gabriel laughed, although it failed to reach his eyes. “Hoping, no. Praying, yes.”

  “Then I shall rummage through the crate of erotic etchings in the hope of finding inspiration,” she said with a coy smile.


  As she watched him walk out of the door, she hoped he would still desire her when she told him what she had done, or more precisely, where she had been.

  Rebecca took a hackney to Bedford Square, relieved to find George Wellford at home and, after a brief absence, Winters returned to escort her into the study.

  George stood to greet her but did not walk around the desk. “Rebecca. What a pleasant surprise.” He looked beyond her shoulder. “Are you alone?”

  It was an odd question. No doubt he assumed Gabriel accompanied her everywhere. “Of course,” she said glancing at the oak cabinets lined with books and imagining her father rifling through them. “Who else were you expecting?”

  “No one.” George shook his head numerous times and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Only the last few times we’ve met, Mr. Stone is often trailing behind, barking and snapping at your heels like an annoying little terrier.”

  Rebecca pulled off her gloves, sat down and feeling rather defensive said, “Mr. Stone has been extremely kind and considerate to me, my lord. Annoying is certainly not a word I would use to describe him.” Indeed, the words handsome and sinful with a wicked tongue sprang to mind.

  “You’re right,” George replied with a dismissive wave of the hand, “it was not a very good description. Perhaps a frustrated little terrier is more accurate.”

  Rebecca looked down her nose at him and huffed. “I did not come here to discuss the character traits of dogs. But I did come here to talk to you about Mr. Stone.”

  George sat up in his chair. “Has he declared his intentions?”

  “Of course not.”

  He looked disappointed. “Would you like him to?”

  “No!” she said, lying for the second time in one day. “Perhaps you should stop asking questions and listen. You’re starting to sound like an old matron desperate to hear the latest gossip.” He accepted her criticism and conceded by gesturing for her to continue. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find Mr. Stone’s sister and her mother. I’m assuming they live in London and thought I would pay them a visit.”