by Craig, Emma
Damnation, why couldn’t she be cold and calculating? She looked cold and calculating. She was forever putting men off with her frigid presence. It wasn’t fair that her insides and her outsides should tell such different stories.
But that was stupid thinking. As Sophie had known for years, nothing in life was fair. She did manage what she hoped was a small, winsome smile for Gabriel’s sake.
He shook his head, as if in wonder. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sophie. I suppose you already know that.”
Actually, she hadn’t known anything of the sort. Rather than say something that might commit her either to vanity or naiveté, Sophie said, “I’m glad you think so.” True. That was true. Perhaps if she stuck to the truth, she’d be all right.
Stupid. Of course, she wouldn’t be all right. If she were to tell the truth, she’d admit to being scared to death, not to mention using Gabriel in an underhanded manner.
She saw him swallow. Good. She didn’t want to be the only one disconcerted this evening.
“May I help you? I’ve always wanted to stick my fingers in your hair.”
She lifted her eyebrows. The mirror reflected a cool, calm, collected, and quite lovely, woman, offering a vaguely flirty expression to someone whom she couldn’t see in the mirror. Maybe she’d better move, before she took to staring into the wretched mirror to critique her performance. She took a step away from the chair where she’d been standing. “Of course. I’d like that.”
He came to her with the grace of a stalking panther. Sophie didn’t shrink back and was proud of herself. Instead, she held out the gold and garnet necklace she’d just unwound from her hair. The chain dripped through her fingers and flung light from the lamp against Gabriel’s dark coat. The way the lamplight played on the jewels brought an image of flickering starlight to Sophie’s mind. Sparkling dots played over his face and body. Magic drops, thought she.
He didn’t take the necklace, but laced his fingers through hers so that the necklace twined around them both. As soon as he touched her, the magical sensations began again. Sophie resigned herself to them.
“Let me help you take the pins out.” His voice was husky.
Tilting her head slightly, Sophie murmured, “Of course.”
“Your hair’s like silk.”
She didn’t respond.
He didn’t release her hand, but worked with his other one, searching for hairpins, which he withdrew carefully and set on the night table. Slowly, he moved from in front of her, to beside her, to in back of her, making sure he didn’t twist her arm unpleasantly. When he stood behind her, he kissed the back of her neck.
Sophie wasn’t expecting it, and she blasted near swooned in rapture. She heard her own sharp intake of breath, and wished she’d controlled herself better.
But this was astonishing. Sophie didn’t remember feeling like this the other time. But then, she’d been so young—and so scared.
“Here, let me put this thing down.” Gabriel released her hand and consigned the necklace to the night table. “Ah, that’s better.”
It certainly was. He’d taken out all of her hairpins, and now thrust both of his hands into the mass of her hair and brushed it out with his fingers. “Your hair is gorgeous, Sophie. Not many women have blond hair, you know. Not naturally blond, like yours.”
“Is that so?” Her voice remained steady, which surprised her a lot. The rest of her was quivering and palpitating like jelly in an earthquake.
He didn’t answer, but pressed kisses onto the exposed flesh of her shoulder. Sophie’s heart filled with elation so suddenly, she nearly fainted. This felt so good. Gabriel felt so good. She belonged here, in his arms. With him. They made magic together. Already, the room was filling with the strange mystical incense that only they could create together. The sweet, spicy fragrance of their magic hung in the air. Sophie, no stranger to magical phenomena, recognized it for what it was, and gave up the last fragment of her iron restraint.
Whatever lay in store for her—and she knew in her bones that her life would never be the same after tonight—she wasn’t going to hold back. Not now. She turned in Gabriel’s arms, took his face between her hands, and drew his lips to hers. He groaned softly, and her entire being throbbed with longing.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel was a more skillful lover than Sophie’s first, long-lost love. Or perhaps she was simply old enough to enjoy this activity now. Back then, she’d been too young and too worried to give herself up to enjoying her body. And his.
His lips possessed hers with a passion Sophie had dreamed about but never expected to experience. Her hand slipped into his hair and she ran her fingers through it much as he’d run his through hers. She loved his hair. She loved his body.
God help her, she loved him.
She knew she’d better not dwell on that particular truth, or she’d be done for. Worse, she might allow her love for him to hold her back from what she planned to do tonight. It was possible that Gabriel would never forgive her for it, and the notion almost made Sophie change her plans. She didn’t; she’d waited too long for vengeance to stop now.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he whispered as he brushed kisses down her throat and chest, to where her bosom swelled above the dark green satin of her gown. She would forever consider this dress one of her wisest purchases.
Because she didn’t have any idea what to say, she murmured, “Mmmm.”
“When you came through that station door and marched across the lobby, I thought a queen had come to Texas. You looked so damned out of place there.”
How fascinating. “Did I?” She hoped he’d continue along these lines. She’d never been told what kind of impression she made on the general public. Not that Gabriel was the general public. At the moment, he was making magic on her body with his lips and hands, which had found their way to her back and were stroking her slowly, slowly.
“You did. You scared poor old Henry to death.”
“He’s a stupid man.” It was becoming difficult for her to concentrate on the conversation. His hands were now fumbling with the buttons on the back of her dress. Thank God.
“Very stupid. Not like us.”
“No,” she whispered. “Not like us.”
“Why do they make these buttons so damned small?”
“You’re doing fine. Keep going.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing less than a bullet to the brain could stop me now.”
Sophie was very glad to hear it, although she wished he hadn’t brought bullets into the conversation. The word shattered the atmosphere momentarily and dispersed the magical aura, like a sudden breeze dissipating a fog. She had to fight to get her mental balance back. Fortunately, it didn’t take long, and soon the small tear in the magical spell they were weaving had mended itself.
“Ah.” Gabriel sighed happily when the last button slipped through its hole and the creation Sophie had worn this evening with his seduction in mind slid away from her shoulders. “That’s much better.”
Carefully, he pushed the satin down her arms. Sophie watched him watch her, and her heart thumped out a fantastic cadence in her bosom. He wanted her. Oh, he really, really wanted her. This was no heartless joke on his part. He desired her body.
The heartless part was on her side.
She told herself to cease that line of thought and concentrate on physical sensation. It wasn’t hard to do.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, buzzed like a chant in Sophie’s brain. Perhaps this was a new beginning for her.
No. Her new beginning would happen after Ivo Hardwick lay dead.
Stop thinking this instant, Sophie Madrigal, she commanded herself severely. If you think, you’ll ruin everything.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” Gabriel said in a gravelly voice.”And I’ve daydreamed about it. You’re on my mind day and night, Sophie. Day and night. You’re so damned beautiful.”
He had pushed the dress down so that it now lay puddled around
her feet. She stepped out of it and stood before him in her corset, pantaloons, and chemise. She should be embarrassed, but Gabriel’s words of patent adoration—of her sexual allure, if nothing more—helped to relax her. She had planned and prepared for this, and it was happening now. Her plan was working beautifully. Better than she’d anticipated, actually, because she hadn’t believed she’d enjoy it.
She’d been wrong. Making love with Gabriel, so far, was a thrilling experience. She stooped to pick up her dress and lay it over the back of a chair. When she turned again, she heard Gabriel suck in a breath.
“You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”
Since she had no experience in these matters, at least not as an adult, she merely stood before him, feeling exposed and vulnerable. But Gabriel Caine, who, she feared, was one of the few men in the world who could hurt her if he chose, didn’t seem to be in a critical mood this evening. His eyes had gone from warm to hot and hungry, and he licked his lips like a starving man being presented with a succulent steak.
He walked slowly over to her, lightly gripped her arms, and stared at her until she got fidgety. Was he finally realizing she was too fat? Was he deciding that she wasn’t so much to look at without her clothes covering all of her flaws? Sweet heaven, she wished he’d do something; she was going to snap right in two if he kept staring at her this way.
“Perfect,” he murmured so softly that she almost didn’t hear him. “You are absolutely perfect.”
Good Lord, really? Did he mean it? Or was he only suffering from an excess of sexual frustration? The bulge in his trousers was enormous; Sophie spared a moment to be grateful she was no longer a virgin. She didn’t want to go through that again; it had hurt.
One thing she knew for sure, and that was that the longer she stood here undressed and he kept his clothes on, the more nervous she was going to get. She whispered, “You have far too many clothes on, Gabriel,” and began unbuttoning his jacket.
“Let me.” He took a step back, and kept his greedy gaze fixed on her as he ripped his jacket and shirt off, flinging his collar, cuffs, and tie onto the floor as if he didn’t care a bean about them. The undershirt went next, and Sophie’s lips parted when she saw his naked chest and arms.
“My goodness.” He was built like a Hercules—or, at any rate, what Sophie thought a Hercules should be built like. He’d done some hard physical work in his life, or he’d not have those wonderful muscles on his arms or that flat, corded belly. His broad chest was a work of art.
Through the delicious magical incense, Sophie walked to him. She wanted to feel his skin. She wanted to feel the hairs on his chest. She wanted to join with him, to become one with him.
She didn’t want to hurt him.
Oh, but that was silly. He might be annoyed with her, but surely he wouldn’t be hurt. Again, she told herself to stop thinking or she’d spoil everything.
“You’re a very handsome man, Gabriel Caine.”
“Glad you think so.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, playing with her tongue, and pressing his engorged sex against her thigh. She rubbed against him, thrilled that she should have caused this reaction in him. He was no innocent, like her. He was an experienced man of the world. And he wanted her.
“Sophie, I can’t wait any longer. I have to see you.”
Oh, dear. She hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. She’d find out in a very few seconds, since he was now lifting her chemise over her head.
“Let’s get this thing off.”
“You already did.” She smiled, because he was so eager.
“Yes. I did.” He shook his head in what appeared to be genuine wonder. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
Sophie peeked down at herself. The corset she’d bought today lifted her breasts and barely covered the nipples. The dark fabric contrasted starkly with her pale skin. It was rather a revealing number, probably not much purchased by proper females. It was the first corset Sophie, who generally loathed corsets, had liked. She saw Gabriel lick his lips again, and decided he liked it, too.
In a voice that was remarkably unsteady for so experienced a man, Gabriel said, “Now the corset.”
“You can unlace it for me,” she murmured, turning so her back was to him. She’d intentionally not laced it tightly. She didn’t want Gabriel to think she’d tricked him into this by using artificial means to change her shape.
“God, my hands are shaking.”
“Are they?”
“Yes.” He lifted them and showed her. “See what you’ve done to me, Sophie? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
She smiled over her shoulder at him as he worked on the corset laces.
“Probably.” She actually was ashamed of herself, not for the reason Gabriel expected, but for using him to achieve her goal. It was underhanded, although Sophie reminded herself that the means would more than justify the ends.
As the corset fell to the floor, Gabriel’s hands smoothed their way from her back to her naked breasts. He pulled her to him and kissed the sensitive hollow behind her ear as his hands covered her bosom. Sophie figured she ought, by this time, to be prepared for the exquisite sensations he created in her body, but she wasn’t. A low moan escaped her. This felt so good.
Very gently, Gabriel turned her so that they faced each other again. His gaze practically ate her up. For the first time in her entire life, Sophie felt a lick of gratitude that her breasts were firm and well shaped and didn’t sag. She’d been so used to thinking of her sexually attractive feminine attributes as detrimental to her mental health, that this surprised her.
“Good Lord, Sophie, you’re perfect. Perfect.” His tongue flicked her left nipple, and Sophie almost died then and there. Then he took as much of her breast as he could into his mouth, and she decided she’d already died, and this was heaven.
With a movement so quick it startled her, Gabriel hooked his hands under her pantaloons and tried to tug them off.
“Wait,” she said, her own voice unsteady. “You have to untie the tapes.”
“Damn. Where are the damned tapes?”
His excitement and clumsiness made her laugh. “Here. I’ll do it.”
“Thank God. I’ll take these off.”
He was referring to his trousers, and Sophie watched the revelation of his legs with great interest—at least as much interest as he was displaying to the revelation of her own legs. His legs were long and thickly muscled, dark brown, and hairy. Hers were long and plump and soft and white, and Sophie hoped he wouldn’t think them too plump.
“You know what you look like, Sophie?” His voice wobbled.
She shook her head, feeling—not embarrassed, but exposed, she guessed. “No.”
“You look like a painting one of those old masters did. You look like somebody decided to create the perfect woman, and you’re it.”
Good heavens, did he mean that? She didn’t ask, considering such restraint in the manner of self-preservation under the circumstances. If he didn’t mean it, she didn’t want to know. “Thank you.” She almost added that she’d been afraid he’d believe her to be too fat, but some merciful strain of common sense dissuaded her before the fatal words could leave her lips.
His underwear slid down his hairy legs next, and Sophie gaped at the masculine tool thus revealed. It was as long, thick, and strong as Sophie might have expected had she dared to expect anything. But she hadn’t. And she was amazed.
He must have caught a hint of her sudden uncertainty, because Gabriel came to her, with his hand held out. “Don’t be afraid, Sophie. This is going to be a grand mating. Trust me.”
Oddly enough, she did. Almost. She took his hand and went with him to the bed. He yanked the covers back.
“I’m going to make this special for you,” he promised. “And for me. God, it’s going to be special for me.”
It would be special for her, too. It would be the first time in almost a decade she’d made love with a man. Gabriel sat on the
bed and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her as he fell onto his back, and she followed. This was it. She was going to know how it felt to be loved as a woman.
She could pretend, just this once, that she was with a man who loved her. Sophie knew she was treading on dangerous ground with that particular pretense, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. It sometimes seemed to her that the only thing she’d ever wanted in life was someone to love her and someone she could love back.
The gods of something-or-other had given her Joshua for a few short years, but that had been the unkindest joke of all. Sophie’s life had been complete for a very tiny span of time, and then Ivo Hardwick had blown a gaping, bloody hole in it. She’d lost her fragile peace in the blink of an eye. Ivo Hardwick had snatched it from her as carelessly as if he’d swatted a fly.
And now, this evening, she had a chance to pretend that Gabriel loved her; that he was taking her to his bed not because he was a man and men were indiscriminate, but because he cherished her. As she cherished him. Surely, as long as she knew she was pretending, this couldn’t hurt her.
At the moment, he acted as if he cherished her. “Ah, Sophie, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve waited for this.”His hands were surveying her body in a way Sophie hadn’t dreamed was possible. Everywhere he touched her seemed to glow with pleasure and warmth.
“It couldn’t have been too long,” she said as she used her hands to good effect, too. “We haven’t known each other very long.”
“Long enough.” He had begun feathering kisses over her breasts as his hand stroked over her stomach.
“Long enough,” she agreed. Because she was intensely curious, she allowed her hands to wander over his body. His skin was warm to her touch. And hairy. He was ever so much hairier than she—which made sense. She loved the differences.