by Sara Bennett
The two older women began to remove the pins from her hair, arranging it loosely about her shoulders. “There, you see,” Elena murmured. “The natural look suits you. A wreath of flowers, perhaps. You are the goddess of the woods, Miss Dupre.”
Nothing could have been better designed to win her over. Antoinette met the women’s eyes in the mirror, and suddenly she knew this was what she wanted to do. She had changed, only she’d been afraid to acknowledge it until now. Gabriel and the events of her recent past had altered her and molded her, and the dress was the symbol of that change. She must wear it, just once, and Gabriel must see her in it.
“Enjoy yourself,” Aphrodite murmured, as if she read her mind, and smiled. “I wish you well, my dear.”
Gabriel stood in the famous salon and looked about him. The room was dazzling, with candles reflected in endless mirrors and elegant furnishings placed about the room; no doubt in normal circumstances it would have been occupied by elegant guests. A table held food, hot and cold succulent treats, while champagne was chilling on ice and waiting in sparkling glasses.
Gabriel took a sip of the champagne and surveyed the food. He was hungry, and if Antoinette didn’t join him soon, he’d have to start without her. His heart sank. Perhaps she wouldn’t come. Perhaps after all she’d been through she preferred to stay away…
At that moment the doors opened behind him. He turned, the champagne glass in his hand, and beheld an ethereal vision of sensual beauty.
She was wearing white silk, the cloth draped about her and clinging to all those wonderful curves. Her glossy brown hair was loose about her shoulders, framing her face, echoing the glow of her eyes. As she moved toward him, the gown flowed about her like mist, and he could see her naked skin. Or was that just his hopeful imagination?
“Champagne?” he offered, his eyes warm on hers as he held out his glass.
Antoinette came toward him and he tried not to groan aloud. She took the glass from him, her fingers brushing his. After she sipped, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, and Gabriel knew he was lost.
“Antoinette, you are gorgeous.”
She smiled. “So are you.”
Gabriel was wearing black evening wear with a crisp white shirt. He knew the austere look suited him, made him appear more of a gentleman than she was probably used to after his roles as the highwayman and Coombe. Or was she flirting with him? As usual she made him feel off balance.
He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry, sparrow?”
“I am.”
He filled a plate with morsels for her, before loading his own. They sat on one of the elegant couches and nibbled their food and drank their champagne. “I thought this was a party?” Antoinette said, glancing about at the splendor of the salon.
“It is. A party for two.”
She looked surprised and then resigned. “Oh.”
“Aphrodite’s treat,” he added, wondering if she was disappointed.
“Will there be music?” she said.
“Do you want to dance?” At once he was on his feet. “Will you dance with me, Miss Dupre?”
Antoinette hesitated, and then, as if making up her mind about something, she set down her plate and glass. “Yes, Mr. Langley, I will dance with you.”
He gathered her in his arms and began to waltz her around the salon. Antoinette clung to him, feet flying, the room spinning. This was perfection. Why couldn’t it have been like this the first time they met? Antoinette imagined dancing with a man and falling in love with him.
Her steps faltered.
The problem was that for her everything had happened the wrong way around. She’d given Gabriel her treasure, as Bridie called it, and then she’d fallen in love.
Gabriel’s lips brushed her temple. They were barely moving now, swaying back and forth to imaginary music. His hand was warm and firm on the small of her back, and he drew her against his body so that she could feel every muscle with her soft curves.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
She looked up, startled by the intensity in his voice.
“I love you,” he said. “I want you with me always. I can’t be without you, Antoinette.”
Emotion welled up within her as she remembered the weeks she’d spent with him, the excitement and fear, the highs and lows. It felt like someone else. Life had returned to normal now, the days planned, her tasks set out like the columns and figures in her books, away into a future that was smooth and calm as a windless sea.
But she wanted a return to the turbulence, even if it made her a little seasick.
Her eyes stung and she blinked furiously. It wasn’t fair. She had longed to get back to her home, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about the past. And him. And just when she’d convinced herself they weren’t meant to be, here he was, telling her he loved her.
His fingers brushed her cheek. He rested his brow against her hair and breathed in her scent with a sigh.
“Antoinette,” he murmured, “my darling. I’ve missed you so much. Please tell me you’ve missed me, too, or I don’t know what I’ll do. I might have to abduct you and take you back to Devon with me.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She tried to laugh but made a snuffly sound instead. “I’ve missed you, too, Gabriel.”
“Ah, that’s good.” He nuzzled her cheek, lightly brushing his lips against her skin. She turned her face blindly, and their mouths touched and clung. Her arms slipped about his neck, and he drew her in against him, holding her body pressed to his.
“I know, before, we were at cross purposes,” he went on, lifting his lips from hers. “I couldn’t understand why I always knew you weren’t the sort of woman to abide a man like Appleby.”
“And I couldn’t understand why I wanted to be with you despite knowing you were a highwayman.”
“I do love you, Antoinette,” he murmured. “Can we start again, this time without any secrets?”
She laughed and held him close. “I love you, too. And yes, please,” she said.
“Then I think we should get married.”
Epilogue
The History of the Langleys of Devon was not the sort of book Antoinette would normally pick up. She wasn’t sure why she’d done so today.
She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Twenty more minutes until her assignation in the maze with her husband. Her mouth went dry at the thought of it, and him. Antoinette opened the book at random, the words a blur, to pass the time.
Antoinette and Gabriel were very happy. Every day was a wondrous adventure, and every day she thanked whatever unlikely chance had brought them together. Although there were times when he drove her to distraction, and no doubt she him, she wouldn’t change a thing.
She blinked. There were names in the book, written in Sir John’s neat hand, and for a moment Antoinette thought she was seeing things. Dupre? She adjusted her spectacles.
“Eleanor Dupre married to Robert Langley.” The date was during the reign of King Charles II and the wedding had been celebrated here, at Wexmoor Manor.
Her wicked ancestress was called Eleanor Dupre. The woman for whom the king built Dupre House, the woman who ran away and married for love and vanished into the shadows of history.
Eleanor Langley.
Antoinette laughed; she couldn’t help it.
“Talking to yourself, sparrow?” a warm voice said behind her, and a pair of strong arms slid around her.
“Gabriel, you’ve finished?” She turned to look up.
Gabriel took the opportunity to kiss her long and well. “Yes, I’m finished with the army of restoration experts,” he said at last. “Or just about. I want Wexmoor Manor to be a crown fit for my precious jewel of a wife.”
Gabriel said such delightful things.
“I thought we were going to have a tryst,” she spoke softly, smiling into his eyes.
“We are. Why do you think I’m here?”
He took her hand and led her toward the door. Antoinette glanced back
at the open book on the table.
“What is it?”
But Antoinette only smiled. “I’ll tell you when we reach the heart of the maze,” she promised, her fingers entwined with his.
It would be appropriate. She knew Gabriel would be amused and amazed, just as she was, that their meeting hadn’t been chance after all. Their love was predestined, and if their ancestors had anything to do with it, so was their happiness.
About the Author
SARA BENNETT has always had an interest in history, and to survive a series of mind-numbing jobs she turned to writing historical romance. She lives in an old house with her husband and two children in the state of Victoria, Australia, where she tries to keep the house and garden tidy, but rarely succeeds—she’d rather be writing or reading.
You can write to her at www.sara-bennett.com (don’t forget the hyphen!) or Publicity Department, Avon Books, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022-5299.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
HER SECRET LOVER. Copyright © 2008 by Sara Bennett. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition SEPTEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780061980558
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