by Gayle Eden
In some surreal moment, Blaise took her hand, leaned over it, his lips touching her amber glove. She managed a faint, “Captain LeClair.”
The expression on Blaise’s face when he straightened told her everything. Yes, she had accepted he would know her, the perfume, and the nuances of her voice. He did know her.
His fingers almost painfully tight on her own, Caroline felt that wave go over her, felt the start of a faint coming on while watching his mouth shape the words, anger in his expression when he uttered to Jules—clear enough for those around to hear, “Well brother, we have at least one mutual acquaintance. Should you announce your betrothal tonight, I can vouch that Lady Caroline will keep your sheets hot, if nothing else…”
“Captain!” Bordwyc barked.
“Blaise, please!” Caroline begged faintly, face red, mortified and having her hand dropped abruptly.
But as Jules was about to add something, Blaise finished with a twisted sneer, “I regret I’ve taken her virtue, so you may want to wait a few weeks before—“
Caroline slapped him. She summoned the strength from somewhere and slapped him hard before gathering her skirts and dashing off.
The blow knocked his glasses off.
Jules picked them up and handed them to him. He tried to take Blaise’s arm, to lead him out of the room, though Blaise showed every intention of leaving via the front door.
“In the study. Now!” It was the Duke, Bordwyc who ignored Jules and spoke directly to Blaise. “I don’t care how blind you are, you sonofabitch! You will explain yourself.”
As Blaise nodded abrupt, glasses on, face nothing but rigid sinew, Jules insisted, “It’s not as bad as you think, brother.” Moreover, walked with him, through the sea of shocked guests.
Coulborne muttered rather too mild for the occasion, to Ry, “Do something with the guests.”, then, followed behind the others.
So that gent with the eye patch introduced himself to Gabriella first, and then gave her a flirting wink, before he went among the guests—telling some amusing story before knocking back a brandy. He said next, “If you’re a friend of the family, stick around. If not, leave. Nothing afoot, but a bit of romance and rivalry. Isn’t that what makes the world go round?”
Watching him while debating going after Caroline, and standing near Raith, Gabriella commented, amused, “I like him.”
“He’s a cousin. Been living with Blaise.”
She glanced at Raith. “I thought Stoneleigh would perhaps tell him before…”
“So did I.” He shrugged. His dark gaze went over her face. Guests were shifting. Most were leaving though a few of the men Bordwyc had known for years hung around talking to Ry.
The music only started back up after the sound of raised voices echoed from the study at the back of the house. It sounded like all the men were arguing and shouting at once.
“You look very…healthy and handsome.”
Raith nodded slightly. “You look…more lovely than I could remember in my mind’s eye. But then…I have only lately been able to see both the past and present clearly. You were always beautiful.”
He had never said that to her before. Her throat closed and her body flushed. “I must go to Caroline.”
Raith nodded again, his gaze holding hers.
She found herself saying albeit breathless, “Don’t leave.”
* * * *
Gabriella found Caroline in her rooms. One look at the wild-eyed French maid and the scattering of hair pens, the ball gown Caroline chose so carefully tossed on the floor—and Gabriella shooed the maid out.
Caroline was not on the bed. She was in a chemise and robe—the French maid obviously having found her a bottle of whiskey and poured some in a cup. Her half-sister stood by open windows, curls tumbling down, face flushed, drinking—and after a grimace and shudder, cursing impressively.
Gabriella was much struck by the image under all the polish and poise. For once, she saw a real woman—a willowy built, feminine woman, true. One with wildly flowing strawberry hair and flushed skin. One who when she turned and spied her, had fiery passion in her eyes.
“I hate men,” Caroline rasped that over the whiskey burn. She took the last drink and turned to Gabriella after thumping the glass down. “Help me find something to wear.”
Curious, Gabriella asked, “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes.” Caroline waved her hand. “No use checking my wardrobe, there’s nothing in there appropriate." she laughed. “Not only am I not a virgin anymore, I’m also not the daughter my father thought, or the paragon Jules expected me to be. Nor the….”
“—The Captain doesn’t know. He was humiliated and hurt…”
“Yes. I know,” Caroline bit out. “So he had to humiliate me. Fine. Fine.” She threw off the robe and walked in her chemise to the seating area. “I’d imagine they are all down there—and he is telling father and Stoneleigh all the details…” Caroline stopped and held her stomach in a nauseated gesture.
Gabriella went to her and hugged her. Holding her a moment, feeling the heat, the cold, and the tremble in her, she murmured, “You’re brave, Caroline. You saw love and went after it. You felt passion and fought to hold onto it. You have nothing to apologize for. This circumstance is because the world, the duke, Stoneleigh, and yourself— live in—make it impossible for any human to have what all of us need to survive, what we deserve to feel.”
Standing back, she cupped Caroline’s face and held her gaze. “Yes. We are going to find you something to wear. you are going to comb your hair, knock back another drink if you need to—but you are going to go and face them all, and not apologize for loving and wanting your Captain. He knows enough about this world to know why—and if he doesn’t want you, your love, then he’s truly blind.”
“Stoneleigh…”
“—The Earl can take care of himself.”
Gabriella led her to the wardrobe and after taking down an ice blue gown and helping her sister in it. They combed Caroline’s hair and merely drew the front back softly with combs, letting the rest fall over Caroline’s smooth, bare shoulders.
Standing in front of the mirror, behind her, Gabriella met her gaze. “Do you want a life of passion or one of pretense? It is as simple as that. Is he worth fighting for?”
Caroline’s light blue eyes were clear. “Passion—yes. I don’t want to…No, I can’t let him go.”
Stepping back, Gabriella smiled before she poured one more shot and handed it to her. After Caroline drank she said, “Go. It is you and your life they are discussing. To bloody hell with being biddable and letting people assume. You go tell them what you want.”
Caroline hugged her before leaving, a more firm hug from a woman who looked determined, and yes, passionate in her emotions.
Walking the last of the stairs later, Gabriella stepped onto the lower hall and saw Raith was there, half seated on a ledge in the alcove.
Her hand still on the mewl post, she could see when his dark eyes regarded her.
He held his hand out. She walked that distance scarcely breathing. Their hands clasped seconds before he pulled her to stand between his legs.
Gabriella felt her breath leave. Her hand was freed moments before he had his arms around her waist, his face pressed against her ribs for moments, before his cheek rested there.
Eyes stinging, her fingers hovered above his head, then she cupped it, holding him to her like that, aware that he could feel the race of her heart but conscious of how tightly he held onto her, how the old Raith—never would have done so.
They were that way for endless moments. When he pressed his mouth there, just under her breasts, kissing through the silk of her gown, she felt and heard the shudder in him, her fingers sliding through his hair both comforting and keeping him close.
His head lifted, arms shifting to pull her so that she sat on his thigh…
“Your leg…”
He brushed his mouth over her ear, then the side of her neck. His arms
tightened their hold on her. “Is healed.” Raith skimmed his mouth across her cheek, one hand coming to tuck her face against his neck a moment.
Aware of her generous shape, her weight, Gabriella still could not help but relish this closeness, this mood….this side of Raith. Being near him awakened all her emotions, their past, the good and bad things, the healed, and unhealed. However, it also stirred her unspoken feelings for him.
Turning his head as she raised hers, he brushed his lips on her temple and leaned back. His eyes were pitch black. This time Gabriella saw how open and expressive they were, how free of shadows…
Under all the chaos of other sensations, they were also aroused. She knew it. She could not help it. Need was something intertwined with the longing to heal, to comfort, to be close, to vent—and at the same time, have a safe place to do it. All the unspoken in him and in herself did not need words. Much of it, each knew, felt, more intense and profound because of that.
“Take me somewhere…” It was she who said it.
After scanning her face, he helped her up and unfolded his frame, reminding Gabriella that though healing, he was a tall and well-honed man.
He said, “Wait here, while I speak to Ry.”
She asked one of the maids to fetch her cloak.
He had his long coat when he returned. They left, taking a coach she assumed was his father’s. He sent it back when they exited, and though few servants were about, she knew it was his father’s mansion they entered.
Raith showed her to his apartments, and Gabriella noted that though respectful, the servants did not fuss over him. They were at the rear of the house. The scent of the blooming gardens permeated the chambers when he opened windows. A lamp shone beyond the seating area at the bedside.
She removed her cloak, watching him do the same and pour wine. He had his jacket off as well by the time he handed her a glass.
Cupping his by the bulb, he drank and ran a hand through his hair. There was three feet between them, three feet of amber lit space. Nothing seemed to register beyond him, in Gabriella’s mind.
“We should have a thousand things to say to each other. To talk about…” he husked setting his glass down.
She did likewise but walked toward him, reaching up to cup those lean cheeks. “I need you.”
As if that broke something in him, Raith covered her hands and brought them down, holding them just behind her, clasped with his. He began kissing her. She felt a jolt of fire and dizzying heat. Unlike before, the desperate and lost before, his sensual mouth was silken, warm, tongue seductive, gliding through her inner mouth and over her tongue with sensual hunger.
Breathing sharp, fast, she felt him release her hands. Those hands went to his shoulders, his arms while she kissed naturally, passionately, telling him more than the words, what her passion felt like. The kiss broke enough for him to draw in his breath. Raith undid his neck cloth and collar. Her hands took over, sweeping inside his shirt, popping buttons to get to skin.
He murmured her name. They moved to the sleeping area, and beside the bed, his shirt off and her hair free of the combs. Her gown hooks undone, and then the corset and chemise were dealt with. While he took off his boots, she stepped out of the velvet pumps.
So caught up in the tight heat of want, Gabriella was in a haze as he stepped back to view her body—the lush breasts, full curves, that tumble of dark hair.
Raith glanced at her eyes before his hands cupped her full breasts, his thumb brushing the large nipples and making them shrink. After observing those hands a moment, both of them having done so, their eyes met.
“You are too beautiful for words, Tara.”
She swallowed, dizzy, heady, holding to his arms having noticed all the scars on his upper body, just before he bent his head and pushed each breast up for his suckling. She knew, had known, it would be wonderful. It was so beyond that, so sexual and erotic, and because it was Raith, so much her fantasy….Gabriella moaned and then let her head fall back, her nails digging into his upper arms.
He did not rush, Raith relished and did variations of licking, suckling, massaging so that he had her panting, moaning louder and himself breathing heavy and dark.
When he sought her mouth again, lips cool, moist, she brought her body, her breasts, against his chest, in a desperate attempt to get closer.
Raith ended the deeper kiss, breathing harder against her skin whilst he kissed her cheek and ear. He stepped back and sat her on the edge of the bed, again seeming to look over her, to savor her image before he was on his knees between her bare thighs. His hands smoothing over the supple skin of her thighs, he stared at her and let his thumbs go inward. Reaching her sex, the pad of one thumb glided in the slickness of her arousal. He brought it up, parting the curls, teasing tender skin, feeling the jolt go through her and openly fascinated with the response showing in her eyes.
“Part for me,” he murmured, deep and raspy. When she accommodated, he glided his finger in deep, holding a moment and then in and out of her while he kissed her nipples and flicked them with his tongue.
Teeth sank in her lip, she felt him urge her back, felt him lift her thighs wide and high, before his mouth was there, tongue rubbing, and lips suckling those nerves. Fingers tangled in the comforter, Gabriella arched and lifted her shapely backside into his movements. The sheer aggression in him, the intense way he laved, tasted, and even thrust his tongue in her, had the world spinning and the tight fire in her combusting in moments.
Panting, her lashes lifting, she saw him divest his breeches, and noticed his scars below too, but was stirred by the potent maleness of his body, the full thrust of his sex. Gabriella helped him as he nudged her back on the bed.
He felt exquisite between her thighs, masculine and warm.
His forearms braced at her shoulders, the head of his cock poised at her entry, Raith looked into her still pleasure filled eyes. “No pain this time.”
“It wasn’t so bad…”
His thumb over her lip stopped her speech. He began moving inch by inch inside her. “It wasn’t good either, and you haven’t the nature or the body for a less than pleasing lover.”
She was tight. Gabriella could tell. Watching his expression, she knew he was being cautious.
“You like this?”
He grunted and closed his eyes a moment. “I like it.”
She bent her knees higher on his side, helping her body and his. The slick heat of her did the rest.
She heard his groan and knew it was pleasure.
Raith began the movements, carefully, but that did not satisfy either of them. Having bit his neck and shoulder, she glided her hands down his back, low, and arched her neck to plead, “Don’t hold back. We need this. We need to….feel…”
She did not finish because he half raised, looked at her with glittering eyes, and began to move, firm, deep, in and out while his hands lifted her hips.
“Yes.”
Raith echoed that and then rasped, “Hold onto me.” He sped his movements so that there was no end to the sensations for either of them.
When he came she had the feeling it caught him by surprise.
Later, washed and laying on her stomach, Gabriella had her eyes closed. Raith was kissing her spine and playing with her hair. He had planted soft kisses up the back of her legs, over her backside and had glided his hands over that skin too.
She finally rolled and then leaned over him, taking in the quieter look of his eyes and his mussed hair. His body felt good, warmed, and his scent stirred her as much as his touch. She stared at his mouth so long it was doubtless telling. That mouth was soft, sensual, and he could do incredible things with it.
His palm went over her breast he met her gaze, and he brushed the nipple.
She felt his sex stir and harden against her thigh.
Gabriella stretched and kissed him, loose, erotic, then positioned herself astride him. With his hands on her hips, she kissed him more, still soft, sexual. By the time she lifted and too
k him inside their breathing was not steady.
“Christ,” that escaped his mouth as she began to move. Raith was lost now, taken, pleasured, and awed by the dusky skinned Gypsy who moved sensually on him. He arched, held to her hips, played with her nipples and watched through half lowered lids as she leaned her head back and undulated, moaning, whispering her pleasure in a woman’s voice, a woman’s power and need.
When he felt the climax threatening, he rolled her to her back, her legs over his shoulders, and finished with short, quick, hot thrusts that had them both groaning loud between sexual words.
They bathed and dressed. Raith intended to take her back to her father’s house. However, they were kissing again, lovers kisses now that they had been intimate. He lay her back down and pleasured her, brought her to climax again, so it was nearly dawn, when they were at last in a hack he hired.
Although they should have been tired, neither were. Sitting by the curb before going in, Raith studied her in the grey light he reached for her hand.
“I’m going to see my mother and Uncle.”
She smiled. “That’s wonderful.”
He nodded, not smiling but studying her. “I have to start over, or rather, start anew. And though part of it is beyond denying, a truth, I have to do it without…”
She finished softly, “Without someone of your past, some unfinished relationship, and guilt, whatever? You have to do it on your own.”
He nodded.
Gabriella slid up and took his hand, watching him lace their fingers. “I want that for you. For the both of us.”
He looked down, bringing her hand to his mouth a moment. “I’ve no right. I should not even voice it…I want your happiness too. But I want…you.”
He lifted his head, his pitch eyes steady. “If I say I love you, knowing my past, ours, and everything we’ve still to heal, would you believe I know how to love you? Aside from making love, Tara. I mean to be a partner and everything love means?”
Her eyes shone but she knew this conversation was important to them both. “I understand it. All the layers of it. I loved you years ago, and yet there were moments…”
She sighed and loosed her hand to touch his mouth. “I want you. In many ways, I need you. I do not feel whole without you. I want to explore all the passion, the right kind, with you. But… I want you in that place of no ghosts, no guilt, and no doubts. I want both of us—to know it is because of something more than what we have had and where we’ve been together.”