‘I did not hear you open the door,’ she said.
‘Perhaps you were too wrapped up in your thoughts,’ he replied, pushing off from the doorframe and advancing towards her. He poured out the ruby-red liquid into each glass and handed her one. ‘It is the ninety-eight Château Lafite. As I recall, it was your favourite.’
‘How is that possible? Bennett has been searching for that vintage for years.’
‘That’s because Bennett does not know about the bottles I have hidden away.’
‘From me?’
‘No, I simply have a few bottles left locked in my study.’
‘And you have not drunk them?’
‘The Lafite was your favourite. I had no desire to indulge until now.’
‘I thought that might have been port. I remember thinking I was quite bold when we would drink it together in our rooms,’ she replied. The wine tasted just as rich and smooth as she remembered.
‘You always enjoyed trying new things.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth as she licked the taste of the wine from her lower lip.
‘You never made me feel self-conscious.’
‘I enjoyed your enthusiasm for things I long took for granted.’ He stepped closer and poured more wine into her glass.
‘Are you attempting to get me tipsy?’
‘I thought both of us could use something to relax us.’ He took a slow drink from his glass, his eyes not leaving hers.
‘You expect me to believe you are nervous?’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘I did not say I was nervous. Apprehensive might be a better word.’
‘Because?’ Oh, she really needed this wine. He was much too close and smelled wonderful.
‘Because I want to depart from your bedchamber without having a piece of porcelain flung at my head.’
So he wanted to lay the cards on the table. That was fine with her. ‘Continue to be your delightful self and we should have no problems. I do have two requests, though.’
‘Of course, how may I be of service?’
‘Since this is a temporary reconciliation of sorts, there is no need to pretend otherwise to the ton.’
‘You wish for our accord to remain a secret.’
‘I wish to avoid the questions that will arise when our behaviour towards one another returns to its usual state.’
He studied her as if she were a complex puzzle he was attempting to decipher. ‘It may not.’
Her heart couldn’t bear for it to be otherwise. Getting closer to him would only open the wounds that were just now starting to heal. ‘I have no doubt it will.’
‘And your other request?’
She swallowed the remainder of her wine to gather the courage. ‘While we are here—’ she motioned between them ‘—I would like your word as a gentleman that you will not have any intimate encounters with other women.’
‘Here?’ he asked, purposely pretending ignorance.
Dealing with him could be so exasperating at times. ‘While we are trying to conceive a child, I would like you to refrain from bedding anyone else.’
‘I see no problem with your request. Very well.’
She searched his eyes for a clue he was being sincere. ‘Consider my request carefully. Make certain you can comply.’
He took a sip and nodded over his glass. ‘I have no doubt I can comply.’
Was he telling the truth? He had a strong sexual appetite. Olivia knew this first hand. Did that mean he planned to bed her—a lot? She poured more wine into her glass. ‘So then you will be monogamous.’
‘I will expect the same from you,’ he said, narrowing his gaze.
She had not strayed from their wedding vows—he had. Could she throw her wine in his face and still expect him to bed her? Probably not. ‘I assure you I have honoured my marriage vows.’
Gabriel looked as if he were about to say something, but instead downed the rest of his wine. He lifted Olivia’s glass out of her hand and placed it on the dressing table beside his. ‘We need to get you out of that,’ he said, looking down at her dressing gown.
This was it then. Now she would know if she could give him her body without opening up her heart. She turned away from him to avoid his gaze and prayed this would not be a mistake. Slowly she slid off her dressing gown. The warmth from his fingers as they brushed her hair forward over her shoulder made her skin tingle. Her body had changed since she’d had Nicholas. It was softer and rounder. Would he still find it pleasing?
‘At least you are not wearing enough fabric to supply all the upstairs maids with aprons.’
‘Your seductive skills are as impressive as ever,’ she muttered and could not help but grin at his laugh.
‘And yet I have only begun exercising them. Take care, you may swoon when you hear what I will say when I finally spring you from that bewitching garment.’
This time she did laugh. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the realisation that they were going to have to do this a number of times before she actually conceived—perhaps for months. The very notion made intimate parts of her flutter.
‘I am certain you will have me shaking with need,’ she teased. But when she slipped her nightrail over her head and turned around, the smile fell from her lips.
His heated gaze left her practically without breath. He took one finger and trailed a line of warmth from her ear, down her neck, across her collarbone and finally between the curves of her breasts. His eyes traced every movement of his finger. It would be impossible for him not to feel her heartbeat quicken with each area he touched.
‘You are even more beautiful than I remembered,’ he murmured, cupping a breast.
It was all coming back to her. Every touch. Every kiss. Every time she’d cried out his name. When he lowered his lips to hers and coaxed her with gentle nips to open her mouth, memories of the times they’d spent together flooded her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push images from the past out of her head. Part of her wanted to remind herself that he could not be trusted, but another part of her wanted to believe he truly wanted only her as much as she wanted only him. During this time together she would take her pleasure, but she would not allow herself to fall in love with him again.
The kiss deepened and a sense of urgency replaced the initial gentleness.
‘We both want this, Olivia.’ His words filled her mouth with his breath. ‘I do not wish to fight with you any more.’
She tasted his familiar lips, sweetened with the delicious wine. She missed this—missed him. He groaned into her mouth and she could not resist unbuttoning his banyan to feel the heat of his hard smooth skin.
While they were together, she would take as much pleasure as she could stand. Then she would lock these memories away when their time together was over. She could resist the spell of his body.
When she slid her hands up his chest, the banyan fell to the floor. He stepped closer. Their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. It had been so long. She traced the bumps of his ribs. How had a man who sat behind a desk all day remained this muscular?
As he caressed her bottom, he groaned again. Lifting her into his arms, he released her gently on the bed and his body followed hers.
‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked, trailing hot kisses along her neck.
Trying to breathe somewhat normally, she skimmed her hands along his spine and rested them at the curve of his lower back. ‘I am quite well,’ she managed to reply.
He bit gently into her neck and slid his thumb around her nipple. It was growing painfully hard and she didn’t want him to stop.
‘You feel very well,’ he rasped.
‘So do you,’ she said with a moan.
He smiled against her neck and she lowered her hand even more. His weight shifted slightly, pressing her into the mattres
s. Sliding his tongue along the upper swell of her breast, he groaned loudly as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She had forgotten how good that felt and gripped his head with both her hands. After giving her right breast exquisite attention, he kissed his way over to the left. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs and ground her pelvis into him. Then he kissed a path down to her stomach...
It was becoming difficult to remember how much she disliked this man.
He nipped at her thigh. ‘I want you ready for me.’
‘I am ready,’ she managed to say through strangled breath.
He shook his head and his soft hair tickled the inside of her thighs. Fluttering her eyes open, she met his gaze.
She struggled for air as their eyes locked and he lowered his mouth between her legs. His eyes closed momentarily, as if he were savouring his favourite dessert. He placed long, slow licks while his gaze bore into her.
The air in the room disappeared as her body responded to the amazing things his mouth was doing to her. She did not want him to stop. He continued to torture her with his mouth until she began to tremble, then she let out a loud cry as she came. His strong arms held her down, as he continued to lick and suck her. She had to push his head away to make him stop.
Her eyes would not open. Struggling to catch her breath, she felt him rise above her.
‘I believe you’re ready now,’ he whispered against her neck.
Before she could think of a response, he was sliding inside her. Her back bowed. How she had loved feeling this filled. Within moments she was meeting him thrust for thrust. He was bringing her to the edge all over again, watching her as sweat formed on his chest.
‘You feel even better than I remembered,’ he said, brushing the hair out of her eyes as he continued to thrust inside her.
She did not want to remember, did not want to be reminded of everything that happened between them up to this moment. ‘Don’t. Stop.’
His movements became more urgent.
She dug her nails into his back.
‘Hurry,’ he ground out.
He was waiting for her and that lovely gesture set her over the edge again. As he let out a loud groan, he came and soon afterwards collapsed on top of her.
Gabriel’s heavy weight was nearly crushing her. As if somehow he knew he rolled, taking her with him so her head rested against his chest. The rapid staccato of his heartbeat matched her own.
She could not move. Moreover, she did not want to.
‘Livy, you still turn me inside out.’
Oh, no, not that! Why did he have to ruin it and call her that?
She opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her—smiling that smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and lit up her world.
That smile that he had given only to her, all those years ago.
She stumbled out of bed and reached for her nightrail. Throwing it over her head, she caught his bewildered expression. She needed to get him out of this room as fast as possible. If she did not, she did not know if her heart could stand it. She pressed her hand against her lips to prevent herself from saying anything foolish.
‘Livy, what is the matter?’
Why did he have to keep calling her that? It was what he had called her when he was being all sweet years ago.
‘You need to go.’
He closed his eyes and draped his arm over his face, showing her the curve of his biceps. ‘I am tired, Olivia, and it is late. I just want to sleep.’
‘Here?’ she squeaked.
Picking up his head, he peered at her through one eye. ‘Yes, here, I have done it before. Now come back to bed.’ He closed his eye and settled into the blankets.
Now what was she to do? He was much too big to drag out of bed. She picked up his banyan and held it out to him. ‘We never agreed you would sleep here.’
He lifted his head again and eyed her. His hair was tousled and there was a slight shadow on his face from his evening whiskers, giving him a roguish quality. ‘I was not aware everything we do would be up for negotiation.’ He rolled to his side, propping his head in his hand and exposing his hard muscular chest. ‘We just had a brilliant time together, and to be truthful my legs are not quite steady at the moment. Let us not ruin tonight by arguing. Please, come back to bed.’
Olivia felt herself weakening, but if he slept here she feared it would be harder to keep him out of her heart. Especially when he was all sweet and rumpled. He eyed her expectantly.
Pushing back her shoulders, she took a deep breath. She could do this. She could sleep with him without it affecting her in the least. Many women slept with their husbands without even liking them. It was just sex, two bodies responding to one another. That was all it was. It had nothing to do with feelings of any kind.
She folded his banyan carefully and placed it at the foot of her bed. Reluctantly, she slid under the covers. If she laid on her back with distance between them, she would be fine.
Gabriel slid beside her and pulled her close. This would never work. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned on her side to get away from him, but his arm tightened as he spooned his body against her.
‘Go to sleep, Livy,’ he mumbled into her hair.
The ice around her heart melted a little bit more. Oh, good heavens! There had to be a way to resist him.
Chapter Nine
‘Mama, Mama, you won’t believe—’
There was a little voice in his dream. What was a little voice doing in his dream about Olivia? Gabriel shifted his weight and breathed in her honeysuckle scent.
‘Papa, is that you? What are you doing in Mama’s bed?’
The warm softness below him began to shift and then poke him. Gabriel tightened his arm around it to get it to stop.
‘Wake up,’ Olivia whispered sharply.
Why was she telling him to wake up? She should be telling him that she wanted to feel him deep inside her. Gabriel groaned, rubbed his whiskers against the soft linen draped over her enticing breast and cracked one eye open to the faint morning light.
And was met with his son’s curious expression an inch from his nose.
Startled, Gabriel jerked away from Olivia.
‘Hello, Papa. Good morning, Mama,’ said Nicholas from where he was standing beside the bed, playing with Olivia’s sleeve.
She turned and kissed their son. In an attempt to wake up his muddled brain, Gabriel rubbed the back of his head and stretched.
‘Your hair looks silly, Papa, and why aren’t you wearing a shirt?’
Olivia arched her brow at Gabriel, leaving the explanation to him.
‘It was very warm last night,’ he replied, rubbing his eyes.
‘No, it wasn’t. There was a fire in my room all night.’ Nicholas crawled up on the bed and sat cross-legged next to Olivia. His doe-like eyes widened with excitement. ‘Did you hear the rain? There was a mighty storm. Why are you here? Did the thunder scare you?’
She gave a small snort and glanced at Gabriel. At least she believed he was manly enough to withstand a thunderstorm without retreating to the inside of his wardrobe.
‘Your papa came to enquire after me and was too tired to return to his rooms so I let him fall asleep here.’
‘That was nice of you, Mama. What’s that?’ Nicholas asked, poking Gabriel below his ribcage.
With bleary eyes Gabriel looked down to the puckered scar from his old gunshot wound, his constant reminder of his costly mistake. ‘It’s an old fencing injury.’ One more lie in that chain of many he was forced to tell.
‘Uncle Andrew says chits like men with scars.’
‘You have spent entirely too much time with your Uncle Andrew,’ he mumbled.
Olivia traced the outline of his round scar with her delicate finger and caught his eye w
ith a curious expression.
‘Do you like Papa’s scar, Mama?’
She turned to Nicholas. ‘Would you like to see my scar?’
‘You have a scar?’ Nicholas asked with eager anticipation.
‘I was thrown from a horse.’ She rolled her sleeve up over her elbow.
Gabriel peered over and saw a jagged white line about two inches across. He had never noticed it before. When was she thrown from a horse? James should have informed him of any injury she had sustained.
Nicholas gave a low whistle. ‘Did it hurt? Did you cry, Mama?’
She ran her fingers through their son’s hair. ‘For just a bit, my love. Now up you go so your father and I can begin our day.’
‘Will you have breakfast with us too, Papa?’ Nicholas asked with a wide smile. ‘You never do and I would like that very much. I am rarely with you and Mama together. I rather like this.’
And lying there in bed with his wife and child, Gabriel realised he liked it too. They were shut away from the problems and whispers of the outside world. It felt like they were a true family and it was awfully intimate. Suddenly going back to sleep in his room and having breakfast alone held no appeal.
Olivia shook her head and began to say something when he interrupted her. ‘Of course we will take breakfast together,’ he replied, noticing his wife’s surprised expression. Was she at all happy about his announcement? ‘Run off and tell Bennett we will dine together in the breakfast room.’
Nicholas’s smile brightened his face. ‘That’s a capital idea,’ he said, before jumping off the bed and running out the door.
‘Is this part of your ritual each morning?’ He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock on the mantel. ‘My word, it is barely six o’clock!’
She laughed. ‘From what I recall you also rose with the early streaks of dawn. He does not come in every morning, but a fair amount.’
He had forgotten how sinful she looked when she had just woken up. The lids of her eyes were a bit lower and those loose tresses of her dark hair reminded him of how she looked after a rather vigorous bout of lovemaking—like they’d had last night.
UNCOMMON DUKE, AN Page 8