Gabriel shuddered again. "Go ahead. Sink your little claws into me. God knows I have sunk myself so deeply into you I may never recover."
Phoebe swallowed quickly. "I think that is far enough," she said in a small voice. "Perhaps we should stop now."
"I could not stop now if the earth opened up and swallowed me alive." Gabriel eased himself partway out of her and then pushed slowly, relentlessly back into her. "You feel so incredibly good, my sweet. Nothing has ever felt this good."
Phoebe kept her legs wrapped around Gabriel's waist. The sensual spell she had been under earlier had been shattered. She was uncomfortable but not in any real pain. It was a very strange sensation having Gabriel inside her like this. He was obviously finding pleasure, however, and she loved him too much to deny him the satisfaction he sought.
"Hold me." Gabriel's voice was raw. "Hold me, Phoebe. I need you."
She tightened her arms around him, clinging to him, offering herself up to him until he suddenly gave a muffled shout and went absolutely rigid above her. The muscles of his back and buttocks were like steel beneath his skin as he pumped himself into her.
Then he collapsed along the length of her.
For a long while Phoebe lay quietly beneath Gabriel and listened as he recovered his breath. She stroked his back slowly and felt the dampness there. He was like a stallion after a hard race, she thought.
Her stallion.
After a while Gabriel groaned and eased himself reluctantly out of her. He rolled to one side, put his arm across his eyes, and gathered her against him.
"Next time it will be better for you, Phoebe. I promise."
"It was not bad this time," she said honestly. "Rather odd, but not bad."
He chuckled weakly. "Next time you will scream with pleasure. You have my oath on it. I shall make a quest out of the business and I shall not rest until I have successfully completed it."
Phoebe smiled and folded her arms on top of his damp chest. "I would never do anything so unladylike as to scream."
"Wait and see." He took his arm away from his eyes and threaded his fingers through her tangled hair. "The fire in your hair burns just as hot in the rest of you. You are an amazing creature, madam wife."
"Am I?"
"Most definitely." He closed his eyes again. "We shall rest for a few minutes and then we'll get dressed and go downstairs to my bedchamber."
"I like it up here," Phoebe said.
Gabriel did not open his eyes. "I have no intention of spending the rest of my wedding night on the floor of my study."
But he was asleep within a few seconds, his arm still locked around Phoebe.
She lay looking at him for a long while, vaguely aware of a host of new impressions. There was some soreness between her legs and the musky scent of his maleness was on her. She felt sticky and warm and a little restless.
So this was what it was like being married. She could deal with it, Phoebe decided. She rather liked the warm intimacy of it all, even if the actual act of lovemaking was nothing to get excited about. The preliminaries were certainly quite pleasant. But the real joy in the thing was the glorious knowledge that Gabriel was now hers.
She was married to the man she loved and he clearly loved her, even if he did have trouble saying the words. Many women, she knew, were not so lucky. For most people marriage was a practical matter entered into for the sake of property, social position, and inheritances.
She was one of the rare, fortunate women in her world who had married for love. And to think she had almost spoiled everything this morning by running off. Perhaps Gabriel had a point when he called her reckless.
Phoebe stretched carefully, aware that she was getting stiff. Gabriel's arm slid off her breast. He did not waken. The man was obviously exhausted. He'd had a hard day, to say the least.
She sat up slowly and gazed around the study. She was wide awake and strangely alert. The last thing she wanted to do right now was sleep. The contents of Gabriel's bookshelves beckoned.
She rose carefully from the quilt and slipped into the white lawn nightgown she had brought with her. Then she went over to the nearest bookcase.
She studied the row of leather-bound volumes behind the glass and was very impressed. When she reminded herself that this was only a small portion of his magnificent collection, she shook her head in amazement. One of the pleasures of being married to Gabriel, she thought smugly, was that she now had access to his library.
She stood on tiptoe to read the spines of the next row of books. The breath went out of her lungs when her gaze fell upon a familiar-looking volume. She stared, unwilling to believe her eyes. But there it was, inscribed in gilt: The Lady in the Tower.
It was her copy. She was almost certain of it.
Stunned, Phoebe glanced back over her shoulder at Gabriel. He had not moved, but his eyes were open now. He watched her, his expression unreadable in the flickering glow of the fire.
"I told you that I would complete the quest," he said quietly. "I promised to see to it that you found your copy of The Lady in the Tower before the end of the Season."
Phoebe turned slowly to confront him. "You found it but you neglected to tell me? Gabriel, I do not understand." She brightened as the obvious truth dawned on her. "Wait. It was to be my wedding gift, was it not?"
"Phoebe, listen to me."
But Phoebe was certain she knew what had happened. "What a wonderful surprise. I am so sorry I ruined it for you, but never fear. I am thrilled. Where did you find it? Who was the owner?"
He sat up slowly, heedless of his nakedness. The firelight danced on his broad shoulders, turning his skin to burnished gold. He raised one knee and rested his arm on it. His emerald eyes were full of brooding shadows.
"I am the owner of the book, Phoebe."
Phoebe swallowed uncertainly. "What do you mean? How did you acquire it?"
"I removed it from Baxter's cabin after we boarded his ship." Gabriel's voice was curiously lacking in inflection. "Baxter chose the sea rather than hanging. He went overboard and disappeared. He was presumed drowned."
"You boarded his ship?" Phoebe discovered that her knees suddenly felt weak. She sank down slowly onto the window seat and clasped her hands very tightly together in her lap. "Dear God, Gabriel, are you telling me you were a pirate in the South Seas? I refuse to believe it."
"I'm glad. Because I was no pirate. Merely a hardworking businessman trying to make a living in the pearl trade. Baxter was the one who took up pirating when he reached the islands."
"Impossible," Phoebe said quickly. "He would do no such thing."
"It does not particularly matter whether you believe it or not. It's the truth. Apparently he found it easier and more efficient than entering into a legitimate shipping venture. He became something of a nuisance to my company and to others. Someone had to get rid of him."
"A nuisance," Phoebe echoed, her mind spinning.
Gabriel's expression was grim. "He managed to acquire control of a ship of his own. He boarded two of my firm's ships, killing a number of men in the process. He stole a large quantity of goods, including an extremely valuable set of jewelry made of black pearls, gold, and diamonds. After that incident I decided to find him before he did any further damage."
Phoebe gazed at Gabriel in stunned amazement. "Good lord. This is incredible. I cannot believe I was so wrong about Neil."
"Because he played the part of Lancelot while he set up his scheme to blackmail your father? Baxter was a clever bastard. You were not the only woman he succeeded in deceiving."
Phoebe's face flamed. "You make me sound like a fool."
Gabriel's expression softened. "You are no fool, my sweet, but you arc naive. Women are vulnerable to men such as Baxter. They long to believe the illusion he creates."
Phoebe's hands tightened in her lap. "You speak as if you have known other women who believed he was Lancelot."
"Out in the islands Baxter managed to pass himself off as a prosperous man enga
ged in legitimate shipping. He mingled freely with those of us who were in the shipping business, gaining information that he then used to set his traps for our ships." Gabriel's gaze hardened. "He preyed on the women, seeking details on cargoes and routes."
"The women?"
"Wives and daughters and … " Gabriel hesitated briefly, "others. He charmed them and they willingly told him what he wanted to know."
"I see." Phoebe was silent for a moment, working through the logic of the situation. "You have had my book all along. You were the object of my quest."
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
She looked at him. "Why did you not tell me?"
"There were a number of reasons. Chief among them was that you thought the owner of that book was a murderous pirate."
She smiled tremulously. "Of course. Naturally you were afraid to admit you had the book, for fear I would think the worst of you."
"Bloody hell." Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "It was not that I was afraid to admit it, rather that I had other plans."
"What other plans?"
"I have had enough of this nonsense," Gabriel said grimly. "'Tis past time we had everything out in the open. Let us begin from the beginning. After I met you on that lane in Sussex, I decided I wanted you. The book was the key to getting you."
Phoebe's eyes widened. "You mean you knew you wanted to marry me right from the start? Gabriel, that is so romantic. You really ought to have told me."
Gabriel got to his feet and slammed his palm against the mantel. "Damn it, woman, why do you insist on seeing me as a heroic knight filled with honorable intentions?" He turned his head to glare at her. "I said I wanted you. To be perfectly blunt, I had no thought of marriage. Not at the beginning of our relationship. I wanted you in my bed. That was as far as matters went."
"Oh." She did not know what to say to that. At least he had wanted her, she thought. "So you agreed to help me in my quest as a way of getting to know me better?"
"As a way of getting you into my bed, damn it."
She smiled hopefully. "Well, your intentions might not have been, strictly speaking, entirely honorable at the start."
"You may be certain they were not."
"But you changed them quickly; that is the important thing. Your intentions became honorable when you got to know me."
"Damnation. You will not see the truth when it is before your very eyes." Gabriel reached for his breeches and put them on with quick, savage movements. "My intentions did not improve after I discovered you were Clarington's daughter. If anything, they became worse."
"Worse?"
He made a small gesture of disgust. "Phoebe, when I learned your true identity, I sought you out with the express purpose of using you to gain revenge against your family. I was going to seduce you in order to humiliate your father. There. Now do you comprehend?"
She blinked back tears and smiled bravely. "Perhaps revenge was your initial goal, but you did not go through with your scheme, did you? You married me instead."
He faced her, his hands on his hips. "So I did."
"Which means that your inherently noble nature ultimately guided your actions," Phoebe concluded.
"Damnation. If that's what you want to believe, who am I to contradict you?"
"You married me because of your naturally chivalrous nature." Phoebe caught her trembling lip between her teeth. "But you do not love me, do you, my lord?"
His eyes glittered. "Do not accuse me of having misled you on that score. That is one sin you cannot lay at my door. I never claimed to love you. I told you I wanted you, and that is the truth. The whole truth."
"You married me to save me from a potential scandal."
"I assure you I am not that noble," he growled. "All my knightly impulses were burned out of me eight years ago. Life in the South Seas did nothing to revive them. I am no heroic champion of love and justice."
"Then why did you marry me?" she shouted.
"I married you because I think you will make me a good countess," he roared back. "Your bloodlines are impeccable. More importantly, your reckless ways, as irritating as they are, bespeak courage and daring. Those are qualities I intend to breed into my sons. Furthermore, I find you vastly more interesting than any other lady I have encountered in recent memory. And I want you."
"But you do not love me."
"I never claimed to love you."
"No, but I hoped you could learn to do so," Phoebe explained. "That is why I took the biggest risk I have ever taken in my life today."
He gave her a disbelieving look. "You call marrying me the biggest risk you have ever taken?"
"Yes."
"That's a damned insult," Gabriel said. "I fully intend to be a good husband to you."
"Do you?"
He took a step forward, looming over her. "Yes, I do. And in return I expect a proper wife, by God."
Phoebe tilted her head to one side, studying him intently. "What constitutes a proper wife in your eyes?"
He caught her chin on the edge of his hand. His gaze glittered with outrage. "I do believe you are deliberately provoking me, madam. Nevertheless, I shall tell you precisely what I want from you. I want the respect and obedience a proper wife is expected to show her lord."
"I do respect you, Gabriel. But obedience has never been my forte."
"Well, you can bloody well learn the skill."
"For goodness' sake, Gabriel, you needn't look so threatening. We both know you aren't going to beat me into submission."
"You think not?"
She smiled fleetingly and stepped back from his hand. "Your naturally chivalrous nature would prevent you from using violence against a woman."
"For your own sake," he bit out, "I suggest you stop trying to convince yourself that I possess a chivalrous nature."
"I do hope you will not deprive me of my one remaining illusion." She went to the bookcase and opened the glass doors.
"What the devil do you mean by that?" Gabriel demanded.
"You have told me that Neil Baxter, the only man who ever claimed to love me with a pure and noble heart, lied to me." Phoebe plucked The Lady in the Tower off the shelf. "I find myself married instead to a man who claims he does not love me at all, the one fate I have always vowed to avoid. All things considered, my lord, it has not been the wedding day of my dreams."
"Phoebe—"
"Good night, my lord." Clutching the heavy volume to her breast, Phoebe walked to the door.
"Damnation, Phoebe, I wish to talk to you."
"About what? The nature of chivalry? Believe me, I am now well acquainted with it. I have no need of further instruction on the matter."
She unlocked the door and started down the spiral staircase. The stone steps were very cold beneath her bare feet.
Chapter 13
Why the devil hadn't he kept his mouth shut? Gabriel tossed aside his pen and gave up trying to write. He got to his feet and went to the window. It was raining. The rope he had used to descend from the roof last night still swung lazily against the glass.
Yes, he should most definitely have kept his mouth shut last night when he had awakened and seen Phoebe staring at her copy of The Lady in the Tower in his bookcase.
He was right to have told her the truth about how he had acquired The Lady in the Tower and about Neil Baxter, but he should never have told her the rest.
He winced as he recalled his short lecture on respect and obedience. Reminding a wife of such things on her wedding night was probably not the best way of convincing her that her marriage had been a brilliant match.
If she wanted to believe he had fallen in love with her at the start and that his intentions had been honorable all along, who was he to disabuse her of the notion?
Why had he felt the need to shatter all her illusions about him? he wondered.
Gabriel had been brooding over the matter all day and he was still not entirely certain of the answer.
He had been furious when she had run off yesterday mor
ning. He had been angrier still when she had locked herself in the tower room last night. And with the anger there had been fear. He could not deny it. He had been afraid that she would see The Lady in the Tower before he could explain everything to her.
He did not want her crediting him with a noble heart and a chivalrous nature, but he did not want her to believe that he had been a murderous pirate, either.
He simply wanted there to be honesty between them, Gabriel told himself.
His jaw tightened as he turned away from the window. For better or worse, she now knew the truth. There was certainly plenty of honesty between them after last night.
She had married a man who initially had intended only to bed her and who had then decided to use her for revenge. In the end he had married her because of her bloodlines, her courage, and the fact that she would make him an interesting companion.
If that was not enough to shatter a lady's most cherished illusions of love, nothing else would. Gabriel winced. He should have kept his mouth shut. Matters would have been so much simpler.
But perhaps it was better this way. After all, he prided himself on his pragmatic, realistic approach to life. He was no longer a sentimental, trusting, romantic youth. He was a man who dealt with the world as it was.
It was important that Phoebe understand she could not continue to lead him about on her adventures as if he were a pet dog. He had been playing the role of her knight-errant long enough. She was his wife now and she needed to know the true nature of her husband.
Gabriel went back to his desk and picked up his pen. He occupied himself for a few minutes sharpening the nib with a small knife. Then he sat down and tried to tidy up one or two passages in A Reckless Venture.
An hour later, surrounded by several sheets of discarded foolscap, Gabriel gave up the effort. He went downstairs to see what Phoebe was doing.
He finally located her in the library.
He opened the door soundlessly and studied her for a moment, his insides tightening as he remembered the events of his wedding night.
Phoebe was curled up in a chair near the window, her slippered feet tucked under the skirts of her pumpkin-colored gown. The watery sunlight filtering in through the narrow windows formed a warm halo around her dark hair. There was a prim little white ruffle around her throat.
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