He would touch her and tease her until every ounce of innocent timidity fell away and she gave herself over to the wicked sensations coursing through her body. She would cry out his name in reckless abandon, begging for a release she didn’t yet understand.
“Gabriel, I…” her quiet voice cut into his fantasy, and jarred him back to reality.
In a matter of seconds, he’d been so close to abandoning his resolve. He was already rock hard, his cock straining painfully against the fabric that contained him. How could a woman render him so weak? He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t sacrifice his pride to satisfy his flesh.
“Goodnight, little one,” he told her, the old pet name he’d used rolling off his tongue like no time had passed since he’d last sparred with her at Westmoreland.
“But, I thought…”
“Go to sleep, Tessa,” he replied more gruffly than he’d intended. Still, he forced his eyes off her body and rolled the opposite way to emphasize his command.
He didn’t have to look to know what she was feeling—confusion and rejection—but there was naught he could do about it. He’d had no desire to take a bride, and a small part of him felt bad that Tessa would bear the consequences of it. A loveless marriage was something she had never wanted, would never settle for no matter what, or so she’d thought.
But it was her father who had made it so. What choice did Gabriel have? And for all he knew, she was equally responsible for forcing him into this. Heaven knew, William indulged his daughter far more than any other father would. Perhaps it was entirely her idea to force him into marriage.
He rolled the idea around in his mind—not for the first time since finding himself in this position. Each time before though, he’d dismissed it, not able to reconcile the young girl he’d known with someone who would scheme to trap him into marriage.
But Tessa was no longer a little girl; she was a woman, full-grown. God, how she had grown—full breasts, slim waist and gently flaring hips. And he was aware she had thought herself taken with him as a young girl. Perhaps she’d grown in other ways too, becoming more devious, more selfish. If she’d had a hand in this scheme of her father’s, then perhaps he was being too kind to the new Duchess of Westmoreland.
He would probe her for answers tomorrow, carefully of course, to avoid arousing her suspicions. If she was behind this trap, he didn’t want to let her know he was onto her. She was intelligent, smart as a whip. She had been eager to learn everything he’d been willing to teach her when they were younger, from sword fighting to chess. Hell, if he’d instructed her any longer than he had, she may very well have bested him. He’d withdrawn quickly though, the summer she had turned sixteen. All of a sudden, she began to look at him differently, and he could see what she wanted in her eyes—even if she’d been too young and naïve to recognize it herself.
It wasn’t only the change in her that had scared him. He’d long before then recognized his interest in her—her slim, youthful curves, her quick wit and caring nature. But he’d always managed to keep it to himself…until she started looking up at him with desire in her eyes…until her body hummed with awareness with every casual touch and the air sizzled between them. It had been too much.
And he’d had nothing to offer her. His father had nearly drained the family fortune dry. Despite his title, he would have been able to offer her nothing better than a pauper’s existence. And Tessa deserved so much better than that.
At least, the old Tessa had. What about this Tessa? He had never considered that she could be an entirely different woman now. Years spent gallivanting from country to country, no doubt left to indulge in whatever pursuits she chose. Hell, with nothing more than her father for a chaperone, she might not even be a virgin.
Anger mingled with the desire coursing through his veins at the thought and it threatened to overwhelm him. But it wasn’t only anger he felt. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was jealousy there, too. He couldn’t help but imagine his exquisite bride in the throes of passion in another man’s arms, and it made him want to commit violence like nothing before.
He swallowed hard, laughing sardonically at himself. He’d never suffered a moment’s jealousy over any of the women he’d bedded. What difference did it make to him if they found pleasure elsewhere? But Tessa--the woman he intended never to touch—she managed to evoke a jealous rage with a single thought.
With as much effort as it had taken to force his eyes off her scantily clad body, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind. If he intended to find out what part she’d played in this, he would need his wits about him. And that required he find some way to ignore the soft, sensual body lying next to him long enough to fall asleep.
If only he could stop her from finding her way into his dreams.
Chapter 3
Tessa awoke with the sun, her eyes opening to the first light of day filtering in through the large window across the room. She’d fallen asleep quickly, drained from the long day, but she slept fitfully, tossing and turning the whole night through. Gabriel seemed no more interested in her now that she was his bride than he’d been when she was the besotted, doe-eyed, young girl.
But he’d been interested in her while she had slept; more than interested, he’d been ravenous…insatiable. Coming to her in her dreams not long after she’d fallen asleep, he’d taken her again and again.
He’d been a valiant Maasai warrior, arriving home in victory after battle. He’d sought her out, and without ceremony, taken her there in the sand on the Kenyan coast. He shoved her leather shuka robe out of his way and thrust deep inside her, staring into her eyes while she’d clung to him, tilting her hips to meet his every thrust.
And later, he’d been a courageous knight, sent on a quest to rescue a captive princess. He’d dispatched her assailants quickly, but so enraptured by her beauty, he hadn’t the strength to return her to the king. Instead, he’d made her his captive, whisking her away across the sea and locking her up in a faraway castle. She’d resisted him, but his heated gaze had battled against her defenses. And though she sought to escape his embrace, he pulled her to him against her will, and her own body had begun to betray her.
She’d continued to struggle as he tore her clothes from her body, but his every touch made her long to cease her efforts. He’d pinned her wrists against the wall above her head while his free hand sought out her most intimate place. And though her arms had struggled against his hold, her hips thrust toward him, urging him deeper; they silently begged for him to quench the fire that raged in her body. And when he’d lifted her, taking her there against the wall, filling her body with his manhood, a sob had formed deep in her chest, but it never escaped; the screams of pleasure that fell from her lips kept it trapped deep inside her.
And later still, he’d been a sultan, plucking her from his harem, never to regard any other woman there with interest ever again. He removed her hijab first, unveiling her long, dark hair, but it had only made him hungrier. He’d torn her abaya from her body, leaving her bare to his gaze, and then he’d taken it upon himself to school her in every aspect of pleasure.
He’d worshiped her body with caresses and kisses, sending her into a frenzy, and then he taught her how to pleasure him with her mouth. She’d taken his hard shaft between her lips, and the feel of him against her tongue had been like nothing she’d ever known. On her knees, she’d sucked him greedily, taking him in deep over and over. Shocks of desire had pulsed through her body with every groan that escaped his lips. And when his hips had jerked forward, filling her mouth one last time, she’d swallowed every drop of his essence, greedy to have every part of him she could.
But now, wide awake and her dreams nothing more than a fading memory that left a rosy blush on her cheeks, Gabriel’s rejection stung. As nervous as she’d been about their wedding night, she never imagined he would reject her so thoroughly. And if he felt so little for her, why had he agreed to take her as his bride? Certainly he could have chosen from a multitude of yo
ung ladies, all eagerly vying for the Duke of Westmoreland.
Why had Gabriel grown so cold? She’d attributed his seemingly frigid distance yesterday to a necessary preoccupation with the wedding and all their guests. But last night told her he wasn’t preoccupied. He had no interest in her at all.
When her father had informed her of their betrothal, she’d railed in objection, angry with him for making this choice for her. But as the wedding day had approached, and she and her father had returned to England, she’d begun to soften to the idea. As much as she would have preferred to make her own choice, she couldn’t help but remember the fondness she’d felt for Gabriel years before. Nay, not only fondness; she was quite certain she’d been in love with the young man. Though her marriage meant the forfeit of all the freedom she had enjoyed, she’d tried to embrace it with open—if somewhat trembling—arms.
What a fool she’d been.
Drawing on courage she wasn’t sure she possessed, she turned toward the other side of the bed, but he wasn’t there. He’d rejected her and then snuck away some time during the night. The morning after her wedding, and she would be forced to face the household on her own.
Right then, the same young woman who had tended to her last night poked her head in the room. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Good morning, Cecily,” she replied, forcing more enthusiasm in her tone than she felt. She rose and attended to her morning ablutions. There was no sense in lying abed all day. It would do nothing to improve her situation with Gabriel, and she’d go stir crazy in no time.
Making her way to the dining room a half hour later, she immediately recognized the man seated at the table. He smiled up at her brightly and rose as she closed the distance between them.
“Good morning, Brandon,” she offered her own smile in return. Perhaps the form of address was too personal now that she was a grown woman, but it seemed ridiculous to address Gabriel’s brother in any other way.
“It is now, my dear Tessa, though I feared it would remain dark and gloomy all day before you walked into the room,” he gushed with humor alight in his eyes.
And like that, the two of them fell into the easy rapport from their childhood. He was pleasant and charming, a boisterous character so much the same as he’d been seven years prior. Two years her senior, she and Brandon were closer in age than she and Gabriel, and while she’d enjoyed Brandon’s company immensely, he had always been more like a brother to her.
Their conversation came to a halt though as Gabriel’s tall, painfully handsome figure appeared in the doorway. He entered the room without a word and took a seat at the head of the table. She searched her mind for something to say, but the only thing that came to mind was his wretched rejection the night prior. His rejection, and the multitude of ways he’d taken her in her dreams. What could she possibly say to him? Should she continue on as if everything had progressed as it should have?
“I’ll be away today,” he told her, barely looking in her direction. “I trust you can occupy yourself for the day.”
“Don’t worry, brother. I’ll keep her plenty entertained,” Brandon offered, but he said no more as Gabriel’s head shot up.
Something she didn’t recognize flashed through his eyes, and the two brothers exchanged odd glances. Gabriel held Brandon’s gaze and it seemed to her that some sort of silent conversation went on between them. He stood a moment later, not touching the food placed in front of him. He nodded to them both and then left the room silently, leaving her stunned, with rejection running afresh through her veins.
Brandon’s hand covered hers, “Never mind him. He’s always as friendly as a mountain lion first thing in the morning. Give him some time, and he’ll come around.”
She smiled, hoping Brandon wouldn’t see beyond it to the emotions roiling within her. And though he eyed her suspiciously, he said no more on the topic.
He led her out to the manicured gardens beyond the house after breakfast, and she focused on reacquainting herself with the land she’d loved so much as a child as she recounted for Brandon a plethora of tales from her travels.
An hour later, she stopped suddenly and spun to face him. “Come now, Brandon, and confess. I must be boring you to tears with all my stories. Certainly you have better things to do with your day than to listen to me yammer on incessantly.”
“Nay, my lady. In fact, I hope you will not protest my constant company until you have shared every last one of your adventures with me. I speak nothing but the truth when I tell you they are most fascinating. I only hope to venture so far before I settle down.”
“You Brandon? Settle down? I seem to recall quite clearly a fifteen-year-old version of yourself declaring he would sooner be flogged every day of his existence than wake up to the same young woman each morning.”
“Yes, well, can you blame me when the only young lady worth taking to wife was so thoroughly taken with my brother?”
She laughed at his silly theatrics, but couldn’t help wishing Gabriel was a little more like Brandon. She tamped the foolish thought down quickly, knowing it wasn’t true. Brandon was kind and made her feel welcome, but she’d always admired Gabriel’s quiet confidence. She’d always been mesmerized by the power and authority he exuded, even as a young man. Though outwardly more reserved, she sensed he was capable of infinitely more intense emotions than his lighthearted brother. She only wished he had even half as much interest in her as Brandon did.
Brushing off the melancholy thought, she returned her attention to Brandon and the vast Westmoreland land that surrounded her.
And she returned to the house with Brandon when he had business to attend to, and wandered about aimlessly the rest of the day, exploring one room after another, easily pinpointing the places where Gabriel spent most of his time. His scent lingered on high, wingback chairs, and the décor in those rooms whispered the same quiet authority evident in the man.
By evening she felt as if she’d been cooped up in the manor for days rather than hours. On her travels with her father, they spent a great deal of time outdoors, exploring forests and caves, observing strange and wonderful cultures. And so she slipped outside unnoticed, wandering aimlessly at first. Spying a light in the stables not far from the manor, she tiptoed to the building and peered inside. Gabriel.
He was inside the stable, brushing down his horse. She watched silently as he stroked the beast, talking soothingly to it. The quiet murmur of his voice lulled her into the same relaxed state she imagined the horse must have been experiencing. But watching him move, the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt; it made her body respond in a very different way. She wanted to feel his hands on her, to feel him stroking her intimately. Images from her dreams flashed through her mind, and the shock that jolted through her body and settled low in her abdomen was nearly enough to make her gasp aloud. She blushed at the memory of her dreams, but her eyes remained transfixed on the scene before her.
She took a step forward, her foot moving of its own volition, but as she did, she rustled the hay beneath her, drawing Gabriel’s attention. He looked up and his gaze met hers, holding her there. Heat rose high in her cheeks, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The fire that blazed to life in his eyes held her there, and the room seemed to crackle with sparks, thousands of the tiny pulses igniting in the air between them. Time froze, and all at once he was a sultan, a knight, a Maasai warrior…he was every fantasy a lady of good breeding would never have.
He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a curse under his breath, and the spell was broken. She darted off as fast as her legs would carry her, too muddled by desire to stay. With his rejection fresh in her mind, she couldn’t face him like this, couldn’t believe she’d let him see her this way.
Chapter 4
He’d heard a small noise and looked up, and there she was. The look of desire had been unmistakable in her crystal blue eyes. He’d never seen so much heat in an innocent’s gaze. She’d darted off, and it was fortunate that she had, because s
eeing the heat in her eyes, he’d wanted nothing more than to take her right there in the stable.
If she hadn’t fled so quickly, he would have closed the distance between them and gathered her up in his arms, greedily tasting her cupid bow lips and forcing her to part for his tongue to enter. He would have torn away every stitch of fabric that got in the way of caressing her soft skin, and he would have stripped just as quickly, needing to feel her hands on his bare skin as well. God, how he longed to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, to slip his fingers through the soft curls above the apex of her thighs. His mouth watered and his cock throbbed at the idea of sliding further, rubbing her clit until she was sopping wet and then sliding into her tight heat.
She’d writhe against his intrusion in shocked delight, and his name would fall from her lips as he slid in and out, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy. He’d pull out then, and her smooth brow would furrow in frustration, though she’d try to cover it up in innocent embarrassment over her enthusiasm. He wouldn’t allow her to cloak herself in virginal shyness. He’d bring his slick fingers to her mouth, making her taste the proof of where he’d been, and he’d revel in the sight of her own wetness glistening on her lips.
He imagined drawing her down to the hay-covered ground and settling her over top of him, watching the light of anticipation in her eyes as he held her above him, his cock teasing her slick entrance. She would wriggle against him, trying to urge him between her soft folds, but he’d hold her there for just a moment, reveling in the way her body sought him out. Only then would he give in, thrusting deep inside her. He’d go slow, giving her time for her body to adjust and accommodate his girth. But finally, after so long, he would feel the walls of Tessa’s slick heat surrounding him. He would know what it was like to bury every inch of his shaft deep inside her.
She’d work her thighs to match his rhythm while her delicate hands splayed across his chest. He’d drive her higher and higher, watching her breasts bounce with her every movement. He’d latch onto her nipple suddenly, and the unexpected pleasure would make her cry out in delight. And he’d hold off as long as it took to see her topple over the edge in rapturous bliss. Only when she’d found her release would he seek out his own.
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