by Candace Camp
“’Tis daylight now,” she protested.
“I’ll warrant you look the same. I tell you what.” He shrugged out of his jacket, then tugged off his boots, balancing on one leg, then the other. “I’ll get in it as well. So you won’t be the only one naked.”
“Take my bath?” Thea retorted indignantly. “I think not!”
“Not take, my dear. Share.” He whipped his shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor.
Thea looked at the tub. “You must be joking. We shan’t both fit.”
“Of course we will. It just takes putting the pieces together right. Like a puzzle. You like puzzles, don’t you?”
She gave him an exasperated look, but found it difficult to maintain since he was sliding off his breeches, revealing his long, muscled legs and, well, everything else. He reached out and twitched the bedcover from her grasp, dropping it on the floor beside the tub.
“Gabriel!”
He ignored her protest as he stepped into the tub and sat down. He did fit, which she had rather doubted, though he had to sit with his knees jackknifed to do so. He reached his hand up to her, as debonair as if he were helping her over a threshold or into a carriage. She took his hand and stepped into the tub as well, placing her feet carefully between his legs, turning her back to him as his hand nudged her to. She sat down slowly, his hands sliding up her body to her waist to guide her.
They did manage to fit, she found, as she leaned back against his chest and propped her feet up on the end of the tub. In fact, they fit almost perfectly, the warm water rising up over their lower bodies and lapping lazily at her breasts. She reached up, pulling her hair back and twisting it to wrap it in a looped knot at the base of her neck.
“No.” He reached out to still her hands. “I like it down.”
“It is wild and a nuisance.”
“Yes, it is wild, but not a nuisance at all.” He took her long, thick hair in his hands and wrapped it around behind his neck, bringing it up across his face and drawing in the scent. “It’s soft and smells like—like you. I could lose myself in your curls.” He nuzzled the back of her bare neck.
“It will get all wet.”
“Then I shall have to brush it dry in front of the fire.” He kissed his way along her collarbone to her shoulder, and Thea gave up her protests.
His hands moved slowly over her water-slicked body, and Thea let her head loll back against him, her eyes closing, lost in the pleasure his touch brought.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured, his teeth gently worrying the cord of her throat.
“Don’t be absurd.”
“You doubt me?”
Thea snorted. “Of course I do. You needn’t use blandishments to woo me. I have already given you what you seek, and we both know that I am not the sort of woman who is … pleasing to men.”
“I beg your pardon. I am a man, and I find you quite pleasing.” At the little twitch of her mouth, he went on, “I’m perfectly serious; I’m not trying to seduce you.” He paused, then added, with a demonstrative stroke of his hand, “Well, I am trying to seduce you, but not with flattery. I find you beautiful.”
Thea swallowed against the emotion that tightened her throat.
“Your wild curls captivate me,” he went on in a low voice, his breath drifting tantalizingly over her hair and face. “From the moment I saw them tumbling all about your face, I wanted to sink my hands into them and kiss you senseless.”
“To shut me up, no doubt,” she shot back tartly.
He chuckled. “That would have been an added benefit, no doubt, but it was not the motivating force, I assure you. Why do you think I kissed you in the church? Not because I was trying to challenge the Almighty. I could not keep from doing it. I have not been able to stop myself from kissing you a number of times, as you may have noticed.”
“I think that is more due to your nature. We have already established that you are … shall we say, an expert with women?”
“I confess, I have enjoyed the charms of more than a few of the fairer sex. But that only serves to prove my point—I am clearly a judge of female beauty. An expert, as you say. ’Twould be foolish to gainsay me.”
“You are an expert at wagging your tongue.”
“That, too.” He tickled her ear with the tip of his tongue, making Thea giggle. “Shall I tell you more? About how you enticed me?”
Thea shrugged, unwilling to admit that his words warmed her even more than the water around them, so that she felt as if her heart were blossoming inside her chest. Some part of her brain told her she was foolish, but she could not keep from soaking up his words.
“I am sure you will be surprised,” he went on gravely, “when I say that it was not your sweet tone or compliant manner that made me dream of you the past few nights and wake stiff and sweating like a hard-run horse, my heart thundering.”
Thea’s breath caught in her throat, the now familiar ache beginning to pulse deep inside her, his words stirring her almost as much as the velvet touch of his lips on her neck.
“It was the thought of your breasts and how they would feel in my hands. I knew they would fit perfectly.” He cupped her breasts in his hands to demonstrate, and his forefinger traced around the nipples, making them prickle. The heat in Thea’s abdomen grew, swelling and throbbing and spreading out.
“And I dreamed of those deliciously long legs. I kept imagining what they looked like beneath your prim gowns. I could not see you walk without wanting to measure them with my hands.” His voice deepened huskily as his hands slid down to her thighs. “Each step you took, I thought of the way your legs would feel wrapped around me.”
His hand slipped into the crevice between her legs, gliding down her inner thigh and back up, teasing along the crease of her leg. She felt swollen and aching, yearning for his touch. His fingers were featherlight upon her, teasingly opening and exploring the intimate folds of her flesh. As his fingers stroked her, arousing her almost past bearing, he kissed her neck, using his teeth and tongue to draw shivers of arousal from her.
Thea’s breath was ragged, and she braced her feet against the edge of the tub, widening her legs, inviting him wordlessly. He found the hard, bright center of her desire, the pulsing, vulnerable ache, and he pressed in, the rhythmic movement of his hand thrusting her pleasure higher and higher. Thea could feel the passion taking her, sweeping over her and cresting like a wave. It broke over her, and she could not hold back a thin, sharp cry. She shuddered as pleasure rippled through her, then relaxed with a deep, satisfied sigh.
She lay against him, replete, numb, her mind adrift. Thea felt the push of his member against her, and she knew that he, of course, was still unsatisfied, but she could not move. Her bones seemed to have all turned to molten wax inside her.
Gabriel kissed her neck and along her collarbone, his breath harsh and rasping. “I have to taste you,” he muttered.
Surprising her, he stood up, hauling her up with him. She turned to him, but he was already stepping out of the tub and spreading her bedcover out on the floor before the fire. She could not tear her eyes away from his strong, lithe body or the hard, elongated maleness that thrust out from his body. Thea would have liked to touch him, but she was not bold enough, even in the warm, sated state she dwelled in now.
Gabriel lifted her from the old wooden tub and laid her down on the bedspread, then covered her with his body, propped himself up on his elbows. She opened her legs, luxuriating in the feel of his maleness pressing at the gate of her femininity. He gazed down at her for a long moment, his eyes hard and bright, the firelight glowing in them. Then he bent his head to take her mouth, kissing her as though he would consume her. He kissed her again and again, and when he pulled his mouth from hers, he moved down her body, kissing seemingly every inch of her.
He took her breast in his mouth, devoting his complete attention to it. Thea was shocked to feel her body respond to him, the heat and tension building in her once more. She would have thought that all the passion had
been drained from her in that explosion of pleasure. But somehow it lurked inside her, curling and leaping and swelling with each touch of his lips.
Gabriel moved to her other breast, lavishing the same exquisite care on it. He made his way down her body, mumbling low, soft words she could not understand but the hunger and need of which was abundantly clear. His tongue dipped into the well of her navel, moving out to trace patterns over her skin. He moved ever lower, and Thea felt his hands slip beneath her hips, lifting her. Then, unbelievably, his mouth was on her in that most intimate of places, teasing and stroking, arousing her in a way she would never have imagined.
“Gabriel!” Passion roared through her even more fiercely, igniting her to a white-hot pitch. Thea curled her fingers into the spread beneath her, a groan escaping her clenched lips as Gabriel toyed with her, his tongue driving her higher and harder than anything else he had done before. She arched up, digging in her heels, her body taut, desperately seeking the release that dangled just beyond her grasp.
Then it crashed through her, and she trembled all over. For a moment she was beyond thought, beyond speech, her world narrowed down to the supreme release that carried her away. Gently he lowered her hips and lay down beside her. Thea could do little more than gasp for breath, her heart slamming inside her chest.
After what could have been hours or mere moments, for she felt utterly beyond time, Thea turned her head to look at Gabriel. He was watching her, his eyes still glinting between his narrowed lids.
“Gabriel …” She reached out and put her hand on his chest, not sure what she wanted to say. A hundred emotions were tumbling about inside her, and she could not even begin to straighten them out enough to give voice to them. “But you are still unsatisfied” was what she found herself saying.
“I enjoyed it, believe me. And it was your first time last night. I did not want to hurt you.”
“Are you sure it would hurt?”
“No.” His smile was wry. “I have little experience with virgins.”
“I think I should like to try. You seem to want something more …” She looked down at the clear evidence of his unspent desire, and her hand drifted lower.
“Indeed.” He sucked in his breath as her hand glided lower, but when she shot him a tentative glance, he said, “No, don’t stop.”
“Do you like it?” Thea smiled a little, sliding her hand farther downward.
“You know I do. I can see you grin like a fox.”
She giggled. She had never before felt like this, so happy, so free and unfettered. “But, indeed, my lord, I thought you might find me too bold.”
“I like a bold wench.” Her fingers reached him and stopped, barely touching the base of his manhood. He let out a low groan, his teeth clamping down on his lower lip.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, the teasing leaving her voice.
“I think … whatever you try … I shall find pleasing,” he told her, his lungs laboring.
Thea skimmed her fingertips along the length of him, amazed and delighted by the satin smoothness of his flesh over the hard line beneath. Slowly she trailed her fingers up and down him, and the low moan her actions pulled from him stirred an answering heat in her belly.
She was not so surprised this time to find that desire could pulse in her again, and she let herself savor each moment along the way. She played with him, teasing and arousing him, her hand sliding farther down to cup the sac between his legs. Gabriel shuddered. His eyes were closed, his skin stretched taut across his facial bones, his breath harsh on his lips. Thea gently curled her fingers around him, and he jerked, but he shook his head when she paused.
“Don’t stop.”
She stroked him with slow, almost languid motions, feeling the slick glide of his skin against her palm. His pulse pounded in his throat, his chest rising and falling in pants, and the signs of his passion aroused her.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered to him. “I want to take you inside me.”
His eyes flew open, fierce and bright. He reached out, taking her hips in his hands, and tugged her toward his legs. “Ride me.”
“What? Oh.” Her eyes widened a little, but she moved quickly to do as he said, straddling him and lowering her body over him until she felt the springing thrust of his maleness against her. Reaching down, she took him in her hand once again, guiding him into her. The sensitive flesh throbbed at the touch of his hardness, and she moved the tip of his manhood against her, tormenting them both in the most delightful way. She eased down slowly, then pulled back up, exploring each new sensation she created. The exquisite friction tantalized, delighted, beckoned, and promised.
He moved beneath her, pushed almost to the breaking point, and then his hands clamped on her hips, and he lifted up, slamming into her with hard, fierce thrusts. Thea matched his rhythm, the dark, tumultuous pleasure driving her ever closer. At last it exploded, sweeping them both over the edge and into the dark chasm of pleasure.
Thea was not sure how long she lay there, her head pillowed on Gabriel’s broad chest, half-asleep and utterly at peace, before a wail sounded from the bedroom, breaking the peace. She felt the rumble of Gabriel’s laughter beneath her ear.
“At least we can rest assured that the cold did not harm his lungs.” Gabriel eased out from beneath her and stood up, grabbing his breeches and pulling them on. “I’ll get him.”
Thea rose, too, wrapping the cover around her once more, and followed him into the bedroom. Gabriel picked Matthew up, and his crying stopped immediately, the tears turning to a smile. Thea had long since given up being astonished by Gabriel’s seemingly magical effect on the baby. After all, she had experienced Gabriel’s charm, as well. While Gabriel whisked the baby out into the main room of the cottage, Thea dressed.
She ran her hands through her hair, wishing she had a brush or comb. She started to braid it, but stopped, Gabriel’s words going through her head, and she let her hair fall back down. She leaned in close to the mirror to look at herself. Could Gabriel really find her beautiful? Was that tumble of reddish-brown curls really appealing? Did he see something in her level gray gaze that other men did not?
Thea tilted her head to one side and then the other. She could not help but think that she did look different today—her skin had a glow, her features a softness, that she was not sure had ever before been there. Could happiness make one prettier? If so, she should be stunning, for she was certain that she had never before felt the singing joy that filled her now.
She supposed that she should feel guilty and sinful, but Thea could not. She had experienced something she had never thought she would, and it had been far more wonderful than she could ever have imagined. The joy might be brief; Thea was far too realistic not to admit that within a few weeks or even days, Gabriel would likely be gone from here—perhaps taking Matthew with him. But however short this happy moment was, Thea intended to enjoy it. And if sorrow followed, so be it. Good things rarely came for free, in her experience.
Gabriel was feeding the baby at the table when Thea joined them. She picked up the spectacles that she had left on the table the night before and settled them on her nose. Gabriel looked up at her and smiled, and Matthew followed suit. Despite the difference in their coloring, Thea could see the resemblance between them, and she could not help but think that the child must be his sister’s. But she could not understand why his sister would have abandoned the baby. Knowing Gabriel as she did now, she could not think that Jocelyn would have thought Gabriel would be angry or punitive.
“Why did that man steal Matthew?” Thea asked, following the train of her thoughts. “Who was he?”
“I have no idea.” Gabriel tore another piece of bread from the piece before him and dipped it in milk, then offered it to the baby. Matthew grabbed it and shoved it in his mouth, bouncing as if to some inner tune. “I did not get a very good look at him as we fought, but he certainly didn’t look familiar. Why would anyone steal an abandoned baby?”
“But if he had a legitimate claim to the child, he wouldn’t have crept in and grabbed it from your house in the middle of the night. Rawdon was right in saying that the child’s father could take the baby legally. The argument makes even more sense given that Matthew was abandoned. Most people would happily turn a foundling over to anyone who appeared to claim him.”
“True. So I would not think he is Matthew’s father.”
“No.”
Thea looked at Gabriel. “Do you still think that Lord Rawdon is his father?”
Gabriel sighed. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know if my sister is his mother.”
“I was just thinking that he looked a bit like you.”
“Does he now?” Gabriel gazed down at the child, tilting his head consideringly. Matthew chose that moment to purse his lips and blow out milky air bubbles, making Gabriel and Thea laugh. “Obviously he has my sophisticated charm.”
“Indeed.”
More seriously, Gabriel said, “I feel as if … as if he is connected to me. But perhaps I am merely being foolish. If he is Jocelyn’s, ’tis hard for me to believe the father was someone other than her fiancé. Obviously Rawdon was not the man who stole Matthew—still, I suppose he could have hired the fellow to do so.”
“But you just said that he would not need to. He could take him from you in court.”
“True.” Gabriel sighed, obviously reluctant to give up the idea. “No, I think Rawdon must not have had a hand in taking Matthew. But that does not mean he is not the father. A large number of men have no interest in claiming their by-blows. Still, given the enmity between us, I would think he would take his child simply because I do not want him to.”
“Perhaps the kidnapper took the baby from your sister—or whoever his mother is—and was asking for a ransom for him. But then somehow the baby wound up at St. Margaret’s, and he was trying to steal him back.”