by Amanda Quick
“I had the impression you were no longer angry with me.” He nibbled at her earlobe.
“I’m not,” she confessed. How could she be angry when he was making her burn like this? “But there are many matters we need to clear up between us. Matters such as those that came up during dinner tonight. Gabriel, there is still so much we do not know about each other.”
“I thought we agreed you would not run from me again.”
“I would not run away,” she assured him quickly. “We would live as man and wife. I simply meant that perhaps we should become better acquainted before we actually become man and wife. If you see what I mean.”
He trapped her head between his hands again. Phoebe stared up at him through her lashes. The firelight sharpened the edges of his hawklike face and deepened the mystery of his eyes.
“Tell me again that you love me, Phoebe.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
He smiled slowly. “And we are wed. There is no need to wait.”
Phoebe gathered her courage. “But I am not precisely certain yet how you feel about me, Gabriel. I ran away this morning because I feared you were offering marriage out of a misguided sense of chivalry.”
He took her earlobe between his teeth again and bit down just hard enough to startle her. “Trust me, madam, it was not a sense of chivalry that led me to offer marriage.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” she persisted. “Because I truly do not want to feel you were obliged to marry me.”
He looked down into her eyes. “I want you more than I want anything else on the face of the earth.”
She read the desire in his eyes. “Gabriel. Do you mean it?”
“I will show you how much I mean it.” Gabriel crushed her mouth gently beneath his own. His tongue plunged between her lips, inviting her to taste him as he was tasting her.
With a flash of feminine intuition, Phoebe realized that this was Gabriel’s way of telling her of his feelings. He loved her. He could not make love to her like this unless his emotions matched her own.
Gabriel found the tapes of her gown and undid them in several short, swift motions. A moment later Phoebe felt the warmth of the fire on her bare skin as she was freed from the dress and the petticoat she had worn beneath it. Gabriel’s palm moved across her breasts.
The feel of his roughened fingers against her nipples startled her. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she was utterly naked except for her stockings.
“It’s all right, sweet. You are so lovely.” Gabriel’s hand drifted over her, testing, stroking, exploring. “My God, you are beautiful.” He bent his head and dropped a series of warm kisses in the valley between her breasts.
Phoebe arched against him, her embarrassment fading quickly beneath the impact of the urgent need she sensed in him.
His hand closed around her calf and then moved up along the length of her leg to her thigh. He did not untie her garters. Phoebe found it very odd to be wearing only her stockings.
She turned her face into his shoulder and slid curious fingers into the opening of his shirt. She touched the crisp hair there and was enthralled. Impulsively she put the tip of her tongue to his warm skin. Gabriel sucked in his breath.
“You taste good,” she whispered.
He gave a soft, hoarse laugh that dissolved into a husky groan. He cupped her buttocks and squeezed gently. “I have been wanting you for weeks.”
Phoebe felt the hard length of his manhood pressing against the fabric of his tight breeches. The proof of his desire filled her with a sense of womanly power. She was caught up in a golden, glittering illusion. But this was no dream, she reminded herself. This was real. “I’ve loved you for weeks.”
His fingers slipped into the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs, seeking out the plump, moist folds. Phoebe cried out softly when he tested her with his finger.
“Yes,” Gabriel breathed. “Yes, my sweet.” He withdrew his hand from between her legs. He shifted slightly away from her and shrugged impatiently out of his shirt.
Phoebe watched through half-lowered lashes as he yanked off his boots. Then he got to his feet to remove his breeches.
Phoebe stared at his fully aroused body. She had never seen a man in such a condition. Her mouth went dry and her eyes flew up to meet his.
Gabriel knelt beside her and pulled her to a sitting position. He held her close against his chest. “Don’t be afraid of me, Phoebe. Whatever happens, don’t ever be afraid of me.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Trust me?”
“Yes. Always. Forever.”
“I’m glad.” He kissed the nape of her neck and then settled her back down on the carpet.
“It’s just that I had not expected you to be quite so …”
“Quite so what?” he asked, nibbling at her throat.
“Quite so legendary in your proportions,” she managed weakly.
Gabriel laughed. Phoebe felt herself turning a very bright shade of red.
“We shall spin ourselves a fine legend tonight, my sweet. One worthy of any medieval bard.”
His mouth was like a warm drug on her skin. It soothed her, teased her, and then goaded her into a response. His hands moved over her, exploring her with a startling intimacy. Even though he was pressing her into the hard floor, she reveled in the weight of him as he sprawled across her.
Experimentally she stroked the contours of his strong back and then dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his hips. He was so strong, she thought, yet he shuddered every time she even grazed him with her fingertips.
Phoebe discovered she could not get enough of his response. No matter where she touched him, he reacted as if she had set fire to something deep inside him. His manhood pushed heavily against her inner thigh.
“I swear I cannot wait any longer.” Gabriel’s voice was thick with passion. “Open yourself for me, my sweet wife. I need to be inside you or I shall go mad.”
She parted her trembling legs. He settled himself firmly between her thighs and eased himself upward until his shaft was pressing against her. Phoebe moved her head restlessly on the carpet as she realized just how large he was.
“Gabriel?”
“Wrap yourself around me, Phoebe.” He put his hands under her knees and lifted them. Then he guided her legs into position. “Yes, like that. Now put your hands on my shoulders. Hold on tight, Phoebe. As tight as you can.”
She clutched his sleek, powerful shoulders. She had never felt so vulnerable. But she loved him, she reminded herself, and she ached for this union as much as he did. They were as one in this passion, just as they were in their love of old medieval legends.
“That’s it.” Gabriel kissed her throat and pushed himself more insistently against her passage. “You’re very tight, but you’re also very wet. I don’t know how stormy this first sailing will be, but you must trust me. All will be well.”
“It’s all right, Gabriel.” She lifted herself tentatively against him. “I want you.”
“I’m never going to get enough of you after this.” He reached down, opened her with his fingers, and guided himself slowly into her snug channel.
Phoebe held her breath, not certain what to expect, but needing the feel of him inside her. She had to have him. Instinctively she tightened her legs around him.
“Phoebe, wait, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Gabriel’s face was a stark mask of self-imposed restraint. But when Phoebe lifted her hips once more, something seemed to give way inside him. “Yes. Oh, God, yes” He surged into her in one powerful stroke.
Shock and surprise slammed through Phoebe. She was suddenly too full, too tight, too trapped beneath Gabriel’s heavy weight. He was inside her.
She could not tell if there was any pain. She did not know what she was feeling. The sensation was literally indescribable. She gave a soft exclamation and clutched Gabriel’s shoulders.
> 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 are 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 sp
eak 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 engaged 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?”