At the Bride Hunt Ball Read online

  Their chattering continued, but it was obvious they were moving to rejoin the tour as their voices faded away, as did the weak candlelight that had accompanied them.

  Madelyn’s breath rushed past her lips in a soft whoosh. They wanted the duke, not Lord Tristan. For a few moments she just stood there and blinked, not knowing how or if this recent discovery even affected her. She needed to go back to her room and think.

  She turned, choosing to retrace her steps back down the corridor and through the parlor instead of making her presence known. Each step brought her further into the inky darkness.

  The wispy hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a shiver trickled down her spine. She could have sworn there was someone else in the darkness along with her, echoing her every step. She shrugged the notion off, blaming her nerves on her newfound discovery.

  Had those women been feigning an interest in Lord Tristan while secretly hankering after the duke? Or did this just come about? And what was she going to do? And why must something be done about it? Funny, she actually felt a twinge of sympathy for Lord Tristan.

  The corridor seemed darker, longer, and without the candlelight behind her from the sculpture gallery, Madelyn could barely see her hands in front of her face. Halfway down she made out a sliver of light emitting from the doors that were now partially open. Strange, she could have sworn she’d shut them. She slowed, reaching out until her fingertips brushed the cool door handles.

  She hesitated. Her aunt was very likely still in the parlor, and Madelyn knew she would have to assuage her curiosity with an explanation as to why she had returned this way. Then she dismissed the thought. Her inebriated aunt wouldn’t remember her passing through in the first place. With a click and a moan, the doors opened farther. The room was empty.

  In a flurry of movement, a shadow swooped from behind her and she was yanked back inside the dark corridor by large hands molding around her shoulders in an unrelenting grip. In a space of a second she found herself pinned to the wall by a hard, unyielding, masculine body.

  Chapter 10

  Madelyn looked up into eyes of blue flame and a face framed by a tousled mane of ebony locks.

  “Gabriel,” she breathed.

  “Ah, hell.” His dark head dropped down. “Mistook you for someone else, I’m afraid.” He looked up, his face dangerously close.

  “W-Would you mind telling me who?”

  He shook his head slowly, not to negate her request, she supposed, but out of irritation with himself. Whomever he had expected her to be, Gabriel’s entire body was tight and ready to pounce.

  He looked a bit disheveled. Bristles dusted his chin and jaw, telling her he hadn’t shaven today. And his cravat lay untied and loose around the corded muscles of his neck.

  “Just leaving the sculpture gallery, then?” he asked with a flicker of anger. He leaned in, his hands splayed on the wall, framing her shoulders.

  “N-No.”

  “Then what were you doing tiptoeing in the dark?” His gaze affixed on her mouth. Without breaking his concentration, he shifted his weight. But the action did little to make their position less scandalous if any one should happen by the room.

  She swallowed, distracted by her initial fear and the feel of his warm, long body so close to her own. “I became lost—Oh, there’s no sense hiding it. I was looking for your art gallery. Your butler had forgotten his key.”

  Bitterness stabbed at Gabriel’s insides at her bold lie. On his way through the castle, hunting for Rothbury, he had happened by Lady Beauchamp, who claimed he could find a wandering guest beyond the double doors in the parlor. He didn’t believe the woman, as she smelled heavily of spirits and swayed where she stood as if aboard a sailing vessel. However, he felt compelled to inspect her assertion to be sure it was not the earl watching and waiting to strike. Once inside the dark corridor, he had overheard the bride-hopefuls concocting a secret plan to have a go at him instead of Tristan.

  And now Madelyn stood before him, apparently just coming from a talk with the others. He shook his head, staring down at her, hoping his glare intimidated her into admitting the truth.

  With a stony expression, he watched her swallow convulsively. “Where did you come from?” she asked.

  He lifted the corner of his mouth in a disbelieving smirk. “Is there something you’d like to explain to me?”

  “Well…no,” she muttered, perplexed by his question. Perhaps she should explain to him the effect he had on her body by standing so sinfully close, she thought. With each breath she took, her bodice brushed against his chest. She tried not to notice, but the sensation was hard to ignore.

  “It’s not safe to wander alone in the dark,” he replied darkly.

  His warning made her curious. “Why? Are there hungry beasts afoot?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

  “Indeed, there are.”

  Startled by his quiet words, she wanted to meet his gaze, to discern if he was teasing her again as he often did, but she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. She closed her eyes. All she had to do was stand on the tips of her toes…

  He leaned in closer and whispered, “Go. Now. Return to the others.”

  But Madelyn didn’t want to leave. A yearning, sudden and unbidden, rose up within her and she shivered, realizing she wanted—no, needed—him to kiss her again.

  “You’re right. I should go,” she began, not caring that she was speaking her thoughts aloud. She stared at his lips. “It isn’t at all proper for me to want a kiss.”

  She had only enough time for a short inhalation before his mouth swooped down and caught hers once, twice, and again for a series of separate, thorough kisses, each one robbing her of her breath. An acute, all too short surge of pleasure stung her senses, prompting a surprised but sleepy-sounding moan from the back of her throat.

  Gabriel pulled his mouth away, inhaling slowly, deeply. She wanted more, he instinctively knew. And there was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to taste her again as well. She smelled so sweet, her lips so soft, so eager.

  Only he wanted more, much more, than he had a right to coax this woman to give. Her luscious breasts rose and fell against his chest, triggering a molten desire, which raged in his veins like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His mouth, his teeth in particular, itched to graze the soft skin swelling above her bodice.

  “You need to leave,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Oh, but it had ended before it began, Madelyn thought. He made her feel light, feminine, desirable, and her mind and body craved more of his attention. “Please, not yet,” she pleaded, tilting her face up to his.

  He closed his eyes on a low groan, as if knowing she wanted more of his touch caused him physical pain. She watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. On the wall, bracing her shoulders, his hands trembled under the pressure of supreme self-control. She wondered if Gabriel thought he’d made a mistake and was, in fact, repulsed by what he’d just done.

  On the contrary, he was wondering if the bewitching woman realized the power she wielded over him. At this point, she could have asked him for anything in the world and he would have no choice but to grant her wish. He’d never felt so utterly weak.

  At his hesitation, Madelyn’s bravery wavered and she turned her face away, ashamed by her behavior. Closing her eyes, embarrassment flooded her thoughts. She wanted him to kiss her, and he apparently wanted nothing more than for her to leave.

  Damp heat fanned down her neck toward her breasts, and she opened her eyes a slit to see that Gabriel had lowered his head to her bodice. Shivers of delight scattered across her as his smooth lips brushed the skin at her neckline. He exhaled a low growl and raised his head, gritting his teeth.

  “I want you. Dear God, how I want you. I can’t—” He cleared his throat. “Go.”

  She took a deep breath, summoning the strength to turn and walk away. He was right. She should go, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a shameful twinge of disappointment.

  But
then his sculpted lips brushed across the apple of her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered closed. “Please, Gabriel,” she whispered.

  With his hands still braced on the wall at her shoulders, Gabriel held himself back, not allowing any part of his body to touch hers except for his chest as they each took a breath. “Please Gabriel, what?” he asked, his words mostly air.

  “Kiss me again,” she breathed.

  “As you wish,” came his dark whisper.

  And then he leaned down, smoothing his slightly stubbled chin down her cheek as his warm lips hunted for hers. He smelled mildly of brandy and leather, and she swallowed, feeling drunk with sensation, her arms hanging boneless at her sides. A shiver ran down her spine, and she tilted her head, raising her chin. He gave it a small, silent kiss, then, with a breathy moan, he pressed his lips onto her mouth in gentle exploration.

  They stood there in the dark corridor, his mouth slowly, methodically, slanting across hers again and again. He tended to her mouth as if she were a rare, delectable sweet. As if he had all the time in the world, he savored every honeyed nook of her mouth with each dip and swirl of his tongue. And he kept his hands planted on the wall the entire time. Vaguely, she was glad for that. The power of his kiss alone nearly made her knees buckle.

  In the darkness, she felt consumed by him. Liquid heat coursed down her body, settling into a gentle ache at the center of her being. She had no idea what to make of the sensation, only that he provoked it and she wanted it to continue.

  As he continued to explore her mouth, one of his hands fell away from the wall and his long fingers smoothed along her naked collarbone, making her nearly jump out of her skin with delight. He moved gently up her neck to cradle her jaw within his large hand. She felt as delicate as a porcelain doll. Her arms felt heavy, but she lifted them, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him toward her to deepen the kiss.

  Her small act of insistence unleashed the beast within him. Their kiss turned into a torrent of passion. Gabriel’s groan and Madelyn’s answering feminine sigh broke the dark silence of the corridor and she slid her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer to her. He intensified the kiss even more, thrusting his tongue deep inside the sweetness of her mouth as his hips pushed against hers, echoing the motion in a maddeningly wicked way. He continued his thorough and steady siege of her senses, wordlessly coaxing her on as she shyly tried to match the cadence of his passion. Boldly, one of her arms snaked under his coat and around his waist, and she pulled him closer, desperately trying to fulfill a need burning inside her that nearly drove her out of her head.

  Gabriel groaned, pinning her hips tighter against the wall with a sudden push of his. She grasped at his strong back, wanting to feel more of him, wanting to crawl inside him. The kiss steadily escalated, his lips moving hotly, his tongue stroking hers, making her nearly cry out.

  Running her hands up the sleeves of his frock coat and then his shoulders, she sunk her fingers in the thick, silky black curls at the back of his head. He stopped cold.

  Breaking the kiss, Gabriel shifted his weight off of her. Panting, he looked into her eyes, and she recognized the power of his restrained passion. With their chests rising and falling from exertion, Gabriel turned his head away, glancing at the open parlor doors where he’d yanked her from minutes ago.

  “Wh-What…” Madelyn began shakily.

  “Return to your chamber.” He shook his head, still not looking at her. “And lock the door. If I knock on your door within the next couple of hours, by God, don’t let me in.”

  “I—I don’t have the key.”

  “Then push something very heavy in front of the door,” he commanded gruffly.

  She stood there, catching her own breath, her mind reeling with what had just happened between them.

  “Go,” he ordered, his sharp tone an unexpected bite to her fragile state.

  Hot tears stung the back of her eyes. Blinking them away, she ducked from under his ridged arm next to her shoulder and, without a backward glance, hitched up her skirts and broke into a run, her wobbly legs not breaking rhythm all the long way to her assigned bedchamber. Once there, she slammed the door behind her and leaned her back against it. She gasped for air, trying to catch her breath while willing her heartbeat to slow and steady itself.

  Her legs trembled. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she touched them as they yet throbbed with the faint memory of the duke’s tender onslaught. She closed her eyes and slid to the floor. What in the world had just happened? She knew better than to allow herself to be lured onto a scoundrel’s web of seduction.

  She had borne witness to her father’s indifference to her mother in adolescent confusion. Her mother appeared unmoved by this chink in her marriage. Seeing that had made Madelyn fume. If she couldn’t have the whole of a man’s heart, she told her mother with all her eight-year-old fury, then she didn’t want anything to do with it. Her mother had smiled, leaned down to ruffle her unruly locks, and told her never to set her sights on a man who had too much money and too much free time. “Marry your best friend,” she had advised her, “be he a stable lad or the King of England, for he’ll never think to break your heart.”

  Madelyn pushed herself upright. Gabriel’s unwavering attention, his subtle flirtation, his insistence that she address him by his given name…why, he must have purposely followed her into the dark corridor. Tomorrow, she would demand an apology and that he leave her be. He should be able to control himself. Or she hoped so because it seemed that she could not. If anything, tonight she had discovered a part of herself that she never knew existed. A shocking part of her that desperately wanted to return to Gabriel and offer her mouth and anything else he wanted for his possession.

  Leaning her head back against the polished wood of the door, she sighed, her traitorous mind replaying their kiss. His touch was so tender, so intense. And Lord, she wanted him to do it again. With a lurch of fear she realized how fortunate it was for her that he had still been in possession of his senses and was able to stop himself from further ravishment. Her body, it seemed, did not listen to her mind. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped? She could only imagine.

  Rothbury had tried to kiss her. But she was never so swept away to allow him to do so. She’d duck, dash, or push him away, her mind never dreaming of what his kiss would be like.

  There was a click and she heard as well as felt the door rumble behind her as someone tried to open it. Her back pressed to it, her heart palpitated. Dear Lord, Gabriel had come!

  Swallowing, she looked longingly over to the armoire across the room, wishing she had scooted it to the door when she first entered her chamber. The door rumbled again. How in the world was she going to keep him out? Her puny weight would never be able to keep him from opening it.

  “Madelyn?” Priscilla’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “Madelyn? Are you in there?”

  The breath she had been holding rushed out in a loud whoosh. It was only her stepmother, not the duke. She was relieved. And strangely disappointed. “Yes…yes, I’m here.”

  “Wherever had you run off to?”

  She turned about and opened the door, encountering Priscilla’s deceptively angelic beauty. “I felt ill,” she lied. “So I returned to my room.”

  Her stepmother glanced at the door with disgust. “It’s so humid; the door must be sticking.” Turning, she studied Madelyn. “My, you are flushed. Your lips…they almost look swollen. You’d best not be getting ill on me, now with only a sennight left to sway the duke. Remember…your mother’s cottage.”

  Madelyn nodded, shuffling over to her bed.

  “I’ll allow you half an hour to rest, then we’ll have Jenny dress you for supper. I hear the duke might be in attendance,” Priscilla added with excitement.

  Madelyn groaned, plopping down on her bed, instantly enveloped within the cushy, ivory-colored coverlet.

  Priscilla took a long, assessing look of her, then flounced to the dres
sing room door. “Let’s take advantage of this opportunity. It’s time you wore my dark green velvet gown.”

  Madelyn whimpered, covering her face with a pillow. It was Priscilla’s best, newest, slinkiest gown. It had a low, scooped back and, of course, would fit tight across her ample bosom, nearly pushing her breasts up to her nose.

  “If this doesn’t manage to catch the duke’s attention,” her stepmother stated, a wicked smirk on her pale lips, “then nothing will.”

  Madelyn snuggled farther within the blankets. Little did Priscilla know exactly how much of the duke’s attention she already had. Hang the apology. She was going to act mature and do the right thing from now on. She was going to hide in her room.

  Chapter 11

  “Psst. Wake up, Madelyn.”

  “I’m not sleeping and go away,” she said, her voice muffled beneath her pillow. The bed dipped to the side where Charlotte sat.

  “Whatever happened during the tour? One minute you were standing there and the next you were gone,” Charlotte said, wresting the pillow from Madelyn’s grasp. “And you missed supper. Priscilla’s furious. Here. You must be starved. I brought you an apple.”

  “No, thank you,” Madelyn replied, still spread out on her stomach across her bed. “I feel quite ill.” And that was the truth. The duke had kissed her, passionately, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop. The memory of their encounter was burned into her mind.

  Indeed, missing supper was a mistake. As she lay in her bed, all she could think about was him. If he had come to her room as he warned her he might, she wasn’t sure she would have sent him away. What did that say about her inner strength, her resolve? Years of alternately avoiding or scolding self-centered scoundrels did absolutely nothing to prepare her for Gabriel. And what compounded matters, what turned her stomach to knots, was the fact that apparently she wasn’t the only one who was attracted to him. From what she’d overheard hours before, there were at least four other females under this roof who were thinking about changing Gabriel’s mind about marriage.