At the Bride Hunt Ball Read online

  “Don’t…say…a word,” he whispered hotly into her ear.

  Gabriel.

  Madelyn stilled, slumping against him, a whimper of relief coming from the back of her throat.

  “Quiet,” came his whispered commanded. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded slowly, his big hand yet covering her mouth. Her body started thrumming with familiar heat and she had a difficult time concentrating on not burrowing into his embrace.

  “Good,” he growled into her ear, holding her tightly against him. “You’ve been warned. Now that I’ve got you in my arms, you’re not getting away.”

  Chapter 14

  Belinda and Bernadette continued to poke about the hall with youthful exuberance, apparently hoping the duke would come their way in the near future and they’d have him all for themselves. By chance alone they steered clear of the shadowed alcove where, unbeknownst to them, Madelyn battled the urge to flee against the impulse to surrender her soul.

  Gradually, Gabriel uncovered Madelyn’s mouth, his hand sliding with deliberate slowness over her jaw and down her neck. She swallowed convulsively, her breaths coming in quick, short bursts as his long fingers smoothed a path along her collarbone. Reaching her shoulder, his fingertips slipped under her shawl to shove the rest of it off and onto the floor.

  “Must you always leap at me from the shadows?” she asked. Shivers scattered across her skin.

  “If you didn’t look so damn tempting, I might be able to restrain myself.”

  Tempting? Part of her thought he was being ridiculous, part of her rejoiced at the words. She yearned for his touch…at least in this moment.

  Yes, he could hurt her, use her and toss her aside, yet the reward he inadvertently offered her each time he looked into her eyes outweighed the risk. Like an obsession, she had become addicted to the rush of excitement she felt in Gabriel’s company. And as much as she wanted to pretend differently, she had to admit, at least to herself, that she anticipated his company, his attention, each and every day since the day she fell into his pond.

  His hand swept from her shoulder to the center of her chest, resting flat against her skin. She knew he could feel the wild beat of her heart against his palm for she could feel his own thumping against her back.

  “Nervous? Excited?” Gabriel breathed the words. “Or scared?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His soft chuckle was buried in her hair. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Infuriate and fascinate me at the same time.” He swept his slightly bristled chin on the back of her neck. “You drive me wild, Madelyn,” he said against her skin. “You feel it too, do you not?”

  Her agreement came out as a soft sigh. She closed her eyes.

  His lips brushed the top of her ear. “Now do you see the danger, the risk, in your ruse?”

  “What r-ruse?” she asked, and was tugged roughly against him in response. Her breath seemed to be trapped inside her chest. “Do you mean…do you mean Charlotte and your brother? Because if you do, you should know now I shall continue my endeavor to protect my friend from heartless, inconsiderate libertines until she finds herself safely joined in matrimony to a deserving, agreeable man who—”

  His hand clamped over her mouth again.

  “As well as I would love to hear what comes out of your mouth next,” he breathed softly into her ear, causing her legs to feel wobbly, “I should like to go unnoticed at present.”

  She mumbled “I’m sorry” against his hand, and he uncovered her mouth once again. “Are you hiding?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Mm-hmm,” came his lazy reply, his lips now pressed to her temple. “Idiotic chits have been pestering me ever since I left your chamber. It’s damn annoying, but I think they’re giving up.”

  The thought that this strong, intelligent grown man was hiding from a pair of young women was ridiculous. She would have giggled if not for the heady distraction of his breath in her ear, his warm masculine scent washing over her. Plastered as she was to the front of his body, with his left arm latched around her waist, she could feel the hardness of his thighs pressing into her own and the rise and fall of his heated chest against her back. “I’m finding it exceedingly hard to concentrate, given our proximity,” came her hushed entreaty.

  “Good. So am I.”

  Yet he didn’t budge an inch. “I should like to tell you…I know the reason for their pursuit,” she managed. “Do you?”

  She felt his nod. “Oh yes,” he drawled, his voice a low purr. “They want the same thing as you.”

  “They do?” Her brows pulled together, then immediately relaxed as he grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

  “They think to change my mind about marriage. Bloody slow-witted creatures are wasting their time with this foolish game. Besides,” he breathed, dropping a kiss on her neck, “I prefer the way you play.”

  “Me?” She blinked, and then suddenly everything he had said about “a confession” made sense. He thought she was scheming along with the Fairbourne girls. That had to be it. But what in the world would give him that idea? She tilted her head back to look at him even though she couldn’t see him in the dark. “But I’m not—”

  He caught her lips, kissing her with such need, such ferocious passion, she was at once grateful for the anchor of his arm at her waist, for she would have surely sunk to the floor. His kiss was of complete possession. All at once intoxicating and startling. She wanted to match his fierce passion, but her inexperience wouldn’t allow it. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, taking, giving, tasting, until she was overcome with the need to seek something more.

  And then his tongue penetrated her mouth and all logical thought crumbled away. With deep sweeps of his tongue, he explored her warmth, making her shudder with pleasure. With a hushed whimper, she tried twisting in his hold to face him more fully, but he held fast. Her arms felt useless to her in their position, so she grabbed onto his forearm. His muscles were taut under her fingers.

  Gabriel kept one hand safely molded to her hip and the other at her waist. He itched to cup her breasts, squeeze her, caress every inch of her skin. But he wouldn’t allow himself. He suspected he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  She tasted so good and felt so right. Never before had he experienced this level of passion, this intense immersion of feeling. He wanted her, all of her, her heart, her mind, her soul, and especially her body. Right now. In this corridor or on the floor or up against the wall, he didn’t care. But he didn’t dare either. Not with those blasted twins scampering about, not with the guests awaiting his presence at dinner, not with an innocent woman who had no idea of the jeopardy she was in. Dragging his mouth away from hers, his body trembled with the intensity of his restraint.

  With a soft whine, she followed his mouth, seeking more. She arched against him and it drove him wild. “No, Madelyn.” He pressed a finger to her lips; she took it into her mouth and touched it with the tip of her tongue. “Oh God, you have no idea,” he said with a groan.

  “Then tell me,” she whispered. “You keep stopping. I realize I’m an innocent, but even a person with a modicum of intellect knows there’s more. You kiss me, but nothing else.” She shrugged. “I displease you.”

  Her ridiculous statement ignited the hunger buried inside him. Clamping his hands on her hips, he jerked her backside against his hard arousal. “Does this feel like displeasure?”

  Surprising him, her hips moved against his and he almost moaned.

  “Night after night, I struggle to fall sleep, stay asleep, my mind, my body, craving you, only you.” He spoke while grinding his hips slowly and fully into hers, and she continued to amaze him by matching his movements. “I wake every morning rock hard, the only remedy a frigid bath, and then I see you, smell you. It’s torture just knowing you sleep under my roof.” Reaching up, he grasped the front of her bodice and tugged it down, her breasts tumbling free. “Your gowns, you nearly fall out of them. Like a trained gentlem
an, I pretend to ignore, but all the while it drives me insane.” With both hands, he cupped the weight of each breast, kneading them, and circling each nipple until a small moan erupted from the back of her throat and she sunk more fully against the support of his chest.

  Madelyn’s head lolled back on his shoulder, waves of pleasure undulating through her, her body surrendering to his touch. Then, while Gabriel still teased one of her breasts, his other hand grabbed a handful of her skirts, burrowing underneath, searching. At last he made contact, grabbing her knee and squeezing, then sculpting his large, hot hand along the soft skin of her inner thigh, his fingers slipping under the garter that held up her stocking. Instead of clenching her thighs together, they fell open of their own accord. The muscles in her legs trembled with a strange need as his hand stopped, his fingers an inch away from her damp center. Just when she thought he would not dare, his hand cupped her there, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “You were warned,” he whispered, slipping one of his fingers into her wetness, “to stay away from me, to cease tempting me.” He rocked his hips into her, all the while moving his finger in and out, in and out, matching the pace. The shock of his intrusion both thrilled and stunned her. A breathy moan rushed past her lips and she shuddered with pleasure, matching the rhythm he set by rolling her hips.

  He rained a series of soft kisses along the column of her neck, his slick fingers moving relentlessly. “Do you see now, lovely one, why I kept my hands off you when I kissed you, only daring to touch your face?”

  She could only shake her head, so caught up was she in the waves of sensation teasing at her body, prodding her toward some unseen horizon.

  “I knew down to my core when I touched you, once would never be enough.” He probed deeper, his thumb flicking a splendidly sensitive nub of flesh in between her folds. He gave her neck a little nip. “This,” he growled, “is just the beginning of all I plan to do to you.”

  Raising one hand, Madelyn reached back, threading her fingers through his tousled hair. With steady strokes of one hand, his fingers persisted in coaxing her onward, while his other hand grasped at her breast. He commanded over her as he worked his magic, manipulating her body as if she were an exotic musical instrument. Myriad sensations coiled within her, and her heart fluttered inside her chest.

  “It’s there, Madelyn,” he breathed into her ear. “Give in, just give in to it…”

  Her movements becoming frantic, a thousand sparks seemed to rain over her in an undulating sea of frightening pleasure. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she gasped, about to cry out his name, but he silenced it by catching her mouth with his for a deep, thorough kiss that seemed to go on forever. Ever so gradually her heartbeat slowed, though it still beat heavy and strong, and she became vaguely aware of what had just happened. It was as if she was half asleep, so foggy were her thoughts.

  And then with an abruptness that nearly made her stumble, he released her and stepped back. Trembling, she turned to face him, to see if he was scowling, smiling, or if desire yet smoldered in his eyes, but he was only a large shadow in the dark.

  Gently now, he adjusted her bodice and patted down her skirts like a dutiful lady’s maid. Bending low, he picked up her shawl, shook it out, then placed it upon her shoulders.

  The ability to speak, it seemed, had left her. Her thoughts tossed about her head in a turbulent tempest of emotions.

  Gabriel had introduced her to sensations she hadn’t known existed until a few minutes ago. Part of her wanted to cry now that he’d stopped. She wanted more of him, of his touch. And he said that was the beginning? Good Lord, she should be glad he had stopped, she thought, for she would have certainly given herself to him completely. Only then she would be well and truly compromised. But Gabriel wouldn’t marry her. And even if he would, could she force her perfectly unsuitable personality into the mold of a perfectly proper duchess? No. She could not. She was unfit to be a duchess, and Gabriel had told her so on her first day at Wolverest.

  In allowing him to take liberties with her body, no matter how well she enjoyed it, she was setting herself up for the same blend of pain she had been protecting Charlotte from so adamantly.

  The heartache that comes from loving someone who only sees your faults.

  The dinner bell sounded in the distance. Gabriel leaned out of their hiding spot, took a quick look around, and then, holding her gloved hand, guided her out of the darkness and into the wide, candlelit hall.

  “They’re gone,” he replied, referring to the twins. He turned to face her, his brilliant blue eyes piercing her to the spot. Holding her face tenderly with one of his hands, he kissed the bridge of her nose, the apple of both cheeks, then pressed his lips briefly to hers.

  “You deserve better than a ravishment in an alcove,” he said, adjusting a curl or two atop her head.

  Finally, in the gentle light, she took in his appearance. Still dressed in black dinner clothes, he looked impeccably put together except for a slight tousling of his hair where she imagined her fingers had run through it. She, on the other hand, felt decidedly rumpled. Like she had worn her gown to sleep, simply rolled out of bed and come straight down to dinner.

  “We’ll be late,” she replied. “You’re to escort your aunt. Undoubtedly, everyone is waiting for you.”

  “Let them wait,” he said, kissing her again. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to deepen the kiss, but he didn’t allow it and pulled his mouth away from hers with a groan.

  “Gabriel,” she said, placing a hand on his sleeve. “You should know, though I overheard the Fairbournes talking about you, I was not involved with their conversation, their plot. I’ve never thought to try and change your mind.”

  His azure gaze was steady, though doubt lingered in the depths. “Are you trying to tell me that your presence here, Madelyn, is solely based on winning the affections of my brother?”

  “No,” she said, suddenly realizing he had been using her first name since pulling her into the alcove. “I have no interest in your brother.”

  “Then are you saying you’re here simply to forestall gossip and social censure for refusing my invitation?”

  He seemed to be crossing off items on a list existing only in his mind. “No,” she replied, feeling overheated as he weeded toward the truth. She had no way of knowing how he’d react to it. Anger. Laughter. Or worse, pity.

  He straightened to his full height. “Then it is to protect your friend from my brother,” he stated. “I can only admire your devotion, no matter your efforts will prove useless. If he should choose her to be his bride and she accepts, there’s little you could do to stop them.”

  “That is not all,” she said, ignoring his taunt, though she thought it fortuitous. “My stepmother, she thinks I…that is, she thought I…” Madelyn looked to the ground, making a tiny circular motion with the tip of her green satin slipper. Taking a deep breath, she raised her chin and looked him square in the eye. “She thought I could tempt you into wanting to marry me.”

  With a serious expression, he nodded slowly, his intense gaze so direct, she knew her face was redder than her hair. Of course, he said nothing, making her feel quite like she’d just told him the beginning of a joke and he waited tolerantly for the rest of it.

  She cleared her throat. “I never said I would go along with it, you see, and even tried to explain how impossible, how very imprudent, her idea was.”

  The dinner bell sounded again and she rushed her words, trying to get everything out in the open. “But she couldn’t be swayed in her opinion. When she married my father—”

  “Madelyn,” he interrupted, only she kept on talking.

  “—he sold her family Willowbrooke. The only home I’ve ever known. Upon my father’s death, he asked her to return me home, having finally realized how important that connection was to me—”

  “Madelyn,” he said softly. “Your stepmother’s assumption was correct.”

  And then she did shut her mouth, h
er lips felt pasted together. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be working was her blinking eyes and her legs. She remained in such a state all the way to the drawing room, all through a hurried introduction to his aunt Eugenia and all the while she was escorted to dinner.

  Did he mean to say she was tempting him into marriage? Because that was what it seemed. And was that good? She suspected the answer was no, it was not. He expected flawlessness, in manner, in dress, in speech. And she was full of imperfections. She must have misunderstood.

  She needed to be alone, to think, to iron out her jumbled thoughts. Being surrounded by people, some she knew, some she didn’t, only filled her with frustration. As she smiled and nodded her head politely at an acquaintance who said something to her from across the table, a sudden annoyance took hold. She sighed, hoping dinner would be quick and uneventful. Instead of retiring to the drawing room afterward for tea and card games, she’d plead a headache and return to her room. Yes, that was a splendid idea.

  By some error in the order of precedence, Lord Rothbury was seated next to Madelyn. While she tried to feign a cool collectedness she did not quite feel, the earl stared at her in abject silence, sparking in her a rare and haughty irritation.

  A footman placed a bowl of pheasant soup before her. With her hands folded in her lap, Madelyn turned to face Rothbury, struggling to ignore the blur of Gabriel in her peripheral vision at the head of the long table, his sour-faced aunt at his right.

  “Pray sir, why do you stare?”

  “My, my,” Rothbury drawled. “You are positively flushed.”

  “It is warm in here,” she pointed out, her tone short.

  “And your hair,” he said, his amber-flecked eyes alighting upon the top of her head, “mussed, for sure.”

  Her mouth tightened and she picked up her spoon. “That’s the trouble with hair given to curl.”

  “And what is that?” Rothbury asked, studying her neck.