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When the maids cleared their room of the bath and food, he sat in bed in his night robe and watched his bride. Evie combed her hair near the fireplace in her fresh day gown, yellow with tiny embroidered ornaments at the hem and bust line. The storm seemed to have calmed, although the rain beat an incessant staccato on the inn’s windows and roof.
Gabriel watched her with avid interest. She was too enticing for her own good. Her long, flaming hair curled as she brushed it. And he finally understood why young ladies always had their hair bound in public. It was like an aphrodisiac. He imagined wrapping his hands in them, drawing her close.Damn it. Would his thoughts ever get out of the gutter? He tried to divert his musings.
“Tell me, love. What was with the men’s clothing you were wearing the night you came to my doorstep?”
As an attempt to get his thoughts out of the gutter, it failed miserably. He suddenly remembered her in men’s breeches, her buttocks swaying invitingly, the gentle curve of her hips enhanced by the garment. He closed his eyes tight. Evie wasn’t looking at him; her gaze was focused on the fire, her hands working on brushing out the tendrils of her hair.
“I told you, it is suspect for a lady to travel unaccompanied. So I had to pass for a gentleman. Besides, it is quite uncomfortable riding astride in skirts unless you pull them up and bunch them at the waist.”
This wasn’t helping. Now he was imagining her exactly like that, with her skirts lifted, bunched at the waist, or even tossed over her head. He could do so many pleasurable things to her in that position.
He cleared his throat. “Where did you learn such a scandalous activity as riding astride?”
She laughed. “My grandfather taught me. He said I begged him until he relented, although my mother used to say that I didn’t ever have to beg for anything. He did whatever I asked.”
“You spent quite a lot of time with your grandfather,” Gabriel observed. Glad to pull his thoughts to safer pastures.
“Quite.” She smiled at him, still brushing her hair. “As soon as I was born, he basically appropriated me from my parents.”
She laughed softly again. Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever heard a lady laugh as much in one evening. The main trait of all gentle society was to wear an air of boredom, to never show their emotions. And there she was, laughing openly, at herself, at her family, at him. Everything made her laugh, or at least smile. She was a breath of fresh air for his stone-cold heart and cynical attitude. He remembered his sophisticated lovers. They would pretend to be intrigued, act coy, and always aloof.
He found a return smile on his lips this whole evening, as well. When she wasn’t jostling in a moving carriage, she was a delight. He loved every minute he spent with her. Even his aching erection didn’t bother him that much. He winced. Much.
“They loved me too, of course. But they had each other.” She threw a glance over her shoulder. “Grandpa didn’t have anyone, so he poured all his love into me, I suppose.”
How lovely it must have been to grow up surrounded by an adoring family. Gabriel thought of his cold and distant father. No. He didn’t know what it felt like to be loved. Surely, his lovers adored him, worshipped him even, but they hadn’t really known him enough to love him. Oh, they loved his sexual prowess, his looks, his wealth when he had it, his title. None of them knew him well enough to love him for him, though.
Evie got up, obviously done brushing and drying her hair. “What time are we setting off tomorrow?”
“It depends,” he answered thoughtfully. “If the morning is sunny, the roads should be passably dry by mid-morning.”
She frowned at the thought. “I wish we could get there sooner.”
“Don’t worry, love,” he said as she blew out the candle and climbed into bed with him. “You’ll be married to me in no time.”
“I can’t wait.” She yawned and turned her back on him. “Good night.”
“Good night,” he answered with a sigh and resigned himself to another sleepless night.
