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Taking two glasses of champagne, he entered the music room where rows of chairs had been placed facing a gleaming pianoforte. He came to her side while she was looking at the other half of the room and bowed a little, “I feel insulted that someone else is having your attention.”
Anastasia turned to him with a slanted smile, “Oh, no, I was blinded by your light, so I had to look away.”
Laughing, Gabriel handed her the glass, and when she took it, he sat in the chair next to her. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“I am delighted you came,” she replied then nodded across the room. “It seems my cousin is finally finding her match.”
Looking in the direction, Gabriel snorted, “Portland? I saw them flirting last night. I’d say they would be the perfect pair, but they are essentially the same person: entitled, spoiled, demanding, and tiresome. That marriage would be a frightening.”
“I think its sweet,” Anastasia replied. “Aunt needs Margaret to finally choose before she becomes a spinster.”
Shifting to look at her, Gabriel flicked an invisible speck of lint from his grey trousers. His charcoal frockcoat and plum waistcoat, like all his garments, fit flawlessly on his lean, muscular frame. “About last night, do you have any regrets?”
Her lids slipped halfway. “No.”
“Good.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it, letting his lips linger on the back of her hand before pulling away. “Because I want nothing more.”
A flash of motion had him looking up, and a flurry of pleated skirts came moments before Miss Victoria plunked herself into a seat with an aggravated huff. “I can’t stand that man!”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Good evening to you, Miss Victoria.”
She went red. “Dear me, I’m sorry, Your Grace; I had not noticed you.”
“Clearly,” he smirked, “and would this man be Lord Gladhame?”
“I…” she pouted, “…would rather not say.”
Anastasia angled her face to him and whispered, “Which is a yes.”
“Implicitly.”
A bell rung, the program was called to order, and the music had begun. The occasion had been planned right as the room was gently filled with the patrons and room to spare. Now and again, Miss Victoria would lean in to whisper into Ana’s ear which made him angle her head and bare her neck—and all he wanted to do was litter her skin with his kisses.
As he gazed around the room, Gabriel wondered if he had ever done something as simple as this without any underlying motives to lure a lady into his bed.
This is a first for me, isn’t it?
He still wanted that kiss her, but he waited—for now; Anastasia was his, and he would savor it. It was no hardship to wait for the interlude, so he could slip them away to the glorious garden just beyond those doors.
When the interval came, and the guests went for drinks and sweets, Gabriel whispered, “Join me in the garden a moment, sweetheart?”
Taking advantage of the guests’ preoccupation, he easily swept her through the terrace and into a topiary garden that was walled in. A wide gravel walkway led them an ancient willow tree, its fronds overhanging a stone bench, sheltering them from prying eyes. A fountain gurgled a few feet away and provided a dark, secluded nook for them to be alone.
Scandalously, deliciously, alone. It was not the place to introduce her to hedonistic pleasure—no matter how many nights he had dreamt of just such a liaison—but Gabriel could not go the next hour without kissing her.
He led her to a stone bench and pulled her onto his lap. Eagerly, she wrapped her arms about his neck, and he cradled her in a warm hold.
“Are you going to ravish me here?”
A dry laugh left him. “No, my sweet, a proper ravishing demands a soft surface, candles splattered around the room, and rain beating on the window. This will do for a half-ravishing.”
He kissed her temple, allowed his lips to trail to the shell of her ear, and the slowly glide quickened her breath before he took her mouth. Having her in his arms was heaven, and he commanded their kiss, glad when her tongue danced with his. He held her closer as the heat and passion of his kisses intertwined.
What if this were real… What if I could have her as mine,have her every night and cherish her every day…Might never have had to make do with clandestine kisses on a garden bench ever again.
The fantasy was so intoxicating, it stopped his thoughts and stole his breath. He splayed his hands against her ribs, just under the swell of her breasts, and Ana arched closer. He suckled her tongue, nipped her lower lip.
The pad of his thumb traced the lower curve of her breast. She gasped as a sudden yearning shot through him to twist his hand and cup her. He knew without a doubt that Anastasia could be his if only he would take her.
