Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square (27 page)

But he wasn’t done. Instead, he was only just beginning, licking and lapping and nipping and suckling as though determined to cleanse every last bit of stickiness from her. She closed her eyes, her hips arching instinctively as he built her hunger again, until she thought she might go mad. She grew wet, then wetter still, but he swallowed every drop with unbridled greed, as if he couldn’t get enough.

She climaxed powerfully, screaming as the bliss hit her. Pleasure unfurled, searing her from the inside out, as her mind went blank.

Before she had time to recover even a little, he scooped her up into his arms. Her body hung limp as he carried her in several quick strides to his bedroom, Mozart running out on hurried feet.

Gabriel shut the door.

Laying her on the bed, he stripped her bare, then did the same for himself, flinging their clothes onto the floor. Setting a knee onto the mattress, he moved over her, pausing only long enough to nudge her thighs apart before he thrust hard and deep inside her.

He captured her wrists and pulled her arms over her head, so that she was pinned beneath him, completely taken. He pressed his mouth to hers, then along the column of her throat. “Tell me again what you said that last night,” he murmured, moving to catch her earlobe between his teeth.

“What night?” she asked, lost in a sea of pleasure. “What do you mean?”

“That night at Ten Elms before I left.” He grazed
the other side of her jaw, feathering kisses at random. “You said something to me, or don’t you remember?”

Her eyes went wide, meeting his own as he raised his head. And she could tell, there in the bright light of day, that he could see she understood. That she did indeed remember the words.

I love you.

When she didn’t speak, he plundered her lips, taking her mouth with an unexpected kind of demand. “Tell me. Say it again.”

“Gabriel.”

Easing partially out of her, he thrust again, stealing her breath, possessing more than her body alone. “Say it,” he urged.

But she couldn’t, even though she felt the emotion in every cell of her body.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I want to hear the words on your lips again. Tell me you love me, Esme. Say it.”

He pumped inside her again, gaining another inch, then another, building her need higher with each new touch, every kiss and caress, until she was aching and near desperation, coiled on a razor’s edge of desire.

“Tell me.” He circled his hips and rubbed the ultra-sensitive tips of her breasts against his chest with a sensual skill that made her quake. Yet just when she thought she would claim her release, he denied her, letting her know he was the one in control.

“I have to know,” he said again. “Do you love me?”

His fingers intertwined with her own, their hands held tightly together as he stroked her passion another degree higher, then another, tormenting her with a promised ecstasy only he could provide.

And suddenly she broke.

“Yes,” she cried, the words wrung from her throat. “Yes, I love you.
Love you.
”

And he smiled.

Then he was kissing her wildly and thrusting inside her with a need he could not contain.

She arched, her heels digging into the mattress, her hands gripping his own as if he were a lifeline. Abruptly she peaked and joy crashed through her, spinning her in dizzying circles until she didn’t know where her body ended and heaven began.

He claimed his own release almost immediately after, his hips moving fast and sure, teeth clenched as he climaxed forcefully inside her, so powerfully she felt the warmth of him in her womb.

They lay together for a long while after, neither of them moving or speaking. Lazily, he rolled onto his back, careful to keep them joined as he cupped a palm over her bare bottom to hold her tight.

She floated, not knowing what to say, not sure if she understood what he wanted from her, now that he’d made her confess her love for him again. Yet he still had not said the words back.

Suddenly, she wondered if he ever would.

But when she raised her head, she saw a happy gleam in his tawny eyes that she’d never seen before, something she sensed was from more than just sex.

At least she hoped it was.

He kissed her slowly, threading his fingers into her hair. “Now, admit it. Wasn’t this better than going to church?”

Her eyes widened at his unrepentant blasphemy; then she laughed. “Maybe you
would
have been turned to ash had we gone to service, since you are a wicked, wicked man.”

A wide grin spread over his face. “Indeed, I am, my dear, but you love me anyway. Isn’t that right?”

Her own smile faded. “Yes, I do.”

Even if I shouldn’t.

Even if you will one day break my heart.

•   •   •

The remainder of the day stretched out at a leisurely pace. After lingering in bed for a while more, they rose and took a bath together, which led to another vigorous
round of lovemaking that left the floor of the bathing chamber slick with soapy water.

Rather than calling for her maid, Gabriel helped her dress in a simple, yet pretty gown made of green velveteen. She brushed her long sable hair and was about to twist it up to pin it atop her head when he stopped her. “Leave it down today,” he urged, leaning down to kiss the sensitive nape of her neck.

She hesitated, since ladies of good standing did not leave their hair down in public. But as she and Gabriel were not receiving callers today, and the rest of her family was at Braebourne, she didn’t see how it could hurt.

Locating a pretty red ribbon, she tied it back, allowing the loose waves to trail down her back nearly to her hips.

They ate dinner in the dining room, seated next to each other rather than at opposite ends of the long, festively decorated table. Great silver epergnes arranged with red-tipped holly, orange bittersweet and brown pinecones perfumed the air, while equally fragrant beeswax candles provided the illumination.

The chef outdid himself, as one delectable dish after another was brought up from the kitchens. For Gabriel, there was a succulent roast goose with figs and a tender glazed ham, while she dined on a pair of clever cheese dishes, one made with cream and potatoes and another from Italy that combined cheese-filled flat noodles smothered with a wonderful rosemary butter sauce.

Accompanying all of that was a plentiful array of vegetables, spiced and stewed fruits and freshly baked breads with creamy butter. And for dessert, there was a flaming plum pudding with a cognac whipped cream so strong it threatened to leave her tipsy.

Presents were handed out to the servants, who would have the following day off from work for Boxing Day; then she and Gabriel returned upstairs to her sitting room again, where they would exchange presents of their own.

He surprised her with an exquisitely fashioned painter’s easel made of polished mahogany and a leather case filled with tiny jars of ground pigment that she would be able to use for oil painting. She marveled at them, lifting the glass jars up to the candlelight, the colors reflecting like a rainbow.

She tossed her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically. “Thank you.”

“If I’d known this would be the response, I would have bought you art supplies weeks ago.” Laughing, he kissed her back until she pulled away to remind him that he had yet to open his own present.

“It’s not much,” she said, fingers woven together in her lap as she watched him tug the ribbon free of the box in his hands. “But I hope you like it.”

He gave her a little smile, then took off the lid.

For several long moments, he said nothing, just sat gazing into the box. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, wondering if she’d misjudged.

“When did you get this?” he asked, his voice thick and unusually deep.

“In Cornwall, that day we went to Truro. The merchant assured me that it is genuine Cornish silver, which he says is quite rare now, since the last silver mines there closed decades ago.” She paused, wondering again what he was thinking. “I’m sure you already have a timepiece, likely far more modern and better made than this one, but I’d seen you admiring it so I thought it might be something you would enjoy.”

Suddenly he looked up, his eyes fierce and as luminous as molten gold. “I had no idea that you’d done this. How did you manage?”

“Oh, it was when I told you I was hat shopping for Mallory. I bought this then.”

He rubbed a thumb over the back, a fleeting shadow of remembrance darkening his face.

She remembered that day too and the way he’d changed so drastically after meeting with his friend, though she still did not know why.

“It’s only a trifle,” she began, “so I’ll understand if you do not like it. We can look for something else tomorrow or—”

Before she could say another word, she was locked in his arms, her ribs aching slightly from the tight embrace. “No, I don’t want anything else. This is perfect. No one has ever—” He broke off.

She reached up and touched his cheek, a layer of evening bristle already roughening his skin. “No one has ever what?”

But he only shook his head, his throat working as he swallowed.

And she understood. No one had ever bought him anything simply because he liked it. No one had ever given him a gift meant exclusively to please and which demanded nothing of him in return. What a sad childhood he must have known. What an emotionally isolated life he must have spent since.

Very carefully, he put the watch back in its box and set it on the table. Taking her hand, he drew her to her feet and led her into her bedroom, where the room was lit by only the fire.

Slowly, tenderly, he undressed her, saving the ribbon in her hair for last. She helped him undress next, sliding his coat and shirt from his shoulders and arms, pulling off his trousers, shoes and stockings.

He pulled back the covers and they sank together onto the bed, kissing and caressing as if the night would last forever and they had no reason to rush. She sighed at his gentleness and moaned from his strength, sure in those moments that he must love her, even if he could not yet say the words.

Afterward, he pulled her to him just when she would normally have rolled away, twining her in his arms in a way that left her no room to escape. He didn’t ask if she had any objections to his staying tonight, just cupped his hand around one of her breasts in a gesture of blatant possession and closed his eyes to sleep.

But she had no complaints, her heart warm and
hopeful locked inside his embrace. Snuggling closer, she closed her eyes as well and smiled.

S
he and Gabriel didn’t speak again about everything that had happened on Christmas, but their relationship changed from that day forward.

He slept with her each night, and although they still maintained separate schedules during the day, there were also times when he accompanied her on one of her outings. He’d even been willing to provide his opinion on new rugs and draperies for his bedchamber at Ten Elms.

With winter upon them, they often stayed inside, where she used the easel and paints he had bought her. She began with a couple of small studies of the cats and dogs, then moved on to a grander piece with Gabriel as the subject. Despite his teasing complaints at having to wear clothes in this painting, he proved to be a good model, willing to sit quietly as he posed for the portrait.

“You need a painting done of you as the viscount,” she remarked one afternoon. “I couldn’t help but notice that there isn’t one in the gallery, either here or at Ten Elms.”

“A wise choice on my part, it would seem, since my uncle would surely have had it burned during one of his clandestine visits to the estate.”

Esme had laughed at the time, but sadly she wasn’t sure he was wrong.

Lawrence returned to his town house next door in mid-January and began joining them for dinner at least twice a week. And in February, Leo and Thalia and Drake, Sebastianne and little August came back to the city. The seven of them made a merry group on those evenings when all of the adults dined together at one
of their respective homes, and Esme delighted in doting on August, who was already showing signs of being every bit as smart as his father.

At Esme’s request, Sebastianne and Thalia offered their opinions and lent their expertise in her efforts to refurbish not only Ten Elms, but Landsdowne House as well.

“The rooms are all tastefully done but rather masculine,” Thalia commented one gray February afternoon. “There’s nothing of
you
here, Esme. It needs your woman’s touch.”

Sebastianne had agreed. “Precisely, starting with finding new homes for some of Gabriel’s more lurid paintings. We French take a far more mature view of sex and nudity than you English, so were it up to me, I would leave them. But I fear if any respectable English ladies visit the town house, they just might be overwhelmed by the sight and faint dead away.”

“Hmm, you are right. Still, it might almost be worth the uproar just to see the reaction.” Esme grinned.

“How true,” Sebastianne agreed, while Thalia smiled, shook her head and joined in their laughter.

Still, Esme hesitated, wondering if Gabriel would object. But when she broached the subject, he surprised her.

“They’ve stayed up far longer than I ever imagined they would now that you’re in residence,” he said. “Move whichever works you think might shock your female friends and acquaintances who will surely come to call.”

With Pike’s help, she relocated a couple of the more prominently displayed pieces to private areas of the house. But she left the Boucher in the library. Ladies weren’t likely to venture in there, and besides, she liked the painting; it made her smile every time she went in the room.

As March arrived, the temperatures began to moderate, tiny buds formed on the trees, grass began to green, and into the city came an influx of the
Ton
, returning
from their country estates in anticipation of the new Season.

Esme exchanged frequent letters with all her immediate family, and so knew not to expect any of the rest of them in Town anytime soon. With so many young children between them, Edward, Claire, Cade, Meg, Jack, Grace, Adam and Mallory had all decided that it was far easier to stay at their respective estates rather than moving their families to London for a few weeks. Everyone, they agreed, would meet in late summer at Braebourne for a nice long visit.

Neither Esme nor Gabriel had plans to fully participate in the Season either, but invitations began to arrive at the house, along with an occasional caller. A few were genuine friends, whom she and Gabriel welcomed gladly. But others dropped by out of curiosity, eager to meet the sinfully infamous Lord Northcote and his equally notorious new wife.

To Esme’s consternation, gossip about their hasty marriage and the naughty pictorial reason for it continued to circulate. But the more she and Gabriel were seen together around Town, the less anyone continued to pay attention, exactly as she had once predicted.

Actually, had it not been for that, she would likely have gone back to Ten Elms, particularly since there were so many new improvements taking place at the house that she longed to see. But if she left now, she wasn’t completely certain Gabriel would accompany her, and she was afraid to push the issue and find out for sure.

For in spite of their new closeness and the fact that he seemed to relish any outward expressions of her love,
he never expressed the sentiment himself. Even now, she still did not truly know what he felt for her.

Oh, he liked her. Of that she had not the least bit of doubt. But love . . .

It was a hope she continued to hold in her heart, waiting patiently for the day he would kiss her and say,
I love you too.

So for the time being she was resigned to staying in Town and taking part in at least some of the activities of the Season. Which meant clothes shopping with Sebastianne, Thalia and Claire, who had decided to come up to Town after all, but only for a week.

“Edward has business with the Lords, so I thought I would come along,” Claire said cheerfully, as they stood in the modiste’s shop a day after her and Edward’s arrival. “Oh, it is so good to see you. You look wonderful, by the way. I can tell marriage suits you, or should I say your husband suits you. I am glad it has turned out to be a happy match, after all.”

Esme nodded, feeling oddly and unaccountably shy. “What makes you so sure?”

Claire arched a pale eyebrow. “Anyone can tell. They have only to look at the pair of you. Gabriel could barely keep his eyes off you today when we all came to collect you. It did my heart good to see, I must confess.”

Claire had turned away then to offer an opinion on a length of material Thalia was considering. But Esme didn’t move. Hugging the comment to herself, she prayed that Claire was right.

•   •   •

A week later, Gabriel and Esme attended a ball together, her very first as Viscountess Northcote. It was a smaller affair, since the Season had not yet officially begun, but exactly the kind of party best suited for her introduction into Society as his wife.

The
do
was being hosted by an old university friend of his, Lord Cooper, a man who luckily had never done anything bad enough to be painted with the same black
brush that tarnished Gabriel’s own less than savory reputation.

In fact, since Esme’s arrival in London, he had been careful not to bring her into company with the more hardened members of his old crowd, a set known for their licentiousness and sin. They were an often crude and tawdry bunch on the whole, and he wanted her to have nothing whatsoever to do with them. He used to take immense pleasure in flouting Society’s rules—the more unsavory the act, the better, he’d always said. But now that he had Esme to consider, he found himself unwilling to do anything that might embarrass her or besmirch her reputation. And so, over the winter, he’d begun turning down invitations to join his former friends in one sort of revelry or another. Much to their astonished disbelief, he was no longer interested in their sordid amusements, and had recently vowed to cultivate—or recultivate—a new group of friends. Attending the ball of Lord Cooper and his wife was just such an attempt, and when he came face-to-face with his old friend, he found himself genuinely happy to see him.

“Thank you for having us,” Gabriel said as Esme spoke animatedly with Lady Cooper.

“Of course. It is our pleasure.” Cooper inclined his head. “I was glad to see you at the club the other day. It has been too long since we had a chance to sit and talk.”

“Indeed, it has.”

Cooper’s eyes strayed toward Esme. “I can see what has been holding your attention of late. Your new bride is quite exquisite. I am happy for you both.”

Gabriel watched Esme as well and agreed. Esme
was
exquisite, not only in beauty but in mind and spirit too. Rather than getting over her as he’d once planned, he found himself more ensnared than ever. But it wasn’t just the passion that continued to burn between them; he enjoyed her company too.

To his surprise, he realized that he found as much
pleasure and contentment sitting with her, reading or talking in front of the fire on a cold winter’s night, as he ever had indulging in wild parties and excesses. Were he being strictly honest, he supposed he’d used those pursuits to blunt his pain and fill the voids in his life. But now that he had Esme, the old hurts didn’t seem to trouble him so much anymore.

She loved him; she told him so nearly every day, usually at his urging, since he had an almost endless need to hear her say the words. Pathetic, he knew, especially for a man who’d once professed not to believe in such emotions. But she and her love warmed him from the inside out, and he could no longer do without either one.

And what of me? Do I love her?

He swallowed, the truth staring him in the face no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

Yes, God help me, I do
—even if part of him still feared everything it might mean. But like a drowning man, he supposed he was finally surrendering to the inevitability of his fate.

He met Cooper’s gaze again, the other man’s eyes twinkling with sympathetic amusement.

“Not a word,” Gabriel warned, annoyed to realize that everyone he encountered seemed to recognize the emotion he felt long before he was able to see it himself.

But Cooper only laughed. “I have to admit it’s rather refreshing to see the mighty fall, but not to worry—your secret is safe with me.”

•   •   •

“This is lovely,” Esme murmured nearly an hour later as she and Gabriel danced a second set together—a waltz this time, to her delight. “I could dance with you all night, but I suppose we ought to separate for a little while lest everyone begin remarking about how gauche we are for being in each other’s pockets.”

He spun her in a circle. “Let them remark. They’re all talking about us anyway.”

“Are they?” Surreptitiously, she glanced around and discovered he was right. People were watching them, some with speculation, others with disapproval and even envy. “Even so, we’re supposed to be lessening the talk, not increasing it.”

The dance ended. Arm in arm, they left the dance floor.

“Go join the men for a bit,” she encouraged. “I’m sure there must be a card or billiards game taking place somewhere in the house.”

“So you want me to gamble?”

“Of course, so long as you don’t lose,” she said teasingly.

He laughed.

Leaning up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “Come collect me for supper.”

“Aren’t you worried it will invite more comment if I take you in to supper?”

“I don’t want to eat with someone else. I want to be with you.”

His gold eyes turned molten, and for a few seconds she thought he might actually kiss her right there in front of everyone at the ball. Leaning close, he put his mouth against her ear. “If you aren’t careful, I just might carry you off to a secluded spot and have my wicked way with you. But in deference to the occasion, I shall strive to be good. For now.”

Her pulse hurried faster. “Go on, before I change my mind.” She laid a gloved hand on his shoulder and pushed. He didn’t budge so much as an inch.

Chuckling, he nipped her earlobe, then sauntered away toward the card room.

As soon as he was gone, she wished him back. The few people she knew were very casual acquaintances and the rest strangers. None of her family were in attendance.

Young August was down with a cold, so Sebastianne and Drake had stayed home to nurse him. Edward and Claire had gone back to Braebourne, while Leo and
Thalia were at Brightvale again. And Lawrence was busy working on a legal case and could not be drawn away.

She was about to walk across the ballroom to join the matrons who’d arranged themselves on a nearby row of chairs, when a man stepped into her path. Glancing upward, she looked into a familiar pair of eyes.

“Lord Eversley.”

“Lady Esme, I thought it was you.” He made her an elegant bow.

She curtsied back.

“Although it is Lady Northcote now, is it not?” he said.

“Yes, it is.”

“Allow me to offer you my best wishes on your marriage.”

“Thank you.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment.

“I—”

“How—”

They spoke at the same instant, their words overlapping. They both laughed, awkwardly again.

“You were saying?” she began.

“No, please, you first.”

“Oh, nothing important. I was only going to remark that we have not seen each other in quite some time.”

His smile fell away. “No, not since last summer, at Braebourne. I was not able . . . that is, I . . . my dear lady, you must allow me to offer you my sincerest apology.”

“Apology?” Her forehead creased in genuine puzzlement. “Why, whatever for?”

“For my behavior after that evening. For the way I ran off without even bidding you a farewell. For not staying long enough to allow you to offer an explanation for something which I have since come to realize was entirely innocent on your part.”

“Oh, not entirely innocent, Lord Eversley,” she said with a faint chuckle. “I did draw Lord Northcote, after
all. I have an impetuous streak, you see, that sometimes leads me into all sorts of dire predicaments. I am sure you were shocked, and justifiably so.”

“I was, I confess, but my behavior was still inexcusable. I ought to have stayed. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. You probably wish you need have nothing more to do with me.”

“Not at all. We were always friends, were we not? And everything has worked out well in the end.”

“Has it?” He frowned, his eyes moving quickly in the direction of the gaming rooms before moving back to hers. “Forgive my impertinence, but are you happy?”