12

Light exploded through the darkness and the windowpanes behind her head rattled fit to wake the dead. Lisette sat up with a gasp and stared outside, her heart thumping so hard she could scarcely breathe. A second roar reverberated through the glass and another burst of light, this time a golden one, which illuminated the indigo night sky and the rooftops of the other houses in the square.

Lisette let out a shaky breath as she realized she was only watching a fireworks display and not the end of the world as she had first feared. She frowned as she tried to remember what the fireworks were for. Was there a particular royal event being celebrated, or was the new King George merely being his usual extravagant self?

A stifled sound from the floor made her tense up again. She crawled toward the far side of the bed and peered into the shadows. Another flash of silvered light revealed the shape of a man crouched against the wall. Lisette put on her nightgown, got out of bed, and inched her way toward the hunched figure.

Gabriel sat with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chin, and his arms wrapped around his head as if protecting himself. Lisette paused to study him, noticing he was trembling and that his breathing sounded as ragged as hers when she had first awoken.

“Gabriel?” she whispered, but he didn’t seem to hear her. His fear flowed over her, and the sense that he held himself together by the merest fragile thread. The fireworks boomed and he shook even harder, his fingers a stark white as he tried to protect himself. But from what? From her? From the noise?

She reached out and patted his cold bare foot. “Gabriel, it’s all right. It’s just the fireworks.”

He didn’t respond and she frowned into the murky darkness. He was obviously in the grip of a nightmare or enmeshed in a physical reaction to some deep-rooted fear. She got up and drew the thick curtains, which at least shut out the light, and deadened the worst effects of the noise. On her way back, she lit a single candle from the embers of the fire and placed it on the bedside table so that at least some light fell on him.

She knelt down again and touched his arms, smoothed her palms over his freezing cold skin as if he were a frightened colt. “Gabriel, it’s all right. You’re safe.”

He exhaled and some of the tension leeched out of his body. Lisette continued to touch him. She’d heard stories about men who returned from war and suffered terrible consequences. Men who reacted to the sound of a champagne cork popping as if they were still under fire, whose dreams were so full of violence and the unfolding of their particular horrors that they even feared sleep.

Although she knew little of Gabriel’s particular war experiences, it was hardly surprising he might be suffering now. Lisette bit her lip. She could climb back into bed and leave him there. He’d probably be mortified if he knew she’d seen him like this. She smoothed a hand over his thick hair, which was now damp with sweat.

But Gabriel had held her while she cried and let her sleep in his arms. If he’d left her alone, he wouldn’t be here with her now struggling with his demons. How could she abandon him?

“Gabriel.” She knelt up and wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could. “I’m here, it’s all right.” He shuddered so hard she thought he might throw her off. She tightened her grip on him, kissed his ear, his brow, the bridge of his autocratic nose, anything she could reach in an instinctive need to help him.

She had no idea how long she held him like that, only that the fireworks had long stopped and her knees were aching from kneeling on the hard wooden floor. Tension eased from him and she managed to prise his arms away from his face so that she could finally look at him.

“Gabriel? ¿Cómo estás?”

He muttered something in the same language, but she couldn’t understand him. His eyes were closed, his color ashen. She framed his face with her hands and kissed his tightly closed lips, tasted his blood and still kissed him. She took one of his hands and brought it to her shoulder. “Touch me, Gabriel; let me know you are all right.”

With a sudden harsh movement, he put his hands around her waist and drew her into his lap, so that she straddled him. His mouth opened under hers and he kissed her with a blunt, desperate savagery that took her breath away. One of his hands shoved into her hair as if he was determined to keep her exactly where he wanted her. Lisette didn’t protest, just allowed him in, responded with all her strength, and yet let him have his way.

He groaned into her mouth and she caressed his tense muscled shoulders and back, felt his hand on her bottom, his fingers biting into her skin. The kiss went on and on until she was drowning in it, couldn’t remember what it felt like not to have him sharing her every breath. Her breasts rubbed against the hair on his chest, her nipples hard and aching.

“Lisette.” Without further warning, he lifted her over his cock and brought her down on him. She gasped at the sudden fullness, the shock, the sensation of being impaled. He wouldn’t let her escape his mouth. His tongue settled into the same driving rhythm as his hips as he lifted and lowered her onto his thick shaft until she was gasping and fighting to stop herself from biting him with the intensity of the pleasure.

“Dios, Lisette …” he whispered, as she felt him come, the heat of his seed deep inside her as he shuddered and shook with the force of it. She tried not to climax so that she could experience him to the fullest, but she couldn’t stop herself and sank her teeth into his lower lip as pleasure flowed over her.

He finally released her mouth and leaned back against the wall, his arms wrapped around her, his body still chained to hers. Lisette could only follow him down, her head on his chest, the solid beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

She realized she was scared to move, to have to look up and deal with his reaction to the enormity of what they had done together. Somehow she sensed that whatever happened, he wouldn’t be pleased. He was not a man who easily relinquished control, except within the confines of the pleasure house. She gasped as his hands cupped her bottom and he stood up and brought her over to the bed. He laid her carefully on the counterpane and leaned over her, one hand on either side of her head, their bodies still joined at the loins.

She had to look at him now. She refused to be a coward any longer. To her surprise, his eyes were closed, and his expression remote as if he still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. She reached up and brushed his hair away from his face. He cursed in Spanish and started to pull away from her, groaning as her body fought to keep him inside.

“Lisette, I can’t …” Before he even finished speaking he was driving into her again, his restoration so fast that it took her by surprise. At least he knew it was her and not some nameless dream woman he had to conquer. She curled her feet up and around his buttocks and held on, the force of his thrusts pressing her deep into the mattress. It was easier this time, now that she was so wet and stretched and, God, so desperate to feel him again.

She closed her eyes and allowed her body to take over, to simply enjoy the motion of his hips, the strength of his arms, his frantic breathing as he moved over her. Even within such bliss, she sensed this might be her only chance to experience him like this, the only time he would allow himself to break through the constraints that bound him and truly express his needs.

She climaxed and he choked out a cry and followed her, each pulse so long that she thought he’d never stop coming, that she’d always be pinned to the bed as he shuddered and shook over her. This time when he pulled away, he slumped down to the floor and she was too dazed to move. She lay on the bed and fought to breathe normally, knew with an aching sadness that he’d given her a sexual experience she would never forget. She also knew that the pleasure was unlikely to be repeated. She closed her eyes and curled onto her side.

“Miss Ross?”

She opened her eyes to find Gabriel on his knees beside her. She flinched at the desolation in his eyes.

“I’ll speak to your father later this morning.”

She blinked at him. “About what?”

He stood up and headed for the door. “About our marriage.”

She managed to sit up and clutched the bedclothes to her chest. “What marriage?”

Her only answer was the sound of the door clicking shut behind her reluctant lover. Lisette struggled to get out of bed, but by the time she gained the hallway, Gabriel was gone. She stared down the stairs and fought an absurd desire to cry. He’d decided to marry her now? She went back inside and slammed the door behind her, her fingers trembling as she tried to pull off her nightgown. She had to make herself presentable and make sure she got to Gabriel before he had any chance to speak to her father.

Gabriel hesitated as the door of the Knowles townhouse opened before he’d even had a chance to knock. He’d gone home and dressed in his best black coat and breeches and then forced himself back out of the door and to Lord Knowles’s house before he had time to think. After the event of the previous night, he couldn’t think properly anyway, his memories far too raw and confused to make sense.

“Good morning, Lord Swanfield.”

He barely remembered to acknowledge the butler. “Good morning. Is Lord Knowles available?”

“I believe he is, sir, let me go and inquire.” The butler bowed and opened a door to his left. “Perhaps you’d prefer to wait in here, sir, where it’s warmer.”

“Thank you.”

Gabriel unconsciously followed the butler’s guidance and found himself in a small, pleasant morning room with a blazing fire. As the door shut behind him, he realized he wasn’t alone and started to retreat. Miss Ross rose from one of the chairs and came toward him, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze steady. She looked nothing like the woman he’d held in his arms earlier, the wanton who’d taken everything he had to give her and paid him back with a passion of her own that had blinded and enthralled him.

“What do you mean; you’re going to marry me?”

He forced himself to meet her gaze, but kept his mouth shut as he became aware of a torrent of emotions he no longer had any control over, lust, remorse, desire, shame …

He resorted to being as businesslike as he could. “I would assume you’d worked that out for yourself. I spent the night in your bed.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to marry me.”

“Yes, it does.” He glanced at the sleek fall of her brown silk gown. “You might be carrying my child.”

Her hand came up to rest just below her breasts. “And as I’ve already told you, that’s a risk I’m prepared to take. Unlike most families, I am fairly convinced that mine will never throw me out simply because I bear a man’s bastard.”

He took a step toward her. “You know how I feel, and yet you chose to take me to your bed. We will be married.”

“I scarcely chose to take you to bed, sir.”

He tried to think back over the events of the previous night and couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he’d found himself buried deep inside her, loving every erotic moment of it. Suddenly he felt sick. Was he as bad as his father? Had his true breeding finally shown itself?

“Are you suggesting I forced you? God, Lisette, I would never …”

She held his gaze. “There was no force involved; I came to you willingly enough, you know that. Yet it was hardly planned, was it? Neither of us set out to seduce the other, so neither of us is to blame.”

He turned away from her to pace the carpet, hating the reasonable nature of her voice and her calm demeanor. “Then we will marry.”

“Lord Swanfield, there is no need. We can continue to be lovers if you want, I’m quite happy to …”

He swung around to face her. “But I am not!”

Her face lost all expression and he felt it like a slap. Was she finding it as hard as he was not to show her feelings or was she simply not interested? She raised her chin. “Then perhaps you should just go.”

Gabriel struggled to find even a modicum of control. “I can’t do that. You might carry my child.”

She sighed. “May I suggest a compromise? If I discover I’m carrying your child, I will let you know, and we can discuss the matter further.”

“That isn’t good enough!” Gabriel realized he was shouting as his temper finally shattered, only to spin around as the door opened behind him. Lord Knowles stood framed in the doorway, his expression lethal.

“Is there something I can help you with, Swanfield? Something that doesn’t involve you terrifying my daughter?”

Gabriel bowed low as Lord Knowles came into the room, shut the door, and went to stand beside Lisette. “Good morning, my lord. I am not trying to frighten her at all; I merely wish to ask you for her hand in marriage.”

“Is that true, Lisette?”

“Indeed it is, Papa. I have just been trying to explain to Lord Swanfield that we wouldn’t suit.”

Frustration laced with fear beat in Gabriel’s chest and he wanted to choke on it. “I beg to differ, Miss Ross. In truth, we need to be married as soon as possible.”

“Why is that, Swanfield?” Lord Knowles asked.

Lisette answered for him, her voice clear and hard. “Because Lord Swanfield is worried I might be carrying his child.”

“Is that a possibility?”

“Of course it is,” Gabriel interjected. “Otherwise why would I be here?”

Lord Knowles looked at him as though he were a mud fly. “Because you love her and wish to marry her for her many amazing attributes? This reluctant and grudging admission of having to marry to pay for your sins is hardly the kind of proposal any woman wishes to hear, Swanfield.”

Gabriel swallowed hard and studied Lisette’s composed face. Lord Knowle’s words made him feel like a cad. “You’re right, my lord. I wish to beg Miss Ross’s pardon. She is indeed a wonderful woman.”

Miss Ross glared at him. “He is only saying that because he has this old-fashioned notion that any child of his must be born in wedlock.”

Lord Knowles looked at them both. “In truth, Lisette, for a man of his rank in this day and age, I think that is quite admirable.”

“Papa …”

Gabriel pressed the small advantage. “Then you agree that we should be married, sir?”

“Hold on a moment, Swanfield.” Lord Knowles addressed his daughter. “Are you carrying his child, Lisette?”

“How would I know? He only bedded me last night.”

“That’s not the point,” Gabriel said urgently. “I don’t wish for anyone to doubt my child’s parentage.”

“Are you so certain you are that potent?” Lisette asked. “What happens if you force me to marry you and then I never get pregnant?”

Gabriel sighed. “Then we will be married and I will do my duty by you regardless. What else do you want me to say?”

“Your duty?”

Lord Knowles cleared his throat. “Lord Swanfield, perhaps it would be best if you waited to find out if Lisette does indeed carry your child before sacrificing yourself to the institution of matrimony.”

“But I don’t want to wait.”

“And I don’t want to marry you.”

He met her eyes and read the determination and strength in them, hoping she saw the same in his gaze. “I can see that any further discussion on this subject will not get me anywhere this morning.” He nodded at Lord Philip. “Perhaps you might help Miss Ross come to a better decision without my presence.”

“I’ll certainly discuss the matter with her, Swanfield, but be aware that I’ll support whatever decision she makes, without question.”

Gabriel bowed low. “I understand that, sir. All I ask is that you keep me informed.” He turned to Lisette who was regarding him most suspiciously. “Good morning, Miss Ross.”

“Are you leaving? Just like that?”

He shrugged. “What else would you have me do? I can scarcely throw you over my shoulder with your father watching me.”

He turned and left the room, nodded at the butler, and made his way down the stone steps into the freedom of the morning. He might not be able to drag Lisette off when her father was watching her, but there were other ways to achieve his aims. His steps slowed. If he wanted to win, being the perfect gentleman wasn’t necessarily the best way to go about it. And he wanted to win very badly indeed.

Lisette gazed after Gabriel, her mouth open. “I can’t believe he gave up so easily.”

“Do you feel insulted?”

“No, not like that.” Lisette paused, uncertain of how much of Gabriel’s personal business to divulge. “Lord Swanfield’s birth was not well managed and he feels it deeply.”

Her father gave her a sidelong glance as he strolled toward the door. “Are you defending him now? You should’ve thought about whether he was a man of his word before you took him to your bed.”

She sighed. “What occurred between us last night wasn’t planned at all. It just happened.”

“And he is a man who stands by his responsibilities and his convictions.”

“I know that. It is one of the things I’ve always liked about him.”

Philip opened the door to the breakfast room and held out a chair for her. When she was seated he sat in the seat closest to hers and took her hand. “Would he really make such an objectionable husband? He has principles, wealth, a title …”

“A cloudy reputation, an inflated opinion of his own worth, and an extremely bad temper.”

“Yet you went to bed with him.”

“Yes, I did.” Lisette sighed. “And I would do so again.”

Philip patted her hand. “Perhaps after you break your fast, you should go and talk this through with your mother. She is invaluable in matters of the heart.”

“That’s excellent advice, Papa.” Lisette withdrew her hand and poured herself some coffee. If anyone could see a way out of her dilemma, it would be Helene, a woman no man, save her father, had ever managed to master or successfully deceive.