“I would hate to find myself at odds with you,” he said lightly as he sauntered into her chamber after closing the door at his back. “Celery was doing quite poorly just now.”
He was teasing her, and the slight lift in his sensual lips said so. Who was this version of the man she had married? She was not accustomed to lightness from him, nor levity.
Helena smiled back at him against a sudden onslaught of nervousness. “That is because celery found its way into my bosom, and I have never forgiven it since. Nor have I forgiven myself for sharing such a humiliating detail with my new husband—who already has considered annulling our marriage. After The Celery Incident, I can only imagine what he must think of me.”
Gabe winced as he reached her, the distance between them scant. She tried not to notice he appeared to be clad in nothing more than a dressing gown once more. His bare calves and feet refused to be ignored. So, too, his broad shoulders. His robe this evening was of a dark, lush navy that complemented his eyes and rendered them more startlingly blue.
“He thinks you are an original,” he told her. “Just as he always has. There will be no annulment, as I said at dinner. We have progressed beyond that option, and even had we not, I would not wish to pursue a dissolution.”
Hardly words of undying love and devotion, but Helena would gladly take them. He thought her an original? Was that a good thing or a bad thing?Hmm…
“You are certain, my lord?” she asked, then recalled his request at dinner once more. “Gabe?”
“As sure as I can be of anything.” He reached out, brushing a curl from her cheek and sending a rush of electric sparks skittering over her skin. “I spoke with your brother today.”
The admission seemed torn from him, and it took Helena by surprise. The sparks should have faded, but they lingered. “Shelbourne? What did you speak about? I do not see any bruising, so I suppose he must have controlled himself.”
She was still greatly displeased with her brother for attacking Huntingdon—Gabe. She felt largely responsible for the attack, and she wished she had possessed the foresight to realize Shelbourne would not react well to the news that his sister had been ruined by his best friend. She had known, all along, he would not be pleased. No man would. However, she had not anticipated such violent aggression on his part.
Her husband inclined his head, that brilliant gaze of his seeming to devour her. “We have reached an understanding, I believe.”
“Good,” Helena said on a rush of relief as molten heat pooled in her belly. “I could not bear the notion of the two of you being at odds, especially since I was the one at fault for suggesting I was carrying your child. I am not proud of myself for making that claim. Desperation is hardly an excuse.”
“You were not entirely at fault,” her husband corrected gently. “I compromised you, whilst I was betrothed to another. I hold myself accountable for everything that transpired. I hope we can begin anew tonight.”
Tonight.
The heat burst into unadulterated flame.
She wanted to ask him if he could forgive her for what she had done, but the words would not leave her tongue. Instead, she searched his gaze, trying to find the answers she sought. His eyes were hooded now, obscured by the sweep of dark, too-long lashes.
“Gabe?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Helena?” His fingers had lingered behind her ear, and now they skimmed lightly down her throat.
She summoned her daring. “Will you kiss me?”
Her skin wassmooth and creamy. The sweet scent of citrus and bergamot teased his senses. And heaven help him, but that filmy night rail clinging to her curves was nearly transparent. The dusky circles of her nipples were on full display, the peaks stiff and wanton. Begging for him.
His fingertips traveled lightly over her in a slow caress, absorbing her heat, the frenzied beat of her heart. Her verdant eyes burned into his, so vibrant they took his breath. Her sweet, pink lips parted.
“Will you kiss me?”
The hesitant invitation had his cockstand rising to full attention beneath the cloaking drapery of his dressing gown. He wanted to haul her into his arms. To give in to the frantic urges sweeping over him.
But this was only their second time making love. He did not wish to rush her. He intended to proceed slowly. To seduce her, to savor her.
He gently cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers, giving Helena his answer. Kissing her was always a revelation. No matter how many times he felt her lips beneath his, each kiss felt new and more intoxicating than the last.
On a pleased-sounding sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. The voluptuous crush of her breasts sent an arrow of need straight through him. The tight buds of her nipples abraded his chest. He deepened the kiss, licking the seam of her lips until she opened, their tongues tangling.
She tasted of the sherry they had enjoyed in the blue salon following dinner and of something that was mysteriously, indefinably her. He allowed his hand to drift from her jaw, slowly coasting it over her breast and cupping her there. When he ran his thumb in circles over her hungry nipple, she arched into him and made a seductive sound low in her throat.
He was lost.
Desire overwhelmed him. His caress traveled lower, his fingers tightening on the soft fabric of her night rail to pull it slowly upward. All the while, he kissed her with the fevers raging within. He found the sleek curve of her hip, and he discovered she wore no drawers. Nipping her lip, he sought the heart of her, his fingers gliding over hot, slick feminine flesh.
She was drenched for him already, just from their kisses. From his fleeting touches. She was so responsive. He found her pearl and rubbed it in slow, teasing strokes until her hips undulated against his hand and she sucked on his tongue.
