Her hand was already on the handle. “I will.”
Refusing to linger like a love-sick buck, he strode away, scanning the shadows for the servant with a tongue as loose as a bawd’s drawers. If only this were Fortune’s Den and he hosted boxing bouts in his cellar. A good fight might be the only cure for such restless energy.
As he undressed, he reminded his valet what it meant to betray his master. “What happens in this house stays in this house. There’s nothing more despicable than a man who sells secrets.” Other than a father who endures his wife’s infidelity and tups the maid in revenge.
He’d been in bed an hour, reading the same damn page of morbid poetry, when a light knock sounded at the door. He lowered the book and peered around the burgundy hangings.
“Enter.”
He held his breath. Time stilled. The faintest hope stirred. If it was the valet, he’d hurl the book at his head.
But it wasn’t his valet.
It was his wife.
She opened the door a fraction. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Merciful Lord. His blood was already pooling low, and all she’d done was close the door. “You need never ask.”
She stepped closer to the bed, the firelight painting her in amber, its glow tracing the soft lines beneath her silk nightgown. A gift from the countess, no doubt. Not that it mattered. It would soon be a pile on the floor.
“Have you come to borrow a book?”
He watched the pulse at her throat, the way it worked as she drew a breath, her gaze brushing his bare chest, lingering a beat too long.
“No. I couldn’t sleep and wondered if I might lie beside you.”
Heat gathered beneath his skin. He forced his hands to stay still, though every instinct urged him to reach for her. “I’m naked, Olivia. You’re welcome to stay, though I can’t promise to behave.”
“What can you promise?”
Her hair glowed like burnished copper, loose about her shoulders and tumbling down her back. The courage it took to come to his chamber, intent on seduction, was perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.
“I can promise hours of untold pleasure,” he said, almost humming at the prospect. “And that the warmth of my body will chase away the chill. I can promise you won’t regret a single moment.”
She worried her lower lip. “Even though I’m afraid?”
“Never be afraid of me.” The next words surprised even him. “I’ll wear nightclothes. We don’t need to do anything. I’d be glad of your company.” He shrugged a shoulder, though his heart hammered. “I can read to you.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d said to make her draw that deep breath, what word had her unbuttoning the pearl fastenings of her nightgown, what impulse made her lift the hem and pull the garment over her head.
As he drank her in—the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips—thought deserted him.
“Make love to me, Gabriel.”
Those words would be etched into his mind until the end of days.
He pulled back the sheets, letting her see what he’d kept hidden beneath the towel, giving her a moment, just one, to change her mind.
She didn’t.
She climbed into bed, her hand trembling only slightly as she brushed a lock of hair from his brow. “You’re the only man I’d want to share this moment with.”
Chapter Fifteen
The moment Olivia’s body settled against his, her breath caught. She’d never felt so exposed, or so certain she’d done the right thing. She hadn’t known what to expect, but his warmth surrounded her, and the last of her doubts slipped away.
When he drew the sheets over her, she was grateful for the gesture. She still couldn’t believe she’d found the courage to bare herself, but the look in his eyes, part awe, part disbelief, had been worth every trembling second.
