Chapter Eight
Maremma, Italy
October 17, 1902
Jack lit anothercheroot and puffed agitatedly, staring out to sea. His body, taut with frustration and denied satisfaction, would torment him throughout the night. How Gaby had managed to tie him up in knots was beyond him. His good sense and logic were nowhere in sight.
He was reminded of a line from Shakespeare’sRichard III, “My kingdom for a horse.” Judging by the snarl of his thoughts and his body’s reaction to her, in his case, more apropos would be “my kingdom for a kiss,” or rather “a romp in the hay.”
Damn her.
But though in his thoughts he cursed her and tried to make less of what he was feeling, he couldn’t deny there was much more between them. Something deep and lasting that would not be denied.
Gabriella D’Angelo had rejected him, and he couldn’t believe it. He offered more than she could ever possibly attain in this world. By God, he’d build her a palace if it made her happy. His passion for her was so powerful that he might even be falling in love with her.
Dare he lay his cards out on the table and tell her? Indeed, if they had children, he would love and support them as much as any children born legitimately. Why couldn’t she understand that what he offered was not a diminishment of what they felt for each other? It was just the way of the world. In truth, he knew of few society marriages where love was a factor. Marriage among the titled, in most instances, was simply a means to an end. Great love was shared as often as not outside of a marriage. No one would ever admit this to be true, but none would deny that it might be.
Puffs of smoke evaporated in the cool night air, but not so the anger that simmered in Jack. He would find a way to convince her—he must. But how?
A sardonic chuckle escaped him. The tightness of his trousers reminded him that it would be another night of walking until exhaustion claimed him. But it would provide an opportunity and the time needed to find a solution.
He returned to the path that led to the villa but veered off in the direction of the stables. A moonlight ride on Xanthus would wear him out enough to sleep. The horse was sensitive to his moods and would undoubtedly read his anxiety.
If he possessed Gaby, would he rid himself of this insatiable hunger? The few kisses they’d shared had only whetted his desire for her. He was so consumed with her he could think of nothing else.
He shook his head.What is wrong with you?
He also knew that Aunt Kitty would not be pleased with the arrangement he envisioned—Cynthia as his wife and Gabriella as his mistress. Though she sometimes vexed him, his aunt’s opinion mattered to him. After the death of his mother, it was Kitty who had filled the void. And knowing that she would disapprove of his intentions only made him feel worse than he already did.
He saddled Xanthus and cantered toward the bluffs, riding along the cliff’s edge. No matter how far he rode, he could not let go of the fire that Gaby had ignited. The way she molded her body to his bound him to her more than any band of gold. No woman had ever held such power over him, and now he dreaded the arrival of Cynthia tomorrow.
If Gaby was in a huff now, seeing Cynthia would only rile her more. Although she held no appeal to him, Cynthia was beautiful, well-mannered, and had been raised for a society marriage. He could already imagine Gaby comparing herself to the heiress and finding herself wanting. But in his eyes, there was no comparison.
He needed to do something heroic in Gaby’s eyes, something that would convince her to trust him and risk everything for him. He had to convince Gaby that his marriage to Cynthia wouldn’t interfere with their future. They could have a wonderful life together, if only she would see reason.
The cool night air cleared his head and soothed the tension from his body. Of course, he would need to enlist the help of his aunt. He’d have to convince Aunt Kitty to help in his campaign to win over Gaby. Surely, Gaby would eventually understand that there was no other way, and he had no choice. He needed to marry Cynthia because he needed the funds to fight for his inheritance. He could hire the finest legal minds in England to build a case where Beauford took advantage of Jack’s father’s weakened state and tampered with his will.
I have to make Gaby understand just what is at stake.
Jack squeezed Xanthus’s flanks with his calves, and the fleet stallion extended his stride, flying over the turf toward the comfort of his stall and a well-deserved bucket of carrots. The clever horse knew that obedience to his master meant a tasty reward, and Jack couldn’t help but hope that Gabriella would soon learn the same.
He would find a way to conquer whatever obstacles stood in their way, not only for his own satisfaction but hers. He had to get through to that beautiful, stubborn spirit. The sooner she accepted they were meant to be, the sooner he could give her the pleasure he so desperately wanted to give her.
An idea occurred to him. If he bedded Gaby, and God smiled on their union and got her with child, she would have no choice but to acquiesce to his plans. No mother would deny her child the love and protection of a father, especially if that child was a bastard. He hated that word and would kill any man or woman who labeled his child as such. Still, only a father’s love and beneficent gifts could keep that child safe and the gossipmongers at bay.
For the first time since Gaby’s rejection, he found a glimmer of hope. Now all he needed to do was seduce her into his bed.
With a growl of satisfaction, he spurred Xanthus homeward.
Chapter Nine
Maremma, Italy
October 17, 1902
Gaby nearly mowedMrs. Livingstone down when she rushed into the kitchen after her encounter with Jack. She needed to move out of his room and into another. The lady’s maid happily helped her gather her belongings and take them to the former cook’s room. The room was dark, dingy, and sparsely furnished, but Gaby knew some fresh cut flowers and herb sprigs would scent the air and spruce the room up a little.
After washing up in the staff’s communal lavatory, she lay down in the narrow bed and blew out the candle. She brushed her fingers over her lips, still feeling the burn of Jack’s kiss, and closed her eyes.
