He lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’ll regret it.” And then because he couldn’t help himself—again, dishonorable ass that he was—he swooped down and captured her mouth with his.
At first, she kept her mouth pinched together tightly, but as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, she relented. He spread his feet wide and dragged her into him with the hand that had snaked around her waist.
Her hands, which had initially come up to push him away, found their way into his hair and tugged him closer.
Their teeth clashed as he turned his head to delve deeper into her. It was all he’d ever wanted, since holding her in the darkness of Crawford’s gazebo. He wanted inside of her, all of him, all of her.
He dragged his mouth down her chin, her throat, and tugged at the bodice of her gown to expose her breasts.
Creamy and plump, her fragrance enticed him to pull the tip into his mouth. “Olivia.” He sucked, drawing a moan from her, and then grazed her with his teeth. His cock hard, he held her against him. He needed this. He needed her.
Tasting her had him lost to all reason, lost to the past, the future. Lost to anything but the desire to become one with this tiny sprite of a woman.
And then she whimpered.
And then a second, almost silent sob.
When he glanced up, she stole his breath when a single tear escaped past her lashes and rolled down the sweet curve of her cheek.
She wanted him. He could drag her into the trees and take her with all the passion that had built over these past few weeks. And yet he’d already hurt her. She’d given freely merely because he’d treated her with some affection.
Just as Stanton had feared, Gabriel had taken advantage of her innocence.
He closed his eyes, ashamed, sickened with himself, and then gently drew the material of her bodice upward. “I’m sorry.” The words escaped sounding gruff, filled with more emotion than he’d expected. “You ought to hate me.”
She stiffened and took one shaky step backward. When he moved to assist her, she threw her hands up as though to ward him off.
As though she couldn’t bear his nearness.
“Don’t touch me, Gabriel, ever again.” Her voice wavered, but he paused. It was the least he could do.
“Olivia.” He had no idea what he could say, his own heart cracking in two.
She shook her head. “Please! Gabriel!”
And then without looking back, she pivoted and took off running down the poorly maintained road as though the hounds of hell themselves chased behind her.
He could not follow.
Gabriel closed his eyes as an emptiness he didn’t quite understand washed over him. It was better this way. He may be a gentleman, a man of title and wealth, but had acted like the most base of blackguards with her.
And there was nothing he could do about it. His choices had been taken from him years before.
Forgetting both his original destination and reason for coming this way, he untethered his mount and whipped himself into the saddle in one fluid motion. She would marry Luke Smith and live a life that would age her twenty years over the next five. He had no right to care.
He turned his mount toward Ashton Acres and then abruptly changed his mind. He’d spend tonight drinking himself into oblivion at the nearest pub.
He’d use what freedom he had in his entitled position to erase the image of Olivia Redfield from his mind. If not forever, then at least for tonight.
And then he’d have a lifetime to wonder what could have been.
“Hiya!” He urged the horse faster. God damned this blasted burgh. He could hardly wait for Stanton to return. He’d brush the dirt of this place off his boots forever and never return.
They could have their damn mine. Keep their damn curse.
And Olivia could have Luke Smith for a husband.
Because she sure as hell could never have him.
