He deserved nothing but that hadn’t stopped him from needing her.
And then her body clenched around him. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, his back, and lower, until he felt her nails digging into the muscles of his thighs.
The pain, her excitement, her wild release, had him thrusting deep three last times and then, up, higher, all of her, owning her, becoming her.
“Olivia.” He fell on her in a gasp, knowing he should move so that she wasn’t being squashed into the mattress, but not wanting to separate from her yet.
Her hands trailed up to his back, and then to his hair, threading and stroking, comforting him in a way that only she could. “Olivia,” he whispered one last time before exhaustion finally took over and allowed him to sleep.
* * *
Gabriel’s weightpinned her to the bed, but Olivia had no wish to move. If she shifted him to the side, he’d disengage from her and very possibly wake up. She didn’t expect any declarations of love or proposals of marriage. He’d been honest enough all along. For now, she just wanted this closeness. At this moment, she could love Gabriel Fellowes.
Filtered light seeped into the room as the sun rose behind all those clouds, and Olivia could barely make out a small raspberry birthmark on his right buttocks in the shape of… She blinked. Perhaps it was a dog.
He was not perfect after all. The thought caused her to smile to herself. Of course, he was perfect. He always would be, to her. He would leave her, tragically, because he would be expected to marry someone more appropriate, never to return. In her mind, he would remain young and handsome long after she aged into a gnarled old woman.
He mumbled something and turned his head.
Ah, Gabriel.
Perhaps if he could move just a little… She shoved him the slightest amount to the side. It was getting difficult to breathe beneath him, after all. He mumbled again and rolled slightly.
When he had stared at her from inside her small stable, he’d looked as though he was caught inside a nightmare. She dared not imagine what he’d gone through the day before.
She had spent the afternoon hours with Eliza at the Smiths’ cottage, but at the urging of Mrs. Markham, and then the vicar, taken advantage of a break in the storm and returned to her own home. Heavy of heart, tormented by her worry for Gabriel, and terrified for the Smith children at the same time, Olivia had picked her way carefully through the mud and barely stepped inside as darkness fell.
Mr. Smith had not returned to his house, nor had he sent word of his safety. She now knew why.
When she’d arrived home, she’d discovered it dark and cold and lonely. She’d forgotten that she’d sent Mary to be with her family. Surely, Mary would have returned had they received good news.
Olivia had not slept a wink.
She’d cried. She’d prayed, bargained with God, and eventually, found herself just sitting and watching out the window.
When she’d seen a horse and rider disappear into the small stable behind her house, Olivia had dared not hope.
Her prayers had been answered. One of them anyhow.
He had come.
He’d been dirty, bleeding, exhausted, and guilt-ridden, but he had come.
He had come to her.
She tucked her head beneath his chin and, for the first time in almost two days, despite her best effort to stay awake so she could categorize every minute of this memory, fell into a dreamless and restful sleep.
* * *
“Olivia.”Something brushed at her chin. “I need to leave.”
Olivia blinked open her eyes. Gabriel stood beside the bed, already dressed. In the full light of day, the bruises on his face looked worse than they had last night, and for the first time since she’d known him, he wasn’t meeting her gaze.
The warmth she’d felt upon waking began ebbing away, and a cold foreboding crept in.
“I know.” She forced a tremulous smile, willing him to meet her eyes. “You’re needed at the mine.” At least he’d gotten some rest, and his clothes looked to have dried while they… slept.
But he was shaking his head. “You… I mean, I need to leaveyou. We–I–cannot.”
