Not knowing how else to answer, Gabby gave him the truth. “You were the only one who offered for me.”
“I was?” His brows inched up. “Were all the gents around you blind?”
She didn’t know how to answer that.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she said.
“Never mind. Worked out well for me, and I don’t need you having second thoughts.”
His slow smile pumped her heart, warmth rushing through her veins. This man had Adam’s charisma and intensity,andhe was less reserved. His undeniably virile interest filled the room, and she felt caught between longing…and fear.
She was acutely reminded of the one other time Adam had acted this way toward her. That time when she’d found him drunk and agitated over the death of some mysterious woman. That night had opened up Pandora’s box. Even though she’d slammed a lid on the doubts, kept them at bay for the last few months, they were now rattling to get free.
The words catapulted from her. “Who is Jessabelle?”
Dear God, I can’t believe I just asked him outright.
It was too late to take it back.
“I don’t know.” Adam gave her a blank look. “Am I supposed to know?”
Her throat dry, she said, “While you were feverish, you said her name. Twice. I don’t know anyone named Jessabelle and just wondered…”
She trailed off, not wanting to sound like a jealous fishwife. If the mention of Jessabelle had triggered no response in Adam, then maybe Jessabelle wasn’t important after all. Gabby was making a mountain out of a molehill, working herself into a frenzy over nothing.
“It’s not important.” She rose, smoothing her skirts. “I’ll fetch your willow bark. Your head must be aching dreadfully by now.”
As she walked past him, he caught her hand. “You’ll come back to me? Talk with me some more?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, her pulse thrumming. “If you wish it.”
“I wish it.” He brushed his lips across the back of her hand. The tender abrasion ruffled up her spine, goose pimples prickling her skin, the tips of her breasts tingling. But it was the raw male hunger in his eyes that arrested her breath. “I’m ready to get on with my life, Gabriella.Ourlife. And I don’t want to waste any time.”
15
A Few Months Earlier
As the longcaseclock chimed one in the morning, Gabby paused outside her husband’s study. He’d arrived home earlier than usual this evening, and he’d seemed unlike his usual self. Dark turbulence had swirled in his eyes; when she’d asked him what was the matter, however, he’d denied that anything was wrong. Then he’d locked himself in the present room.
Hours later, she still hadn’t heard him come upstairs, and concern had made her don a wrapper over her nightgown and come in search of him. Now she saw the light flickering beneath the door of the study and heard the sounds of heavy movement within. Which was also unusual. Adam possessed a predatory grace; indeed, he routinely startled her with his stealth.
Then she heard the familiar resonance of her husband’s voice. Filtered through the heavy wood, the words were muffled and indistinct. Puzzled, she wondered who he could be talking to at this late hour; no guests had arrived…was he talking to one of the staff? But surely all the servants were abed.
Curious, she rapped on the door.
A minute passed. When no one answered, she tried the knob. The smooth brass turned in her hand, and she let herself inside.
Entering her husband’s domain always sent a tingle of pleasure through her. The vast space suited Adam with its dark masculine elegance and air of tasteful luxury. The rich scents of leather, tobacco, and a hint of Adam’s own delicious spice teased her senses. Her gaze went to the massive desk at the far end of the room, where her husband was usually found.
He was not there.
“There was a fair maid named Faye, whom I came upon one day. And she in turn came upon me, her bubbies white and bouncing free…”
The unmistakably bawdy tune, sang in her husband’s voice, slackened her jaw. It came from the seating area by the flickering hearth. She hurried over, her astonishment deepening at the scene that greeted her: Adam was lying on the studded leather sofa, his eyes closed as he belted out the lewd ditty. Her usually immaculate husband was in his shirtsleeves, his feet bare. His throat was exposed, his dark chest hair visible in the open vee of his collar.
His cravat lay in a crumpled ball on the carpet beside him. Next to his discarded neckwear was an empty glass and a nearly empty decanter, the crystal facets glinting in the firelight.
“What on earth?” she said in bemusement.
